by Bobby Akart
“Also, Cort, there will be times that I need to separate myself from disciplinary actions because I’m the developer of the Haven. You know, I can’t be heavy-handed sometimes.”
Cort laughed. “Listen, I’m chief of staff to one of the most influential senators in Washington. I know how to play the bad guy.”
“Perfect. You guys get settled and maybe take your girls over to the school. Head over to the house when you get a chance.”
Cort slapped Ryan on the back and they said their goodbyes. He returned to the cabin, where Meredith and Hannah were getting a few things together.
“I wish we could’ve gone to Walmart like we’d planned,” Meredith said.
Cort hugged his wife and rubbed his daughter’s cold cheeks. “Ryan and Blair are detail-oriented people, and they’ve put equal emphasis on all aspects of the Haven. I’ll bet you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
“Good,” said Meredith. “Well, Hannah, are you ready to check it out?”
“Yeah! Can we pick up Skylar, too? The more the merrier, I always say.”
Her parents laughed at their daughter’s enthusiasm. Cort nodded in agreement and then he whispered to Meredith, “Ryan wants me to work directly with him, you know, on the administrative side. I guess I’ve gone from chief of staff to a senator to the chief of staff for, um, king of the Haven.”
“Good grief,” said Meredith with a chuckle. “Enjoy your first day as Hand of the King.”
Cort stood a little taller. “Hand. I like that. Like the Game of Thrones Hands.”
“No, Cort. Not like those Hands. They always get stabbed in the back or beheaded.”
“Good point. I don’t want my head on a pike.”
They kissed, and Meredith was on her way. “Let’s go, Hannah. Skylar Hightower is supposed to meet us at school. I think you’ll like her. We’ll see about setting up the classrooms together.”
The Cortland women arrived at the Little Red School House where Skylar greeted them at the door. She and Hannah immediately hit it off, and the two became inseparable as the day progressed. Meredith was impressed with the amount of supplies and school materials the Smarts had accumulated for the new school, which still smelled of fresh paint.
Each of the three classrooms were divided into age groups—toddler through third grade, fourth through sixth, and seventh through ninth. A larger assembly room was designed for chairs to be brought in for large presentations. There were no classrooms for high schoolers. Those kids were expected to work around the Haven and continue their educations at home under the supervision of their parents.
“Skylar, your dad said you have an older brother,” began Meredith as she coordinated distribution of materials to individual cubbies in each classroom. She was unsure how many students there were at the Haven, so she simply spread out what was available to her.
“His name is Ethan and he’s fifteen,” replied Skylar. “He’s in high school and he doesn’t like it very much. My mom doesn’t know it, but he skips class most days.”
“He does?” asked Meredith.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied politely. “Um, well, my parents got a divorce, and Daddy moved to Atlanta. My brother has been angry ever since.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Divorce can be hard on kids.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda okay with it except I don’t like how my dad lives so far away. I would never tell my mom this ’cause it would hurt her feelings, but I really like it here. You know, just being with my dad.”
Meredith walked next to the young girl and put her arm around her. She knelt down onto one knee and looked her in the eye. “It’s tough being away from a parent. I understand what that’s like. But listen, if you ever feel the need to have a girl talk, you can always come to me, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied sheepishly.
“And me too,” added Hannah. “We could be BFFs.”
“Yeah, besties.”
The three continued setting up the classrooms. As they did, Meredith overheard Skylar talking to Hannah in another room.
“My brother has run away before. Mom didn’t even go after him. She said if he didn’t want to live at home, that was okay by her.”
Hannah chimed in. “I can’t imagine running away. I wouldn’t have any place to go.”
“Neither did he,” said Skylar. “He has friends from high school, bad friends, my mom says. He never brings them to the house, so I don’t know what they’re like.”
“Is he mad about something?” asked Hannah.
There was a break in the conversation and Meredith strained to listen, thinking the kids had lowered their voice to avoid being heard. Finally, Skylar replied in a quiet, heart-breaking tone of voice. Her response spoke volumes about the mindset of Ethan Hightower.
