Free Faithful Shadow by Kevin J. Howard Page B

pools, Joe decided to call off the search and focus on the site itself. He was about to examine the missing girl’s sleeping bag when the walkie-talkie hooked to his belt crackled and whined, emitting a woman’s voice.
    “Say again Rita, your voice is breaking up, over.” Joe released the button and held the speaker to his ear.
    “I’m about seven miles west of West Thumb and we’ve got a missing fireman, over.”
    “I copy. I’m on my way, over and out.”
    “Wait, hold up.” Stew held out his hands, shaking his head. “You’re taking off?”
    “We’ve just spent the last hour and a half walking back and forth through the woods for two people who are probably fine and dandy. Now I have a fireman that’s legitimately missing.”
    “So our two friends aren’t as important as one fireman?”
    “That fireman is working his ass off to put out a fire that was probably started by some punk ass kid like yourself, taking it upon themselves to have a fire where they aren’t allowed.” Joe raised his voice and pointed down at the fire pit.
    Stew tightened his fists and stepped forward, but Kelly and Richard held him back. Joe saw his advance and pointed at his chest, warning him with a single glare not to come any farther.
    “I’d listen to your friends and cool it, Stewart. Don’t forget that this is a National Park and you’re speaking to a ranger.” Joe turned and got into his truck. “I suggest you all go back to Old Faithful and stay put, come back in the morning and fill out those forms if your friends haven’t returned,” Joe yelled out the window as he backed up.
    “Ranger, my ass,” Stew mumbled under his breath, his blood boiling. “More like a drunk!” The last he yelled, tossing the words from his mouth directly into Joe’s open window.
    They waited anxiously as they saw the ranger’s brake lights come on, glowing red in the fading light of the day, but he released the brakes and drove off. Kelly and Richard stepped back and waited as Stew took long, slow breaths till he’d gotten his temper under control. He turned toward them with an apologetic face, knowing he wasn’t helping the matter.
    “What do you want to do?” Stew asked them, looking up at the black clouds of smoke above and the brilliant red light from the setting sun. He hadn’t realized the day had slipped by.
    “If it’s okay with you two, I’d like to walk down that trail and try over that way. At least till it’s dark.” Kelly looked at them with her sad eyes and knew she’d have company.
    “Yeah, I’ve got some flashlights in the glove box.” Stew ran off toward the jeep, more than willing to put in a few more hours. Even if that drunk excuse of a ranger didn’t think his friends were worth the time.

14
    M arco was agitated. Enraged even. He’d gone through such a shitty day, waking up to find two people he knew had disappeared right out from under his nose, then rushing back to Old Faithful to get to work on time, only to get called in to have a one-on-one meeting with his stupid ass supervisor. Mr. Parsons was probably the most pathetic excuse of a man he’d ever seen. He was as thin as a rail and balding terribly despite the fact he was only thirty-one years old. Worse was how he combed the few remaining hairs over the top of his scalp as if it could possibly hide his bulbous head. At least Marco shaved it off. His glasses were thick and he had a slight slur. The only reason a spineless wimp like him was given the title of supervisor was because he’d been there for three years straight and therefore had seniority. But what bothered Marco more than all that was how he had to sit there and take his words of encouragement. He had to feel small and helpless as this loser sat on the edge of his desk and told him to be more diligent, to do his job with pride. Pride? He was a busboy for crying out loud. But luckily it had been just a pep talk, no disciplinary action was taken against him. So Marco was more