Disrespectful Gentlemen

         The sky was falling. Well at least that’s what Sean Bradley thought. Everyone thought he was crazy. And the reason everyone called him crazy was because he’d get drunk, and then he’d go about the village rambling on about how the sky was falling, and how everyone who wanted to save themselves should follow him. He’d already been arrested for disturbing the peace and being intoxicated in public. Of course one Tuesday night seemed like any other, what with Sean stumbling around the village in his beaten down coat and walking stick, taunting the youth and frightening the young children. Most of the other men around Sean’s age seemed to be at solace with how he’d become as an older man. One of his old friends couldn’t understand how he’d become that way, since he was at once a humanist, and held the world and his village up with honor and pride. Now, it seems that he’s committed to condemning the village and everyone in it.

         “This world will end, the sky will come crashing down on everyone, but no one listens to me. No, they all think I’m mad. Yeah, maybe my mind has gone a bit astray, but I know danger when I see it. Yeah, I saw it all in a dream; an angel came down and told me. She whispered to me, you see? She told me everything. She told me that my sky will fall soon, she told me that my world will end, that there is nothing for my world anymore. I’m the one, the only one who knows this, yet no one listens, no one cares, you’re all indulged in your own affairs. Be that as it may, this world will still be subject to the inevitable.” This is what he’d usually say; he’d either mutter it to himself in incoherent tones, or scream it towards a group of people, not exactly looking at either of them.

         “What do you think is the best asset to my personality?”

         The young man sat staring into the dark and cloudy sky with his head between her legs as she massaged his temples with a large umbrella lying next to them.

         “You’re appreciative,” He said, “which is what I love about you. Sometimes I stare at you while we’re at a park, and I notice your attention focused on something as simple as a kid playing with a balloon or something, or maybe to some old man sitting on a bench somewhere reading the papers. I can tell you see a beauty in life that I don’t see. I don’t know, I like it, I think it’s cute; it’s something I like about you a lot.”

         “So,” she said, “You like the fact that I appreciate the simple things in life? Like this moment, with us? Us sitting here in the grass staring up at the dark and cloudy sky waiting for the rain to come, letting life drip onto us and truly being a part of this world? I just think no moment should be wasted and treated like it will only matter for the time that it happens. I think it should be treated like it will never happen again, and so we should cherish it as if that moment will matter forever.”

         A rain drop fell onto his forehead, and it began to drizzle. The young man reached for the umbrella and sat up. He covered them both under the umbrella as the rain began to fall down harder. The pellets crashed down on the top of the umbrella, and the young couple smiled and kissed as they enjoyed the quiet peace of that afternoon.

         The village was damp. Stray cats scattered amongst the streets and disappeared behind cottages. Middle aged women cursed the skies as they took down their laundry from their clothing lines in their front yards and violently threw them into their baskets before storming back into their cottages. One lady was screaming at her young son to get back into the house as he kicked around a dingy soccer ball around the streets.

         “I swear, one of these days you’ll get pneumonia and it’ll be the death of you, get in this house!” The boy left the soccer ball rolling around and ran back into his home laughing as his mother slammed the door shut complaining about how he’ll be just like his brother.

         The rain hadn’t let up an hour later. It still pounded ferociously at the earth and onto the village. Two men had entered the village. One of them had a beard and a tattoo of a skull over an open treasure chest. The other man had a clean shaven bony face and a brown fedora hat on. They both carried large sacks around their shoulders and had a rough look to them, as if they had just finished rolling down a dirty hill somewhere. They were heavily indulged in conversation.

         “So what you mean to tell me is that if you could, you’d rather be off somewhere doing hard labor all day, and making an ‘honest’ wage?” asked the man with the beard.

