Wait Until Twilight by Sang Pak Page A

television turns on. I wait a minute before sliding myself slowly out from under the bed and toward the window. By the looks of it I’d probably break a leg if I jump from up there. I’ll have to try another room. Thunder’s coming in regular intervals now, but there’s hardly any rain. Just a light trickle but the drops are heavy. I gingerly tiptoe to another bedroom, one where a window overlooks the roof of the front porch, which declines enough to where I think I can jump from it without hurting myself. I try opening it, but it’s jammed. If I put force into it, I just know it’ll be loud. So I wait for a thunderclap to cover the sound. A white bolt of lightning flashes. A few seconds pass. Then when the rumbling comes, I push as hard as I can. There’s a loud crack from the window, which opens slightly but not enough for me to slip through. I hold my breath. Footsteps are stomping up the stairs, so I frantically tiptoe behind the door. He walks past and goes into the other room.
    “What the hell was that?” the man’s voice says. I can hear him searching the closet. “Was that one of you fuckers? Couldn’t be.”
    I’m really sweating. My heart feels like it’s going to pop. The boots come around to the room I’m in. I hear them stomping around. A dark shadow moves across the wall. The window slams shut. “Shit,” he says. I can hear him checking around the room. It gets real quiet. I can’t hear a thing. Then the door I’m hiding behind is flung closed and he’s standing there right in front of me, a tall man with a scruffy face, bearded and dirty, and longish dark blond hair over cold gray eyes. He’s kind of lanky, but he looks strong, like he’s made of steel and wires under that tight flannel shirt he’s wearing.
    “What the hell? Get out of there!” he screams at me.
    He’s pulls out a knife from the back of his jeans. It’s one of those big hunting knives with the teeth toward the handle.
    I immediately raise my hands. “No, please. I was just curious. I just wanted to see them. Please, I’ll go and never come back. I promise. I made a mistake.”
    He grabs my arm and jerks me into the other room. His grip is powerful. “What’d you see?” he asks.
    “Nothing. Nothing. I didn’t have a chance. I got here right when you got in.”
    His look of rage relaxes a bit, becomes thoughtful. “Yeah, I was only gone ten minutes to get some beer. I love beer.” He lowers the knife but keeps it close. A slight smirk emerges at the corner of his snarling mouth. He looks at me close. Close enough for me to see the blackheads on his nose, the moisture of what smells like beer on the lower part of his short unkempt beard. He smells like sour sweat and alcohol. I keep looking down at that knife. He reaches around and grabs my wallet. “Let’s see who we got here.” First he takes out the cash and counts it before putting it in his pocket. “Thirty-five-dollar finder’s fee!” Then he takes out my driver’s license. “Samuel Polk!” he says. “Aye, what have we got here?” He finds the picture of my mom behind my driver’s license. “Whoooo! Who is this?”
    “It’s my mom.”
    “Your momma?”
    “Yes, yes.”
    “I’d like to Samuel Polk her!” He puts it in his pocket. “I’ll be keeping this for future reference.”
    “No, please give back my mom. You can keep the money, everything, just give that back,” I start to cry.
    “Oh! Oh, boo-hoo! It’s just a goddamn picture.” He puts my driver’s license back in my wallet and tosses it to me. “You can keepthat. A feller needs a driver’s license. Pick up some hot chicks, right! Then Samuel Polk ’em!”
    “Can I go, please?”
    “Shit. I’s just playin’. I know all about you. You’re the one who threw up as soon as you saw…them.” He nods his head to the other room.
    He sheathes his knife somewhere behind his back and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Why didn’t you say who you were? Come on. Look all you