Fluss ohne Wiederkehr
KEEP OUT! ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!
Jackie slammed on the brakes. It wasn't just a sign. It was a wooden barricade. It seemed to be erected all the way across the road. The pavement seemed to end, and only a dirt road continued after that. Her car had nowhere to go but straight into the barricade.
Her Ferrari brakes could usually stop on a dime. But this was a slick, rain-drenched road, more water than pavement. She skidded all the way across the roadway as she turned the steering wheel sharply to the right.
Just then Jackie spotted him. There was a guy's face leering at her from behind a nearby tree trunk. He scowled more darkly than the clouds covering the sky. His eyes looked like the center of the storm itself. He was glaring straight at her. His lips were moving. He seemed to be muttering under his breath, what excactly she couldn't determine.
But even worse yet — unbelievably — this creep, whoever he was, seemed to be about ready to carry out the sentence on the sign. He had a rifle aimed straight at her. He was about to shoot.