Shacora watched him go with asmirk. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t at all bad-looking for a white guy. Hehad that hot daddy vibe going for him. If he did decide to take her up on thatflirting, she wasn’t going to say no, even though she’d seen the gold ring onhis finger.
Not that she had time for any kindof love life right now. What with teacher training classes during the day andworking the overnight park patrol by night, she barely had time to sleep, letalone anything else. It was all going to pay off when she was qualified. Shewas going to get herself a job in a low-income housing area where she couldreally make a difference to the kids.
Like she wished someone had donefor her. At twenty-six, she’d already been through school twice: once the firsttime, when she’d barely paid attention in class and dropped out at sixteen, andthen again five years later when she’d realized that not having any educationwasn’t good for your job prospects. It had been night school first, then aswitch to a more intensive course load when she was able to get the job at thestate park. Now she was so close to getting that certificate and getting a realjob. Something that paid enough to actually cover the rent.
No point jeopardizing all that fora married man, Shacora thought to herself, turning toward the office with aself-deprecating chuckle.
She grabbed the truck keys fromthe shelf, signing her name on the sheet beside them, and glanced around therest of the office. No cupcakes—that was a shame. Sometimes, if it was someone’sbirthday, the rangers had a celebration during the day and there would be cupcakesleft over. Never mind, Shacora thought. Good to watch her waistline, too. Nosense giving the kids something to tease her over. Kids would go for anyweakness.
“Why are you training to be ateacher again, Shacora?” she said out loud to herself, shaking her head with asmile. The nights got long and lonely on patrol. Hardly anything ever happened.It was boring and easy, and she’d kind of fallen into the habit of talking outloud just to fill the silence. At least it was something to do.
Shacora headed back out into thelot and jumped into the patrol van, switching on the ignition and warming herhands in front of the vent while she waited for the temperature inside toequalize a little. It was cold out tonight, the bite of real winter in the air.Wouldn’t be long now before the snow. Shacora hated when the snow came.Everything white, all your landmarks covered, so easy to get lost out there. Tostray off the path and then get reprimanded for accidentally crashing the truckinto a two-hundred-year-old tree trunk. Well, it wasn’t her fault. All the damnanimals put on their white coats, and then she couldn’t see them until theydarted right out in front of her.
Shacora rolled out onto thefamiliar route, which at least for now was still easy to follow. The floor wascarpeted in orange and brown, but she could still make out the road. It had anice feeling to it, she thought. The last bit of beauty before everything wasdead and white for a few months. If it wasn’t so damn cold, she could actuallyhave enjoyed it.
Shacora’s eyes caught somethingoff to the side of the road: a flash of movement, so quick and so vague thatshe could have imagined it. It wasn’t a good idea to assume, though. It couldeasily be an animal. But more than once, she’d ignored something only to have amajor trespassing problem on her next circuit around. She wasn’t about to letthat happen again.
She stopped the vehicle, leavingthe engine on as she peered ahead. Nothing. But she needed to be sure. With asigh of annoyance, Shacora took the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them—anothermemorable lesson she had once learned about leaving the truck running withtrespassers around—and grabbed her flashlight before climbing out to theground.
She shone the light into thetrees, narrowing her eyes as she strained to see. The trees were all straightlines and shadows, a confusing mass that was difficult to interpret in theharsh beam of the flashlight. She swung it back and forth where she thought she’dseen the movement, searching.
She was about to give up when anunusual shape caught her eye—human shaped, not tree shaped. After a closersquint she realized what she was looking at: a person with their back to her, acoat over a hooded jacket, the hood up over their hair.
“Excuse me?” she shouted out. “Sir?Or ma’am?”
There was no response. Frowning,Shacora stepped closer, into the trees. Maybe whoever it was thought that shewouldn’t be able to see them if they stood still and stayed silent. But she sawthem, all right. Getting closer, she came around at an angle to see the facebeneath the hood: a man, his lips moving, murmuring something.
“Sir, did you hear me?” she said,her voice lower now that she was in close proximity. “I called out to you.”
The man muttered something inreturn. What was he saying? Impatiently, Shacora stepped right to his side. “Sir,do you hear me? You can’t be here. You need to leave the park.”
“The rings,” the man said, notturning to look at her. His attention was fixed on something in front of him. “Therings, they’re near-perfect. Perfect circles. Near perfect rings.”
Shacora swung the beam of the flashlightdown. He was staring at the stump of a tree that had recently been cut down,something they did whenever the trees were struck by lightning. It was oftendangerous to leave them up, the way the lightning would crack them, and theywere dead anyway. This one bore no scorch marks or obvious splits; the damagemust have been further up the trunk.
“Yeah, that’s a real nice treestump,” Shacora said, trying to play along with him. He was most likely eitherdrunk or high. “Now, we’d better get going.”
The man chuckled. There wassomething eerie about him, the way he stood over the stump staring at it. Howmuch had he even been able to see in the dark? Definitely high, Shacoradecided.
