Larry, Get the Remington

THE HILLS BE SHAKEN is SEVEN meets MACGYVER. Finally a thriller with an engineer as the hero.

“Larry, get the Remington.”

He leaped out of the chair. The dish and fork bounced on the rug.

“What do I need that for?”

“The dog’s back, she’s popped a cork.” The sliding glass patio door was like the kitchen window, also a black rectangle on the wall. It showed only their reflections on a shiny background of blackness. “I think there might be someone out there with her. Get the Remington.”

“Aw Hell.” Larry stomped across the room, threw open the sliding patio door. The unoiled steel tracks of the door let out a brash screech. He marched into the night, ignoring his wife’s recommendation to grab the 12-guage shotgun. “What is it, Savannah?”

He paced out onto the gravel. His eyes were adjusting to the low light of the evening.

“Mr. Jones?” a voice said.

Larry spun to the general direction of the unknown visitor. He shuffled his feet backward, struggling to maintain his balance, as rocks jabbed his feet through his tube socks.

“I’ve come alone, and I’ve come a long way to find you.”

Larry reached into the center front chest pocket on his overalls and grabbed for his pack of cigarettes; his lighter was inside the pack. His fingers danced around in his pocket. He felt his own heart pounding against his sweaty hand. Finally clutching the pack, he dumped the contents into his other hand, the cigarettes and his lighter bounced off his open palm and rained onto the dusty unpaved driveway. He dropped to his knees feeling around in the dirt and rocks for his lighter, with his gaze fixed into the black night, searching.

Finally grasping his lighter he lit the flame.

“Oh dear God, sweet God.” He backed away slowly. “Iris, call 911.”

“I’ve found you,” The voice said again.

Larry continued to inch backward.

Just as a breeze blew out his flame, Larry tripped, fell over the lawn mower, and screamed.

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