Brett dived into the window well, landing miracullously unharmedd among the stones. Above him, his giant neighbor, whom Brett had always considered a creep, made a lunge for the tiny, fleeing kid.
Damn, what's going on? wondered Brett. A massive hand reached down for him, almost knocking him over, but Brett made a dive for a hole he saw in the window. Another miracle--he landed on his father's workbench and did not go crashing onto the cement floor.
Safe inside, Brett lay prone and caught his breath. That was close, but the giant wouldn't even be able to fit his body in the window well, much less through the minuscule crack that Brett had dived throuugh.
OK, he thought. Now what?
He looked around the vast toolbench. Hammers, nails, screws, and sawdust littered the surface. It was like being on another planet, observing the industrial fallout of some extinct culture. Brett wasn't even sure he could make it to the floor, much less climb the stairs and find one of his family members to help him.
Suddenly, Brett heard a noise. He whirled around to investigate.