         “No,” said the man wearing the fedora hat. “All I’m saying is that I can respect what those people do. That doesn’t mean I could live that life. Things are different for, well, people like me. I just was never meant to walk that path. You see, I see things this way; the way we’re making our living is just as much hard labor as any other hard working respectable man. Well,” he said, and shifted his bag on his shoulder a little. “Maybe not respectable, but, you get the idea. The question is what kind of man are you? How do you see things?”

         “The way I see things” said the man with the beard. “See, I’m an opportunist. I’m sure you know what that means.” The other man nodded his head. “You know how that old saying goes, one mans trash,” He bent over and picked up a dingy old soccer ball and began to toss it into the air. “Is another mans treasure. But I see things in all sorts of different perspectives. I don’t see any reason why one mans treasure can’t become trash once that man is dead and gone. I mean, trash was always once a treasure until it’s either used up and no longer valued,” he looked all the way across the village and saw an old man sleeping on a battered damp bench. “Or until the owner is unable to put that treasure to use. Technically, a dead man owns nothing.”

         “I enjoy indulging in your thoughts,” Said the man wearing the fedora hat.

         The sky was a deep orange with shades of red and yellow. The sun was setting, and the clouds were heading north into the horizon. The women were back outside hanging their wet laundry up on their clothes lines again, while their husbands were off somewhere else attending to other matters. Their children stayed inside. Somewhere in the middle of the village, a man sat in the quiet peace of his living room sunken on a large red recliner. His attire was unkempt; his clothes were dirty and ripped and frayed at certain parts and his hands were rough and a little dirty. His beard was a bit thick, and he had a bowl shaped hair cut. He sat with his eyes clenched shut as he massaged his forehead with his left hand, getting a bit of the dirt from his fingertips onto his head, but made little difference since his head was already dirty. In a separate part of the house, his nine year old daughter lies sleeping in her bed with a full stomach. There was no question in her comfort; she slept with ease. Aside her bed on top of a nightstand was a picture of her mother smiling.  Then someone knocked on the front door three times. The father stood up and stretched a little, then walked over to the door and opened it. There were two men at the door, one wearing the fedora hat, and the other with the beard and the tattoo.

         “Yes?” The father said.

         “Good evening sir,” Said the man wearing the fedora hat. “My name is Jim Higgins; this is my friend Drew Kingsborough. We’re travelers, in search of a spiritual revelation. We’ve been travelling for about 3 months now, heading east over to the gulf. We’re peaceful men, and we didn’t come by to start any mischief, beg for food or any other charities, or anything of that matter, all we need is a place to stay for the night to rest our feet for the day’s journey ahead of us tomorrow. By any chance is there a hotel around here, or some sort of inn where we can check into for the night?”

         The father studied them both for a moment, observing their attire. They seemed to him like decent men just looking to pass by.

         “What ways are you boys from?” He asked them, but looking at Jim. His voice was hoarse, as if there was something scratching at the back of his throat.

         “A little town across the countryside called Kingsborough. That’s where Drew gets his last name from. His whole family originates from that town.” The father looked over at Drew, and Drew nodded.

         “As far back as I can remember.” Drew said.          

         “Yeah, my father wanted me to stay in that town, meet a girl, and start a family. It’s just not in my book, if you follow me sir. I saw other things in my plan. I had a dream one night, where all I saw were different roads, and I couldn’t choose which one I wanted to follow. And by the time I had picked a road to travel on, I had already woken up. So that morning I packed my things and left. I went to tell Drew about my departure, and surprisingly he had already packed his things, he was preparing to leave too. I knew our destiny was lying out in the world somewhere else; we just had to go find it.”

         The father stood observing them for a moment. He was heavily indulged in his own thoughts.

         “Well, you boys seem like decent men. You sound like you have a good bit of sense in you. I knew young men that went on journeys like yours that came back not right in the head. Some people can lose their way while searching for one, you boys haven’t lost your way yet. We don’t have any hotels in this village. Never did, never will. But since I’ll let you boys stay here for the night. Just don’t bring in any funny business. I have a 9 year old daughter here, and I don’t want her mixed in with any nonsense, is this understood? You boys seem like decent chellovecks, I’m sure you wouldn’t bring any trouble around here.” He looked at their bags. “Need help with those bags?”

