DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

Glen Wiseman
By
Lazlo Zalezac
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezac, 2003

Chapter 1

The autumn colors of late October surrounded the cabin as Glen 
Wiseman paused in the removal of the last stump in his front yard. 
He looked at the evergreens nestled among the reds, oranges, and 
yellows of the oaks. Each time the breeze changed direction, the 
entire forest around him seemed to shiver; a subtle suggestion that 
winter was coming.

His cabin, nestled in the valley of the mountain, was surrounded by 
land that he had cleared himself. Each tree that had fallen was 
employed in the construction of the cabin. A windmill stood next 
to the cabin slowly turning in the breeze, generating electricity to 
power the house. Solar panels decorated the roof, useful in summer 
and useless in winter when they would be covered with snow. The 
contrast between the handmade cabin and the high-tech power 
equipment was almost jarring. 

His eyes took in his surroundings with pleasure. He loved living 
here in wilderness. His nearest neighbor was five miles away. 
Town was fifteen miles, but the route there was closer to thirty. 
The isolation suited him fine since the last thing he wanted in his 
life was people. He had three hundred acres of land to isolate him. 
His land backed up against a state forest, so he'd never have 
anyone living behind him. 

He knelt down and finished tying the heavy chain around the 
stump. Walking over to the truck, he climbed in slowly. Starting 
the truck, he put it into gear, and moved it forward slowly. The 
chain tightened and then forward progress halted in response to the 
resistance of the stump. He gave it a little gas and the truck inched 
forward pulling the stump with it. With a suddenness that always 
surprised him, the ground gave up ownership of the stump and the 
truck surged forward. He dragged the stump over to the others by 
the edge of the clearing. He backed up a little to provide some 
slack in the chain.

Exiting the still running truck, he removed the chain from around 
the stump. It only took him a moment to physically wrestle the 
stump to the pile of other stumps. He stepped back as he examined 
the pile of stumps. Perhaps in the spring it would become home to 
a family of foxes. He worked hard to provide habitats for the wild 
animals in the region. 

He stepped back and examined the results of his summer's efforts. 
The outside work had been completed on his home. The land was 
cleared, the shell of the cabin was complete, and the power 
generators installed. He had several cords of wood stacked for use 
in the cold winter months. Over the winter, he would finish the 
inside of his cabin. For now, it was complete enough to live in. By 
this time next year, he would have a real home.

He undid the chain from the rear of the truck and threw it in the 
truck bed. Outside of the chain, the bed was empty and he knew it 
would slide around when the truck moved. Getting in the truck, he 
put it in gear and returned to the cabin. Parking it next to the cabin, 
he went inside. He looked at the framing for the interior walls and 
the stack of sheet-rock that was in the corner. The interior of his 
cabin was a mess and it would be months before it looked like a 
home. None-the-less, he was pleased with it. He had built it all 
from hand, cutting the trees, shaping them into rough logs, and 
placing them into the structure.

The first order of business would be to complete the bathroom. He 
was getting tired of going to the outhouse in the woods. The 
outhouse only had a roof and no walls. He had mounted a toilet 
seat on a wooden box set over a deep hole. Then when it had 
rained, he had built a roof. He kept the toilet paper in a coffee can 
with the plastic lid on it to keep it dry. Unfortunately, when the 
snow would come, the hike to the outhouse would be impractical 
and use of it impossible. The bathroom had to be completed before 
winter arrived.

He undressed and stepped out onto the back porch carrying a towel 
with him. There were no neighbors to be offended by his 
nakedness. He turned on the water spigot to give himself a shower 
by standing underneath the hose. He adjusted the spray by twisting 
the nozzle to where it produced a fine mist. Stepping into the cold 
water shocked his system and led him to react with a loud shout. 
His balls pulled up tight to his body and his cock shrank in 
response to the cold water. At least the air temperature was 
relatively warm. Stepping out from under the water in an effort to 
keep warm, he lathered himself up to wash away the day's 
accumulation of dirt and sweat. He stepped under the water to rinse 
himself. The shock the second time was not as bad as the first.

