The Ghost of Apache Creek

NOWHERE TO RUN

Here the moonlight seemed brighter, though the land in front of her lay angled in deep shadow.

Then she saw it—a single pinpoint of light in the distance. A campfire maybe.

But how distant? It could have been one mile or ten. She had no way of knowing.

Jess heard a stealthy rustle in the grass behind her, and fear gave wings to her feet. She hiked up her skirts again and ran down the rise, heedless of the tree branches that slapped and swatted at her.

Then she was on flat grassland and right ahead of her was a town.

Sobbing her relief, Jess ran. She passed a darkened church and went on into the middle of the street.

She stopped in a patch of shadow cast by one of the false-fronted buildings, looking around her. The light she’d seen from the rise was straight ahead of her, throwing a pale yellow rectangle onto the street.

She prepared to run again, but the coyotes, heads down, growling, had cut her off and were now standing directly in her path.

Jess backed away, out of the shadow and into the moonlight.

The coyotes stalked closer, readying their attack.

She screamed for help—then she screamed again.

Her shrieks echoed through the silent town and came back at her. Mocking her.