The bushes shake and there is the sound of branches and twigs snapping. A cold breeze blows on their faces. Herman walks out from behind the high dead bushes. The surprise in those familiar dark eyes narrows into fury.

“Lookee what we have here.” Herman’s strange, angry laughter booms out into the clearing in sharp bursts.

“He’s out of jail? Charlotte, you horrible person, you knew.”

“I just want to have a visit with my oldest grandchild, Doris. Oh, Herman, I’m sorry it’s been so hard for you. But we came all this way for your birthday. And I brought Aunt Doris, just like you said to.” Charlotte begins to warble “Happy Birthday” in a grotesque voice.

Charlotte is delusional. Adam wonders how he could possibly have missed her senility, how Doris too must have looked the other way, made excuses and justified her sister’s irrationality, her odd changes.

Doris tries to smile but she can’t quiet manage it and gives Herman a grimace. “Your grandmother is confused, Herman dear. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Shut up, you filthy old bag. I am trouble. You come looking for me, you get what you come looking for.”

Charlotte’s face crumples. She brushes a blood-red leaf off her dress. “Herman, you’re a good boy. You just always like to march to the beat of your own drum.”

“Ain’t it the truth. You just march right back here with me, Grandma. Back around behind the bushes. You too, Aunt Doris, you dirty, rickety spinster.” Herman grabs them each by an arm. Charlotte falls and he pulls her to her feet. She sobs but she lets Herman lead her forward. Doris struggles and he twists her arm. She whimpers. All at once, Adam can move, and he takes a step.

Herman waves his fist at Adam and growls. “Now you, boy, get going. Or else.”

“Or else what? Let them go, Herman.”

The old ladies are both crying.

Herman lets go of their arms, bends down and picks up a shotgun from behind the high bushes. He points it at Adam.

“You know you don’t belong here, boy. You go home to the little girls. I’ll count to three and if you’re still here then you won’t leave me with no choice but to start with you. So let’s see you run like a dog. I’ll give you a head start while I take care of the ladies. Then I’ll come after you.”

Adam runs. He has a plan. He will run like a dog and call 911.

Night looms down. Adam lurches back along the path that had once been a road, the dry roar of leaves at his feet muffling the gunshots.

The wind slithers in the branches and moans through the woods. Adam sees the ecstatic truth has been inside him the whole time. He howls at the trees. He doesn’t know how many gunshots fire behind him, if there were one or two or three shots, or if there have been any gunshots at all, if Herman is thrashing through the woods after him, because Adam is breathing so hard he can only hear his heart hammering in his ears, the blood bashing in his brain, and his own voice screaming and echoing back I am Werner Herzog, I am Werner Herzog as he comes out on the road under the early stars in the indigo sky. Still no signal but Adam screams “I am Werner Herzog” into his phone when he dials 911 even though it doesn’t connect, still screaming this once his phone finally picks up a signal as he drives along the dirt road and along the top of the dark mountain which drops down and bleeds into the valley of cowards below.