The jeans and familiar flannel shirt wrapped around the waist were enough to tell me this wasn't some long-lost employee. I ran from the room, hand covering my mouth, trying not to fully process everything. I knew Todd was dead, but my words came out in a sputter.
The coyotes were mangy, covered in patches of fur coated in thick chunks of sand and salt. Yellow and black teeth peaked out from malformed lips. The larger stepped forward and snapped its jaws with a vicious bark. That's when I remembered the whines from earlier. We were in their den.
My eyes opened as wind howled past. We were upside down. The front passenger seat sat empty. Chuck's curly hair hung below the headrest. No one moved. Mel's gone. An unnatural scream joined the howl of the wind. A perfect weekend lined up. Yet here we are. Hurt. Possibly dead.
Kenneth W. Myers 