e Montana wilderness. No cameras at night, just a GPS tracker on each of us and a bas

in a cold, brilliant display, Andrew approached my tent. Jen was alread

quiet, stripped of its us

but I played alo

know you hate mine. I...

ay it. I had a small, high-fidelity audio recorder in my jacket pocket

etting out of my

the only sounds the crunch of our boots on the dry

, living in my shadow, always being the "bastard son." It was the same pathe

onceal. "The name, the money, the respect. You didn't even have to try. And my moth

rocky embankment. Below, a dark, chu

s glinting in the moonlight. "You took Jen. You're t

othing," I said, my

ate, full-body tackle. He was stronger than I expected. I stumbled

!" he screamed, his fa

final, pow

e vast, empty sky and the sickening feeling of falling. The impact was a brutal, shattering explosio

The last thing I registered was the cold,