We circle Jim's covered wagon carefully. 'Jim?' I shout, looking around. Was that a noise inside? The wagon is tightly covered with an old tarp and I'm trying to loosen a rope quietly. 'Do you think he's turned?' asks my companion, looking nervous. I shrug as the rope comes off. 'I'm going to pull the cover back,' I whisper, 'ready?' He nods. Hang on, hang on, I'm clutching a stick. 'Here, you take this.' I hand the stick to my friend, grab a machete, and slowly peel back the tarp.