We check out another old RV. At least this one isn’t being used as the camp’s outhouse.
“You surprised we haven’t run into anyone at all?” Murphy asks.
“Kinda.” I run my hand over my pants, the leather from my gloves rasping over the rough, tactical material.
We clear another structure. Two motorcycles in various states of assembly litter the front. My boot catches on a piece of wire and I stumble. The wire twangs and clinks. Murphy wraps his hand around my arm, righting me before I make even more noise.
“Walk much?” he whispers.
“Thanks.” I’m too tense to respond to the teasing.
Something squeaks ahead. An animal large enough to move the tall grass as it scurries away from us.
“Probably a fucking rat,” Rock mutters.
“Surprised there aren’t more critters around this dump,” Murphy says.
Under my body armor and compression shirt, sweat slides down my back. This is taking too damn long. What if Carter’s not even here?
Still wary this could be an ambush, I peek into the next camper. It’s so small, I have to squeeze through the hole that serves as a door. Nothing inside but piles of blankets. I toe each one with my boot. “Carter?”
Nothing.
I jump out of the camper, landing in the brittle grass with a muted thud. “Clear.”
A breeze picks up, intensifying the foul odor that permeates the place. To my right, something creaks in the wind. A short hill blocks my view. Only what looks like the top of a crude rectangle appears.
“What the fuck is that?” I mutter, marching up the side of the hill.
“Stay low,” Murphy urges, pressing his hand to my back. “Jesus, you’re a walking target up here.”
My body responds to his words and crouches lower, but my mind’s racing as the structure comes into view.
We stop and stare.
Two tall, thick wooden posts have been driven into the ground. A large crossbeam connects the two posts, forming a crude gallows.
“An MC who takes punishment seriously,” Murphy mutters. “Jesus Christ.”
Another creak. My gaze narrows on the middle of the structure. A rope dangles from a metal loop. At the end of the rope, a human figure hangs from the neck, swaying in the breeze.
Bile burns the back of my throat.
Carter’s playful, goofy smile fills my mind.
I can’t tell Charlotte this.
No. Please. No.