In Laymon's Terms

Roger Range

OW MUCH LONGER?”

Richard Freeberg closed his eyes for a moment and sighed before wearily answering his son for the ninth time. “I don’t know, Billy. It should be coming up any time now.”

“I don’t know why we have to stop and see another stupid ruin,” said John, Richard’s oldest son. John was sprawled out on the rear bench seat of the Plymouth Grand Voyager that had been the family’s home for almost two weeks. “We’ve seen so many friggin’ old Indian ruins I’ve lost count.”

“John!” Richard’s wife Sonia turned around in her seat beside him to glare at their son. “What have I told you about cursing? You shouldn’t swear; it’s not polite.” She turned back around. “Especially in front of your little brother and sister.”

“I didn’t swear,” John said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s close enough, son,” Richard jumped in, supporting his wife. “We don’t want to hear that kind of language from you.”

“Aww Dad, I hear worse than that from my friends on the playground,” Billy said.

“That’s no excuse for your brother,” Sonia said. “And if that’s the case, maybe we shouldn’t let you play with those friends anymore.”

Billy looked back down at the screen of his GameBoy, apparently having risked enough parental wrath. John had by now blocked out the conversation and was back to reading his latest science fiction novel, pretty much the only thing he’d done the whole trip. Sally, sitting in the seat next to Billy, was staying well out of this argument, quietly reading her Cosmo Girl magazine.

Rich just couldn’t understand it. This was the first time he’d taken the family on a vacation by road, their first chance to see other parts of the country firsthand, and all they could do was sit and read or play video games, just like they did at home. He shook his head in bewilderment. The Arizona countryside they were driving through was beautiful in its contrast between desolate wasteland and vibrant plant life. His parents had taken him and his brother on long road trips during their summers growing up, and they had made some of the most vivid memories of his boyhood.

Rich had been planning this trip for a year, taking his entire two weeks of vacation from his construction job, to share those memories with his own kids, but it was utterly lost on them. Almost two weeks of driving from their home in San Luis Obispo out to the Alamo in Texas and back, and he hadn’t been able to squeeze the least bit of interest from his children.

As a boy, Rich had always been fascinated by the Anasazi Ruins strewn throughout the Four Corners region of the southwest. The Anasazi had a thriving culture for thousands of years, then at some point in the thirteenth century, they had moved out of their fertile river valleys into precarious dwellings in the sides of cliffs and on the tops of mesas. Very difficult living arrangements. No one knew what had caused the move. Then, maybe fifty years later, the whole culture had simply abandoned the region, and still no one could figure out why. They’d never kept any written records, just obscure pictographs, so it was all a huge mystery to modern archeology.

The mystery of the culture had consumed Richard as a boy, and he had hoped to share his enthusiasm with his kids, but not one of them seemed the least bit interested. They had been at first, especially Billy, but after seeing the first couple of ruins, they totally lost interest. Rich suspected it was because they could only look from afar. In an effort to preserve the ruins from the wear and tear of tourists tromping through them, the National Parks Service had closed off most of the ruins and they could only be seen from a distance. There were only a few sites you could still get within touching distance of, though that was, of course, strictly forbidden.

Richard remembered climbing in and playing among those same ruins with his brother, and he still cherished that youthful sense of wonder. But they wouldn’t let you do that anymore. He had to admit, it was better to have the sites preserved, but looking at the ruins was not the same as being in them. His children had lost interest in just looking.

That was why they were off their planned course now, far down a lonely, semi-paved road in the middle of Arizona’s Navajo reservation. When they’d stopped for lunch at the Burger King in town, an old Indian had heard him talking to his kids about the ruins and had interrupted them to tell Rich about a remote Anasazi site he knew about. It was far off the regular tourist route, but there were ruins there that a person could walk through and sit in, just like the ancients themselves had. With only a couple more days before getting back home, Rich was eager for anything that would grab his kids’ interest, so he happily jotted down directions and thanked the man before finishing his meal.

“Billy, get your stupid dog off me!” The sound of Sally’s angry voice drew Richard’s attention back to the cramped minivan.

“Hey,” Billy replied, “Scruffy is not stupid, he’s a smart dog!”

Sally shoved Scruffy away with her foot and said, “He’s not smart enough to know when to leave me alone. I’m trying to read.”