Turning off the water, he dried himself with the towel. Once his 
body was dry, although his hair remained wet, he reentered the 
house. He went to the wardrobe sitting in the middle of his future 
bedroom and got out a change of clothes. Simple jeans and a work 
shirt was his standard wardrobe. He dressed for a trip to town. He 
would get dinner there rather than fix his own, a practice that he 
had adopted early this summer since he didn't have a functional 
kitchen yet.

He stopped by his reclining EZ-Boy and looked at the magazine on 
the floor next to it. It reminded him that he needed some more 
hand cream. The hand cream kept his calluses from rubbing his 
cock raw when he masturbated. When he got home tonight, he'd 
read another of the sex letters in the magazine as a way of seeking 
the release he enjoyed when he masturbated. After that, he'd get in 
an hour or two of writing. It wasn't that he needed to work 
anymore, it was that it had become a habit that he didn't want to 
break.

He pulled out of the private drive onto the dirt road. His was the 
only house on this road and he was at the very end. He considered 
the road his own private driveway. He always drove slowly, not 
because he expected to encounter other traffic, but to allow the 
animals that frequently crossed the road a chance to leave. He had 
seen numerous deer, raccoons, possums, and snakes along side the 
road.  

He was daydreaming a little as he drove, looking off to the sides to 
see what wildlife might be lurking. The only time he had ever seen 
another car on the road was when the postman dropped off his 
mail. As a result, it was natural to be surprised to spot a U-Haul 
truck parked a mile up the road. All he could make out at first was 
the bright orange back of the truck. Curiosity, as well as a 
suspicious nature, led him to slow his approach as he considered 
the oddness of the situation.

He slowed even more once he noticed a man standing over three 
blobs on the road. His sixth sense was on full alert and it was 
telling him that something was definitely wrong. He stopped about 
a hundred feet away and got out of his truck. He grabbed the 
shotgun from the gun rack and walked towards the man. He carried 
the gun in a relaxed natural fashion that suggested great experience 
with the weapon. When he was close enough to realize that the 
blobs on the ground were people, he shouted, "Hey, what's going 
on there?"

The man took one look at Glen carrying his gun and ran to the U-
Haul truck. Glen seeing the man flee, broke into a run to catch up. 
Before he had a chance to reach the truck, it pulled away spinning 
its tires. Glen was left behind beating away the stray pieces of 
gravel that shot out from behind the truck. He would have fired at 
the tires, but his shotgun was unloaded and he knew it. He felt 
stupid letting the man escape.

He raced over to the prostrate forms on the road. It was a young 
man and two young women. All three were naked. Their hands and 
wrists were bound with duct tape across their mouths. They were 
all unconscious with scrapes and bruises all over their bodies. He 
looked at the wrists. It looked like they had been hung by their 
wrists. John looked over the three and swore, "Shit! I don't need 
this crap!"

He returned to his truck and drove up to the three people. This 
way, he wouldn't have to carry them too far. He fished his Swiss 
Army knife out of his jean pocket and used it to cut their bonds. 
They had been tied with a very tough rope. He had to work slowly 
to avoid cutting them rather than the rope. He pulled the tape off 
their mouths, expecting them to regain consciousness if only to 
scream in pain. He noted that they must be in very bad shape not to 
have reacted to that. 

He looked around to see if there were any clothes, but there were 
none. He would have to load them in his truck naked. Carefully he 
picked each one up and carried them to the bed of the truck. He 
gently set each one in the bed. He didn't want to carry them back 
there, but his cab wasn't large enough to hold four adults. None of 
them was too heavy for him to carry. He had spent all summer 
lifting logs to build his cabin and was in very good physical shape.

