Page 14 - FINAL DESTINATION

G B TAYLOR
There were three doors along one side of the hallway. Two of which he had passed. The other being back past the stairs. If he was going to try finding a better hiding place, he would have to move quickly. A bedroom closet was not the best hiding place, but it was better than here. The farmer was nearing the house, and once inside Neil would not be able to move without the footsteps giving him away.
Neil ducked into the nearest bedroom. There was no closet. In a house as old as this there would have been an armoire instead of a closet, but now there was nothing. A square room without a stick of furniture to hide in or behind. There was no time to move to the other bedroom and no guarantee that there would be a better hiding spot there. Hiding behind the door was the best he could do.
He moved into the space between the half-open door and the wall trying not to make any noise on the creaky floors. The space was not empty though. Years of accumulated spider webs filled the gap and Neil cringed as they stuck to him. Fighting the urge to slap at them, he heard the same groan of rusty hinges that had announced his own entrance into the house. He was unsure if he was more afraid of the man with the gun or what might lurk in the darkness behind the door.
Hearing the creak of footsteps, he pressed himself deeper into the crook between the door and wall. The webs stuck to his hair and face making his skin crawl. Trickles of sweat ran down into his eyes but he didn’t dare move to wipe it away for fear of making any noise that would be heard downstairs. Then he realized he couldn’t hear anything over his own rapid, ragged breathing.
Keep it together, Neil, he thought and forced himself to take several slow deep breaths.
With his breathing under control, he turned attention back downstairs but heard nothing. Holding his breath, the silence roared in his ears as not even a breeze disturbed the stone-silent
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