“No,” he said. “They weren’t.” The man let out a heavy breath. “So somebody worse could come.”
The old man took a slow drag on his cigarette. “Yes,” he said. “That could happen.” The words were simple.
And because they were simple, they felt heavier. The man rubbed a tired hand over his face. “So what do we do then?”
The old man was quiet for a moment. He looked toward the road disappearing around the bend. “Same thing we did today,” he said softly.
The man understood from the tone alone. He nodded and asked nothing more. Sometimes a short answer says enough.
After the neighbor left, the old man sat on the bench for a long time. The last of the sun disappeared behind the woods. The town slipped into evening shadows.
Somewhere beyond the houses, a dog barked again. The pines whispered in the wind. The old man finished his cigarette and stood up.
He went into the house and opened an old wooden chest. Inside were things he had not touched in years. He took out old but reliable reserve gear.
An army belt, a field bag, and several more flash-bangs. He took his time, checking each item carefully. Then he packed them into another canvas bag.
He understood perfectly well: if the real boss came himself, the conversation would be short. He picked up the bag and stepped back into the cool yard. The sun was gone.
The town had sunk fully into dusk. The old man walked to his shed. He checked the old boards, the gate, and the yard itself.
By midnight, the town was asleep again. But this time the old man didn’t even try to go to bed. He sat by the dark window, watching the road.
The packed bag lay on the table beside him. From time to time he got up and stepped quietly into the yard to check outside. The night dragged on.
Then, far off beyond the woods, headlights appeared. First one pair, then a second, then a third. A whole line of vehicles was moving toward town.
They came slowly, but with confidence. Their headlights cut through the dark. The convoy kept coming.
In the neighboring houses, everything was dark. Everyone was asleep. Only the old man at the window saw them first. He rose slowly from his chair.
Quietly, he said to himself, “So they came after all.” He picked up the canvas bag and stepped into the cold yard. He was ready.
He stopped by the gate. The night was sharp and cold. The dusty road was now lit by the oncoming headlights.
One vehicle after another pulled in and lined up. The convoy moved without hurry, but with purpose. It was plain these men had not come for a long discussion…
