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Harold nodded, a leer on his face. “Besides, I like riding the bike and I like to explore new places, hidden places, only this time I got myself in a jam.” I looked up at Bill. Men’s voices, coming from up on the ridge beyond the buildings, getting louder. Who are you and why are you here?”. I didn’t mean to intrude. “Okay,” said Bill. “Besides, I like riding the bike and I like to explore new places, hidden places, only this time I got myself in a jam.” I looked up at Bill. “Okay,” said Bill. But the land began to rise, and I was forced off the bike and into a steep walk up the winding path, slipping on the wet leaves, around trees and through gaps and over rocks covered with moss. “Can we trust him?” he asked.
