The shed.

I ran out the exterior door and around the side of the house to where the old shed still sat lopsided and moldering. The only thing new about it was the padlock on the door. Fuck it. I didn’t have time for this shit.

It only took a few hits to break in one of the rotting boards lining the sides of the shed, and after that, it was short work to pry open a hole big enough for me to climb through. The interior was dark, with only small beams of sunlight poking through between the uneven slats of the roof. When I shined my flashlight around, I saw that the shed was both smaller and more filled with tools and junk than I remembered. It took several minutes of searching to find a hammer and a heavy screwdriver to use as a makeshift chisel, and while they weren’t the ideal tools for the job, I worried that wasting more time searching would be worse than going with what I had.

My first attempts at chipping away at the concrete did very little. First I used big, hard swings that sent the metal tip of the screwdriver this way and that, then I tried smaller taps that were too light. But after a few tries, I got into a rhythm of fast, hard strikes on the same spot and I started making progress. In just a few minutes I was sweating, though I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion and concentration or just my growing fear that Rusty was going to get there before I had cleared enough of the salt away. I let out a little yell as the screwdriver bit deeper. I had broken through to the bottom of the salt trench.

That’s when Harvey spoke again.

“Tommy, he’s almost here. I can sense him. You need to be very careful. He will kill you if you anger him enough.”

I shook my head. “I can handle him. I’m getting you out.”

“You need to understand this. There is no way to handle him. You don’t know the man he has become. If you continue trying to help me, he will try to kill you.”

I stopped for a moment and looked up into Harvey’s eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harvey was silent for a moment as though considering before he spoke again. “Where I come from, there is a saying. ‘Everything is paid for.’”

“Yeah, I’ve heard versions of that here too.”

“Good. Maybe that will help you understand then. Rusty has to pay a price for all that he has done. So must you. So must I. Whether now or later, everything is paid for eventually.”

I went back to digging at the trench. “We can talk more about all that later. For now I need to get you out.”

“It’s too late. He’s already here.”

****