Ask, "Who are you?"

Your whisper seems very loud in the silence, but for a moment, you're not sure if you even spoke the question aloud. There's no answer.

Finally, a voice replies, "My name is Luke. What are you doing here?"

You moisten dry lips before speaking. "I saw the lights. I came to see what was going on. Do you really have a gun?"

"I really do. Do you live around here?"

You hesitate. "Why?" The hard object, the barrel of a gun, you assume, digs into your back.

"Because the cops are after me and I need a place to hide. Now answer the question!"

"I do. I mean, my aunt does. I'm watching her house while she's on vacation," you stammer.

A strong hands grabs you by the shoulder and hauls you to your feet. "Take me there. Quietly."