Page 50 of The Amish Spaceman

DEAN HELD Emerson in a friendly hug.

  “Don’t cry,” he said. “We’re going to get out of this, I promise.”

  “How?” sobbed Emerson. “If you break the glass everyone will hear. Even if we climb down and run across the fields, how will we escape? They have horses.”

  “I heard one of the Amish mention Ghent and Warsaw. That means we’re in Carroll County, Kentucky.”

  “So?”

  “So if we head toward the river we’ll find more people. Someone’s bound to help.”

  “How do you know this Ghent and Warsaw? We are in wilderness area.”

  “My parents sent me to a lot of church camps. There’s one near Ghent.”

  Emerson sighed. “I think it is time to die together.”

  She lifted her skirt to her chest and the glass in the lower half of the window burst into a spider web of cracks, with a tiny hole in the center.

  “What’s that?!!”

  “It’s what you get with Chinese construction materials,” said Dean. “Buy American.”

  An identical hole cracked through the glass of the window’s top sash, and Dean batted at the air around his ears.

  “There it is again! Another horsefly. I’m suddenly very popular with the horsey-fly set.”

  The glass in both windows shattered and fell to the floor, and a lamp on the bedside table exploded in a shower of green ceramic.

  Dean pointed at the broken lamp on the floor. “Another one! Do horseflies have a mating season?”

  Emerson grabbed his hand. “This is our chance. Let’s run for it!”

 
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