After about half an hour, I saw a figure down by the water’s edge, and ran down to see who it was, fearing the worst. As I got close, I saw it was Angela, but she was pale and still. I dropped to my knees beside her, and felt her forehead. She was warm, normal temperature, thank goodness, and my hand must have woken her as she jerked awake, opened her eyes and gasped out “What…what... happened to me?” Her next action took me totally by surprise as she put her arms around my neck and hugged me so tight that I wondered at her strength. “I don’t know what happened, I must have blacked out when I was thrown out of the boat, and then I finally managed to get ashore a mile or so up the shore, or maybe down the shore, I don’t know”. I could see that this took her aback as she then somewhat hesitantly asked “What about the others, the boat, Terry…” “I don’t know, I have looked and looked but I haven’t seen anyone. I thought I was alone here until I found you”. “But……where are we?” “On. A man approached and stopped just beyond the blanket. He was tall and lean, wearing jeans tucked into work boots and a plaid shirt with the sleeves torn off. He had a week’s growth of beard, and dark, oily hair sticking out from under a grimy John Deere cap. In his right hand he held a 30 caliber bolt action rifle with a scope, pointing down at the ground. He looked us over and said, ‘Well if this ain’t cozy. Listen, I’ll give you two kids a chance to git outta here. You got one minute to git outta my sight ‘fore I start shootin’.’ Way back where the gunman had come from, a man shouted, ‘Put ’em down, Clyde, right now. Can’t have ’em runnin’ their mouths to the law. Remember, they’ve seen yer face now.’ Clyde’s hand holding the rifle started to move, and stopped. He was thinking, apparently something that he didn’t do often and couldn’t do quickly. My guess was that he was hesitant to murder us in cold blood, or he might be thinking of the hard work of dragging our bodies away.
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