Switchbacks is a thriller about two men backpacking in the Sierra Nevada wilderness who are trying to kill each other.  It’s a novella about the nature of evil.  The excerpt is from the beginning of the story. 
     My agent is trying to find a publisher for this story. 

Excerpt

     Vultures circled high in the clear sky.  Far below a deer lay dying in the grass.  Sometimes she kicked a leg trying again to run.  Her breathing was fast and shallow.  She could see the vultures descending.  As they grew near, they could savor her death smell rising on the wind. Her time was short. 
     "Must be something dead over there," one man said.
     Another man turned, grabbed a small piece of wood that looked like a microphone and began to sing into it, "Oo, oo, that smell.  Can't you smell that smell?  The smell of death surrounds you  -  ou." 
     "You still sing songs all the time?"
     "You bet.  Classic rock rules.  Skynyrd rocks!"
     "I was kind of hoping you didn't do that any more.  I hate it when you sing."

     The vultures had seen the Ford Explorer stop along the jeep trail.  Two men had got out and each grabbed a backpack from the vehicle.  One waved his arm and the jeep drove away. 
     The taller man's name was Richard, not Dick.  No one called him Dick.  His hair was cut short and he wore dark sunglasses.  A tight tee shirt revealed a strong, but sagging physique.  Too little exercise and too much booze were taking their toll.  He wore shorts because he liked to stay cool.  Things could get hot in the wilderness. 
     Richard moved in quick, violent motions.  Nervous energy coursed through him.  He did not like to be still. 
     The other man's name was Clayton.  Clayton was pudgy.  His hair was unkept and he wore an eye-glass strap to secure his glasses.  He wore wrinkled pants.
     Clayton's movements were clumsy, as if he wasn't exactly sure what to do. 
     "Have you ever seen a vulture up close?"  Richard challenged Clayton.
     "No, just from a distance."
     "They're ugly, real ugly.  Bald head and a wicked beak.  They really go at dead stuff."
     "I guess a turkey vulture really would gobble things up."
     Richard sighed and looked up.  "I forgot about your puns.  You still do that too?  I hate puns."
     "Well, it looks like you're still the same old easily-annoyed Richard.  I guess we haven't changed much, have we?"
     Richard laughed.  "Maybe not."