The Bunny Trail-Fiction by N.M. Bunting

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Ed Platte, aged forty-two, recent hire to the actuary firm of Steele, Murphy & Fitz, or SMF—pronounced “smif” by long-time employees. A practical and efficient man, Ed is a firm believer that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Until today, that belief has gotten him through life unscathed. But until today, he never had to walk the Bunny Trail after dark.

****

“Ed, Lucinda tells me you’re going to finish up tonight.”

Taking a moment to glance up from his work, Ed gave Mr. Josiah Steele, the firm’s senior partner, a tight but friendly smile. “Only a couple more entries, no sense putting off until tomorrow what can be done today.” The office database had just been changed over to new software that week, so all the accounts had to be reentered. The job hadn’t been completed before six, so he offered to stay late and finish up.

“There’s no rush. You can finish up tomorrow,” Mr. Steele replied in the easy manner he had with everyone from the temps to SMF’s CEO. “Business is pretty slow, so you won’t get too far behind.”

“I am a salaried employee, Mr. Steele, so you needn’t worry about paying me overtime.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried about that, Ed. But re-entering all that data with hardly a break all day… Go home and relax. This type of work always goes much faster with fresh eyes.”

Annoyed by Mr. Steel’s insistence, Ed managed to hide his feelings. He hadn’t gotten where he had in life by losing his temper over petty grievances. Most management would be pleased Ed was willing to put in the extra time. “I would rather get it done now. I really hate to leave things unfinished so close to being done. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour or so tops.”

“I admire your work ethic, Ed, I admire it greatly.” Mr. Steele gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, then leaned in close. “You aren’t planning on walking home after dusk, are you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Door to door, the walk took him fifteen minutes on a bad day. That was the main reason he’d accepted the job at SMF. No need to drive to work or worry about rush hour traffic. It allowed him to keep to his own schedule and saved money.

“Maybe, this once, you should call someone for a lift. While we don’t exactly work in a crime zone, it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

If he were a woman, then maybe Mr. Steele’s concern would be justified. But what did an average man who kept his head down like Ed did have to fear?

He forced another smile. “I’m sure this won’t take more than an hour, hour and a half tops, so I’ll be home with plenty of light to spare.”

“Well, I have no doubt that will be the case. Still, if you do wind up running late, feel free to call me. It’ll be no trouble,” Mr. Steele offered one final time.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Mr. Steele’s concern lingered at the back of Ed’s mind while he worked. The man wasn’t the first to react strangely to Ed’s continued instance at using the Bunny Trail to get between work and home. The wood-chipped trail was the most direct route, far removed from the main traffic ways. It provided a brief respite of quiet during his daily commute.

Finally, Ed reached the last section of the last account. One hour and fifteen minutes after Mr. Steele had talked to him, Ed saved his work, shut down his computer, grabbed up his jacket and battered leather attaché, and left the building.

If he hadn’t worked late, Ed probably wouldn’t have noticed the changing seasons and loss of daylight until December. As it was, twilight was already settling in at seven thirty. Where had the summer gone? The cloying mugginess that pressed about him spoke to the contrary. Summer was still around in mid-October, hanging on with a vengeance, as it always seemed to do this time of year, the claustrophobic heat and humidity making even the crickets too lethargic to break the silence.

Ed’s shoes crunched on the dry wood-chipped path as the trees faded into darkness around him. Odd how the lights weren’t snapping on yet. They were probably on a timer. He shrugged off the feeling and walked on, pleased with a job well done.

The crack of a gunshot snapped Ed out of his pleasant reverie.

“Don’t overreact,” he chastised himself. Trying to calm his hammering heart, he searched the area in the fleeting light. On either side of his right shoe were two halves of a very old, very dry twig. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Not for the first time he wondered if his colleagues were having him on with their concern over his walking the Bunny Trail.

He shook his head and continued on, noting that the lights still hadn’t come on.

Another sound caught his attention, so he stopped and listened. Nothing but the faint rustle of dead leaves. As he started walking again, the only footsteps Ed heard were his own. No one followed him. Believing that would make him as silly as the people he worked with.

A slight breeze stirred the stuffy air, promising but not yet bringing relief. He quickened his pace. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could forget this nonsense.

Ed whipped around—Nothing! He swore he had heard—

“Stop it, Ed,” he growled. “You’re a reasonable, intelligent man. Sure, it’s dark and you’re alone in the woods. Big deal. Now, come on.”

He scanned the area and kept walking, slowing his pace to his normal, unhurried stride. Nothing to fear, no need to rush. But why weren’t the lights on yet?

Again he stopped, more motionless than the night. The sound of footsteps did not stop with him. He was standing still and there were footsteps. Not bothering to check for the source, Ed took off running down the path. He ran for all he was worth, berating himself for not paying more heed to the warnings of his co-workers. He saw a gap in the trees about two hundred yards down the path. If not for the pounding in his ears, Ed could have made out the sounds of traffic passing by on the road in front of his apartment. So close, so close. Almost home. Nearly there.

In mid-stride Ed’s foot caught on a rogue tree root, flinging him headlong into an oak with a sickening thunk.

Lying there as the forest settled back into silence, Ed wavered between wakefulness and unconsciousness. Soft footfalls drew closer—the assailant was about to finish his work. Struggling, he forced his eyes open, determined to know what he faced. Like anyone else confronted with his own mortality, Ed promptly passed out.

****

Nose twitching nervously, the rabbit investigated this new object in his woods. Deciding there was no food to be had and his curiosity appeased, the rabbit continued on down the path.

This story serves as a departure for Ms. Bunting who typically writes erotic romance under the guise of Emery Sanborne. She has long been a fan of suspense stories, particularly those that don’t take themselves too seriously. When she isn’t writing or searching for her next project, Ms. Bunting can be found terrorizing her cat or wandering through cemeteries. For more information, please check out: www.emerysanborne.com

Like reading short fiction? We have more where this came from. Our Write Here, Write Now subforum is full of original fiction as well.

Comments

A good illustration of the fact that an emotion is no less real for being based on something imagined that differs from the reality. (Good thing, too, or there'd be no market for fiction.)