rail thin and had a long gray beard hanging down the front of his shirt. His hair was long and oily looking. It was so filthy that Jeremy couldn't figure out what color it was. On his head was an old, red baseball cap.
The hands holding the shotgun were wrinkled, with brown spots all over them, and the fingers were shaped funny at the oversized knuckles. The fingernails were long and looked like they had enough dirt underneath to start a small garden. The man had all his fingers on one hand, but the other was missing at least two.
Just as Jeremy finished looking him over, and preparing to take off like a cat with its tail on fire, a blinding pain slammed into the left side of his face and he felt himself fall to the ground.
He counted three sets of dirty boots standing near his head as his eyes tried close on their own. Someone kicked in him in the ribs and he felt intense pain. He saw a bright light before fading into blackness just as the boot that had kicked him pulled back for another blow.
It was dark when he finally opened his eyes. He could barely see out of his left eye and could feel the heat in it from the su cker punch and swelling that followed. His arms felt like they were on fire and he realized they were pulled behind him and wrapped around a large post. His hands were almost numb and he could identify, by touch, a zip tie that had been used to bind his wrists.
He had no idea how long he'd been there. He real ized that he was extremely cold and looked down to discover that he was missing the guardsman uniform. He thanked God that he still had his civilian clothes and shoes
He was inside a barn type building with built in stalls. Everything around him looked only like dark piles in different shapes and sizes. There were little slivers of moonlight coming in between the cracks of the door and walls, but it wasn't enough to make a positive identification of anything around him. He saw moonlight glancing off bits of metal here and there.
He was sitting in dirt with his le gs sprawled out in front of him and there was no one else there. His face felt like it had met up with a freight train and his jaw hurt too much to even try to open his mouth.
He tasted blood and figured it came from his nose, which he assumed must be broken. He couldn't inhale through his nose, and his lips were heavily chapped from mouth breathing. His tongue felt dry and brittle, and he couldn't even wet his lips. His ribs felt like he had been stabbed several times with a red hot poker. Every bone in his body was aching and it hurt to breathe.
The night was silent, and stayed that way, as he laid his head against the post and faded in and out of painful consciousness.
He woke hours later when sunlight came glaring through the open door. There was a figure standing in the door. It looked simply like a dark human shape because of the sunlight glaring in behind it. A rank smell was floating across the breeze. "Mornin' boy" the figure said. "You dun gotchersef sum truble."
As the figure stepped into the building, two similar shaped figures followed behind and the rank smell tripled in strength. Once inside the building , they closed the door. Jeremy recognized the old man from the woods. The other two looked like younger versions and they were just as filthy and smelled just as bad. Each man was holding a shot gun in his arms like it was his favorite girl.
"Whur'd ya get dem close ya had on" the older man asked. "Who wants to know?" replied Jeremy. The words came out like a course whisper. One of the younger men kicked him hard in the thigh and told his to "keep'is smart elek remarks to 'isself and ainser da durn queshton."
Jeremy told them he’ d found the clothes on a dead guardsman and had taken them because he was freezing and didn't have a coat. "Whur ya headin' to?" the old man asked. "I'm trying to get home" Jeremy replied. "Whur's home?" the old man said. Jeremy told him home was across the Alabama line and he needed to get
The hands holding the shotgun were wrinkled, with brown spots all over them, and the fingers were shaped funny at the oversized knuckles. The fingernails were long and looked like they had enough dirt underneath to start a small garden. The man had all his fingers on one hand, but the other was missing at least two.
Just as Jeremy finished looking him over, and preparing to take off like a cat with its tail on fire, a blinding pain slammed into the left side of his face and he felt himself fall to the ground.
He counted three sets of dirty boots standing near his head as his eyes tried close on their own. Someone kicked in him in the ribs and he felt intense pain. He saw a bright light before fading into blackness just as the boot that had kicked him pulled back for another blow.
It was dark when he finally opened his eyes. He could barely see out of his left eye and could feel the heat in it from the su cker punch and swelling that followed. His arms felt like they were on fire and he realized they were pulled behind him and wrapped around a large post. His hands were almost numb and he could identify, by touch, a zip tie that had been used to bind his wrists.
He had no idea how long he'd been there. He real ized that he was extremely cold and looked down to discover that he was missing the guardsman uniform. He thanked God that he still had his civilian clothes and shoes
He was inside a barn type building with built in stalls. Everything around him looked only like dark piles in different shapes and sizes. There were little slivers of moonlight coming in between the cracks of the door and walls, but it wasn't enough to make a positive identification of anything around him. He saw moonlight glancing off bits of metal here and there.
He was sitting in dirt with his le gs sprawled out in front of him and there was no one else there. His face felt like it had met up with a freight train and his jaw hurt too much to even try to open his mouth.
He tasted blood and figured it came from his nose, which he assumed must be broken. He couldn't inhale through his nose, and his lips were heavily chapped from mouth breathing. His tongue felt dry and brittle, and he couldn't even wet his lips. His ribs felt like he had been stabbed several times with a red hot poker. Every bone in his body was aching and it hurt to breathe.
The night was silent, and stayed that way, as he laid his head against the post and faded in and out of painful consciousness.
He woke hours later when sunlight came glaring through the open door. There was a figure standing in the door. It looked simply like a dark human shape because of the sunlight glaring in behind it. A rank smell was floating across the breeze. "Mornin' boy" the figure said. "You dun gotchersef sum truble."
As the figure stepped into the building, two similar shaped figures followed behind and the rank smell tripled in strength. Once inside the building , they closed the door. Jeremy recognized the old man from the woods. The other two looked like younger versions and they were just as filthy and smelled just as bad. Each man was holding a shot gun in his arms like it was his favorite girl.
"Whur'd ya get dem close ya had on" the older man asked. "Who wants to know?" replied Jeremy. The words came out like a course whisper. One of the younger men kicked him hard in the thigh and told his to "keep'is smart elek remarks to 'isself and ainser da durn queshton."
Jeremy told them he’ d found the clothes on a dead guardsman and had taken them because he was freezing and didn't have a coat. "Whur ya headin' to?" the old man asked. "I'm trying to get home" Jeremy replied. "Whur's home?" the old man said. Jeremy told him home was across the Alabama line and he needed to get
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