Page 121 of Everything Under the Sun

“Now turn around.”

He turned around, his hands in the air.

“Please don’t shoot me,” he said, still turning slowly. “Like I told your wife, I’m just passing through. Heading back to Colorado where my family lives. Not here to hurt anyone. Didn’t know anyone lived in these parts.”

He made two full turns and was on his third when I told him to stop.

“Now remove the backpack.”

The man did not remove the backpack.

“This is all I have,” he explained instead, his hands still up, his back facing me. “If you take my gear it’s the same as killing me—might as well just shoot me, man.”

“Removethe backpack.” I forced the words through clenched teeth.

“He could’ve attacked me in the woods, but he didn’t.”

Not the time, love.

My boots moved swiftly over the grass as I went toward the man who still had not taken off his damn backpack, and in two seconds, the barrel of the gun was pressed to the man’s temple.

“Take off the fucking backpack.”

The man immediately took off the fucking backpack; after breaking apart several clasps, he dropped the heavy load on the ground at his feet.

“Now lift your shirt and turn. Slowly. Thais come here!”

The man lifted his shirt up to his neck with both hands and slowly turned around so I could check for hidden weapons. The man’s ribs were showing; his skin was pallid, and bruised, probably from carrying such a heavy load on his back.

“Empty his pack,” I told Thais when she came running up. “Every pocket. Every zipper. Search for weapons.”

“Atticus, I think he’s—”

“Just do it,” I ordered, glanced at her so she could see the pleading in my eyes.

Thais nodded.

She found many items in his pack, but the closest thing to a weapon other than his bowie knife was a small axe. No guns. No bullets. No prison-standard weapons made from toothbrushes or cardboard.

“What do you want?” I asked the man once more; I kept the gun trained on him.

“Can I lower my arms?” the man requested. “There’s not as much muscle on my bones as there used to be—can’t hold them up as long anymore.”

After thinking about it, and then bending to scoop up his bowie knife and axe, I nodded.

“Take them inside,” I told Thais as I put the weapons into her hand. “And put on your pants. I want your gun in your pants.”

She nodded nervously, and then scurried off toward the cabin, disappearing inside seconds later.

The moment she was gone, I shoved the gun underneath the man’s chin.

“I will not hesitate to blow your brains out of the top of your fucking head if you try anything. Am I clear?”

The man nodded, eyes wide. “I-I got you, man,” he said. “I-I got you.”

I lowered the gun, but it took everything in me. I didn’t trust the stranger then, nor would I later. There was something off about him I felt right away, and I wouldn’t make the same mistake I’d made at the farmhouse.

“My name is Mark Porter,” the man introduced, and he reached out a shaky hand.

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