6.

The shape came closer.
It was definitely two, maybe three people.
They were carrying rifles.
They had to be poachers
This didn't look good.
I knew I was in serious trouble.
It was too late to jump in my car and take off.
A fleeting image of Ned Beatty squealing like a pig passed through my mind.
I had to do something.
I had to say something.
Think, think, think.
I had to convince them that I wasn't some kind of a cop.
I had to convince them I was a good old boy just like them.
I started to speak, and then I felt a blunt object strike the back of my head.
My knees began to buckle, and then I blacked out.

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