Dexter stood well back from the truck and watched as another log was loaded onto the flatbed.
Driving a logging truck involves a lot of waiting – and staying out of the way of the multi-ton logs that could casually crush a man. Sometimes I wonder if the world would be better off if I 'accidentally' got in the way of one. But the will to live always outweighs the desire for death. Just as it did in the face of the hurricane.
A distant honking sound drew his attention and he looked up into the gray sky to watch the V shape pattern of Canadian geese flying overhead.
"Winter's coming again," Harry's voice said to him.
Dexter glanced over to where he imagined Harry to be standing. "I hated winter last year, it was so cold - and the snow."
Harry smiled, "It was your first real winter. You spent your whole life in Florida. It gets a lot colder in the Pacific Northwest."
Dexter gave him a twisted smile, "I wasn't ready for it. This year I know what to expect."
"I understand wanting to move far from Miami, but why here? I would have thought that Las Vegas would be a better destination." Harry complained, "There are lots of people in Las Vegas, there's no one here except a handful of other loggers and the occasional hunter."
"That's the point," Dexter said, "I don't want to be around people, all I bring is death."
"And life. The code means that others live as a result of the lives you take." Harry consoled, "That's the compromise that Doctor Vogel and I came up with. How we could let you satisfy your Dark Passenger and still have a positive effect on the world. A way you could live with it."
"It's not something you could live with," Dexter observed, "seeing what I really am killed you. It killed Deb, and Rita."
"Trinity killed Rita," Harry objected.
"Rita didn't fit Trinity's pattern, he killed her because of me. When you deal in death, death follows you. I don't want it around Harrison."
"It was a mistake to try to have a family," Harry said. "Trying to live in two worlds was always more dangerous than focusing on what you needed to do."
"Right now, I need to get these logs on the road," Dexter observed.
The crane loaded the last log onto the truck and moved to start loading the next truck in line. Dexter walked toward the truck, pulling the black leather gloves out of his back pocket and putting them on. He pulled the chains out of their storage bin and attached them on one side, tossing them across the load to the other side. Circling the truck he firmly attached the chains to that side, carefully making sure they were securely fastened before moving to the cab.
With a look around to see where the other vehicles were parked, he climbed into the cabin and started the engine. Putting the truck in gear he carefully steered through the loading area onto the small dirt road that had been plowed out. In a few moments he was on an actual paved road heading for the mill.
"This isn't the place for you, Dexter. When you kill again, and eventually you will have to kill again, you'll be caught. In such a small community it will be too hard to hide your actions. The first rule of the code is: don't get caught."
Dexter looked at Harry in the seat next to him, "What if I don't kill again?"
"Son, I know you've wished for a normal life, but if that were possible I would have given it to you. Your Dark Passenger was too strong." Harry looked sad, "All we could hope for is to give you a means to deal with it."
"Hannah doesn't believe in the Dark Passenger," Dexter said, "she says it's just a part of me."
"But you do," Harry observed.
"I guess I do," Dexter agreed, "but it's not the only part of me. Part of me loves Harrison, and Hannah. Part of me loved Deb and Rita and Lumen. Doctor Vogel was wrong. I do have real feelings for people."
"Dexter, the pressure always builds up in you and you have to kill." Harry admonished, "It's who you really are. You must be feeling it now. You haven't killed since Miami."
Dexter shook his head, "I haven't felt the pressure since Miami. I think it's sleeping, waiting for the call of blood. It's always been about the blood."
"Blood is how it all started," Harry observed, "Your whole life has been built around blood. Your Dark Passenger was born in your Mother's blood."
"Which is why I'm a lumberjack," Dexter said, "I don't want to wake it up again."