Meet Me In The Woods
Logan breathed deeply, letting the autumn air flood his lungs. The hillside on which he stood was alight-bursts of red, yellow, and orange leaves coated the landscape, one of Maine’s primary tourist draws. Pacing up and down a small stretch of the secluded hiking trail he had selected as their meeting place, Logan waited for Emma.
He had slept for only an hour or two in a clearing not far from the trail last night, unwilling to venture back to town in the dark. Emma had agreed to meet him here at dawn, close to the main road but far enough into the tree line for them to not be seen by curious eyes in passing vehicles.
Unlike Logan, she wasn’t familiar with the forest; having only arrived Buckner, Maine, a few weeks ago, Emma had not yet shown an interest in the wilderness.
As a breeze shifted the leaves around his feet, he shuddered and pulled his thick flannel jacket tighter around his shoulders. Although he had spent all twenty-two years of his life in northern Maine, Logan had never truly embraced the cold.
His childhood here had been uneventful. His parents, owners of a local bed and breakfast, had provided him with a pleasant enough youth and sufficient attention. He had kept out of trouble in school, with average grades and a clean disciplinary record. He was the type of student that his teachers would have forgotten before the next school year had even begun.
Nothing in his simple, peaceful childhood had prepared him for the past few weeks; nothing could have ever prepared him for meeting Emma. It had been just another night spent at the bar in town, downing a beer and making polite conversation with the bartender. At least, until she walked through the door. Everything stopped.
She had strolled casually up to the bar, sliding onto the stool beside Logan. Purple eye shadow framed her deep green eyes, and her long black hair hung loose and windblown around her shoulders.
“Jack and coke.” She slid an obviously fake Georgia driver’s license toward the bartender with the confidence of a professional poker player. The bartender took a good long look at the cleavage she was so artfully showing, and pushed the ID back to her without another word.
Logan hadn’t stopped staring. The young woman turned to look at him as the bartender poured her drink and handed it to her. “What’s your name, handsome?”
His heart was pounding. “Logan.”
“Emma.” She took a long pull of her Jack and coke. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’re from around here.”
He didn’t bother denying it.
“I’m from Florida.” Logan wondered what the Georgia ID was for. She continued, “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.” Another long pull on her drink, then, “I guess you could say for work. But maybe a little pleasure, too.”
She laughed as his cheeks reddened. Emma, like most other girls who had ever interacted with Logan, mistook that as a sign of weakness.
***
Feeling more nervous by the minute, Logan began to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. It was a habit that that had driven his mother crazy when he was younger; occasionally he would get so nervous that he would wear out a button and lose it. The shirt he was wearing was now missing two buttons.
Hearing a sound in the branches behind him, he spun on one heel to face the trail head.
A crow burst from the leaves not ten feet away, signaling the approach of a man and dog from the main road.
He looked about sixty-five years old, slightly stooped and walking slowly with the golden retriever beside him. Logan thought he recognized him from town. The man gave him a nod as he approached, and Logan tried hard to dig up a polite smile.
“Morning.” The man stopped directly in front of Logan, the dog curiously sniffing around his heavy boots. Logan merely nodded in return. “You hear about that bear attack last night? Gotta be careful out here alone.”
Logan kept his voice steady. “No, sir. Hadn’t heard about any attack.”
He kept his ice blue eyes level with the old man’s. “Well, they found a guy not too far from here this morning, they think a bear must’ve got him. I wouldn’t be out hiking today without Arthur here.” He said, indicating the dog.
Logan nodded. “Well thanks for the tip, sir. I’ll be careful.” The dog had begun to growl quietly in the direction of his boots, and it was all Logan could do to keep still and look calm.
The man gave him a last wary glance, nodded in return, and continued up the trail with Arthur reluctantly in tow. Logan raked his hands through his hair, and checked his watch for the thirty-sixth time. Emma was now over an hour late.
***
It had been a few years since Dr. Mark Lewis had seen such a brutal case. He had worked as the coroner in Buckner for over twenty years, yet had only very rarely encountered cases involving bear attacks. Luckily for him, and the general public, the city had done a good job of educating tourists about the dangers of hiking in the woods. The few incidents he had dealt with had all been rough, but something seemed different with this one.
As if the bear attack victim wasn’t enough, Dr. Lewis had another body in the morgue this morning. The young woman had been brought in around 5am, an obvious drug overdose. The sheriff had walked into Dr. Lewis’s office as he was starting the paperwork for her autopsy.
Sheriff Lincoln Peters, like Dr. Lewis, was a lifelong resident of Buckner. He had also seen some tough cases, but had been enjoying the sleepy town’s lack of crime as he crept toward retirement.
Things were changing, though; in just the last few months, people had been showing up from down south. The sheriff had watched helplessly as life in Buckner had slowly gone downhill.
