Go slow...

It's too far to risk. If they hear you moving and are near the door they'll have several seconds to line up a shot and take you down. You have to plan for them to be armed, this is the US of A after all, and the danger of running would likely end up with pinned down in the house, blind, and a sitting duck for however many of them there are.

You creep out and across, keeping low, cursing the position of the sun behind you that will make your silhouette more visible to anyone looking in your direction. You've made it almost half way when you hear a clucking sound, and look in its direction to see a wiry, grey haired man raise a revolver in your direction.

"Look here naw," he says to nobody in particular. "Pretty lil thing aintcha?" He takes a couple of limping steps forward, but the weapon stays fixed on you. "Sugges' you stay put darlin' and keep your hands where I can see 'em."

You're already frozen, transfixed by the sight of him and by the pistol. He's filthy, dressed in tattered old hiking clothes, but with an overall muted appearance that speaks to long weeks in the wilderness. He has a bushy black and grey beard, a deeply lined face, flashing eyes that are full of wildness. He's got a white cap with flashes of red that perches on a head covered in lank, thin hair. He has an old looking hunting rifle over one shoulder and a small backpack. He keeps moving towards you, lips moving wordlessly.

"Awright girlie you bes' tell the truth naw. Anyone else here?"

You shake your head. Attempting to lie might throw him off and buy you some precious moments, but your brain is frozen and you couldn't think of a useful falsehood to spin.

"So it's jes' you on yaw lonesome? Nobody else lives here?"

"There was... someone. My boyfriend. But he... he died."

"Well ain't that a pity. You mus' be real lonely then girlie." Then his expression changes. "YOU BETTER HOPE HE REALLY IS DEAD Y'HEAR?" He grins at your shocked expression. He's close enough to stick his face down into yours. "Cuz if he ain't I'm gonna **** and kill him when he turns up. Maybe **** you first while he watches. How does that sound girlie?"

"Please don't hurt me," you manage to sob. And then, gambling that it might touch a spark of humanity in him, "I'm pregnant."

"Well bad luck for you then missie. Maybe I'd have liked to put a brat in you. Give ol' Clarence another shot at bein' a daddy, y'know? Did you think of that you little cunt?" He's almost shouting, flecks of spit hitting you in the face. "As it is I'll just hafta kill you when I'm done with you."

You stay silent, shocked at his viciousness. He's clearly dangerous, and it's unclear what if anything you could say to calm him down.

"You got any weapons on you girlie?" You shake your head. "Show me. Stand up naw, slowly."

You obey, moving very slowly. You lift the hem of your shirt to reveal your waistband, pull up your pant legs to show there's nothing tucked into boots, and look at him expecting him to be reassured.

"I said show me. Show me everythin'. Get on with it." He wiggles the gun at you.

You gulp. This is a nightmare. "Please mister, it's really cold..."

He grins. "You invitin' me inside girlie? Well ok then. GIT MOVIN'!"

You jump, and scrabble to comply. Your only hope is to distract him when inside and retrieve one of the weapons stashed about the place. Extremely dangerous, but Todd's not likely to be back for hours, by which time you'll have been **** or worse. Very slowly, you start moving towards the cabin.