likelihood of any cops ever turning up, it wouldn't be difficult for this old guy to blow my head off and get away with it. I guess things are kinda lawless right now.
"It's a simple enough question," he continues. "You hungry or not? If you are, you can have some food. If not, you can stay down here a while longer."
Cautiously, I walk over to the door, unable to take my eyes off the barrel of the rifle. The man makes his way into the basement, keeping the gun pointed at me as he moves around until he's behind me.
"You go first," he says. "Any funny business, anything at all, and I'll shoot. You got that? I've shot a man before, so don't think I'll hesitate. It's up to you whether or not you wanna live, but I've got this thing pointed right at the back of your chest. It's pellets, too, so it'll rip you up pretty bad."
"I don't wanna hurt you," I tell him. "I just found this place by accident -"
"You broke my window."
"Yeah, but -"
"And you shot a man," he continues. "Shot him dead in the back of that truck. Don't try to deny it. I saw you."
"That was -" I pause, but I can't get the words out. I can't let myself think about what happened with Joe. Not yet.
"You want food, you walk out that door, but remember I've got your back in my sights." He pauses. "There's a few rules we need to establish around here. I'm not gonna let some murdering little thief have the run of the place."
"I'm not -"
"Get upstairs," he says gruffly.
Figuring I should do what he says, I turn and walk toward the door. Although the guy's clearly getting on, in his sixties or seventies, he seems pretty threatening. I guess I just need to talk to him and explain exactly how I ended up here. As I start walking up the stairs that leads to the main part of the house, I can hear him following close behind, and I want to turn and explain everything, to make everything okay.
"Stop," he says suddenly as I get to the top of the stairs. "Two steps forward."
I do exactly what I'm told. Although I'm trying not to show it, I'm pretty terrified right now, and I'm convinced that this old guy means business. Then again, he's getting on, so he can't keep an eye on me all the time. He'll make a mistake sooner or later, and that's when I'll get him. I feel bad for plotting to hurt him, but he's not giving me a choice.
"Okay," he continues. "I'm gonna have to do something to make sure we both know where we stand. You got that?"
I open my mouth to reply, but I have no idea what to say. This whole situation is so bizarre and messed-up, I don't even know where to begin. For one thing, I have no idea whether this guy is genuinely crazy, or just scared. I'd understand if he was scared, but at the same time I'm getting a pretty weird vibe from him, as if maybe he's got a few screws loose.
"Fine," he says.
"I -" I start to say in reply, but before I can finish, there's a heavy thud at the back of my head and I'm instantly knocked unconscious.
Chapter Three
Pennsylvania
The room is dark, with curtains drawn to keep out as much of the day's light as possible. For a moment, I feel completely lost. I keep expecting to find myself back in my family's New York apartment, with the windows shattered and cold air blowing into the room; I can't help but feel that Henry might burst in at any moment and tell me some crazy story about Bob. Finally, however, I start to remember that those days are gone. My mind races through more recent events, right up to the moment when I was standing facing the farmhouse and...
I pause.
I was shot?
When I try to sit up, I immediately feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I take a deep breath, but the pain won't go away, and finally I grit my teeth and force myself up. Damn it, I always thought I had a high pain threshold, but this grinding sensation in my shoulder is too much to handle. It's almost as if two damaged bones are pressing against one another. I manage to sit up properly in the end, but the pain is intense and I let
"It's a simple enough question," he continues. "You hungry or not? If you are, you can have some food. If not, you can stay down here a while longer."
Cautiously, I walk over to the door, unable to take my eyes off the barrel of the rifle. The man makes his way into the basement, keeping the gun pointed at me as he moves around until he's behind me.
"You go first," he says. "Any funny business, anything at all, and I'll shoot. You got that? I've shot a man before, so don't think I'll hesitate. It's up to you whether or not you wanna live, but I've got this thing pointed right at the back of your chest. It's pellets, too, so it'll rip you up pretty bad."
"I don't wanna hurt you," I tell him. "I just found this place by accident -"
"You broke my window."
"Yeah, but -"
"And you shot a man," he continues. "Shot him dead in the back of that truck. Don't try to deny it. I saw you."
"That was -" I pause, but I can't get the words out. I can't let myself think about what happened with Joe. Not yet.
"You want food, you walk out that door, but remember I've got your back in my sights." He pauses. "There's a few rules we need to establish around here. I'm not gonna let some murdering little thief have the run of the place."
"I'm not -"
"Get upstairs," he says gruffly.
Figuring I should do what he says, I turn and walk toward the door. Although the guy's clearly getting on, in his sixties or seventies, he seems pretty threatening. I guess I just need to talk to him and explain exactly how I ended up here. As I start walking up the stairs that leads to the main part of the house, I can hear him following close behind, and I want to turn and explain everything, to make everything okay.
"Stop," he says suddenly as I get to the top of the stairs. "Two steps forward."
I do exactly what I'm told. Although I'm trying not to show it, I'm pretty terrified right now, and I'm convinced that this old guy means business. Then again, he's getting on, so he can't keep an eye on me all the time. He'll make a mistake sooner or later, and that's when I'll get him. I feel bad for plotting to hurt him, but he's not giving me a choice.
"Okay," he continues. "I'm gonna have to do something to make sure we both know where we stand. You got that?"
I open my mouth to reply, but I have no idea what to say. This whole situation is so bizarre and messed-up, I don't even know where to begin. For one thing, I have no idea whether this guy is genuinely crazy, or just scared. I'd understand if he was scared, but at the same time I'm getting a pretty weird vibe from him, as if maybe he's got a few screws loose.
"Fine," he says.
"I -" I start to say in reply, but before I can finish, there's a heavy thud at the back of my head and I'm instantly knocked unconscious.
Chapter Three
Pennsylvania
The room is dark, with curtains drawn to keep out as much of the day's light as possible. For a moment, I feel completely lost. I keep expecting to find myself back in my family's New York apartment, with the windows shattered and cold air blowing into the room; I can't help but feel that Henry might burst in at any moment and tell me some crazy story about Bob. Finally, however, I start to remember that those days are gone. My mind races through more recent events, right up to the moment when I was standing facing the farmhouse and...
I pause.
I was shot?
When I try to sit up, I immediately feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder. I take a deep breath, but the pain won't go away, and finally I grit my teeth and force myself up. Damn it, I always thought I had a high pain threshold, but this grinding sensation in my shoulder is too much to handle. It's almost as if two damaged bones are pressing against one another. I manage to sit up properly in the end, but the pain is intense and I let
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