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Back The Nest Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright page
  3. Introduction by Will Errickson
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. TREMORS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. SUSPICIONS
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. DREAD
  19. 1
  20. 2
  21. 3
  22. 4
  23. 5
  24. 6
  25. WITNESS
  26. 1
  27. 2
  28. 3
  29. ALERT
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. ENCOUNTER
  36. 1
  37. 2
  38. 3
  39. 4
  40. 5
  41. 6
  42. HAVOC
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. SEARCH
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. CLASH
  56. 1
  57. 2
  58. 3
  59. 4
  60. 5
  61. 6
  62. 7
  63. COUNTERATTACK
  64. 1
  65. 2
  66. 3
  67. 4
  68. 5
  69. 6
  70. 7
  71. VICTORY
  72. 1
  73. 2
  74. 3
  75. 4
  76. 5
  77. 6
  78. 7
  79. 8
  80. 9
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. About the Author

Leave Blanche and move out here for good! Go in with Scott on the marina, and do some fishing. Harvey Tinton laughed aloud in the car, relishing again a fishing story told at the party, so typically Cape Cod. Seems a native was instructing a vacationer like himself. “You get some molasses and put it on your hook instead of bait, see? That will attract bees. The bees will stick in the molasses and go into the water when you cast. Now, bees don’t like water, so they’ll get sore, and soon as a fish comes near they’ll sting it to death!”

Fishing and easy living, what could be sweeter! Come home at night to woods like these, the fresh air—in his drunken state he forgot the warning about a spraying—take a nice walk with a drink of rum in your hand before bed. That’s how God meant a man to live, not crowded on sidewalks with muggers and graffiti and blaring radios!

As Harvey Tinton’s car swerved on the winding road, he was glad he had got away from his wife. She’d get her own ride home okay. Let Blanche come after him in the woods. He smiled and wet his lips. Maybe they’d get to do it under the trees. He had fantasized that and it had been super. But fat chance to get Blanche to lift her skirts in a bed of leaves and pine needles. She, the silk-­sheet cunt of all times!

It was the curving road that made the car scrape trees now, he told himself, not his lax driving. It was his clear eyes that were seeing the man in the middle of the road.

What the hell! Maybe he was drunker than he believed. Could that be a real person jumping up and down in the headlights, a man balls naked with his prick flopping around like a misplaced white tail?

Harvey Tinton went for the brake automatically. If the guy was for real, he was in some kind of trouble. If he wasn’t for real, Harvey Tinton was in trouble, and he’d better stop driving before he wracked up the car and himself.

As Tinton slowed down, the man charged the car, crying, “Take me to your sheriff!”

Tinton spied handcuffs. The man was a criminal. A crazy! Rapist! Sodomist!

Tinton’s foot hit the accelerator. The man fell to his knees on the road. Tears were streaming into his black beard. “Please, please,” Bo Leslie wailed miserably, “take me to your sheriff!”