The dog turned.
“Come, Roxy. Come on, girl,” a man's voice called from the path.
She's a girl , Hugh thought, as Roxy pulled away and waddled toward her owner. From his hiding spot, he watched the dog leave, feeling empty.
I should just get up and ask for help, he thought, but something held him back. It was as if an alarm blared inside him every time someone came near. They'll hurt you , the refrain shouted. Don't trust them. So, he stayed hidden under a prickly bush, feeling miserable.
By noon his stomach seized and cramped. Creeping through the woods, he found the treeline and stared desperately into the backyards. To his left, three children ran squealing through a sprinkler while their mother reclined in a lawn chair with a magazine. To his right, a wide green lawn led up to a large two-story house. A television flickered in the dark interior. Didn’t these people go to work? Feeling desperate, he stalked the shadows until he came to another house with a large wooden porch. The garage door was ajar. Inside, a big white refrigerator glowed like a lighthouse.
His stomach churned. Did he dare?
Hugh scanned left, then right. The children and their mother had run inside for a potty break, leaving the littlest, a three-year-old with damp yellow curls, on the lawn. As he watched, she tripped on the hose and skidded into the grass. She wrapped her dirt-flecked arms around a red knee and began wailing. Her mother would be back in seconds. The only time was now.
Hugh sucked in a deep breath and sprinted toward the refrigerator.
The sunlight lit up his naked body as he bolted out of the shadows. The breeze sent shivers down his limbs. Glancing left, he saw the little girl was turned away and to his right the green lawns stretched, empty of people. He skidded to a stop at the door frame, gripped it and peered in. The dim garage was silent except for the electric hum of the refrigerator. He slipped inside, the cement cool under his bare feet. A shiny black SUV took up the whole left side. His eyes raked over the tool bench and the pegboard covered in hammers and wrenches. Wall shelves bulged with soccer balls, buckets, terracotta pots and cans of paint. Two carpeted steps led up to the house. His eyes tracked to the gleaming white fridge and his stomach flip-flopped. He strode toward it. Please, God, let there be food.
He was five steps in when he heard movement inside the house. Humming. Someone was headed this way.
Hugh’s eyes flicked between the door and the fridge. To be caught was disastrous, but he needed food. When would he get another opportunity like this? He sprinted to the fridge and yanked it open. The door rattled wide, cold air rolling out at his bare legs. His eyes racked over rows of beer and pop cans. He grabbed a few sodas, but where was the food?
He shot a glance toward the house door. There was food just inside, but the cheerful, off-key humming was still headed his way. If he went in, he'd have to fight for it. No matter how hungry he was he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He groaned and stepped back.
Something caught his eye in the bottom drawer, a blurry brown package inside the crisper. He yanked it open, his heart pounding. A package of hot dogs! Hugh nearly shouted for joy. With the package cradled to his chest like an infant, he turned.
The door between the house and the garage cracked open. Humming spilled through as the woman pulled open the door. Heart thumping, Hugh tore across the garage.
He nearly tumbled over a backpack at his feet. Fabric peeked out the opening. Clothes.
Snatching the bag, he bolted out of the garage and into the yard. The dry grass pierced his feet as he tore over the lawn. He eyed the deep, shadowed woods. Only a few more steps until safety.
“ Wook , Mama,” a little voice yelled behind him. “He naked!”
Hugh shot a look over his shoulder. The little girl, wet curls clinging to her pink cheeks, pointed a finger at his bare backside. The mother gasped
Harlan Ellison, Leonard Maltin