Chapter 1

I hadn’t fully understood the Sheriff’s admonition. Now, I was afraid.

I He stepped back and I opened the door, unclipping my seat belt, sliding out of the Expedition. I raised my hands shoulder high, palms open. Haskins only tittered, thumb poised to pull back the hammer, his forefinger next to the trigger. Too late, the picture clarified. I was facing a certifiable maniac. Haskin’s was a total psycho.

“Down into the ditch!” he ordered, poking what looked like a western-style Colt forty-five into my side, letting slip another giggle. I obeyed, wondering distractedly if I could work a miracle and disarm the madman. I glanced back over a shoulder as my heels dug into grass, on the verge of a fairly deep ditch. Haskins lips curled, his smile looking more like a bestial snarl.

“Right to the bottom prick,” he ordered, keeping several feet off to my right, following me down off to the side, keeping a safe distance. Moments before his feet reached bottom, the realization that I was going to die swept through me. Any sense of time felt suspended, but I turned to face the deputy. Resigned, I knew I couldn’t do anything, but I wasn’t going to die grovelling to a madman.

As he took one more step,, Haskin’s foot skidded out from under him. The revolver swung wildly, mostly pointing at the sky as his back slammed into the grassy slope. Then, he started twitching, his arm jerking. In that moment, his right hand turned the old revolver away from me. He blinked rapidly, brow furrowing, perplexed features contorting into a pained grimace. He shuddered and jerked, hazel eyes momentarily looking bewildered, then frightened, then terrified. Haskin’s started whimpering.

The air seemed to wrinkle between us. Wind came up, swirling, forming a dust devil that swirled around Haskins. Within the dust, Patterns appeared, swirling about the deputy’s head. Indistinct at first, what looked like flickers of light began to coalesce. Transparent, ghostly shapes flickered in and out of sight. I knew that Haskin saw them too because his whimpering changed to a strangled, keening whine.

Still gripping the pistol, Haskins shook, his knuckles going white. I heard a metallic ‘click’ as his thumb drew back the hammer to full cock. Then, some invisible force turned the muzzle, forcing it up under his chin, making his head tip back. The deputy’s entire body convulsed; but, his arm and right hand steadied. He shuddered, gulping air, twitching and gurgling. The gun didn’t fire. Sweat broke out all over Haskins face. It became obvious that he was fighting some kind of compulsion with all his might. Then, my understanding crystallized.

Dust and light began twisting, coalescing into four distinct shapes. Haskins squealed, eyes bulging, the pistol muzzle digging in hard, forcing his head further back.