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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