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was big but not cripple, a defensive lineman big. Maybe appearances are a little more deceiving than I think. Who would’ve thought we would go out there with six guys and only two would leave alive? Maybe three if ‘Dubya 2’ got a couple of shots off and was able to get out of there. How can…? ” The sheriff dozes off in mid thought but continues to think as if he were awake. “ How can he pick each one of them apart just yards away from each other? He must have been really quie …” The Sheriff jumps awake. “Damn!” he says to himself. He gets out of his recliner to walk around to try and get his blood flowing so he can wake up. Just as he does, he sees through his blinds the silhouette of somebody in the front yard. The body is wide like W2. “ Shoot, maybe that old turd made it out of there like Ricky thought ,” the sheriff thinks to himself. As he begins to walk out of the front door, he notices other figures behind what seems to be W2. They look like the crew all lined up behind each other in a “V” formation like birds do when they fly south for the winter. “ Maybe Ricky was wrong. Maybe he was dehydrated and hallucinated everything that happened out there. It makes perfect sense. That’s how he hurt himself, because he couldn't balance himself and was confused,” he tries to rationalize with himself.
    He walks out of the front door and onto the porch. He slows his pace when he realizes that they aren’t moving, but more importantly, they aren’t making a sound.
    “Wallace, what the hell y’all doin’?”
    Wallace’s stomach sucks in and his mouth opens up as if he is about to throw up. Instead of vomit, words come out.
    “Give,” he says in a low, raspy voice.
    The Sheriff gives him a “ what the hell is wrong with you” look .
    “Give you what?”
    The sheriff’s wife comes down the stairs in her nightgown, rubbing her eyes.
    “Hon, what’s going on?”
    He turns his head towards her but points his barrel towards the yard.
    “Nothing, baby, just head back up and don’t come out until I come get you.”
    “But…”
    He turns back towards the yard and sees Wallace floating directly in front of him without a micron of life in his eyes.
    “The Stone!” W2 harshly whispers.
    Startled, the sheriff shoots W2 in the chest and falls backwards into the house. W2’s body flies off the porch and back into the yard. His wife runs back upstairs screaming at the top of her lungs.
    “Ahh!”
    The sheriff sits on his rear end trying to figure out in his head how W2 got right in front of him so fast. He looks around the front yard to see if the rest of the other guys are still there. Nothing. It is like they were never there.
    Willy gets up and stumbles back into his house.
    “ Stay calm ,” he says to himself as he attempts to close the door. Before he can close it, Jerry’s head gets wedged in between the door and the door frame. His face is distorted to the point that he doesn’t look like Jerry anymore as it tries to squeeze inside. The harder the sheriff pushes the door, the more Jerry’s head gets pressed to the point that his eyes begin bulging out of his head.
    “Oh God!” the sheriff screams as he sees the eyes now laying on Jerry’s cheeks. He lets go of the knob and runs to the back room. He expects the front door to bust wide open after the tug of war match that just ensued; instead, the door slowly swings open as Jerry’s mutilated, lifeless body slides down the door, leaving a trail of blood against the white trim of the door jam.
    Willy stands idling with his shotgun directed at whatever may come through the door.
    He begins to walk back towards the front until he hears footsteps on the porch near the right side of the house. He aims his gun as if he is going to blast through the wall. He then hears more movement on the left side of the house. Willy takes aim again.
    “Listen, Carver, was it? I think we may have a little misunderstanding. I’m just trying to do my