In the gloom, he could see that beyond the entry way there was a large open space. And beyond that a boarded-up window through which thin shafts of sunlight streamed.
Great! All I have to do is cross the barn, pull off one or two of those boards and climb out, thought Johnson. Then I'll show that old man. Fifty bucks! He'll wish I had never stopped.
Then he heard another rustle overhead and more straw floated down.
"Who is it? Who's there?" he called out.
I'll bet it's that old man, thought Johnson. He thinks he's going to scare me.
"Sure! You just keep that up, old man," Johnson called out again. "Let's see how much laughing you do when I bash your face in."
But first, I've got to get to that window. Be careful, he cautioned himself. This barn must be full of junk. Don't want to fall down and get hurt.
Despite the heat in the barn, he shivered. Licking the sweat off his upper lip, Johnson slowly picked his way across the wide wooden-planked barn floor, being careful not to trip. Shadows of old machinery and tools loomed around him. A leather harness that hung from the wall looked like a hangman's noose.
There was a peculiar smell, too. It reminded him of a package of chicken that he once left in the trunk of his car on a hot summer day. It was the sickly, sweet scent of rotting meat.
Oh, gross! muttered Johnson. There's a dead animal in here.
In less than a minute he had crossed the barn and was standing in front of the boarded-up window. Blocking his exit were three boards nailed haphazardly into the frame.
Either the old man was too weak or too lazy to drive them all the way in, concluded Johnson. I can probably pull them off with my bare hands, he smiled triumphantly.