Richard was about to say something when he heard a loud BANG from the back of the van, and he felt it lurch towards the shoulder. “God damn it!”

“What was that?” John asked.

“Flat tire I think. Hold on.” Richard fought the wheel to turn the van onto the shoulder, slowing steadily. When they finally rolled to a stop, a bit further off the shoulder than he had intended, he looked back to check on the rest of his family. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“I think so.”

Next to him, Sonia looked shaken. A bit pale, but unhurt. He nodded to himself, shut off the engine, then opened the door and got out. The hot, dry, Arizona air assaulted him as he walked around the back of the van. He heard the side door slide open before he got around the corner.

“Everybody stay in the car.”

Heedless, John hopped out and bent down to look at the tire. Ready to start his junior year of high school next month, John was at the height of his rebelliousness.

“I said stay inside,” Richard repeated.

Ignoring him, John pointed at the loose flaps of rubber that had once been a tire. “Wow, what’d we hit?”

“I didn’t see anything on the road,” Rich answered, giving up.

Sonia rolled down her window and stuck her head out to see for herself. “How bad does it look, Rich?”

“Well, it’s flat.”

“Flat? It’s damn near shredded!” John added.

Rich stood up, sighed, and looked around. There was nothing in sight but Pinion Pines, Joshua trees, and the hardy desert undergrowth that grew in this rocky, sandy dirt. Beyond that, nothing but distant mountains.

“Well, everybody out. Sonia, pop the tail door please. John, help me get the spare.”

“Okay.”

The van was packed solid with luggage, and they had to pile most of it on the ground before they could reach the floor to look for the access panel to the spare.

“Rich,” Sonia asked, “why don’t you just call triple-A?”

“It’s just a flat tire, Sonia,” he answered, failing to keep the irritation out of his voice. He didn’t need any arguments now. He was already close to the edge. “I’ve changed flat tires before.”

John tugged at the carpet that lined the back of the van as Rich added the last of their bags to Mount Luggage.

“Um, there’s no spare under here, Dad. Just the lug wrench under the back seat.”

“What?” He looked under the carpet, then bent down and looked under the van. “Christ. Here it is, underneath,” he sighed.

“I’ll get it,” John said, with an amused air in his voice. He lay down on his back and slid himself under the car.

“Hey, Dad...there’s a problem,” John said.

“What now?”

John crawled out, pulling the spare with him. “Something must have bounced up and punctured it.” Sure enough, there was a ragged gouge in the tire. Flat and useless.

Rich heaved a weight-of-the-world sigh. “Fuck. Why would they leave the spare exposed to the elements like that?”

“Rich, please don’t curse in front of the kids.”

He looked up, distracted. “Sorry.”

Billy was wandering around exploring with Scruffy while Sally sat on a rock, reading her magazine.

“Sally, watch your brother.” Rich instructed her. “Billy, don’t wander off; come back here.”

“It’s Will—stop calling me Billy. I’m too old for that.”

“Not now, Billy,” Sonia answered. “Just stay by the van.”

Rich stared at the two flat tires, considering his options.

“Well, I guess we can try triple-A now,” he relented. Sonia retrieved the cell phone from her purse and brought it to him without a word. He pulled out the antenna and punched the pre-keyed roadside emergency number, but it didn’t ring. He looked incredulously at the small digital screen as it mocked him with a flashing “NO SIGNAL.” Biting back a fresh curse, he drew back his arm, ready to hurl the useless piece of plastic into the wilderness, but stopped himself short and handed it back to Sonia instead. After a silent moment, she asked him, “Now what, Rich?”

“Give me a minute. I need some water.”

He retrieved a liter bottle from the cooler behind the driver’s seat and listened to the ice clunk around inside as he considered their situation. The water was refreshing. He swallowed slowly, recapped the icy bottle, and pressed it against his forehead. Sweat was running down his face already.

The road they were on was a small secluded one, just what he’d hoped for when the Indian told him about it, but bad for them now. He didn’t remember seeing any cars pass by them since they’d turned off. He pulled out the directions he’d jotted down on the Burger King napkin and looked them over. There should be a service station ahead; that would have been their next turn. Looked like he had a walk ahead of him.

“Okay everybody, listen up. According to the directions that old Indian gave me, there’s a service station up the road a ways. I figure I can walk there in a couple of hours, maybe make it before dark. I’ll buy a new tire there and get a ride back.”

