“Hey man, we gave you some beer. We didn’t come in,” I stammered. The rifle leveled right between my eyes. From experience, at a range of three feet, the bore of a 30.30 is about the same size as a small cannon. “Run, you son of a bitch, or I’ll kill you right here,” he kept screaming. I ran for my life while people squirted out of every window and crack they could find. I’m certain he found me because my heart beat so loud. “Not far enough,” he laughed; “I said run.” Bam, bam, two more shots whistled by my head. The guy had tracked me in total darkness. This time, two or three miles went by under my feet before they slowed. Come to find out, he really was a certified nut who had actually shot someone. No, I most certainly had not forgotten what it felt like having someone shoot at me.

 The Endless Times series: The Path of Kokopelli, page 27