Thom.
“This is mine, Thom. Mine.”
“That’s fine, Antonio. I don’t want it. I just want us all to get out of here safely. I’m just going to walk over to the rail now.”
“I don’t think so, Thom. Can’t have either of you guys telling others where my treasure is, eh?” Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of black polymer pistol. He pointed it at Thom, then at Herbie, then back at Thom again.
“Whoa! You don’t have to do this, Antonio. We’re leaving. Heading north, and then east. You’ll never see us again.”
“Sorry, gentlemen. I don’t take any pleasure in this, but a man has to protect his kingdom.”
Sweat gleamed off of Antonio’s body, his eyes full of paranoid energy. The man’s trigger finger began to tighten while the gun’s sights settled squarely onto Thom’s chest.
Herbie looked on from the doorway, the soft click of his pocketknife blade locking into place.
“No use talking, Thom. He’s coming down off of something. Not going to be in the mood to negotiate. Right, Antonio?”
Antonio’s eyes slipped from Thom to Herbie. Seeing the old man with knife in hand, his face twisted into a snarl, and he began to pull the trigger.
Thom stepped backwards, but as his foot touched down it broke through the crust of grain, sinking into an empty air pocket below. Off balance, he fell backwards, clutching to the railing, while his other foot scrambled for purchase.
The crust began to snap and pop like a frozen lake when the ice finally begins to thaw and break apart. Antonio stood there, paralyzed with a mixture of fear and confusion. The cracks spread quickly, and in a moment the entire surface was shifting, like water draining from a tub.
Antonio was pulled under; he disappeared completely from sight. Thom breathed a sigh of relief and began to pull himself up, when a hand shot forth from the wheat and grabbed him by the ankle.
The hand scrambled, clawing its way up Thom’s leg, pulling him down as it pulled Antonio up.
Against all odds, Antonio clawed his way to the surface, a look of terror in his eyes. He tried to inhale deeply, his lungs making horrible, wracking coughs as they tried to expel the inhaled wheat. He wrapped his arms tightly around Thom’s waist, and they both began to sink.
Herbie was there in an instant. There was a flash of metal, a flicker of scarlet, and the smell of iron mingled with wheat. Antonio shrieked; a high-pitched, gurgling gasp rushed from his mouth before a boot found his face, and the man’s death grip on Thom finally relented and he was swept swiftly under the tide of wheat.
Thom battled to hang on. He clung tightly to the rails, the weight of the wheat doing its best to suck him down. Glass shattered, and a moment later Herbie was looping a fire hose around Thom’s waist, hauling him out.
The two men finally collapsed onto the dusty metal walkway, the roar of the grain eventually dying down to nothing.
Thom and Herbie sat there for a few minutes, catching their breath. Herbie was the first to speak. “Next time someone sings ‘America the Beautiful,’ I think I’ll slug ’em. Amber waves of grain can take a hike.”
Thom coughed, and laughed.
“Thanks, Herbie.”
“Don’t mention it, Thom. Let’s just get you home, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter 3 – Waking Dream
The deer stand swayed slightly in the upper boughs of the old oak tree in the Willis’ back yard as the wind shifted to the south. John smiled as he surveyed the ongoing work in their neighborhood below through a pair of high-powered binoculars.
Work was speeding along. The tractor that old man Pritchet had spent the last few months restoring had really paid off. The defensive wall around the neighborhood was starting to really come together, and swarms of residents worked to get a few crates of seed potatoes planted in newly created towers.
Among the scattered populace of their tiny village was his wife, Talia. John couldn’t
“This is mine, Thom. Mine.”
“That’s fine, Antonio. I don’t want it. I just want us all to get out of here safely. I’m just going to walk over to the rail now.”
“I don’t think so, Thom. Can’t have either of you guys telling others where my treasure is, eh?” Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of black polymer pistol. He pointed it at Thom, then at Herbie, then back at Thom again.
“Whoa! You don’t have to do this, Antonio. We’re leaving. Heading north, and then east. You’ll never see us again.”
“Sorry, gentlemen. I don’t take any pleasure in this, but a man has to protect his kingdom.”
Sweat gleamed off of Antonio’s body, his eyes full of paranoid energy. The man’s trigger finger began to tighten while the gun’s sights settled squarely onto Thom’s chest.
Herbie looked on from the doorway, the soft click of his pocketknife blade locking into place.
“No use talking, Thom. He’s coming down off of something. Not going to be in the mood to negotiate. Right, Antonio?”
Antonio’s eyes slipped from Thom to Herbie. Seeing the old man with knife in hand, his face twisted into a snarl, and he began to pull the trigger.
Thom stepped backwards, but as his foot touched down it broke through the crust of grain, sinking into an empty air pocket below. Off balance, he fell backwards, clutching to the railing, while his other foot scrambled for purchase.
The crust began to snap and pop like a frozen lake when the ice finally begins to thaw and break apart. Antonio stood there, paralyzed with a mixture of fear and confusion. The cracks spread quickly, and in a moment the entire surface was shifting, like water draining from a tub.
Antonio was pulled under; he disappeared completely from sight. Thom breathed a sigh of relief and began to pull himself up, when a hand shot forth from the wheat and grabbed him by the ankle.
The hand scrambled, clawing its way up Thom’s leg, pulling him down as it pulled Antonio up.
Against all odds, Antonio clawed his way to the surface, a look of terror in his eyes. He tried to inhale deeply, his lungs making horrible, wracking coughs as they tried to expel the inhaled wheat. He wrapped his arms tightly around Thom’s waist, and they both began to sink.
Herbie was there in an instant. There was a flash of metal, a flicker of scarlet, and the smell of iron mingled with wheat. Antonio shrieked; a high-pitched, gurgling gasp rushed from his mouth before a boot found his face, and the man’s death grip on Thom finally relented and he was swept swiftly under the tide of wheat.
Thom battled to hang on. He clung tightly to the rails, the weight of the wheat doing its best to suck him down. Glass shattered, and a moment later Herbie was looping a fire hose around Thom’s waist, hauling him out.
The two men finally collapsed onto the dusty metal walkway, the roar of the grain eventually dying down to nothing.
Thom and Herbie sat there for a few minutes, catching their breath. Herbie was the first to speak. “Next time someone sings ‘America the Beautiful,’ I think I’ll slug ’em. Amber waves of grain can take a hike.”
Thom coughed, and laughed.
“Thanks, Herbie.”
“Don’t mention it, Thom. Let’s just get you home, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter 3 – Waking Dream
The deer stand swayed slightly in the upper boughs of the old oak tree in the Willis’ back yard as the wind shifted to the south. John smiled as he surveyed the ongoing work in their neighborhood below through a pair of high-powered binoculars.
Work was speeding along. The tractor that old man Pritchet had spent the last few months restoring had really paid off. The defensive wall around the neighborhood was starting to really come together, and swarms of residents worked to get a few crates of seed potatoes planted in newly created towers.
Among the scattered populace of their tiny village was his wife, Talia. John couldn’t
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