Page 9 of Chaos has a Name
Thomas’ heart raced faster than ever before as he began praying to the Great Spirit to get him to his house and safety.
That was all he wanted.
That was all he needed.
If he could just reach the door…
He’d lock it, and he’d not have to worry about the world around his cabin. His guns and quivers were there, waiting to protect him.
Now, it was a race against time, and he had the sudden feeling like he was fighting for his life.
There was a drumbeat that came from somewhere, and he couldn’t pinpoint the location.
All around him it beat a staccato that he couldn’t outrace. Still, he ran down that desolate road, there was so much fear and panic.
He was almost there.
He was almost safe.
As he reached his driveway, he regretted not driving to the bar that evening. He began regretting so much.
Whatever chased him…it was close, and that didn’t bode well for him.
As he ran up onto the deck, he flung open the door, and then slammed it shut, locking it behind him.
QUICKLY.
That was when he sat against the door, and grabbed the hunting rifle within arm’s reach that was loaded and just waiting for him.
And suddenly, it all stopped.
The chanting ended.
The whistle was gone.
Gone was the fear.
For he was safely tucked away in his cabin where no one could get him.
Maybe he’d been imagining all of it. Maybe that was the case.
Did he get a bad batch of booze at the bar?
Could that be it?
Thomas wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but finally, he felt secure enough to get up and look around. There was only one way into his cabin, and now that he was home, he had locked it.
That was a relief.
Carrying the gun to the window, all he saw outside was the wind blowing the tree leaves.
The sky above was filled with stars, and it was just another normal night.
So.
He.
Thought.
