Murderer

He was panting by the time he reached the four wheeler, out of breath and bleeding from the cuts on his face and his nose. Joe Sweeny wasn’t used to physical exercise and the run through the woods had winded him. He finally got the vehicle started and took off toward the high ridge he’d seen when he had rode in the helicopter over the property with Travis. Somewhere up there was an old herder’s stone hut, he figured it was his best bet. No way could he go back to the house…at least not in the daylight. Good thing Travis got that phone call…with any luck he’d get one too and be out of this shit hole.

Damn but that woman put up a fight…he hadn’t really meant to kill her…until the blood lust got him. It had been a while since that had happened years…but he’d paid his debt for that one. He spotted a stream and stopped to wash himself dipping his head underwater he came up to the sound of cattle in the distance. Ah fuck that damn foreman was down in the valley. He hesitated with the four wheeler but finally decided the cattle would drown out the sound.

Soon his was up along the tree line and spotted the old stone hut. Kicking the door in he found a broken chair and a bed still in somewhat of a piece and he fell down on top of the bare mattress, feeling in his pocket he came up with the silver flask he carried and turned it up. He patted his other pockets looking for his cell phone.

"Ah shit this is a fucking circus," he said. There was no way he was going back to look for it…probably lost it at the steam…yeah cause he had it at the cabin…the stream. Joe hit the mattress with his fist. He began to check himself…what else had he lost…nothing he still had the knife in his boot…money in his pockets. He’d wait until nightfall and get back to the guest house get his gear and clear out.

Propped against the wall he turned his flask up again and drained it.