2

   The countryside rolled slowly past, flat field after flat field, with only a small hill here or there. Fall had begun setting in and the oranges, reds, and yellows had started to spot the world. Horrorton was farm country. No question about that. Farms as far as the eye could see. The countryside was pretty, Peter had to admit, but beyond that, he could not see how living in this rural area could possibly be anything but bleak.
   Peter rested his chin on his hand as the bus stopped to pick up a few more children. Two boys climbed onto the bus, obviously brothers by their similar looks, though the one did not look old enough to be going to school yet. The two boys walked to the back of the bus and sat down behind the freckled girl. The smaller one disappeared into the seat he was so short.
   “Why?” the older boy asked the younger one. “If we put it off we may not get another chance. It’s got to be tonight.”
   “Okay,” the small boy said in reply. “But if dad catches us…”
   “He won’t. Dad doesn’t wake up for anything at night.”
   “Yeah, but mom does, and if she tells dad. I’m just saying, it’d be safer to do next week when dad’s out of town.”
   “I don’t think it’ll matter. We need to do it. I’m afraid if we don’t get it done…” The older boy trailed off as he glanced backward and saw Peter watching them.
   “Okay, so we’re going to…”
   “Shh!” The older boy cut the younger off.
   A moment of silence passed while the bus stopped to pick up a few other children. Then, the younger boys eyes peeked over the edge of the seat, squinting at Peter. “Where you listening?” he asked.
   Peter raised his eyebrows at the boy. “What? No. I mean I heard you. But I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t help but hear you though. But who cares. I don’t care what you’re doing.”
   “So you’re not going to rat us out?” the smaller boy said.
   Peter gave the boy a small smile. “No. Why would I rat you out? Are you going to be breaking the law or something?”
   The small boy appraised Peter for a moment. “I’m Randy Wise,” he said and then cocked his head toward his brother. “And this is Douglas.” The older boy turned and gave a curt nod in greeting.
   “I’m Peter Slater,” Peter said.
   “Cool. You go by Pete or something? I usually call Douglas just Doug and he calls me Rand.”
   “I usually go by Peter, but some people call me Pete, I guess.”
   “Cool. So, when did you move here?”
   “A few days back is all.”
   “Well, you’re going to love it here. Best place in the world to live.”
   Peter raised his eyebrows again. Randy grinned and then turned back around and disappeared behind his seat.
   Peter looked out the window at a passing farm and watched a farmer who dug at something in a pumpkin patch. The farmer wore coveralls and had a large, straw hat. He looked up as the bus passed, but had a kerchief tied over his face and his hat pulled low.
   Peter watched the man. The farmer straightened and watched the bus go, holding the pitchfork he held in his hands casually in front of him. Peter crooked his neck around as the bus pulled further away. The man continued to watch, just standing there as the bus drove off down the road. He stood there, watching.
   Something about him gave Peter the creeps.

end of 2