Once all three had been settled in the bed of his truck, he turned 
the truck around and headed back to his home. There he quickly 
found a pair of the blankets. He wrapped his passengers in them 
while they were still in the truck. His movements were slow and 
deliberate with a gentleness that belied his rough exterior. He 
tucked the ends of the blankets under his passengers to make sure 
the blankets would not blow off as he drove. The chain was still in 
the truck, so he took a minute to remove it so that it wouldn't shift 
around and hurt them.

Once everything was ready, he drove as fast as was reasonable to 
town. He kept looking in the back to check on his passengers. He 
was afraid that one of them would wake and panic, maybe even 
jump out of the moving truck. It was an extremely tense trip of 
almost forty minutes along narrow country roads. The highway 
was closer, but it didn't lead to a town with a hospital for quite a 
distance. 

The nearest hospital to his house was in town and he drove directly 
there knowing the staff would contact the sheriff. The kids, at his 
age they were still kids to him, would require medical attention 
before they could answer any questions as to how they got into that 
condition. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled into the 
emergency entrance. He stopped the truck and raced into the 
hospital. He shouted, "Hey!"

A nurse came out of a room looking irritated at the noise he was 
making. In a voice that conveyed her irritation, she asked, "What's 
the matter?"

Glen shouted, "I've got three people unconscious in the back of my 
truck."

His answer echoed down the halls and allowed everyone within 
fifty yards to know what he had announced. In seconds, a very 
active medical staff emerged from various rooms to take care of 
the situation. Glen headed towards the truck once he knew help 
was on its way. The nurse, pulling a pen and small notepad from 
her pocket, stopped him. "Hold on a second buddy. Now tell me 
exactly what happened."

Glen, not given to conversation, tersely explained how he had 
found them as he was coming into town. He used a minimum of 
words. He was not very forthcoming with details and that bothered 
the nurse. The nurse wrote down his story and then stated, "Okay. 
Stay right here while I call the Sheriff."

Glen nodded to indicate that he understood. When the nurse 
headed towards the admissions desk, he headed towards the door 
to move his truck out of the way. He wasn't very happy because he 
realized that he would have to stay around for at least another half 
an hour. The nurse stopped him and asked, "Where you going?"

His voice gruff, he answered, "To move my truck."

The nurse looked at Glen for a moment trying to decide if he 
would try to leave. She didn't like the dour looking man and 
decided he would leave given half a chance. She even entertained 
the idea that he was the one who had harmed the kids. She was 
required to keep him there until the Sheriff arrived. She countered,  
"No. You stay right here until the sheriff comes. You make one 
move to leave and I'll have a hospital guard on you before you get 
five steps. In fact, give me the keys to your car and I'll make sure it 
gets moved out of the way."

Glen handed over his truck keys as shrugged his shoulders. Having 
nothing better to do, he followed the nurse to the admitting desk. 
He sat at one of the chairs and waited. He watched as the three 
people were brought in on gurneys. In his haste to take care of 
them, he hadn't noticed that the women were identical twins. 

They wheeled the young man into the first bed in the emergency 
room. He could easily hear the excited voices of the staff as they 
worked on the young man. He listened as the doctor discovered 
that he had been anally raped. Glen was shocked and wondered 
what kind of horrible situation he had stumbled into. 

Deep in his own thoughts, Glen jumped when a hand grasped his 
shoulder. Startled, he looked up to see the Sheriff standing next to 
him. He was a portly man with thick glasses, nearly bald with the 
remaining hair gray, almost white. Glen shook his head wondering 
how it was that the Sheriff had never seemed to age. He looked the 
same the entire time that Glen had known him. Glen looked back 
at the floor, stating, "Oh, it's you."

The lack of enthusiasm was not lost on Sheriff Dale Brocker. He 
looked at Glen and shook his head. He couldn't believe that the 
vibrant young son of his best friend had grown into such a morose 
quiet man. He asked, "What in the hell happened?"

Glen answered, "I already told the nurse."

Dale frowned at the lack of cooperation. He stated a little more 
harshly than intended, "I'm asking you. What happened?"

