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.He got out,opened the trunk, and grabbed his tent.He d set it up first, then come back for the rest.He didn t have to worry about getting permission to camp; this part of the woodswas public land.Nothing like a state park, but open to all and people hunted in season,fished, and camped.With the tent bag slung over his shoulder, he hurried into the woods.If he couldget to the spot before night fell, he d have an easy time of putting up the tent.He coulddo it in the dark if he had to, but why?Pushing his way past low-hanging limbs and brush, Mark eased his way deeperinto the woods.Most of the ground was solid here, but he knew it would eventuallygive way to the real swamp, and the ground would disappear, replaced by dark, dankwater filled with snakes and gators.He feared nothing in the woods.There might be a bobcat or two, but as long as hetook precautions, they shouldn t bother him.Raccoons, skunks, and armadillos weremerely pests.Snakes were an issue, but he could tell poisonous from benign with aglance.The birds wouldn t bother him, only the mosquitoes, and he d already dousedhimself with a heavy repellant.The deeper in he got, the darker it became.Old oaks draped with Spanish mosssurrounded him.Dogwoods in the last bloom before the winter snuggled under theoaks, seeking protection.Below them, palmettos dotted the ground here and there, andbushes popped up everywhere else, including the odd bit of poison ivy. Rougaroux Social Club 3: Bayou Loup 121The path he walked showed signs of deer and other critters.He kept an eye out forany print that didn t belong, hoping to find one that could be his swamp wolf, but hedidn t find anything.Tomorrow he d make a more thorough search, working in anever-widening circle from his camp outward.Now he needed to step up his pace before it got too dark.With a final burst of speed, he covered the remaining trail until it opened into asmall clearing.Mark stopped at the edge as if he d hit a glass wall.Damn. It looks the same, he said to himself.Time had held still here in the little meadow.Tall grass trembled in the slightbreeze, and for a moment Mark went back in time.He was a teen, dragged on acamping trip with his old man.He d been pouting and surly about the whole thing.Hisdad had long since stopped trying to cajole him out of his pissy mood.At fifteen, Mark knew he was gay and knew the last place he wanted to be on theweekend was camping with his old man.But his father wouldn t take no for an answer,and no way could Mark come out and say, I want to hang out with my boyfriend.Hell, no.A bird s harsh cry startled Mark, and the memory faded in a flash, only replacedby the guilt he felt every time he thought of the way he d acted that last weekend withhis dad.They d argued, and Mark had gone to bed angry.His father hadn t said so, butMark knew he had been disappointed in Mark.And that disappointment was the lastway his dad had thought of him; that just tore Mark up inside.Suck it up was Mark s mantra when the guilt grew too large.His dad used to say itto him all the time.Now Mark said it way too often to himself.Taking a deep breath, he strode into the middle of the meadow and dropped thebag on the ground.He knelt and set to work putting the tent together.When he d driven the last stake into the soft ground, Mark headed back to the carto get the rest of his gear.It d take two trips, one for the equipment, and one for hisbelongings and food.He d probably make that one in the dark. 122 Lynn LorenzWith his flashlight in hand, he set off.* * * *Darlene Dupree sat at her kitchen table, smoking a cigarette.She knocked off thelong gray ash and sighed.She d really screwed up this time.Okay, she d done somewild things back in the day, but God knew she was a true believer.She did see Jesus inthat oak tree.But&Meowwr.She glanced over to the cat sitting on the rug by the stove. Shut up, cat.You ain t helping
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