Chapter 8
Keston spent a fair amount of time pacing the cabin, muttering to himself and replaying the ordeal as well as clinging to figments of his dream. Little by little, the two began to merge, making it troubling for him to tell where truth began and the nightmare ended. And when he wore a figurative path into the carpet behind the sofa, he decided it was time to act. Popping another round of aspirin, having brought forth a subtle limp in connection to the gnarly bruise on his hip, Keston headed out into the night.
But not before he snatched a pocket knife from a kitchen drawer. He wanted to be able to defend himself and even considered taking his sister’s can of mace, which sat beside the knife. He opted to go without.
Normally he would have taken advantage of the cool night and go