         Drew shifted his bag on his shoulder and stood upright.

         “No that’s just fine, thanks. Where would we have to sleep?” Jim asked.

         “I have an extra room in the back, it has one bed, but I have extra blankets, so one of you can spread them over the floor and it should make a comfy makeshift bed. Well, come in then.”

         Jim and Drew walked in the house. Drew looked around the living room and saw on a coffee stand, a photo of a young woman.  He picked it up and observed it.

         “Who’s this?” He asked the father.

         “My wife,” he said, and took the photo out of Drew’s hands. “I’ll show you two to your room.”

         It was getting dark outside. The sun was almost out of view, and the sky was a dark purple. The clouds resided somewhere in the east, over the mountains, and the village was quiet. The middle aged woman came out of her cottage with a laundry basket in her hands, followed quickly by her son, who came bolting out as if he were in a hurry to attend an important meeting.

         “Oh dear, don’t run so fast!” The mother screamed after him as she began to collect her laundry from the clothes lines. “Just like your brother, I swear.” She muttered to herself as she roughly handled the dry clothing as she threw it all in a heap into the basket. “Just like him.” Her son came back, with an unpleasant expression on his face.

         “My balls gone,” he said. “What happened to my ball?”

         “Well, I don’t know. Maybe mad old Sean found it lying around and took it off somewhere. Serves you right leaving it out here lying about, come on in, it’s getting late.” She looked at her son, and saw that he was on the verge of tears. “Alright then, I’ll get you a new one tomorrow. Make sure you take care of this one. Come on in, then, and where’s your brother? It’s getting a bit dark out.” And without another word, the pouty little boy marched into the cottage, and the mother looked out into the village one last time before closing the door again.

         “Wake up.” The young man said to her, and nudged her a bit on the side. She opened her eyes and looked out over the hill where they sat on and stared down into the village which from their view seemed like a distant and almost unrecognizable town. Behind the village was a big and deep forest filled with trees and animals that made sounds in the night that only few townsmen could distinguish. But where the young couple sat was just a hill surrounded by a vast plain field with ankle high dark green grass. It stretched out for a few square miles, with small patches of trees and bushes. From where they sat, facing south they would be able to see a small cottage about a mile down the field, no one knew whom the cottage belonged to. “We should head back.” He said. A crow somewhere in the distance cawed, and it echoed two times across the plains.

         “I had a funny dream.” She said.

         “Enlighten me.”

         “Well, that’s the thing; I can’t remember exactly what it was about. I just remember you running in the rain; it was very peculiar, I don’t know exactly how to feel about it.”

         “It’ll come to you later, and you’ll remember it. That’s how dreams work, you don’t remember them at first, and then later, something happens; you see or say something, and it triggers the dream, and you remember everything, or just a big chunk of it.”

         They stood up and he brushed the bits of grass off of her backside and her sides.

         “Did you sleep?” She asked.

         “Nah, I didn’t want to,” he said. “I just stared out at the scenery and everything.

         “Oh.” She said, and they set off on their walk back to the village.

         The father sat back in his recliner in the living room, listening to the soft sounds of Jim and Drew talking quietly to each other in their guest room. He noticed he was clutching something in his right hand, and lifted it in front of his face. It was the photo of his wife. He stared intently at it for a few moments. He felt emptiness in his heart that made him feel like half a man. Then someone knocked on the door in a somewhat forceful manner. He hastened to place the photo on a wooden stand beside the recliner, then stood up and walked to the door and opened it.

         “Good evening Chuck.” Said an elderly man in a sheriff’s uniform.

         “Evening, Larry.”

         “I didn’t mean to bother you at this time of the night, but it’s a bit important.”

