The kicking stops.

I relight the Faros, finish it, wipe my fingerprints from the butt, and throw it out the window.

6:15.

I leave the window open and turn everything off.

And sit there.

Sit.

As the day meditates.

Time passes and finally a hint of morning in the black distance and above me a blue, distilled silence as night switches off its stars.

Here goes.

From the passenger’s seat I unwrap the ROAD CLOSED-SUBSIDENCE DANGER sign I stole yesterday in Fairview.

Won’t be enough to fool a ranger from the Park Service but it should keep away any early-morning hunters or ice fishermen.

I grab the Smith & Wesson 9mm, get out of the car, and walk back up the trail until I find the aluminum swing gate. In the distance I can see the lights of vehicles on the highway. Big rigs, Greyhound buses, nothing that’s coming down here. I duct tape the sign to the top bar of the gate. Hmmm. In the light of day it doesn’t look so fantastic but it’ll have to do.

I drag the gate through the snow, close it, and lock it with the padlock I’ve specifically brought for this purpose. You’re going to need to be pretty determined to come down this road now.

I take a few steps to the side and admire my handiwork.

Maybe a good idea to get rid of all the footprints.

I grab a tree branch and brush over the area on my side of the gate.

That’s better.

Not likely that man or beast is going to come by at this time of the morning, but my business is going to take a while and this should help deter the curious.

I wipe away all the tire tracks and footprints until I reach the bend in the road, then I toss the branch and return to the BMW.

I get back inside and warm my hands over the vents. 6:36. Better get a move on. I grab the green backpack and put the sledgehammer, the gun, the handcuffs key, the gloves, and the ski mask inside.