IF NOT A WARNING, AT LEAST A SPEEDY DELIVERY by Greg Lammers
He had to warn them.
He ran out of the old shed, nearly tripping over a plank lying on the hard earthen ground. A nail sticking up might have gone through his foot. He looked down at his old brown boot, no, it must not have pierced him, there would be blood and pain.
He’d heard others coming up the trail. They were laughing, making noise. He could hear them through the trees, “oooooooo” went the male voice, “Stop it!” replied the female.
He almost tripped again, this time over a tendril of a withered tree winding across the path. A limb of a thorn tree grazed his forehead, no blood this time either. He was lucky or agile, he’d go with “agile,” a little joke his mind allowed him.
He could hear their voices growing louder. He was heading in the right direction. “Hey,” he tried to combine a whisper and a yell through the trees at them. “Hey, shut up!” There was no reply other than their continued laughter.
A screech echoed off of the trees near him. He looked up and saw a big black bird looking down at him. He could have sworn it wore a mocking grin. This place was getting to him. He’d been out on this old farm too long.
He ducked under a branch, “Hey!” He wasn’t more than a dozen feet from them now. They stopped and looked at him with open mouths. They’d thought they were alone out here, after all, couples didn’t come out here to not be alone.
The dead grass and leaves crunched on the other side of them. His heart sank, it was too late. The young man and woman followed his gaze to the tall figure on their other side. He had heard them too.
The tall man smiled, “I guess you’ll want to take care of it fast, Ted.”
Ted sighed. He could see the pliers, picks, and hammers hanging off of Quinton’s belt.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his pistol as he stepped closer to the pale-faced and wide-eyed couple, “I guess so.”