Larcenists and Lambs

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUEKhnrr-khrr-mmm-mmmm-khnrr-mmmm…

Martin opened his eyes wide with a jerk. Dark. Is this what death looked like? His gut wrenched in panic. Then he heard his own rattling, fear-choked breath and he realized he was alive, though just barely clinging to consciousness. Something not unlike a piglet was snorting somewhere near him and a piglet somewhere near you in the dark generally does not portend anything good.

Khnrr-khrr-mmm-mmmm-khnrr-mmmm…

Martin’s eyes couldn’t penetrate the thick darkness. What the hell was it? He stretched out his hand. A few inches from his head, he prodded something that he identified to a high degree of probability as a pillow, and something, that, to a high degree of probability, he decided to identify as long hair. No, he wasn’t in a sty. He was lying in bed next to somebody.

Mmmm-khnr-prsk!…

Damn it! So they’d got him already? Martin’s sleepy brain refused to give out any further information.

Suddenly, he realized that the unidentifiable sounds coming from the other side of the bed weren’t the only ones he was hearing. The sounds from the outside couldn’t be mistaken for anything but shrieking gusts of wind and raindrops drumming on the window.

“This is completely psycho. Sounds like someone here went overboard with the booze,” he grumbled under his breath, half-hoping the sound of his own voice would wake him up from this ongoing nightmare. To his surprise, it worked: the fog in his mind lifted.

“Oh my God,” he whispered, opening his eyes wide. “Shit.”