“Sounds good, Dad. Let’s go.” John volunteered.

“No, I’m going alone. I think it’s safer if you all stay here together; I can manage a short walk by myself.”

“But Dad, I’m the track star.” He puffed his chest slightly while Sally rolled her eyes heavenward behind him.

“Sprints and pole vault remember?” she chided. “Not distance.” Under her breath she added, “And not very good at that.”

Rich gathered his patience. “I want you to stay here and watch after your Mom and brother and sister. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Now Sonia spoke up. “Rich, I wish you’d just stay here with us. Somebody’s sure to come along soon.”

“Sonia, how many cars have we seen in the last hour? What if no one comes along? And if they do, just grab a ride with them and pick me up on your way. I’ll be walking along the road the whole way.”

Ignoring the protesting looks from his wife, Rich grabbed a small duffel with a shoulder strap, emptied the contents into the back of the van, loaded it up with a couple of bottles of water, a sandwich and a flashlight, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon and we’ll be on our way. I love you.” And with that he kissed Sonia, waved at the kids, and was off.

Sonia watched with a growing sense of dread as the sun sank towards the horizon. An hour and a half since he’d left, Rich still hadn’t returned and no cars had passed by. At least Rich had thought to take a flashlight with him; it might be dark before he got back. Sonia watched the boys playing Frisbee with Scruffy, the dog barking playfully as they tossed it over his head in a game of keep-away. Sally had retreated back into the van to read her magazine in the passenger seat.

The full moon had risen, impatient for night to come, and Sonia kept glancing furtively up at it. It reminded her of a cruel eye staring down at them. Sonia shivered, turning in place and once again taking in the desolation surrounding her. Rich loved the desert, always saying how beautiful and untamed it was, but Sonia shared none of his reverence for it. She was city born and bred, and she got very uncomfortable when there wasn’t at least a building in sight. She hadn’t wanted to take this trip at all, but Rich had been so excited about it—and he always had the last word.

She had to admit, once they got going, she was glad they’d come. It had been a good trip before the blowout, even if Rich was constantly complaining about the kids’ disinterest. Any time she had with her family all together made her happy. It would only be a few more years before John and Sally were both off to college, God knew where. She hated the thought of losing her kids, but they had to grow up sometime, didn’t they? Maybe she’d go back to work then.

Sonia wiped the sweat from her brow, then noticed that the luggage was still piled on the ground, so she walked around to load it back into the van. “Boys, come help me load the bags, it’ll be getting dark soon.”

John made one last long throw out into the distance. “Go fetch it, boy!” Scruffy raced out after it, barking as he went, disappearing over a small rise.

John started back, but Billy waited expectantly for Scruffy to return with the well-chewed Frisbee clenched in his teeth.

“Come on Billy, let’s stay together,” Sonia called.

He looked back at her and said, “It’s Will, Mom.” Then he looked towards the desert. “I’m waiting for Scruffy.”

Sonia froze as she heard Scruffy’s barking take on a frantic edge. The barks became yelps, then stopped abruptly.

“Boys, get back to the van, now!”

Billy didn’t seem to hear her, still staring into the desert. “Scruffy?” he called. “C’mere boy!”

John went back to collect his brother. Sonia detected movement just over the rise Scruffy had run over; maybe he was coming back. But there was more movement than one little dog could make. A dozen furry, reddish-brown forms crested the horizon, blending with their surroundings. The dog-sized animals were too small to be wolves, but she thought they might be coyotes.

She’d read an editorial in the paper not long ago about coyotes getting to be as bad as rats, their population growing since man had killed off most of the wolves that normally hunted them. They were spreading all over the country, even adapting to urban areas, living off garbage and begging for handouts. Sonia and Rich had been followed by one for blocks one night when they’d walked home carrying doggy bags from the restaurant he’d taken her to. It had seemed almost cute at the time—until the next week when she’d read about a coyote attacking a man in an alley who wouldn’t give it a handout.

“Billy, get back here now!” Her voice was strained with sudden fear.

The animals came on slowly, teeth bared, hackles raised, approaching on an extended front toward her sons. They were small, perhaps thirty or forty pounds each, but their eyes flashed with a menacing, feral-yellow shine. They came on slowly, yet determined, growling. She shut the back hatch, leaving the rest of the bags on the ground, then edged cautiously around to the side door.

