The night was as black as the blackest of India ink.
The air as still as a dead man’s thoughts.
Jake pushed the cycle into a heavy thicket growing in a black mass between two old maple trees and then spent some time hiding the machine by covering the bike with fallen branches and twigs. Stepping back he frowned. He hoped the bike was hidden from searching eyes. Shrugging to himself he quickly turned and started walking briskly down the long dark s***h of an empty road which cut through a thick copse of trees. For the moment the night was as silent as an unmolested Pharaoh"s tomb. No breeze stirred the heavy air. No sound broke through the darkness. But as he walked he could feel a heavy air of electrified tension settling down on his shoulders. Every step took him closer to the oncoming
