The River's Edge

Jim moved the blanket aside and stood in the absolute darkness of the confined quarters. The door rattled again, almost imperceptibly, as someone outside worked the latch to release it. He moved closer to the door, careful not to make a noise. His heart pounded, partly from the fading nightmare, and partly from the unexplained event now taking place outside the door to his dwelling.

            Jim weighed his options carefully. There were no guns in the hut to protect his family and his hunting knife was packed in a knapsack in the back of the Jeep. If the person or persons outside intended to do harm, Jim was left with his bare hands to defend his family. No problem, as long as the intruder did not have a weapon. Chances were, he did.

            The handmade latch relented with a slight scraping noise and the door slowly swung open. Jim could see nothing but felt the pressure change as cool air rushed through the opening. He could hear whispers from outside, meaning there was more than one intruder. What did they want?