         “Would you like to come in?” Chuck asked Larry.

         “No, no, that’s all too generous of you. Do you know Sean?”

         “Sean Bradley?” Chuck asked. The sheriff nodded his head.

         “That’s him. He’s been killed some time today.” Chucks eyes widened at the sound of this. “Now we don’t know who it is exactly that murdered him. We have a few leads; classified. I came here to ask you if you’ve seen anything suspicious at anytime today or at any time this week possibly, maybe someone might’ve been walking around acting a bit funny, or angry; unusual, anything like that?” Chuck thought about something he might’ve seen that week that might have seemed out of the ordinary, and the only thing he could come up with was Sean Bradley himself, which would be no help seeing as though he was the victim. He thought about the two young men who he’d met earlier.

         “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I can’t say that I have seen anyone suspicious lately, I’ll keep an eye out for them, and you know me.” He said. “Larry, how’d he get killed?”

         “Can’t tell you that Chuck, it’s classified.”

         “Oh, come on Larry, we’ve known each other for a long time.” Chuck said to Larry. Larry looked at Chuck for a moment.

         Inside the house, the woman sat calmly in the living room as she knitted together a large green and grey scarf. She hummed a tune softly, as her son was sleeping peacefully in the other room. She suddenly looked up with a worried expression on her face, and stood up and walked over to the front door. She opened it and looked out at the village. No one was out, except Sheriff Larry, who had been walking off into the distance and out of view. She sighed and shut the door slowly.

         When Chuck walked into the room where Jim and Drew were staying, he heard his daughter laughing loudly and heard thuds. He opened the door and saw her kicking a dingy soccer ball across the room to Jim, who stopped it with his foot, and gently kicked it back over to her, once they saw Chuck, they stopped. Drew was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room looking out of the window into the village. Chucks daughter took the soccer ball and kicked it to her father, who stopped it with his foot and picked it up.

         “What are you doing up sweetie?” He asked her smiling. “You should be in bed.”

         “I know, but I heard a lot of talking and I looked out my door and saw that we had company, so I came to say hi.”

         “That’s nice sweetie, but you should be in bed. Go on now.” He said, and stepped aside the doorway as she made her way to her room. He placed the soccer ball on the floor and closed the door behind him, but not all the way, he left it cracked open. “Are you two finding everything alright?” He asked.

         “Yup, everything is comfortable,” Jim said. “Thanks again for letting us rest here for the night. We’ve been so unlucky in our endeavor of finding generous people who are just genuinely nice. Drew is very appreciative of your favor.”

         “It’s no problem.” Chuck said, and stood there quietly for a few moments. They both stared at each other in what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence. Drew continued to stare out at the village. Chuck looked over at their large sacks that they had been carrying with them earlier but would refuse to let him carry into the house. “What’s in there, anyways?” Chuck said, pointing to the sack closest to him. Upon hearing this, Drew turned his head over and looked at Chuck.

         “Just a few travelling supplies,” Jim said. “It’s nothing important.”

         “Mind if I have a peek?” Chuck said, advancing over to the sack. Neither Jim nor Drew answered him as he knelt down to open the bag, but saw that the zipper was locked shut by a large lock that needed a key in order to be opened. “Open it.” He said simply, not even looking at Jim. “I want to see what’s in here, open it.” He said, sounding a bit firmer and more demanding. Drew had turned his chair all the way around to face Chuck, who had his back turned to Drew so couldn’t see that he had turned his seat. Jim had a bit of a worried expression on his face for a moment, but then suddenly he smiled, and stood up and walked over to the sack.

         “Sure thing,” Jim said, digging into his pockets and pulling out a key a second later. “You’d be surprised how many people are interested in what we have in these sacks Chuck.” He knelt down and inserted the key in the lock.

         “This is a farther walk when we’re coming back, isn’t it?” The young woman asked, smiling.

