Kyle woke to see his Uncle Evans looking down at him. His uncle had that deathly serious look. The small bedside lamp was on but otherwise, the room was dark. No light came in through the windows. The windows were open though, and the cool, early autumn air came in, bringing with it the nighttime sounds of the Texas Hill Country.

“What time is it?” Kyle asked. Uncle Evans didn’t answer that question…

Uncle Evans: A Fictional Tale of Anarcho-Tyranny in America