Page 22 of Any Second Now
Maybe I imagined the sound.
Tap tap tap.
Nope, that’s real.
Maybe I parked too close to a tree, and a branch is blowing against the door to the RV.
Tap tap tap.
No way. Too sharp. And it can’t be someone knocking, unless they’re using something sharp. Like a knife. A breath catches in my throat. I stand and peek out of the curtains. I don’t see anyone. But still, I creep over and grab Fred—my trusty baseball bat—from where he leans next to the door.
Fred makes me feel better about being in the Pink Palace alone all the time. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me.
Sometimes when I close my eyes at night, my imagination starts running absolutely wild. I’m often in some kind of woods, or at the edge of the woods, and I’m a single woman in a flimsy pink RV trailer. It’s not the smartest situation I’ve ever put myself in. But I refuse to let fear of the man—or bear?—scare me away from doing what I want to do.
Am I doing what I want to do? Is that what this is? I’m not so sure.
Wait… what if it’s a bear at my door? An actual bear scraping my door with one giant claw that he sharpened on a rock deep in the woods just this morning?
Tap tap tap.
“Shit,” I whisper and reach for the door handle. It’s probably not a bear.
I must’ve parked too close to the tree.
Tap tap tap.
“Screw it.” I fling the door open, Fred resting on my shoulder in a hopefully menacing way.
There’s a flurry of movement jumping toward me and I basically die a thousand deaths, then stumble back until I’m leaning against the kitchen counter. Fred clatters to the floor.
Good to know I have the right instincts to protect myself.
My brain slowly adjusts to what I’m seeing standing right inside the door.
A chicken?
A white chicken, to be exact, with fluffy feathers sticking up around its head and a dark beak. She’s kind of pretty.
Chicken cocks her head at me. I huff a laugh.
“What, no tapping now?” I cross my arms, my gaze flitting down to Fred, although I don’t think Chicken’s gonna get aggressive.
She takes a step forward.
“I mean, what are you doing in my house?” I press back againstthe counter and extend my foot to the top of Fred and roll him toward me.
She looks back over her shoulder.
“Are you waiting for someone? A chicken friend? Running from something? Like a bear? Need a hiding spot?”
My god, I’m talking to a chicken. I really need more human interaction.
It looks at me.
“Oh, shit,isit a bear?” I sigh and shake my head. “This is no place for a chicken. This campsite. The woods. Colorado, probably. How have you not gotten eaten yet?”
With a flutter of wings, the chicken half-flies further into the RV.
