Deerly Departed Draft (Sample)

 The world had gone dead silent, telling Beatrice that her prey was close. Every living creature in a five-mile radius knew to “GTFO”, muting the nightly chorus that normally filled the preserve. Even the once-blue-now-rust pickup was quiet, momentarily forgetting it’s many complaints. Silence wasn’t the worst effect of the creature they were hunting, but it was one of the most disconcerting.

The truck hit a pot hole, eliciting a muffled apology from Erica, their driver. Beatrice grabbed the edge of the truck bed for support. On the opposite side, her wife Stephanie did the same. In the pallid light of the half moon, Beatrice could just make out her familiar sharp features and wispy blonde hair, dyed a strange shade of silver in the moonlight.

Beatrice gave her a wry smile.

“Not much of an anniversary present, huh?”

“We’ve had worse,” said Stephanie with a laugh, “remember the possum pandemic? And that racoon that almost scalped you?”

“Don’t remind me,” Beatrice muttered. Stephanie leaned forward and touched the pale scar that split itself across Beatrice’s temple.

“We’ll find him,” Stephanie assured her, “sooner or later.”

“I know. It’s just… well, it’s always something, isn’t it?”

“Comes with the territory, I suppose. Feds dump their critters, we clean up after them, everyone goes home happy.”

Erica swore and slammed the brakes. the ancient metal crying out like a screech owl. A muffled thump, and the truck came to a standstill.

“I think we hit a deer,” Erica said, peering through the cracked windshield. Then she swore again. “Oh HELL no.”

“What? What is it?” Said Beatrice.

“Mr. Nasty.” Erica revved up the engine, the truck sputtering and coughing.

The three of them watched as the bloodied, brownish shape of a deer rose up from the asphalt. Or, more accurately, something that used to be a deer. Now it ran nameless and corrupt and wretched. Before Beatrice could even raise her gun, he vanished. No doubt in pursuit of some hapless coyote wondering why the food chain had been turned upside down.

“I’m going after him.” Beatrice prepared to vault over the side of the truck, a far more laborious undertaking at fifty than it had been at twenty. Her bones would never forgive her, but the deer had already vanished past the treeline.

Stephanie caught her arm just before she went. “Be careful, okay? Don’t get too close to him.”

“I won’t.”

“And remember to aim for the head. Chest shots won’t kill him.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

Stephanie lingered for a long moment. Finally, she let go, and Beatrice disappeared into the humid darkness. She crossed through an abandoned corn field, the stalks moldy and decayed, then on into a tangled copse of oak and sweetgum.