#3: Scars Are Souvenirs You Never Lose

[00:00:46] Herb Walker trailed along the edge of Foxfire River. His Rottweiler, Daisy, patted a few paces ahead, her ears flicking at the occasional rustle in the brush. She was a good dog, a loyal dog, and that was more than Herb could say for most people. [00:01:03] The sun was just starting to climb, bleeding soft gold through the mist that curled off the river like a waking breath. It was his favorite time of day, the world still quiet, untouched, not yet ruined by the noise of people who talked too loud and never listened. He treasured moments like this, especially now, especially since April. [00:01:28] It had been nearly a year, but grief had a way of keeping time in its own strange rhythm. [00:01:35] Some days it felt like she had only just gone, like he'd turn the corner and see her there on the porch, coffee cup in hand, rolling her eyes at him for waking up too damn early again. [00:01:48] Other days it felt like she had been missing from this world for a century. [00:01:53] But out here in the unforgiving wilderness, Herb Walker could, if only for a moment, forget what he'd lost. [00:02:04] The river's edge, the ever burning Never Answer glow of Foxfire river had a way of offering something that felt like peace. [00:02:12] Not the kind you'd find in church or the bottom of a bottle, but the kind that pressed down on you, made your bones heavy, your breath slow. [00:02:24] He crouched at the bank, watching the water catch, the first sliver of sunlight shimmering like something alive. [00:02:31] Some folks said the river glowed because of trapped spirits, their anger caught in the current. Others blamed Old Henry Cawthorn's stolen gold hidden beneath the water, cursed forever. Herb didn't care much for ghost stories. [00:02:45] He carried his own. [00:02:47] He couldn't explain it, but the river made him feel connected to April. [00:02:52] Not in a way he understood, not in a way he could explain, but in that cruel cosmic joke of a way where the dead aren't really gone. They just rearrange themselves in the things you can't quite look at. A ripple in the water, the rustle of leaves at your back when there's no wind, the scent of honeysuckle carried by something unseen. [00:03:16] He exhaled slow. [00:03:20] Damn it, April, he muttered. Why'd you have to go? [00:03:25] The river didn't answer. It never did. It just kept moving, kept glowing, kept doing what rivers do. [00:03:34] Daisy slowed, sniffing at something in the reed's tail stiff. [00:03:39] Herb kept walking, hands in his pockets, letting the river murmur its old familiar tune. [00:03:46] And that's when Daisy let out a sharp bark. [00:03:51] Herb stopped. She was just ahead, standing rigid at the river's edge. Hackles raised the sound she made wasn't her usual warning growl. It was something smaller. Tighter. Uncertainty. Herb frowned, stepping closer. [00:04:08] Daisy. [00:04:10] The dog didn't move. Herb followed Daisy's gaze, squinting through the early morning haze. Nothing unusual. Nothing out of place except just past a patch of overgrown reeds caught at the edge of the trail. A car. A black sedan. It didn't belong. Not here. Not in Hickory Bend, where most folks still drove pickups as old as their grandparents. This was a city car. Sleek, polished. Too new, too shiny. The windows were tinted and the engine was still running. Exhaust curled from the muffler, fading into the cold air like a sigh. His fingers twitched at his side, itching for something. He made a low whistling noise, the one he always used to settle Daisy when a deer strayed too close or when she got antsy around strangers. She hesitated, ears still perked, but slowly padded back to his side. He clipped on her leash with a practiced hand, steady despite the unease crawling up his spine. [00:05:11] Easy, girl. [00:05:13] Easy. [00:05:15] His voice came out in a hush, barely more than a breath. He waited. [00:05:20] Nothing. [00:05:22] No door swinging open, no shadowed figure stepping out to explain why the hell a blacked out city car was sitting here in the woods just before dawn. [00:05:33] The soft hum of the engine and the feeling, that. Feeling that something was watching. [00:05:43] Herb took a slow step forward, his boots crunching against the ground with each tread. He trotted. [00:05:49] Daisy let out a low, uncertain whine. The car just sat there. [00:05:54] Herb's gut told him to turn back, to double back down the trail, head home and pretend he never saw a damn thing. But curiosity, that old, dangerous thing, kept his boots planted where they were. [00:06:08] So instead he stayed. [00:06:11] He moved slow, careful, positioning himself behind the thick trunk of a sweetgum tree, its bark rough against his palm. From here he could watch without being seen, his breath shallow, controlled. [00:06:26] The car just sat there, silent, humming. [00:06:32] Endless possibilities ran through his head, each worse than the last. It had the look, that clean, unnatural sleekness. Black paint polished to a mirror shine. Windows dark as secrets. [00:06:45] Could have been government issued. FBI, maybe. [00:06:49] But