Glen, unhappy at telling his story a second time, answered in a 
monotone. "I was coming into town. A mile from the cabin I saw a 
U-Haul truck parked in the road. A man was standing over those 
three. I got my gun and went over to find out what was going on. 
The man jumped in his truck and drove off. I put those three in the 
back of my truck. I went back to the cabin to get some blankets to 
keep them warm and then came here."

Dale looked at Glen. That was the most that Glen had said to him 
in the past year. He had been given all of the essential facts. Now it 
was a matter of grilling Glen for more details. "Can you describe 
the man?"

Glen shook his head and answered, "No."

"Why not?"

"Too far."

Dale asked, "Did you shoot at him?"

Glen shook his head and answered "Wasn't loaded."

Dale nodded realizing that he should have known that would be the 
answer. While many of the locals kept a loaded gun on their gun 
rack in case they came across a deer, Glen didn't. Glen was a real 
law and order type. He only hunted during hunting season and he 
did it in a legal fashion, meaning that he actually had a hunting 
license. He asked, "You still don't have a telephone?"

"Not getting one."

The Sheriff hiked up his pants. They slipped right down again and 
would do so until he gave up on belts and started wearing 
suspenders. The action of hiking up his pants was now habitual. He 
stated, "Glen, you're going to have to start talking to people again. 
You can't hide away up there in your cabin for the rest of your life. 
It's not healthy."

Glen shrugged his shoulders and didn't say a word. He looked 
around as though hoping he could escape from being the topic of 
conversation by finding something else to talk about. His tactic 
was successful as the nurse came over to them to inform the 
Sheriff about the situation. "They're coming around. Most of the 
injuries were minor, but painful. You should be able to question 
them shortly."

The Sheriff looked down at Glen and frowned as he considered 
what to do with him. He knew he wasn't going to get anymore out 
of him. He looked up at the nurse and answered, "I'll be over there 
in a minute."

Glen asked, "Done?"

The Sheriff shook his head. Glen looked healthy. He needed to 
shave and could use a haircut, but other than that was in as fine a 
shape as he'd ever seen him. He was about to send him on his way, 
but changed his mind. He answered, "Stay here until I have a talk 
with the doctors and the injured people."

Glen's irritation grew at the thought of staying in a hospital any 
longer than necessary. He had already wasted forty minutes sitting 
there. He had told them everything and was getting very hungry. 
He stated, "I'm hungry."

Dale knew Glen would head over to the diner to eat if he was 
released. Instead, he suggested, "Stay here and then come home 
with me for dinner."

"No."

"Damn it, Glen. Your dad was my best friend and it hurts me to see 
you this way." The man was frustrated. Glen deserved more than 
the lonely existence he had imposed on himself.

Glen, satisfied at how he was doing, asked, "What way?"

"All sullen and mad at the world."

"I'm not mad. I just want to be left alone."

The Sheriff glowered at Glen in true anger. He took a deep breath 
to get control over his emotions. Finally, he gave up and stated, 
"Go on. Get out of here. I know where to find you if I have any 
more questions."

Glen left the hospital in a sour mood. He understood why he had to 
stay there, but it would have been nice if he could have just 
dumped them at the hospital and not deal with anyone. Of course, 
he couldn't have done that. Still, he had wasted a lot of time doing 
nothing but sitting there.

Hungry and tired, he headed over to the diner. He entered the diner 
and went directly to his normal booth hidden in the corner of the 
room. It was a typical country diner. Little booths ran along the 
walls with tables set in the center of the room. There was the 
standard counter with swivel chairs. On the counter was the usual 
glass case of pies, cakes, and puddings. Glen didn't really take 
notice of his surroundings. If asked, he wouldn't have been able to 
tell you the color of the walls. The waitress, knowing it was useless 
to take a menu over to him, called over, "Usual?"

Glen nodded and looked out the window. The food would arrive in 
ten minutes. While waiting, he thought about the three people he 
had found. He shook his head as he considered what might have 
happened to them if he hadn't shown up when he had. Odds were, 
he would have found their bodies in the woods when he went to 
investigate what had attracted the buzzards. That sight would have 
made him sick to his stomach.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with 
his dinner. He nodded in her direction and took a sip of milk. She 
stood there a minute and then asked, "Everything alright?"

