Michael hit his head on the wall of the restroom as he realized he'd not only lost the tracker, but he'd also lost the phone Gary had given him. He’d left them on the ground when he was drinking lake water and had forgotten to pick them back up. He certainly did not trust Gary any more than he did The Company, but Gary at least wanted him alive. Since he had neither device to aid him, it was all up to Claude. Claude would come for him at some point in the next two days. He just needed to find a place that forced Claude to expose himself as he approached.
Michael waited in the guest bedroom until the sun finally dimmed. He approached the door and pressed his ear against the wood. There were no murmurs anymore. He was slightly miffed that nobody had even bothered to check on him. Stuart must have convinced the family to allow them to stay the night.
Michael pushed the door to the bedroom open and peered down the empty hallway. He was wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts Liz had stolen from Thor's suitcase. The shirt was two sizes too large. It swallowed his body, making him feel like a child.
The stairs seemed to squeak exponentially louder with each step. Michael scurried down the last few, before pausing at the bottom to listen. No sign of movement. He found pleasure thinking about how panicked Stuart would be in the morning when he woke to find him gone.
The smell of bbq beans churned his sensitive stomach. He held his breath and quickly began opening cabinet drawers only to find silverware and useless junk. He opened a cupboard and was pleased to find a ring, with two keys attached, hanging on a plastered hook. They clinked together as he lifted them from the hook and dropped them into the deep basketball shorts pocket. While turning to leave, Michael saw a phone perched on the wall. He grabbed a pair of scissors from the junk drawer and snipped the wire.
For a second, he stood still wondering whether abandoning a family twenty miles away from a town was inhumane. They'd have no car or telephone. Could the dinghy travel that far? Did the river even pass the city? Michael wasn't sure, but he couldn't back down now. If he stayed, he'd be bringing a potential murderer directly to their front door.
He briskly left the kitchen and went out the back door. He made his way along the side of the house to the old shed. It was unlocked and opened with a soft creak.
Michael reached up and pulled the beaded chord hanging in the doorway. A single lightbulb flickered on, revealing a dusty, cluttered mess. Cobwebs were tangled in each of the corners. Michael's gaze locked on the workbench centered in the room. He stared at the recently cleaned bolt action rifle that Hunter had spent the afternoon cleaning. Michael hesitated before lifting the gun from the table. He'd never handled a gun before, but how hard could it be? Put a bullet in the chamber, cock it, look down the scope, and pull the trigger. It seemed simple enough.
Michael slung the rifle over his shoulder. The weight felt awkward with the barrel facing the floor, but he certainly wasn't going to carry it with the barrel pointed up. What if it was loaded? There's got to be a way to know, right? He pulled and pressed, but eventually settled on pointing the barrel down, just in case.
He turned back to the table and unlatched a small metal box and found it filled with cartridges. The can was a bit heavy, so he grabbed a handful of rounds and dropped them in his left pocket. He quickly scanned the bench one last time. He didn't need a knife, binoculars seemed unnecessary since he had a scope, and the hiking pack seemed excessive.
Michael closed up the shed and made his way around the cabin. The rifle bounced off his right thigh with every step. The rounds swooshed in his pocket as the car came into sight. His heart began to skip a little faster as the reality of his decision began to set in. The closest action to a crime was a ticket he'd received in high school for a broken tail light.
As he reached the key towards the driver door, voices approached in the distance. He spun to see the outline of two individuals walking side by side up the dirt path directly towards him. A flashlight scanned the ground below them, making it impossible to see their faces. Without thinking, Michael dove behind the car to hide.
“Hey, what are you doing?” a voice called in the distance.