“Billy,” John said, “don’t turn around, walk backwards to the van slowly. Don’t run; don’t show any fear.” He looked around for something on the ground, then bent and picked up a large stick.

Still moving slowly, the pack was headed directly for Billy. He took a few cautious steps backwards, but then fear got hold of him. He turned and started running back to the van. “No!” John yelled. The coyotes charged.

John reached his brother just before the first coyote. It leapt forward as John swung his makeshift club, catching the beast full across the side of the head, sending it spinning. Then he grabbed Billy’s arm, and turned to run back to the van, but it was too late. Some of the animals had come around the side and were cutting them off from safety. “Mom, get inside and shut the door!”

Sonia got inside, but slid the door only halfway closed, hoping her sons would break away in time. Sally stared out the passenger seat window, her magazine forgotten, watching with a look of terror as her brothers were surrounded.

The boys backed up together to the closest tree, John holding the animals at bay with his club. With his free arm, he helped Billy climb up to the lowest branch, then turned quickly back to the coyotes. “Get up there, as high as you can,” he told his brother. The animals were circling now, having cut them completely off from the van a dozen yards away. John feinted with the stick while his brother climbed.

Several coyotes broke off from the pack and charged the van. Sonia slammed the door shut just as the first one thumped into it. God they were fast! The front door windows were still open, and she lunged over the driver’s seat, pushing the automatic retraction levers on the driver’s door. But the engine was off; there was no power. One of the beasts leapt up at the open window and Sally jumped back as its jaws snapped inches from her face. The window was just a bit too high for it to get inside. It retreated a few feet away for a better run while two more continued to bark and scrabble at the window frame.

Where were the keys? Had Rich taken them? Sonia looked around frantically then sighed in relief when she saw them still hanging in the ignition. Thank God! She turned the key and the engine roared to life. The windows hummed closed and Sally screamed as a coyote jumped up at her window, cut off by the thin plate of glass.

The sound of the car engine distracted the coyotes around the tree, and John took advantage to turn and lunge up into the branches. He was seconds too slow. The pack charged. One of them leapt and clamped onto his left calf, teeth sinking deep into the muscle. He screamed in pain, still trying to pull himself up. The animal didn’t let go. Billy reached down to help him, and for a moment it looked like he’d make it, but then another coyote leapt up and tore into his right ankle. He screamed again.

“Come on, John, you can make it!” Billy yelled to him. But as John reached up to grab the next branch, his strength failed and he dropped to the ground with a cry of pain.

Sonia watched in disbelieving horror as the pack surged over her son and she lost sight of him beneath the mass of furry attackers. He managed to throw off one or two, but there were too many of them. She could hear his screams through the closed windows, even above her own.

John tried to fend them off, flailing his fists and kicking, but they were everywhere at once, biting and tearing into his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere. Then one of the coyotes got past his weakening arms and struck a killing bite, sinking its teeth deep into his throat, turning his cries of pain into burbling sobs. It held on to him tightly, crushing his larynx. His body convulsed, his back arched, then the tension went out of him and he collapsed, limp.

But the pack wasn’t done with him yet. As he lay there, limbs at impossible angles, they tore into him with relish, jerking the body around, tearing flesh from bone, pulling limbs apart, ripping strings of intestines from his abdomen. They weren’t just killing him; they were feeding.

Sonia’s screams faded into anguished sobs that were renewed with each strip of bloody flesh the monsters tore from her son’s body. She couldn’t avert her eyes. She was paralyzed, watching as the pack decimated her first child.

As most of the pack made a meal of John, one of them stepped back, raised its head to the moon, and began to howl. It was a long, wailing, victorious sound that was slowly taken up by each member of the pack until they all echoed the ominous cry.

Will wedged himself so tightly against the trunk and branches of the Pinion Pine that the rough bark dug into his bare legs and arms, drawing blood. He barely even noticed his own cuts and scratches. John was dead, but the coyotes still weren’t done with him. Will had his eyes closed so tight his face cramped up, but that didn’t hold back his tears.

He hadn’t been able to look away while those monsters were killing his brother, but he couldn’t bear to watch what they did with him afterwards. So he’d refused to look, climbed as high up as the thin branches would allow—only a dozen feet or so—and kept his eyes shut. But that couldn’t block out the sound of bones and cartilage breaking, or flesh being torn from ligaments. And worse than that was the putrid stench.

