Chapter 1

            Jack woke up with his dog, Max, licking his face. He sat up and wiped the dog slobber off of his face.

            "Max!" said Jack in disgust, "I thought I left you outside bo-" Jack stopped talking. Across the room from him, the door to his tiny, one room house had been left ajar. Jack sprang out of bed and ran over to the door, quickly shutting it. He slowly walked away from the door, unsure as to whether or not he had left it open the night before. He walked around the room cautiously, checking if anything had been taken or not. Nothing had been so much as moved an inch, but Jack was still unsure if somebody had been inside. He checked the room again, carefully. His money was all still there, his TV still worked and none of his tools had been taken. Hell, even his breakfast was still sitting there on the table. His breakfast! Jack was going to take no chances. He looked at the pastry for several seconds, before picking it up, and throwing it out the window. He sighed in relief, although still frightened that somebody might've tried to poison him.

            "Ow!" came a noise from outside. Jack froze. The intruder was still outside? He peered through a window to see a strange man outside, with brown hair, and a large bird perched upon his doghouse. "Oh I'm so hungry. And people are throwing things at me." Said the person outside. Jack sighed in relief again; it was only the wanderer that the Mayor had told him about.

'He often comes around this town, working when he needs money for food. He usually sleeps out under the stars, but he's no bum, and he's nobody to be afraid of,' were the Mayor's words on the subject. Jack sat down on his toolbox, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. It was pretty hot for an early spring day, and a lot was happening. He had just moved in, and already people were trying to (in theory) poison him.

"Omygod!" Jack dashed out the door, hoping that the wanderer hadn't realized that what he had thrown at him had been food. Jack darted out, but it was too late. The hungry wanderer had already taken a bite of the pastry, and it had in fact been poisoned. The wanderer laid there, slouched against the doghouse, dead, with a piece of pastry hanging out of his mouth. Jack grabbed up the rest of the pastry, and pocketed it- he would get rid of it later. Now what to do with the body? Jack thought for a minute, but burying him was all he could think of doing. The police would never buy into his story of an intruder poisoning his breakfast anyways.

Jack grabbed the wanderer's feet and started to drag him around the field towards the back. Suddenly the bird started to caw very loudly. Mark dropped the dead man's legs and rushed over to the bird.

"Shh! Shut up you stupid bird!" Jack dashed over to it, waving his arms. The bird took off, flying high above the town, until it was nowhere to be seen. Jack resumed dragging the body.

It was already 11 o'clock and the sun was almost at its peak height in the sky. Sweat was pouring down Jack's back while he dug the hole he planning on burying the body in. He shoved the hoe into the dirt and took a break. Now he did wish he had bought a shovel, but it was too late. Flies were starting to buzz above the body, and twice Max had started to chew on the wanderer's heels. Jack needed to scare him off with the hoe. He grabbed the hoe out of the dirt and carried on.

It was at twelve-thirtye He when the hole was big enough for Jack. He dragged the body into the hole, and started to bury him. It didn't take long to bury him luckily, and before long he was headed back to his house. He was passing the large tree in the backyard and the barn, when he noticed something sticking out from a hole in the tree. Jack dashed over to it, and yanked it out. It was a piece of paper!

Jack read it aloud, "'Walk from the doghouse to where your path crosses the tree. Dig there.'" It wasn't signed, but Jack figured it was is grandfather's writing. It had piqued Jack's curiosity, so he did as he was told. He walked from the doghouse, over the field to where it crossed paths with the tree. In spite of his aching muscles, Jack started to dig. It didn't take long before he hit something metal. It was a cigar box.

"What is this?" Jack asked himself. He opened it up and quickly found the answer. Sitting in the box, was a .357 magnum, and several bullets.