         “It definitely is, especially since I’m carrying you on my back; that makes it a little bit of a longer trip.” The young man said.

She laughed and hopped down off of his back and grabbed hold of his hand as they walked back to the village. It wasn’t far now. It was probably about two hundred yards away. Suddenly they saw a silhouette of a flock of birds flying into the sky, and half a moment later they heard a sudden crack echo in the air, which sent more birds scurrying away into the wind, and made the young woman jump.

         “That was a gun shot!” The young woman cried.

         “Yeah it was; I think it came from the village too. It couldn’t have come from behind us, and the village is right there.”

         “Do you think something happened?”

         “What do you mean, like violence? No, violence is barely even mentioned in the village. I think we should go back and see what happened.”

         “I don’t want to go back.”

         “Trust me, you’ll be alright.” He said, and they started walking back with a faster pace.

         The little girl ran across the village in sheer panic and unable to scream. She crawled out of her bedroom window and ran straight out of the village and into the fields, where in the distance she saw two dark figures approaching the village. She ran to them without having so much as a glance back.

         “Look, who’s that running towards us?” The young woman asked.

         “It looks like a little girl.”

         Inside the cottage, the middle aged woman tossed aside her half knitted scarf and walked over to the window. She pulled aside the curtain and stared out into the dark village. A few cottage lights were turned on, but aside from that, the streets were not visible, it was nearly dark out. A light drizzle began to fall upon the village, accompanied by thunder that echoed into the village, then she let down the curtains and went back to her chair to work on her green and gray scarf.

         “Wait, I think I know that girl,” the young man said. “That’s Chuck’s daughter.”

         She ran and embraced him, panting and shivering from the damp cold weather and from fear.

         “Please, help me! They’re in my house, they killed my dad!” Chuck’s daughter cried.

         “Who’s in your house? Who killed your father?”

         “These,” She said, struggling to get the words out properly. “These two men, I don’t know who they are; my dad said they’re travelers.”

         At the mentioning of this, the young woman grabbed hold of the young mans arm tightly and felt her heart rate increase; she could almost hear her heart beating inside of her chest.

         “Were they still inside of your house when you left?” The young man asked, and the little girl nodded. “When you ran out of the house, did they notice?”

         “No; I don’t think so.” She said.

         “What exactly happened?” The young man asked.

         “They both came to spend the night at my house, and I went in the room to talk to them while my daddy spoke to the sheriff at the front door. Then my daddy came in and told me to go to bed, but when I left he shut the door but not all the way, so I went to my room and tiptoed back and peeked in; that’s when I saw my daddy kneeling down next to some big black bag, and then he got shot, and I ran into my room and climbed out of the window.” She burst into tears and the young man embraced her a little tighter. Then he looked over at the young woman.          

         “Do you remember that old cabin south of here, the one that looks abandoned?” He asked her.

         “What about it?” She said.

         “I want you to take her and run there and wait for me. My mom and my little brother are still in the village, and I need to go and make sure they’re okay. Then I’ll go and get the Sheriff Larry and hopefully he and his department can catch these two. I’ll come back and get you two when it’s safe.”

         “What if you don’t come back, and instead they do?” She asked.

         “Run.”

         The young woman and Chuck’s daughter sped off in a slow jog back down the field towards the cabin, which had been about three fourths of a mile down. The young man looked over to the village to see if he can distinguish any figures or silhouettes in the distance, but he saw nothing. He looked back and could barely see the young woman or Chuck’s daughter’s figures anymore, and he turned around and slowly crept back towards the village; the middle aged woman was still knitting together her green and grey scarf.

         As he approached the village, he quickly ran and hid behind a four foot stone wall that went around the whole perimeter of the village. He edged his way towards the front gates entrance, then peeked over and looked down the main street; he saw nothing. Nothing but a few bits of litter lay on the street. A trash can lid hit the concrete pavement and a stray black cat came running from behind a cottage and across the street, making the young man jump and hide back behind the stone wall. He then turned back around after calming down, and began to creep close to the cottages towards his home.