Will thought the rancid odor would drive him insane. He’d never smelled anything so horrible; it was all he could do to keep from throwing up.

After a while, the sounds of the monsters feeding slowed, then stopped, but Will could still hear them scuffing around at the base of the tree. Against his better judgment, he slowly opened his eyes to see what they were doing. What he saw at the base of the tree made him cringe. There was nothing left of John—nothing recognizable. Only a chaotic tangle of bones and shredded clothing. The light was still bright enough for him to make out the dark red blood that drenched the ground and tree trunk. Among the gore, three of the killers sat at the base of the tree, staring up at Will perched among the branches. They weren’t finished. They were still hungry.

Several more of the coyotes sat near the van, about a dozen yards away, and stared at the closed doors and windows. The rest of the pack wandered around in a circuit between the van and the tree, occasionally nosing through the remains of their kill, searching for some tender morsel that had been missed.

Will closed his eyes again and lowered his head until it rested against a tree branch. He started crying, quiet moans at first, but they soon escalated to loud wracking sobs that shook the whole fragile tree. “Go away!” he screamed at them. “Go away! Please go away and leave us alone, leave us alone...” His screams faded to a pleading wail, this time not for John, but for himself, for his mother and Sally.

Sonia was a babbling wreck. She and Sally had screamed and cried and hugged each other as the coyotes devoured John. They’d both felt compelled to watch while he was fighting them, but Sally had quickly turned away in revulsion as the pack fed. Sonia couldn’t make herself stop watching, though. They tried to comfort each other, but there was no solace to be found. They were stranded here, surrounded by vicious killers and there was nothing they could do to help themselves. Sonia remembered Billy still trapped up in the tree and she forced her grief away for moments at a time to call out to him, to try to soothe him as much as she could.

“What’re we gonna do?” Sally asked her.

“I don’t know, sweetie, but your father will be back soon. He’ll make it okay.”

“What if he’s not? What if they got him too? What if no one even knows we’re here?” Sally was getting hysterical.

“Stop that now, everything will be okay. I know it,” she said, feeling none of the assurance she claimed. She reached up and held Sally’s face with both hands, looking straight into her eyes. “Listen to me, we’re going to get out of this, you hear me?”

Sally broke down in tears again and Sonia hugged her daughter to her, rocking her steadily, smoothing her hair with one hand and whispering over and over, “Shhhhh, it’s okay, we’ll be fine, it’s alright.”

Sally started at the sound of scraping on the side of the van. Leaning over to look out the window, Sonia saw that some of the coyotes were pawing at the side of the van around the door cracks and handles, trying to find a way in. They weren’t going to give up.

Sally looked out at them and screamed, “Go away, get the hell away from us!” Most of them ignored her; only one looked up and cocked its head to the side, regarding her with a look Sylvester might give Tweety behind the bars of his cage.

“No!” Sonia yelled. “You won’t get the rest of us!” She moved to the driver seat and honked the horn to scare them away. As she sat there, it dawned on her that even if the tire was flat, the engine still worked. She had always been taught that if you got a flat tire, you should pull over immediately and not drive on it or the wheel would be damaged. To hell with the wheel; they might be able to get away! They weren’t at the mercy of these beasts!

Sonia turned on the engine again and shifted into drive. She had to get Billy out of that tree. She turned the wheel, and the coyotes bolted away as she stepped on the accelerator. The wheels spun in the dirt, pelting the wheel wells with debris. The van slowly gained some traction and moved closer to the tree. Halfway there, the van lurched forward at an angle and stopped. In the darkness, she had forgotten how rough the ground was off the shoulder. She stepped on the gas again. The engine revved, the wheels spun, the van vibrated, but it didn’t move. Cursing her own stupidity, she shifted into reverse and hit the gas. Still no movement. Shifting rapidly between drive and reverse, she attempted to rock the van loose, but with only one wheel giving traction, it was pointless.

Her glimmer of hope miscarried and left her despondent again. She beat the steering wheel with her fists, screaming. Leaning forward, she planted her head against the wheel and dissolved into heaving sobs.

Will whooped with joy when he saw his mother start driving the van to the tree, but his hope sank when it became mired. At least it was closer than it had been; he might even be able to run to the van before the coyotes could get him! He had to get out of this tree. The bark was gnawing at his exposed skin, and the stench from what was left of his brother was making him nauseous. If only they would go away just long enough to give him time to reach the van.

