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Craig Nybo

4

Chapter 3

Kurt guided his Blazer through the roughed up trace of a road that cut through Buren Peoples’s ranch property. Buren sat on the passenger’s seat, full of his usual unfounded anxiety, his too wide eyes flicking back and forth across the road and into the nearby forest, jumping at the flick of a branch in the trees, the shadow of a cloud drifting into the path of the sun, the crest of a span of geese cutting their way across the sky. If there was a mar on DePalma Beach, it was the right-wing conspiracy theorists who lived on the fringes of the county. Buren Peoples led the faction. In his heart, Buren stood for truth, liberty, and equality, but somewhere along the line something had broken loose in the old man’s head and rattled around for a little too long. Buren owned a semi-profitable ranch fifteen miles west of town. According to Buren, many unseemly things had happened on that ranch.

Police visits to the ranch were an inevitable part of Kurt’s job. One day Kurt spent the better part of an hour standing on Buren’s ranch house roof looking for the UFO that had abducted Buren and deposited him in the woods twenty miles away and short four hours of his memory.

Kurt saw it as a matter of perspective; he could view Buren as a nuisance or he could consider Buren a necessary part of the

Concerning:

Kurt McCammus

Clay Hickman

Buren Peoples