The Hunt Chronicles: Volume 1 Read Free Page B

and found it was
easier said than done.  I eventually dropped off around eleven to the
sound of the rain against my window.  I didn’t stay asleep long though.

 
    A
woman’s voice.   It was very
faint and unrecognizable, but its owner was obviously in the midst of an
altercation.  Then the voice stopped, a door faintly closed, and someone
was walking around.  Silence came over the house again, but only
temporarily.  Someone started clambering around in the kitchen, sorting
through noisy utensils.  I got up to confront my noisy nighttime
nemesis.  Before I shut the door to my room, I turned and glanced at the
clock next to my bed, and the red numbers 12:32 pierced the darkness.
     
    I had assumed the
woman who was arguing was the same person who was then fumbling through the
kitchen.  At first, I thought it was Nona since she was probably the only
person in the entire house who knew her way around her kitchen.  During my
last visit, I stepped away from the dinner table for a clean fork.  By the
time I found it and returned everyone else was already finishing dessert.
    I went into the
dining room and peered into the light shed from the kitchen through the serving
window.  The womanly figure was frantically opening cabinets and
drawers.  She, however, was far too slender and delicate to be that cow
Nona.  As the woman stepped to the right towards the fridge, I saw a
plate, a loaf of bread and a butter knife sitting on the countertop.  As I
moved forward towards the doorway, the woman brought a jar of jelly out of the
fridge.  The lid of the jar was slightly off, and a thin line of the
strawberry jelly ran down the back of the her right
hand.  The veil of sleepiness finally began to lift, and I realized I was
watching Cheryl McCune make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
    Her body was
obstructing my view, but I listened as the jelly lid hit the counter.  She
reached for the knife, and as she pulled it in, I leaned forward and tapped her
on the shoulder.  I heard the tiny teeth of the knife ping ping ping somewhere against
the jar before it fell and hit the counter.  Cheryl jumped and
screamed.  When she turned to look at me, I saw how much damage my little
tap had done.  Her eyes were wide and she was breathing fast.  Her
left hand seized her right and I realized she either cut or poked herself with
the knife thanks to my surprise.
    I screamed as
well.  Cheryl moaned a little, then ran to the left side of the kitchen
and opened the cabinet below the sink.  A small first- aide kit sat there amongst a forest of cleaning products.  She grabbed the
white and red box, opened it, and pulled out a roll of gauze.  When she
turned to face me, her right hand was wrapped in white bandages.  I
started talking quickly, like a man on the brink of a guilty verdict. 
“Damn!  I’m sorry, Cheryl.  I didn’t mean to scare you.  I’m
sorry, I’m sor -”
    “I’m okay, relax,”
she said, taking a deep breath.  I followed suit.
    “Are you alright?”
    “Just a little
jolt,” she said.  “I stuck myself when you scared me.”
    “I’m really sorry.”
    “It’s okay,
really.  I think I’ll survive.”  She walked back to her plate. 
The two pieces of bread on it were still bare.  At the rate she was going,
she’d never finish her sandwich.  “What are you doing up so late?”
    “I heard someone’s
voice out here.  Suppose it was you.”
    “Probably; that was
me speaking with Daddy.”
    “Oh?” I asked,
intentionally playing stupid.  In my experience, stupidity is the gate
through which information flows, which explains why morons think they know more
than they do.
    “I’ve got
a…situation only he can help me.”
    “I see.  And
you felt after midnight would be the best time to discuss it?”  She turned
and smiled.
    “There’s no time
like the present, especially when you can’t sleep.”  She grabbed the jelly
jar and moved back towards the fridge.
    “No