The Haunted Traveler Vol. 2 Issue 1

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he leaned forward to peer into the living room. His wife was
there, head back, hands rubbing her eyes. Not working. She
had given up on him, as he always knew she would when the
going got rough.
He quietly drew open the desk drawer, retrieving the
revolver kept there—purely as a precaution, one could not
be too well protected in this lonely spot—but the gun had
other uses as well. She meant to leave him; he knew that, he
had seen it in her face many times, found hints in her subtle
conniving against him. Had she not turned the boy against
him? Kerry, who even now was out frolicking in the desert,
disobeying his strictest orders about leaving the premises?
His own son turned against him, and now she would go... unless
he could prevent it. It was the only way; as a promising
young professor Neil had appearances to consider, a career to
protect. He could not have her ruining everything.
She was gone! Glancing through the open doorway,
he saw the empty couch, the scattered printed sheets. Caught
in the act of abandonment, the vicious shrew, the slut, her
damned betrayal laid bare for all to see. Over the incessant
howling of the dog he detected furtive sounds in the
rear of the house. So she hadn’t made her getaway yet. Neil
chuckled softly to himself. This far, no farther. He advanced
gingerly across the den, the cold metal grasped firmly, held
before him as a shield and a harbinger of final judgment.
As he approached, Neil heard a drawer closing.
Kerry staggered into the looming cottage, weakly
clutching his temples and sobbing from the pain. He wished
he could make the agony go away; there must be something
he could do, or if not he, then his parents. They were always
such a comfort when he injured himself, and this detestable
throbbing and pounding in his skull hurt worse than any
previous experience. Ralph’s loud and uncharacteristic barking
did not aid matters. The boy found them in the kitchen,
sprawled awkwardly on the floor, and what he saw forced