Autumn

truth be told, he couldn’t be bothered. He wanted something to do, but it needed to be something interesting. He needed more than something that would just distract him. He wanted something that would grab his imagination and fully capture and hold his attention.
    High on the wall opposite to the door he’d just walked through was a wooden shelf. Little more than a warped plank of wood held up by three rusty brackets, the shelf was piled high with junk. Curious, Michael dragged a chair across the room and climbed up to have a closer look. On first sight there seemed to be very little of any interest - some old garden tools and chemicals, faded and yellowed books and newspapers, glass jars full of nails, bolts and screws and the like - but then he came across an unexpected and unmistakable shape. It was the butt of a rifle. Cautiously he pulled the gun free and stood there, balancing precariously on the chair, admiring the cobweb and dirt covered weapon. Instinctively he reached up again and felt his way along the shelf, first to the left and then to the right of where he’d found the rifle. With his fingers at full stretch he grabbed hold of a dusty cardboard box which he dragged closer. Now standing on tiptoes with the rifle wedged under his arm he teased up the lid of the box and saw that it was full of ammunition. Like a child with a new toy he picked up the box, jumped down and carried everything back to the kitchen.

    Emma got up at half-past eight and Carl rose three-quarters of an hour later. They found Michael sat at the kitchen table, carefully cleaning the rifle. He’d been working on it for over two hours and the job was almost complete.
    Michael glanced up at Emma and noticed that she looked tired. He wondered whether she’d had as little sleep as he had. Although they’d only slept (or not slept) a few feet apart he hadn’t dared disturb her in the darkness of the night.
    ‘What are you doing?’ she eventually asked him once she’d made and drunk a very necessary mug of coffee.
    ‘I found this earlier,’ he replied, stifling a yawn. ‘Thought I’d have a go at cleaning it up.’
    ‘What’s it for?’ Carl asked. Those were the first words he’d uttered since coming downstairs.
    Michael shrugged his shoulders. Deadpan, and with a complete absence of any sarcasm or humour in his voice he replied.
    ‘Shooting things,’ he said. ‘What else you going to use it for?’
    ‘I know that,’ he snapped, annoyed, ‘but what are we going to use it for?’
    He put the rifle down and looked up at Carl.
    ‘Don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Bloody hell, I hope we never need it.’
    The rifle was clearly of interest to Carl. He sat down next to the other man and picked it up. Having spent all morning working on it, Michael seemed annoyed that someone else had dared to interfere.
    ‘Put it down,’ he said. ‘I haven’t finished with it yet.’
    ‘You ever used one of these?’ Carl asked, suddenly much more animated.
    ‘No, but...’
    ‘I have,’ he continued to enthuse. ‘Used to do some work for a bloke that used to shoot.’
    ‘I don’t like it,’ Emma said from across the room. She was standing next to the sink. She couldn’t have been any further away from the table. ‘We don’t need it. We should get rid of it.’
    ‘I don’t know. We don’t even know if it’s going to work yet...’
    ‘Can’t see any reason why it shouldn’t,’ Carl interrupted. ‘Mind if I try it out?’
    ‘Yes I do,’ Michael protested. ‘Bloody hell, I’ve spent bloody hours trying to get it...’
    Carl wasn’t listening. He jumped up from his seat, grabbed a handful of ammunition and headed for the front door. Michael looked over towards Emma. Surprised by his sudden disappearance they both stood still for a second before following him out.
    By the time they reached the front door Michael could already hear the rifle being repeatedly cocked and fired. Fortunately Carl had been sensible enough to try and fire it before loading.
    ‘Is he safe with that thing?’ Emma asked quietly as they stepped out into a cold grey morning.
    ‘Don’t know,’ Michael replied under his breath, still fuming that the other man had dared to take the rifle from him. He stared with piercing eyes as Carl loaded it.
    ‘This is okay you know,’ he babbled excitedly. ‘This is just what we needed. You never know what’s round the corner these days...’
    ‘Don’t know what frightens me more,’ Emma mumbled,