Cornered

Chapter Fourteen

Nick jerked awake.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand; it was two twelve. Katy was curled on her side in front of him, Stefanie was in front of her mom, and Colton in front of his sister. It was clear none of them had heard what Nick heard, as they were all sound asleep.

He heard it again and leaned up. It wasn't a sound he could identify, more a rustling of some sort. He eased out of bed and fumbled his way through the darkness to the window. They were directly over the porch roof, and Nick stood staring at the shingles perfectly still. Right away he heard the sound again. The noise was heavy—definitely movement of some kind, and Nick became enraged. This bastard was outside his home for a second night in a row. He was about to throw the window open when he saw a red light in the woods on the right side of the house. The tripod and camera immediately popped into his head.

He stormed around the bed toward the closet.

"What's the matter?" Katy asked.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Nick, what is it?" She was now frantic.

"Something's going on outside," he said, pulling on a pair of jeans. "Stay in the house."

"Nick—"

Stefanie was now awake, watching as he threw on a shirt and slipped his bare feet into an old pair of tennis shoes. Colton was still passed out.

Nick thought of the gun; but given his inexperience and the fury he was feeling in that moment, he decided against it. Turning on the lights and taking the time to retrieve it from the safe was not appealing either. Instead, he felt around for the baseball bat in the corner of the closet and pulled it out.

"I mean it, Katy, stay in the house," Nick demanded again.

"Just stop! what are you gonna—"

But he was already out the door and down the hall. As he trotted down the stairs he felt twenty years old again, nice and pissed off at some dipshit who had wronged him—a boss, a professor, a co-worker, the jackass at McDonalds who didn't put enough pickles on his burger, the ass wipe at the gym who'd stared at him rudely, the pissant at the haunted house that skipped in line...

Only now Nick had a bat.

He made it down and rushed for the door, when he noticed the curtains above the sink and stopped suddenly. They were blowing freely as if the window was open. Approaching it cautiously, he discovered that the window was in fact closed and locked—the bottom glass, however, was missing. He stared in disbelief, then looked to the alarm system and saw that it hadn't been set. That's when he heard a vehicle speeding away in the distance, loud and clear through the open glass, and raced again for the door. Looking quickly through the peephole he saw nothing, yanked the door open and went out. His eyes were glued to the woods as he locked the door and closed it behind him, knowing the hole in the window was not big enough for someone to climb through. He darted down the porch steps and broke into a fast walk—a respectable jog for most—toward the woods on the right side of the house, the baseball bat clenched tightly in both hands. He no longer saw the red light, and It occurred to him that he should have grabbed a flashlight. There was no use moaning over spilled milk, he thought, and surged ahead.

The treetops were swaying loudly in the wind, and the half-moon provided just enough light for him to see his next step. But as he crossed the front yard, he could see that the woods on the other side the fence were much darker, and the anger in him was giving way to fear. He knew the potential danger he was flirting with, but found himself powerless to turn around. Go find out if that son of a bitch is on the other side of the barbed wired fence and put a stop to this shit, NOW! his head screamed, while his body became unsteady with terror.