what the hell would they be doing out here in the Styx, parked like a ghost on the riverbank? Or worse, the mob. Maybe it wasn't a parked car at all. Maybe it was a tomb. A body in the trunk. A snitch with a bag over his head, fresh out of breath. A cleanup crew making a quick stop before sending someone to sleep with the fish in Foxfire's deepest bend. Herb's jaw tightened. Do I stay or do I run? Running was smart. Running meant getting home, brewing coffee, and forgetting all about this. [00:07:23] Running meant telling himself later that it was nothing. A lost traveler, a drunk who pulled off the road, some teenager playing pretend in Daddy's stolen ride. But staying. [00:07:36] Staying meant answers. [00:07:38] And Herb Walker wasn't the kind of man who left questions hanging in the cold. Daisy shifted beside him, ears still perked, eyes locked on the car. She felt it, too, the strangeness in the air. Herb swallowed and stayed. [00:07:54] A moment later, the sound of crunching leaves broke the silence. [00:07:59] Not a deer. Not the wind shaking loose another handful of brittle, dying leaves. Footsteps measured, intentional. Daisy heard it, too. She let out a low warning growl, her body tensing. He snapped his fingers, sharp and quick. Hush. She obeyed, but her ears stayed perked, eyes locked on the movement just beyond the cartwo men, just out of view at first, then stepping into the thin morning light. Black suits, sharp and crisp, brimmed hats low over their faces, their movements precise. They looked like they walked straight out of a gritty film noir. [00:08:39] Black and white silhouettes against the graying dawn. Not locals. The men didn't talk, didn't hesitate. They were combing the banks of foxfire, moving slow, scanning the ground, the water, the reeds. Looking for what? Herb didn't know, but something told him they weren't planning on leaving until they found it. [00:09:02] One of the men broke character. [00:09:05] Up until now they had been precise, too precise, moving in sync, sweeping their eyes over the riverbank with a kind of eerie patience that suggested they already knew what they were looking for. But then. [00:09:19] A slip. [00:09:21] A muttered phrase, low but sharp. Herb couldn't catch all of it, not from this distance, but the open air carried just enough syllables to send a chill through him. It's gotta be close. [00:09:31] Not maybe, not. Let's keep looking. It's got to be close. [00:09:36] His grip tightened on Daisy's leash. His mouth went dry. [00:09:41] Whatever it was, they weren't guessing. They knew. One of the men broke away, striding back toward the sleek black sedan. The kind of walk that didn't waste time. [00:09:51] Herb watched as he yanked open the driver's side door, reached inside, and pulled out something bulky, a car phone, the kind still attached to a cord, the kind rich folks and government types use when they wanted to feel important. [00:10:07] The man punched in a string of numbers, held the receiver to his ear. [00:10:12] Herb strained to listen. The wind carried only fragments, syllables slipping through the trees like ghosts. [00:10:20] He thought he heard. We lost it. [00:10:23] Maybe clearer this time. Firm, clipped. We'll keep looking. Herb swallowed. Daisy shifted beside him again, ears pinned back, sensing his unease like a radio picking Up a bad frequency. [00:10:36] Then she barked. Not a soft warning this time, a full bodied growl cutting through the morning stillness like a blade. [00:10:46] Herb's stomach dropped. The two men froze. Then in unison, their heads turned straight toward him. Herb coiled to the ground, pressing himself against the rough bark of the sweetgum tree, heart hammering. The cold earth seeped through his jeans, the scent of damp leaves filling his nose. [00:11:08] Maybe, just maybe, the shadows and the early morning haze would be enough to keep him concealed. [00:11:14] Don't move. [00:11:16] Don't breathe. Don't. [00:11:18] Then his finger slipped. The leash gone, Daisy bolted straight toward the men. Shit. Herb hissed under his breath, already scrambling to his knees, already reaching. [00:11:32] Too late. [00:11:34] She was on them now, barreling forward, her deep, protective bark splitting the air. The men reacted fast. Too fast. And that's when Herb realized these weren't just any men. [00:11:47] The taller of the two men moved first. Smooth, practiced. Too damn fast. From the folds of his coat, he produced a pistol. Not a shaky first time gun owner kind of draw, but a cold, professional movement. [00:12:01] A man who had pulled a trigger before and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. He raised it, leveled it at Daisy. Herb's heart jumped, his stomach turning inside out. [00:12:13] No time to think. Instinct took over, and before his brain could catch up, he was already lunging from behind the tree. [00:12:21] Daisy Ease. His voice cracked. Too loud, Too desperate. The man with the gun hesitated. Just a flicker. Just enough. [00:12:32] His eyes gravitated toward Herb. They were registering a new variable. A moment later, he lowered the pistol, slipping it back into his coat