Glen nodded and, when she didn't leave, added, "Yes."

Deciding that he wasn't going to say anymore, she went back to her 
normal post behind the counter. Puzzled, she watched him eat. 
Every time he came in, he had the daily special. It didn't matter 
what it was that day. He never even asked what it was, just nodded 
when she asked him if he would have it. She had served him liver, 
fish, meatloaf, and spaghetti among other dishes. He never 
complained about anything she served. Conversely, he had never 
praised anything she had served him. He never said much of 
anything to her, but he tipped much better than most of the clients. 

Glen slowly ate his meal. Today's special was pork roast and it was 
rather tasty. The sides were mashed potatoes and green beans. He 
knew that if he ordered the special, it would be a balanced meal. 
He added salt and pepper to the mashed potatoes, they never put 
enough  of the seasonings on the potatoes here.

His meal was interrupted by the arrival of the Sheriff. Dale settled 
into the seat opposite of him and stated, "Lucky you found them."

Glen looked up at the Sheriff and shrugged his shoulders. As far as 
he was concerned, it wasn't lucky for him at all. He was about to 
say so when the waitress came over with a cup of coffee. She 
smiled at the Sheriff as she said, "Here's some coffee."

The Sheriff smiled and replied, "Thanks, darling. I always enjoy 
your smiling face when I come in here. If I weren't married or the 
wife wasn't such a good cook, I'd eat every meal here just to see 
you."

The waitress laughed at the harmless teasing. She knew the truth. 
She retorted, "Well, I don't think your friend here even realizes I 
exist."

"Don't judge him too harshly. He's not really a self-absorbed 
bastard. He just wants to be left alone. Of course, that doesn't 
explain why he comes here to eat every night. Must be that he 
misses human contact on occasion."

The waitress looked at the Sheriff in shock. She'd never heard him 
talk about anyone like that. People were either good folk or 
criminal as far as the Sheriff was concerned. Glen shook his head 
and countered, "No kitchen yet."

Dale barked, "Forget what I said earlier. He is a self-absorbed 
bastard."

Glen just looked up and stared at the Sheriff with a level gaze. He 
didn't react in any other fashion. He recognized that the Sheriff 
was trying to get him angry. He finally made a little dismissive 
hand gesture and went back to his food. The waitress just looked 
down at him confused more than ever. She looked over at the 
Sheriff. The Sheriff cleared his throat. Glen finally stated, "What?"

"Ah, the silent one talks," retorted the Sheriff. Not getting a 
response from Glen, the Sheriff stated, "Those kids are lucky you 
found them. The sick bastard that had them is a real piece of work. 
He raped the boy at least a three times. Didn't even use lubrication. 
The guy's rectum is all torn up. He was going to torture the twins 
to see which one would die first. Apparently, just to warm things 
up he had drug them behind the truck along your road. That was 
just to let them know what a little pain was like. He was going to 
really go to town on them."

Glen sat up and pushed his plate away, his appetite taken away by 
the topic of discussion. He turned and stared out the window, 
attempting to block out everyone else. He didn't want to hear this. 
He didn't want to be involved in this. Under his breath, he 
muttered, "shit, shit, shit."

The waitress, not knowing about the events of the evening, asked, 
"What happened?"

The Sheriff stated, "This here man is a hero. He rescued three kids 
from a sick pervert and took them to the hospital. Save their lives."

The waitress looked at Glen in surprise. She had wondered about 
this guy. To learn that he was a hero made him look a little more 
attractive. She said, "You must be proud of yourself."

"I'm not a hero," Glen spate out with considerable venom in his 
voice. He wasn't a hero; heroes did heroic things. He had done the 
only thing he could do.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. From his wallet, 
he extracted a ten. It was more than enough for the special and his 
glass of milk. He set the bill on the table and returned the wallet to 
his pocket. Frowning he stood up. The waitress backed out of his 
way a little frightened of the gruff manner of her customer. 

