Go to bed

Not another thunder storm. You drag yourself into the guest bedroom and flop into the bed, the creak of springs and groan of the old bed frame making you notice that you didn't hear any thunder, but you're too tired to give it much thought. Sweat makes your T-shirt stick to your skin and you draw it off over your head, letting it fall in a heap on the floor. That's a little better.

You're finally beginning to doze off when a noise outside the window jerks you back to wakefulness. Rolling over onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, watching faint lavender flashes spill in through the open window. Was it the thunder that woke you? No, there's the sound again, a quiet rustling, like someone sneaking through the bushes outside.

You sit up, your heart racing, but you immediately try to calm yourself. It's probably just an animal. The wildlife refuge is less than a mile away, and you've woken up to see deer standing in the back yard on more than one occasion. Fox, raccoon, possum, bobcat -- it could be anything. And you're too far from the city for it to be a burglar. Nobody comes out here unless they live in one of the half dozen houses scattered along this rural road.