"I nodded."
"The next night couldn't come quick enough. I labored through school bragging I was going to the Flyer's game. That night, I sat in my room starring at Manson's house. At Eight o'clock Mr. Smith showed up. Ten minutes later we walked across the graveyard. The lights on the first floor were on. We snuck across the yard. Manson was sitting in the living room watching television. We climbed the back steps. The outside door was open. We crept into the mudroom behind the kitchen, There was another door. I looked to the old man before trying the doorknob. He shook his head and I tired the door. It was locked. I remember being scared shitless. I had to climb under the front porch and make my way up the basement stairs and into to kitchen without being heard. Success was up to me, I was the only one who could fit through the old window under the porch."
Count had given away the identity of 'Mr. Smith.'
Count continued, "What's it, like fifteen, twenty feet from the basement door to the mudroom? The idea of being in the house with Manson scared the fuck out of me. As I made my way out of the mudroom the old man patted me on the back and Mr. Smith gave me the thumbs up."
"I made my way around the side of the house. I lifted the lattice and crawled under the porch. Once I was settled under the porch I slid the plywood from old window and climbed into the basement. If I made a sound, Manson would hear. I couldn't be more than a couple feet below Manson. I reached for the drawstring and turned on the light. As I snuck across the basement I heard rats. I almost shit my pants. It felt unreal."
"I took my time climbing the steps. When I reached the top I was face to face with the kitchen door. I placed my ear against the door. I only heard the television. I turned the knob, the latch disengaged. I was about to open the door when I heard the floor creak. Manson heard me, I thought. I fought the impulse to open the door and make a quick dash. Manson walked past the other side of door into the kitchen. The refrigerator door closed. He walked past me. When I thought he sat back down I started counting to one hundred. When I reached fifty, I opened the door."
"I stepped into the kitchen and crept to the door. I unlocked the deadbolt. What a relief it was to see my old man and Mr. Smith. They stormed by me. When I got to the living room Manson was already bleeding. The old man and Mr. Smith drug Manson down into the basement. When Manson tired to yell, the old man stuck a glove in his mouth and smacked him across the head. Towards the bottom the old man dropped Manson letting his head walk the steps. James, I'll never forget the look on Manson's face. He was terrified. The old man motioned for me to grab Manson arm. I had a hold of his right arm and Mr. Smith his left when the old man pounded Manson's gut. Manson's knees gave way. Mr. Smith and I held him up."