As Glen headed towards the door, the Sheriff called out, "Glen, the 
doctor said their wrists and ankles were bound and that tape was 
placed over their mouths. Where's the stuff at?"

Glen turned and looked at the Sheriff as he thought back to his 
actions when he had found the kids. He hadn't thought of saving 
any evidence to use in convicting the pervert. He answered, "On 
the road where I found them. Cut them off and left them there."

"I'll follow you home and you can show me where you found them. 
For now, why don't you wait until I finish my coffee."

Glen glared in the direction of the Sheriff, irritated at having his 
dinner ruined and his plans for the evening spoiled. He stated, "I'll 
wait in my truck."

The Sheriff watched him leave the diner. Glen walked like he was 
carrying a world of hurt on his shoulder. It almost hurt to watch 
him. He turned to the waitress and explained, "He lost everyone he 
loved, one after the other. Each death was harder on him then the 
one before. He hasn't recovered."

The waitress stared at the Sheriff as she processed the implications 
of his revelation. She suddenly understood her mystery patron a 
little better. She asked, "He suffered too much misery in life and 
doesn't want to experience life any more?"

The Sheriff nodded and replied, "That's right. He won't let anyone 
get close enough to him to care about."

"Sad."

The Sheriff finished his coffee and set a dollar on the table. He 
stood and answered, "Yes it is. He was really a nice guy at one 
time. I guess it's up to me to break through that shell and get the 
nice guy back again. See you later, CJ."

The Sheriff headed towards the door. The waitress smiled and 
called after him, "Good luck. See you later, Uncle Dale."

Glen drove the forty minutes towards his house. When he reached 
the point where he had found the three people, he pulled over and 
got out. The Sheriff pulled up right behind him. Glen knelt down 
where he had found the three people. When the Sheriff joined him, 
he stated, "This is where I found them. There is the binding and the 
duct tape. The tracks over there show where the truck parked after 
making a y-turn. I stopped a hundred feet down that way and 
walked up here. I was about fifty feet away when I called out. The 
man took off in the truck and I came over here."

The Sheriff looked at the tracks and nodded. He asked, "Why did 
you go back to the truck before helping the people here?"

"I didn't want to carry them that far. Figured it was faster to have 
the truck here and then treat them."

The Sheriff put on a pair of latex gloves and put the goods in a 
plastic bag as evidence for when they captured the suspect. He 
actually had a very good description of the man and was sure that 
they would capture him. He groaned as he stood up. He was 
feeling his age, particularly when the weather was cold. 

Glen asked, "Anything more?"

Dale answered, "Nothing more."

Glen turned and walked over to his truck. He opened the door and 
climbed in. It didn't take him much more than a minute to get the 
truck started and on his way towards his cabin. The Sheriff 
watched him go and then walked over to his car and followed 
Glen. 

Glen had just gotten out of his truck when Dale caught up to him. 
Parking his car next to the truck, the Sheriff got out. He stated, 
"You've done an incredible job here. It's hard to believe that you've 
built this yourself without any help."

Glen shrugged. He felt a lot of pride in his cabin, but he wasn't 
about to let anyone know that. His feelings were private and 
personal. To share them would make him vulnerable. He opened 
the front door and entered his cabin. He deliberately closed the 
door behind him thinking that it might chase Dale away.

The Sheriff, with just as much deliberation, followed him into the 
house. He stopped and looked at the disaster before him. He stated, 
"Looks to me like you're going to need some help finishing the 
inside."

Glen turned and looked at the Sheriff, irritated that he had entered 
the house. He realized that he wasn't going to get rid of him that 
easily. He stated, "No, I won't."

