My steps are slow, and deliberate. One foot carefully, then the other. Darkness falls like a blanket around me, as the shadows on the hills around me play havoc in my mind. I can feel movement just out of my view, and pause to asses it, Nothing…

It’s always nothing. Until the time it’s not I remind myself as Dinos face flashes in my mind. I adjust my grip as I release the tension in my neck, but as my fingers move against the freezing forestock of my rifle the sensation catches me off guard given the stagnant heat in the Mojave this time of year. Fear slinks down my spine me as I look down at my firearm, my heart pounding as the icy chill runs up my arms into my chest.

My eyes snap open, and immediate relief washes over me, as I take in the passengers around me. The cabin lights are dimmed and I look down releasing my grip on the arm rest. With a practices effort I let go of the breath I was holding in my chest, and closing my eyes I repeat “I’m going home. I am going home” to wash away the stained canvas of my mind.