He waited patiently—he didn’t know how long—when his prayers were finally answered. As the sun finally sank below the horizon, the coyotes actually seemed to be giving up. They turned their backs and melted away into the dwindling twilight. He couldn’t believe it! He wanted to jump down immediately, but he made himself wait. Let them get further away first.

Did Mom and Sally see that they were leaving? He broke off a small piece of branch and threw it at the van, then another. That got Sally’s attention. She shook her mother and pointed. Sonia looked around with disbelief, then up at Will. She motioned for him to stay where he was.

Before long, he grew anxious. He was sure they were gone, but what if they came back? He might lose his only chance to get to safety. He threw another twig at the van to get his mom’s attention and motioned to her that he was making a run for it. She looked all around and shook her head no, but he couldn’t stand being up in this tree another minute. He had to get to the van.

Taking a few quick breaths like he’d seen John do before sprints at his track meets, Will climbed down, then dropped the last few feet to the ground. He landed in a crouch next to a dark lump. With a gasp, he realized it was John’s sneaker-clad, dismembered foot. He’d been trying not to think too much about his brother’s body strewn about. It’s just a shoe, he told himself, pretend it’s just a shoe. The click of the van’s door latch brought him back to the moment. Forcing thoughts of his brother away, he stood up and ran for the van.

“Hurry, Billy! Run!” Sally screamed. He’d just started running for the van when the coyotes burst out of hiding in the underbrush. “Run, damn it!”

Billy was halfway to the van when he slowed to look back over his shoulder. His face went pale when he noticed the coyotes bearing down on him. When he turned back towards her, Sonia saw the terror and panic in his eyes. He leaned into his run and sped up, but slipped on the rocky soil and lunged forward, landing spread-eagled and face down. He tried to get up. He was bleeding from his hands and knees and his face was scraped and oozing. He took a few awkward steps forward, before he stumbled and went down again.

“NO!” Sonia cried as she wrenched the sliding van door open and jumped out to help her son. She ran over to him and grabbed his arm to lift him to his feet, then started back to the safety of the van, pulling him along. The lead coyote was less than two yards away.

“Hurry!” Sally urged.

Tears of pain and fear streaked down Billy’s face, diluting the blood and dirt. He tried to keep up, but Sonia had to practically drag him along. She could feel the animals close behind.

Just a few more feet to the van! She lunged forward, heaving Billy behind her, but his arm slipped out of her sweaty grip when she tried to propel him through the door. He screamed. She looked back to see a coyote with its jaws clamped on to his leg, pulling him back.

“No! You can’t have him!” Sonia shouted at the beast. She leaned over Billy and punched the coyote on the snout. The beast yelped and jumped back, but the rest of the pack had reached them. She felt the blood drain from her features as they closed, teeth bared and shiny with saliva.

Sonia started when she heard the van door slam shut behind her. She looked back and her eyes locked with Sally’s for a moment through the van’s window before Sally turned away. In that moment, Sonia knew it was the end. Her mouth went dry as she turned back to face the pack. At least Sally might make it.

She collapsed to her knees and clutched her son to her. Why? Why like this? She sobbed, the tears blurring her view of the pack as they surged forward. Billy kicked at the first one, but the animal caught his frail leg in its jaws. He screamed in pain and tried to lean over to punch the thing, but Sonia was holding him too tightly. She wanted to help him fight, wanted to kill the monsters that were murdering her family, but she was frozen, numb, drifting into a haze.

She blinked and jerked her head back as a spray of thick, warm blood splattered her face. There were more coyotes attacking Billy now, and as they dragged her son out of her loosening grip, several more leapt at Sonia. The pain brought clarity back to her. One had clamped on to her right forearm, another to her left bicep, and a third buried its teeth into her thigh. With the clarity came recognition of Billy’s screams. She flailed at the coyotes attacking her, and rushed toward her wounded son with a burst of adrenaline.

Five of the monsters were tearing chunks of flesh from Billy, shredding his clothes like candy wrappers. Sonia tried to bat them away, but they jerked his body between them like he was a puppy’s chew rag. She dropped on top of him, trying to shield him with her own body. The small bit of logic still remaining told her it was useless; they would drag her body off him the moment she was dead, but that part of her mind was silenced by the maternal instinct to protect her son. She gathered him beneath her as the coyotes relentlessly tore at her back and limbs.