Dale walked around the house looking at the overall layout of the 
interior. He realized that it was going to be a very nice house when 
it was completed. There would be two bedrooms, a nice kitchen, a 
mud room, a huge living room and a dining area with a wonderful 
view through the window. The kitchen had all of the plumbing run 
into it. All that Glen needed to do was put up the sheet-rock and 
he'd be ready to make an operational kitchen.

He walked to what must be the utility closet and examined the 
electrical panel. Glen had really put in a lot of money into this 
cabin. He noticed the state of the art water purification system. 
Surprised, he stated, "You've really fixed it up so that you are 
independent as possible. You have your own water and electricity."

"I won't be in town for months at a time, once I have the bathroom 
and kitchen operational."

The Sheriff was losing his patience. He was trying to help and 
Glen wasn't accepting it. With as much sarcasm as he could 
muster, he said, "Well, I guess we'll miss your sunny disposition in 
town. I'm sure a lot of people will be depressed to learn that."

Glen went to the kerosene lantern and, after striking a large 
wooden safety match, lit it. It threw a nice warm light on that side 
of the cabin. The available light in the room doubled. He shrugged 
as though he didn't care about Dale's sarcastic comments. He 
stated, "If you don't like it, then leave."

One corner of the cabin had a bed, a recliner, and a desk with a 
roller chair. The only working light in the house was on the desk. 
This was clearly the corner of the house that Glen lived in. The 
Sheriff sat down in the recliner and looked around. He looked at 
the desk noticing a stack of book. He glanced at the titles. It took 
him a minute to figure out what kind of books they were. He 
laughed. He asked, "So when did you start reading romance 
novels?"

With a suddenness that shocked the Sheriff, Glen advanced on him 
shouting, "Get the hell out of my house!"

The Sheriff stood up and shouted back, "Glen, we can do this the 
easy way or the hard way. It is your choice. You can sit here and 
talk to me like a real person. If you don't care to do that, I can 
make it a lot harder on you."

Glen stood his ground in anger. He asked, "Are you telling me I'm 
a suspect?"

Dale answered, "No. I'm telling you that you have to rejoin the 
human race. This sitting out here all alone and talking to no one is 
sick. You need help boy."

"No I don't. I'm happy the way I am. The only thing wrong in my 
life is people thinking that they know better than I do as to what is 
good for me!"

Dale retorted, "You're dad was a good man. He enjoyed life to its 
fullest. Hell, he and I used go hunting every year. If you'd get out 
of this funk you've gotten into, I'd take you hunting myself. Shit, I 
miss him just as much as you do."

"Old man, you've got no idea what's going on here. Get out now 
and just leave me alone. I knew this day was going to suck the 
moment I found those kids. I should have left them there to die." 
Even saying it hurt. Glen knew the truth and that was that he 
couldn't have left those kids alone to die out there. 

Dale exploded, "Sometimes you are really an asshole. You couldn't 
have done that to save your life."

Glen sat down on the chair at the desk. He looked tired and beaten. 
In an emotionless voice, he stated, "Dale, would you go, please? 
Enough is enough. You are not going to save me."

Dale frowned and shook his head. He stood and headed to the 
door. At the door, he turned and said, "I guess we are going to have 
to do this the hard way. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Glen watched as Dale left the house. He went to the window and 
watched until the Sheriff had left his property for good. He went to 
the door and after opening it, shouted out, "Leave me alone, God 
damn you!"

The night was going to be cold so he went and got a load of 
firewood. Stacking it carefully in the fireplace, he lit the papers 
under the kindling and small logs. He stayed next to the fire until 
he was sure that it was burning well. It would burn until he was 
ready for bed and be out by morning. He took a moment to 
appreciate the odor of burning wood.

He went to his chair and swore as he realized that he had forgotten 
to get some more hand cream. Well, that ruined tonight's 
entertainment. He went to his desk and started up the laptop. Once 
it had booted, he opened his document and looked at the last few 
pages of material that he had written. His mind churned in turmoil. 
He couldn't get the sight of those poor kids out of his mind. There 
was no way he was going to get any work done tonight. He shut 
off the laptop in disgust.