         The rain began to hammer down on the village and in the fields, and thunder and lightening became more frequent. The lightening lit up the village momentarily, and the thunder startled the young man a little, making him a bit more wary. He slowly crept throughout the village, trying to keep to the shadows, and trying his best not to shiver, for now the rain had been falling down as if the clouds above the village had created a waterfall, and everything below was just a large and empty lake waiting to be filled.

         When he had finally reached the street where his cottage was, he kept a short distance, and looked around to see if he could see anyone suspicious around, particularly the two men who killed Chuck. He saw no one, and so he slowly began to creep towards the side of his cottage, to his bedroom window, then he tried to open it from the outside, but couldn’t; it was locked. So he crept around the back of the cottage to the kitchen window, and began to knock on it. After a few seconds, the middle aged woman emerged with an almost complete green and grey scarf in her hands. She had a somewhat worried look on her face, and then her expression changed from being worried to being shocked as she recognized that it was her son. She motioned for him to come around to the front, but he quickly and urgently motioned for her to open the kitchen window instead. She walked over to the window and unlocked it, then opened it and he quickly climbed in.

         “What on earth are you doing Trevor? Where have you been?” She was frantic.

         “Where’s Luis?” Trevor asked his mom, and as he said it, the little boy emerged from a corner and looked nervously at his mother and older brother.

         “Go back in the room Luis, now.” The mother said, and Luis walked back into the room. “Don’t you know what’s been going on? Someone killed Sean.”

         “Sean Bradley?” Trevor asked.

         “Yes. Sheriff Larry has put the whole village on alert, and ordered everyone to stay in their homes. And here I am worried sick about you. Why did you come in through the window?”

         “Well whoever killed Sean killed Chuck,” He told her, and he explained to her all about what happened with Chuck getting shot and his daughter narrowly escaping, and then he told her about how he send Chuck’s daughter and the young woman off to the cabin that resided across the plains. For a moment, his mother stood there quiet.

         “I just can’t believe this; did you see these two men?” She asked him.

         “Not yet I haven’t,” He said, and hurried off into his bedroom and went into the depths of his closet, with his mother following him behind, still at a loss for words. He emerged from the closet with an old beaten up shoe box in his hands, and he opened it and pulled out a six shot revolver, and then pulled out a box full of bullets.

         “Your father’s old gun,” His mother said to him in a soft and quiet voice, almost as if she didn’t want Luis to hear her. “And what do you think you’re going to do with that, go and kill these two men? I don’t think so!”

         “No, but you’re going to take this gun and lock yourself up in Luis’s room and stay there until I come back.”

         “Where the hell are you going?” She asked him.

         “I’m going to the sheriffs department, but first I’m going to try and sneak into Chuck’s house; he’s a retired sheriff so I’m sure he’s bound to have a pistol lying around that I can use for protection in case I run into them.”

         “They’ll be in there waiting for you to come!” His mother cried. “No, I won’t have it, just stay here and wait it out.”

         “No, I’m sure they wouldn’t have stayed in the cottage after they shot Chuck, and besides, I can’t stay here, I have to go back and get my girlfriend and Chuck’s daughter from that cabin. Don’t worry, I’ll come back, I promise.” He said, and after a few minutes, he was outside again, drenched in rain and slightly shivering. He looked down the street and looked at Chuck’s house; none of the lights were on. He kept to the shadows and crept slowly over to the cottage on the left side of the street. As he approached, lightening struck and illuminated the entire street, and Trevor saw a body lying down in front of Chuck’s front door. He looked around cautiously but saw nothing, and then he crept towards the cottage a little faster. When he got close enough, he ran around the side of the cottage, and then crawled around to peek over to the front. It was Sheriff Larry, drenched in ran, and cold dead with a pool of blood around him that was being swept down the street by the rain. Trevor looked ahead into the village in front of him; he saw nothing. So slowly he crawled and inched his way towards Sheriff Larry’s corpse, and then got to his knees. He looked at Sheriff Larry’s gun holster, but saw that the gun had been taken.

