Cards in the Cloak by Jeremy Bursey
Chapter 12
“Old Man Walking”
Norman had been limping along for about an hour when he found the tool shed by the side of the road. The diminishing sun made it harder for him to see than it had earlier in the day, but he could make out the tiny off-white sign plastered against the wooden wall. Apparently it was a repair shop for broken equipment. He tried to open the door, but it was locked, so he tapped it with his cane.
“Hello?” he shouted. He hoped the person inside wasn’t deaf.
Norman was tired and needed to lie down, but the shed looked a little too small to have a counter for him to lie on—maybe it had a workbench or even a folding chair stuck in the corner instead. He hit the door with his cane again.
“Hello?”
Almost immediately, the door flew open, and a grizzly man stood in the doorway with a rifle in his hand.
“What you want?” the man yelled. “Can’t you see we’re closed?”
Norman nearly fell backward with fright. He thought he would have a heart attack for sure, so he clutched his chest to prepare for the possibility. He looked all around to see if the Reaper was jogging up to him, but no one was coming. Maybe he would survive.
“I…I just need a place to nap,” he said.
“Here? Are you crazy? There ain’t room in here to take a piss, old man. Go back to where you came from.”
The man slammed the door shut, sending a tiny shock wave past Norman’s face. Norman stood there staring at the tin and the wood structure, wondering what to do next. He knocked with his cane again, hoping not to upset the guy inside. The door swung open. The man cocked his rifle.
“I said go home.”
“Do you know of any place nearby that I can get food and a bed?”
“Do I look like a map? If you can find me and annoy the crap out of me without any help, then you can certainly find somebody else to annoy without my help.”
The man slammed the door again, this time locking it with volume. Norman figured if he knocked again, he might have to taste the rifle, so he shuffled away.