I DON’T MUCH LIKE running from a fight. It burns in my craw something fierce. But though I would never be mistaken for a learned man, I ain’t stupid. I know that I would be no match against the Walrus using just my fists and wits.

It’s why I grabbed the rifle.

Yet, once I had the rifle and ammunition, I still ran. I ran like the wind—well, like the wind if it had been healing from a broken spine. I ain’t no coward, but if you’re gonna fight someone, try to be the one who picks the field of battle.

About fifty or so yards from the back of my house is a large, wooded, hill. Once I was out of the window and onto the front lawn, I hobbled around to the back of the house, running as quickly as I could across the back yard, up the hill, and into the dense clump of woods that stretched back for a few miles out behind the house. Under the cover of the trees I fell to the ground, lying on my back and breathing heavily as I loaded the Winchester.

I slid the last cartridge into the rifle when I heard the unmistakable sound of a walrus crashing through a bedroom window—my bedroom window. So far, everything had gone according to plan, but success hinged on the hope that the Walrus would follow me. The plan was to hide here among the trees on the hill and wait for the Walrus to peek his ugly face around the back of the house. Then I’d shoot him. Not actually in the face, mind you. I wasn’t out to kill him—I wanted to—but I figured it’d be best to let the law handle this one. If he forced the issue, then I’d have no other choice. Otherwise I figured on winging him a bit. Maybe I’d go for the knee and put him down long enough to get the boys in khaki out here to lock the thing up—for good this time.

It all depended on the Walrus doing what I wanted him to do, which was follow me west behind the house.

As I’ve said, I live in the country a few miles north of town. Based on what was around the house, geographically speaking, the plan put a lot of dependence on the landscape itself guiding the Walrus in my direction.


No comments:

Post a Comment