with the ease of a magician performing a parlor trick. [00:12:44] Like it had never been there at all. [00:12:47] Herb sucked in a breath and did the only thing that made sense. He pretended not to notice. [00:12:53] Didn't see the gun. [00:12:55] Didn't see how casual the guy had been about nearly shooting his damn dog. Didn't see how his partner hadn't even flinched. [00:13:04] Nope. He was just some poor idiot out walking his dog. That was the story. That was the role. And if he played it right, maybe he wouldn't have a matching hole in his chest. By sunrise, Daisy, still on edge, had stopped just short of leaping distance. [00:13:22] She stood rigid, ears pinned back, growl low and steady. [00:13:27] Herb forced himself forward, his legs like cement, his breath hitching in his throat. By the time he reached Daisy, he was out of breath. [00:13:37] Whether from the sprint or sheer terror was up for debate. He bent down, gripping the leash tight. [00:13:44] Sorry, guys, he wheezed, dragging in oxygen like a drowning man. Guess she slipped away from me. [00:13:53] He looked up. [00:13:54] The men were watching. Not Annoyed, not amused. Just watching. [00:14:01] Unblinking, expressionless. [00:14:05] Herb forced a chuckle, the kind that felt like loose gravel in his throat. Keep it light. Keep it casual. Pretend the last 30 seconds didn't just happen. [00:14:16] We don't see too many folks out this early on our morning walks, he said, giving Daisy's leash. A reassuring tug like that might settle his own nerves as much as hers. [00:14:27] The man who had nearly shot his dog finally spoke. [00:14:31] His voice was smooth but edged, like a blade that had seen too much use. [00:14:37] Scared the fuck out of me. [00:14:39] Herb let out a dry laugh, trying to ignore the way the man's hand lingered just a little too long at the pocket where the gun had disappeared. [00:14:47] Yeah, he said, nodding. [00:14:51] Mornings are rough. [00:14:53] The other man, the quiet one, the observer, the one who hadn't so much as twitched when a weapon got drawn, was still watching him. Not just looking. [00:15:03] Studying. [00:15:05] You guys lost? Herb asked, shifting his weight, trying to keep his voice somewhere between neighborly and neutral. The quiet one finally spoke. [00:15:15] Something like that. The way he said it, flat, unreadable, sent a slow, crawling chill through Herb's spine. [00:15:24] The man's eyes dragged over him head to toe, like he was assessing something. A calculation, an equation, a potential problem to solve. [00:15:34] Herb held his breath. [00:15:36] Then slowly, the man smiled. [00:15:39] It wasn't the friendly kind. It wasn't the reassuring kind. It was the kind that said, we're not done here. [00:15:49] This path will take you back to the main road. Herb spoke maybe a mile or so up. [00:15:55] The one with the pistol finally relaxed, or at least pretended to. [00:16:00] His fingers eased away from his coat pocket, like a man who wanted you to know just how easily he could have gone the other way. [00:16:08] Yeah, he said. Think we took a wrong turn back there. Was heading into town for some breakfast. Had to stop to take a piss. [00:16:16] Herb's lips pressed into a thin line. A piss. Right. Because that made perfect sense. Two men in black suits driving a sleek city car, hunting the banks of Foxfire river at the crack of dawn like a pair of detectives straight out of a dime store novel. Herb let the lie hang in the cold air, nodding slowly as if he had any interest in pretending to believe it. [00:16:43] Well, he said, scratching Daisy behind the ear, you're about 10 miles off course if you were looking for breakfast. Closest spots, Mary Lou's Diner. Hell of a detour just to take a leak. The quiet one tilted his head the way a man does when he wants you to know he's listening, but not to the words you're saying. [00:17:04] A long pause, then a smile appreciate the tip, the gunman said, dusting imaginary lint off his sleeve. Well, herb said, keeping his voice easy. Almost lazy. [00:17:17] I'll let you two go now. Be safe out here. Lots of black bears. Some of them aren't friendly. The gunman smirked, a small, knowing thing. Noted. [00:17:27] That was it. No laugh. No thanks for the heads up. Just a single word that sat heavy in the air. [00:17:33] Herb nodded, tugging Daisy's leash a little too hard. She let out a small whine but obeyed, ears still pinned back as they turned away. He kept his stride even measured. [00:17:46] Running wasn't an option. Running meant fear, meant suspicion. Running was for prey. Still, he checked back once, then again. [00:17:58] Each time he forced a polite smile, the kind people give in passing. The kind meant to keep things normal. But he wasn't smiling. He was watching. [00:18:07] Watching for a sudden movement, a hand dipping back into a coat pocket, waiting to see if the gunman was going to clip him right here in the woods and leave him for the river. But the men didn't move. They just stood there, watching him go. What in the unholy, godforsaken hell did he just witness? [00:18:25] He swallowed hard. [00:18:28] Some things weren't meant to be.