         “Shit.” He whispered, and then looked around the village. Thunder echoed through the village softly. Trevor looked down the street, and noticed a dark silhouette figure facing him. He saw a bright flash from the figure, simultaneously followed by a loud thunder, and then an instant later, he heard something whip past his ear, brush off of his right shoulder, and hit the cottage behind him, knocking a giant hole right through the front door; he had been shot at, and the bullet had skimmed his shoulder. The sudden shock gave Trevor an adrenaline rush, and so he didn’t quite feel the bullet brush against his shoulder. He quickly leapt back, stood up, and ran in the opposite direction. He heard the cracking of the wind as another bullet flew right over his head, hitting a statue about thirty feet ahead of him, knocking a large chunk of the marble off and onto the ground. He was almost approaching the village entrance, he could see the fields ahead of him as lightening struck down somewhere ahead and illuminated the whole plains. Rain continued to pour down on everything, but he no longer noticed. He felt nothing but energy, and the undying will to run. As he approached the entrance a black cat ran across him and into the darkness.

         He had made it to the gate, and then just as he passed the stone wall, a man wearing a fedora hat jumped up from behind the wall and struck him in the face with the back of a large assault rifle, and after that, Trevor saw nothing but blackness. Jim stood over Trevor’s unconscious body staring, and a few moments later, Drew came running towards them holding a rifle in his arms. He stood over Trevor and hunched over panting heavily.

         “Should we kill him?” Drew managed to ask. Jim thought for a moment, staring at Trevor and lost in deep thought. He knelt down and felt Trevor’s pockets. He felt nothing, and stood back up.

         “No. There’s not really much of a reason to; did you get our sacks?”

         “Hell no, I didn’t have a chance to get our damn sacks,” Drew said, straightening up. “I was about to, then I saw him creeping around the cottage, and I shot at him but missed because of the damn weather; my hands were too cold. I had to chase him down.”

         “Well go back and get them, and come back, then we’ll leave,” He said, in a low voice, still looking down at Trevor’s body. “Well what are you waiting for? Hurry up.” Drew sped off back into the village.

         Trevor could feel that his nose was broken. He struggled to open his eyes, and his whole body felt numb with coldness. He could hear a faint voice whispering to him, and he suddenly gained enough strength to open his eyes and saw his girlfriend sitting on top of him holding his face. She embraced him tightly when she saw he was awake, and asked him if he was alright. Trevor found it in himself to sit up and saw Chuck’s daughter standing right next to him looking at all the blood on his face. His vision was slightly blurry. He saw an elderly man with a green sweater and a thick gray beard leaning against the stone wall with a rifle in his hand. He felt panic for a moment, and struggled to stand up.

         “No, it’s alright Trevor,” Said the young woman, and he hesitated, but then sat still again staring at the man, who seemed to be staring off into the plains, as if he weren’t even listening to them. “He lives in the cottage you told us to run and hide in. He opened the door and I told him about everything that happened. He picked up a rifle, told us to wait inside, and left. Then he came back and told us to come with him, so we followed him and saw the two men lying in the middle of the field dead. He walked us back here and we saw you and thought you were dead.”

         “How long were you with me?” Trevor asked.

         “For almost twenty minutes. I finally remembered what my dream was about; you were running from someone, and they were chasing you.” She answered, and then noticed he’d been bleeding on his shoulder. “What happened?”

         “One of them shot at me and the bullet skimmed my shoulder.” Trevor noticed that the pain began to kick in, and moaned a little.

         “It’s nothing that can’t be taken care of.” Said the elderly man; he was still staring off into the fields.

         

Word count: 6092