It was scary, really. I mean, they were everywhere. At least twenty of them. Do cows bite? Or worse, kick?
“Ah man! I stepped in something!” yelled somebody.
This was followed by a chorus of shushing and laughter. And a moo.
Several moo’s. Three or four cows had been awakened and one had shied away from us, waking several more.
Jon squatted down, so we all followed suit. It took a while, but eventually the racket began to settle.
And then a light came on. A porch light, up a hill, maybe two hundred yards from us. And a light inside the house. The front door opened and an old man in his underwear stepped onto the porch.
Holding a shotgun.
“He’s got a gun!” somebody screamed.
I was already running. We all were. Running, stumbling, pushing, shoving.
Didn’t matter that the old man had shot straight up, I couldn’t see. I imagined he’d been aiming right at me. My running went into warp drive. I was first to the jeep. Everybody piled on. The engine turned and we were moving.
“Wait for me, guys! Guys, guys!”
The jeep kept going.
“Dude, stop! Can’t leave him,” I yelled, pushing my head between bodies to see out the back.
Jon slowed up, but didn’t stop. Kevin was huffing and puffing, reaching for my hand. Finally he caught it, I tugged and he leaped onto a back bumper. Jon tore off with Kev clinging for dear life to the spare tire on the back.
And then the light. So bright that it was blinding. From above.
The jeep slid to a stop, jostling off the road and into a ditch.
Everybody was frozen. Except me. Like, really frozen. I pushed and shoved, trying to get out.
The light was suddenly gone.
Pushing between, I managed to stand up on the seat. We weren’t on a dirt road anymore. We were in a dimly lit room. I looked around. A huge room. Mostly empty, except for shelving and stacked crates.