She could feel their teeth ripping through her skin and muscle, scraping against her bones. So many wounds, she lost track of them. Her vision was dimming, but she was aware of the tears running from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely to her son, “I’m sorry.” Then one of the beasts snapped down on her neck, and ripped open her jugular.

Sally tried to block out the screaming, but it was too loud. She’d had to close the door. She hated herself for it, but she’d had to. They were already surrounded and the coyotes were eyeing her through the open door, so she’d had to pull it closed. But she didn’t have to watch what happened next. Nothing could make her do that. She’d witnessed John die; she couldn’t go through that again. So she curled up in a ball, wedged herself under the rear bench seat, and listened to the lingering screams until they finally stopped.

But the sounds that came next were even worse. The window was still cracked open, so Sally heard all the wet sounds of muscles being torn apart, ligaments popping, and bones cracking. These last sounds were what made her break down into wailing cries. But even through her weeping, she could still hear the coyotes feeding.

Fifty yards away, with a perfect view of the van and the carnage, Miles Laurence smiled. This was good shit! He wished he could see the girl’s death too, but he doubted she’d move from that van any time soon. Besides, even with all the expensive equipment they were using, it was getting too dark to film. They had great digital video cameras, and he could increase the light and color on the computer when he edited the footage, but it was almost full night now. You can only enhance just so much before you lose picture quality.

“That’s a wrap,” Miles said to the three men with him. “Okay Tommy, call the boys back and get ’em in their cages.”

“Sure, boss.” Tommy turned toward the van, raised a dog whistle to his lips, and blew the signal to summon the coyotes back from their hunt.

This part of the gig was the safest part; the coyotes weren’t hungry anymore. Didn’t have to worry that they’d turn on their masters after they’d already eaten. Releasing them, now that’s when there was some danger. Starving the beasts for days to get them ready for their kills tended to make them hostile. Perfect for what Miles wanted, but you had to be very careful at the same time.

The animals came bounding back through the deepening darkness. Wayne got them settled into the cages while Miles and Paul finished taking down the cameras and video equipment.

Miles smiled to himself again. Yeah, this was some great footage! These tapes would pull in top dollar. That family was perfect! Miles didn’t know how Reggie’d gotten them to take this road, but he always figured something out. That was his specialty—finding the best pigeons and luring them to where and when Miles needed them. He’d plant a small radio-detonated charge in their wheel well while they were preoccupied, which Miles would activate when they drove by to blow out the tire and set his scene.

Looking around at his crew as they tore down the equipment, Miles beamed with pride. “Good job everybody; I think this is the best one yet. I’d be proud to stamp my name on this one...if I could.” He smiled and the others laughed in response. “Paul, I can’t wait to see the footage you got of the father, down the road.”

“It was beautiful, man! I ain’t never seen anyone run so fast. You shoulda’ seen the look on his face! But ain’t a man alive can outrun our boys here.” Paul glanced at the coyotes in the cages, then back at Miles. “How much you figure we’re gonna make from this set?”

Miles shook his head. “Can’t really say till I get the editing done and see how it all comes out. But it’ll be a lot. Over a hundred grand easy.”

Most people still refused to believe that an underground snuff film industry even existed, and that was fine with Miles. The only exposure he wanted was to the clients who bought his films. He’d built up a respectable clientele over the years, and the market kept growing. People loved the reality TV shows, but all the recent third-rate copycats had lots of people looking for something more, and they were finding it in the snuff film underground. He’d become obsessed with making this kind of film after seeing his first Faces of Death video as a teenager. He was now one of the most successful snuff producers around.

Traditionally, snuff films were sexual, but Miles was always looking for a new twist. He liked experimenting with ground-breaking styles, and he’d always liked the theme of “man against nature”—with nature winning. He smiled again at the thought.

With the coyotes in their cages, it was time to tie up loose ends. “Hey Wayne, go down and get the remote cameras, and check for residue from the tire explosive. Then get the little girl out of the van.”

“You want I should kill her, Boss?”

Miles rolled his eyes and sneered at him. “No, you idiot! That’d be a freakin’ waste! Bring her back and we’ll take her with us. We can use her for something else later on. She’s pretty cute, isn’t she?”

Wayne nodded as a vicious grin spread across his face, and he headed down towards the van.