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dead?”
    “That thing that you left us out there to slow down killed everybody,” says Ricky.
    The sheriff’s nervous twitch makes him put his hand on his gun as if he could go fix it.
    “So you mean to tell me that one man, unarmed, went against six and killed everybody?”
    “ Naw, sir; he got us one by one. We were spread out so we could make sure he couldn’t get by us. He almost got me, but I managed to escape with W2.”
    “So where is W2?”
    “I don’t know. He said he would meet me back here. I heard shots go off after he stayed back. I’m not sure where he is.”
    “So what’s wrong with you?”
    “I think my shoulder is dislocated and my ribs broke.”
    “Damn it!”
    “Listen, we did exactly as you said!” Ricky attempts to raise his voice.
    “I know, I know. Listen, I need you to head over to County and get yerself looked at. I’ll handle what’s going on here in the morning.”
    “Willy, after the things I’ve seen, I don’t think you should stay here. Especially with your wife and all…I, I, I just don't know."
    “Ain’t nothing gonna happen. He doesn’t even know where I live. So go on now.”
    Ricky stops and looks around.
    “I’ll be back as soon as they set my shoulder,” says the deputy.
    “Take yer time. We'll be fine,” the sheriff responds in a nonchalant voice.
    They begin to walk towards the cop car together. Ricky gets in, and the sheriff shuts the door for him.
    “Just take yer time,” says the sheriff.
    Ricky starts the car and begins to back out of the driveway. The front door of the house opens, and his wife walks out. Ricky then flips on the headlights and drives away.
    “Is everything all right?” his wife yells from the porch. He turns around and walks towards her.
    “Yeah, everything is all right. Ricky just fell down and messed his shoulder up. He’s headed over to County to get it looked at.”
    “Oh my, is it bad?”
    “Yeah, he’s okay. He wouldn’t be drivin’ if it was too bad.”
    He looks down the road and sees his tail lights in the distance. He looks the opposite direction to see if anything else was coming down the road.
    “Honey, I’ve known you for most of my adult life. I know when something is wrong,” she says.
    “ Naw, it’s nothing to be too concerned about.”
    “Concerned and not too concerned still equals concerned. What’s going on?”
    “Ricky thinks that fugitive we were chasin’ is headed back to town.”
    “So? Wait, you think he’s coming here don’t you!?”
    “No, he doesn’t even know where we live!”
    “Well, you make sure it stays that way,” she says with both arms folded in front of her.
    Linda turns around and walks in the house. The sheriff looks back at the road then follows her inside. He walks through the living room past his dining room to a room that he has dedicated to himself. It has pictures and mounted animals that he has successfully hunted. On one of the walls he has a collection of weapons that he has acquired over the years. It consists of everything from crossbows to shotguns and handguns. He grabs his favorite gun from the stash, a black Mossberg Thunder Ranch 12 gauge shotgun, and a box of shells. He walks to the back door that exits from the kitchen and heads to his work bench to grab the stone. William returns to the house, enters the living room, and sits in his chair facing the front window. For now, all he can do is wait and protect the fort.
    Thoughts fly through his mind while he sits, making sure that the criminal on the loose doesn’t somehow find where he and his family reside. “ How is it possible that one man was able to kill some of the best hunters I have ever known? He renders Bama a complete and utter mess. It’s not like it was Ricky he met out there and sent him home crying like a baby. No, this was Bama. The same guy I saw punch a moose in the face on our way up to Alaska ’cause it stood in the middle of the street and wouldn’t get out of the way. Carver