Drugs like heroin and meth had been popping up in the local high schools, and concerned residents had informed him that a small group of individuals had been dealing out of the town’s main bar. He had been doing everything he could to stem the flow, but the girl in the morgue wasn’t the first to overdose in the last few weeks.
“Busy day, Mark.” Sheriff Peters sat down in a chair across from the cold metal desk. The coroner nodded solemnly at his old friend.
“I was just getting started on the paperwork. Come on, we can head in and go over all the details.” They walked into the morgue, toward two tables bearing white-sheeted figures.
“The first one here is the young woman. Don’t know if you recognize her, her wallet was found with her but her ID is an obvious fake. We’re still working on identity.”
The sheriff picked up the flimsy ID with a Georgia peach stamped on it. “I doubt her name really is Peachy Keane.” He pulled back the sheet to reveal her face. The girl’s eyes were closed, lids darkened by purple eye shadow. Glossy black hair spilled around her pale shoulders.
“She does look familiar. I might’ve seen her in town a few times, but I couldn’t tell you her real name. I’ll start asking around as soon as I get back to the station.”
Dr. Lewis nodded, and pulled the sheet up to cover her face again. “It was heroin. They found her back behind the bar, needle still in her arm.”
He paused before looking over at the second slab. “Now this one, you’d better prepare yourself a little more.”
He slowly and carefully pulled the sheet down to the man’s waist, revealing a chest covered in deep gashes. It took Sheriff Peters a moment, but he soon noticed the detail that had caught the coroner’s eye.
The man, who looked to be about thirty, had been bound at the wrists. The raw rope burns around his arms were visible through the numerous cuts.
“He was found in a clearing near the trail just above town. No wallet, just shreds of clothing.”
“I know this one- Tate Samuels. He isn’t a local, but he’s been around the bar a fair bit. Once I start asking around I’ll see if I can find out who his next of kin is, and why he might’ve been in the woods last night.”
“Alright, Sheriff. Keep me in the loop.” They shook hands and exchanged tired glances as Sheriff Peters walked out of the room. Dr. Lewis pulled the sheet back over the man and closed the door.
***
Logan was pacing on the trail as the sun passed the highest point in the sky. He had gone over what he would say to Emma dozens of times in his head, but he was struggling to think of a reason why she would be late.
He had done exactly as she had told him to. Tate Samuels never saw what hit him; Logan had hidden in the underbrush at the meeting location, waiting for Samuels to arrive. He had been right on schedule, with the cash as promised.
If Tate had seen Logan before being bashed on the head, he would’ve noticed that Logan had not brought the heroin bricks that Samuels was supposed to be collecting from him.
Logan had not felt like explaining. He had left the man tied up and unconscious in a moonlit meadow about a mile off the trail.
It was now, as he paced and scanned the trail for Emma, that what the old man had told him began to sink in. A bear attack; a man tied up in the woods would have been an easy target.
As the wind began to pick up, Logan decided he couldn’t wait for Emma any longer.
Leaves swirled around his legs as he ran for his truck, parked near the tree line at the trail head. He took one last long look at the hillside before slamming the door shut and starting the engine.
An hour later, he was approaching the Canadian border. Next to him on the passenger seat sat a backpack full of clothing, a paper bag filled with food and supplies, and a leather wallet.
Logan removed Tate Samuels’ ID card from the wallet as he sat in line of cars, and carefully put the wallet and the $10,000 it contained in the glove compartment. He was whistling cheerfully along with the radio as he rolled down his window for the border agent.
Title: "Meet Me In The Woods" (Title came from a song with the same name, I wrote the story in a creative writing class that challegned us to use a song title for inspiration.)
Genre: Suspense, could also include elements of romance and horror.
Age Range: Adult
Word Count: Once expanded from short story length, possibly 30-50k
Author Name: Rachel Souerbry
Why My Project is a Good Fit: The idea for the end of the story is presented here in the short story version, and can be expanded upon to include a more developed plot. It will include a few really interesting twists and turns, as well as vivid imagery.
Bio: I grew up in San Diego, California, and am currently living in Brisbane, Australia. I work online, writing history articles for the American website Ranker.com. I love my job, and I get to learn something new every single day. I've always been interested in history, and some of my other interests (besides creative writing, which I've dabbled in since I was 8) include crocheting and cross stitching, reading, gardening, watching comedy specials, and learning new languages. Contrary to what my hobbies might have you believe, I'm 26 years old.
Education: I hold a Bachelor degree in Dairy Science (Husbandry and Dairy Products Manufacturing) from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. I am not currently putting that to use, but I love learning and am taking classes online for my own personal and professional development. The creative writing class I took was through the Open University, and focused mainly on developing dynamic characters.