“He’s mad about everything.”
Chapter 33
Rankin Residence
East Clay Street
Richmond, Virginia
“Home alone, Peanut!” J.C. yelled after Tyler pulled out of the driveway. “Let’s make mac and cheese. Maybe hot dogs too.”
Kaycee started laughing. “There’s no way Mom has that stuff in the house. I bet there’s plenty of quinoa and Dad’s oatmeal.”
“Hey, what kind of food do you think we’ll eat at the cabin?” asked J.C. It had been a year since the family went there together. They had stocked the place with some outdoor clothing and camping supplies, but not food.
“Last year, we went out to eat every night. Do you remember that Mexican restaurant? That was pretty good.”
The two kids stared into the refrigerator, waiting for Oscar Mayer beef franks to magically appear, but they eventually closed the door, disappointed. Kaycee reminded her younger brother they had chores to do or their mom would be upset, so they started on the laundry first before going to their respective rooms to pack.
“All my summer clothes are clean,” said J.C. to his sister, whose room was across the hallway.
“Same here. I’m gonna pack my swimsuit in case we’re there in the summer. Do you remember the river that was by our cabin?”
“It was muddy,” J.C. recalled.
Kaycee said, “That’s because it was springtime and it had been raining a lot. It’s not always like that.”
The two moved around their rooms, loading up their suitcases first except the clothes that were being washed. Kaycee retrieved the grocery totes, and they carefully selected toys and games to play with. The family loved board games and playing cards together, so those options were a priority.
After a break for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with milk, Kaycee rolled the last load of wash into the dryer. “Mom and Dad’s clothes will be dry by the time they get home, and now we can—”
The sound of glass breaking outside caused her to stop speaking.
“What was that?” asked J.C. as he rushed to the bay window in their living room. He crawled onto the cushioned bench seat and parted the sheers to look outside. Kaycee quickly joined him.
“Where did all of those people come from?” asked Kaycee as she pressed her face against the glass and looked to the west along Clay Street.
“Kaycee, they’re breaking things. Look at the car windows.”
Vehicles that were parked on the street in front of the residences were being beaten with metal pipes and baseball bats. On both sides of the road, the group would stop and indiscriminately pound on the hood, fenders, and windows of each car or truck until it was destroyed. Then they’d move on to the next one.
“Look!” shouted Kaycee as she pointed to their left. Drivers who’d entered their street were frantically trying to back off of East Clay Street to avoid the mobs making their way toward downtown.
A woman screamed, causing the kids to snap their heads back toward the west. The group had rushed onto the front porch of a home like theirs and were threatening a woman who was sitting in a rocking chair.
“What should we do?” asked J.C.
“We’ve gotta ca
ll Dad,” Kaycee replied as she scrambled for the phone. Just as she reached the kitchen, she remembered. “He doesn’t have a cell phone!”
“Should we call the police?” asked J.C.
Kaycee hesitated. “Um, I don’t know. They haven’t done anything to us.”
J.C. suddenly backed off the bench seat and allowed the sheer curtains to close. “Not yet, you mean. They’re coming to our house!”
“Why? We didn’t do anything!”
The two kids ran into the middle of the living room and began frantically searching for answers to their questions.
“Should we hide?” asked J.C.
Kaycee ran to the back door and looked into their yard. There was activity in the house behind them, and she saw a woman race off her porch onto the lawn. She gathered her wits and turned to her brother.
“Dad’s guns! Come on!”
“Do you know how to use them?” asked J.C.
“Yeah, he taught me last summer,” she replied as she raced down the hallway to her parents’ bedroom.
J.C. followed behind, quizzing her as she ran. “When? Why didn’t he teach me?”
“You’re too young.”
“No, I’m not. I am older than—” J.C. froze, the rest of his sentence floating in a state of suspended animation as the windowpanes flanking their front door were broken inward.
The two kids stared at each other, eyes wide in fright, as they could hear the voices of a man and a woman on their porch. When the sound of the dead-bolt lock snapping open hit their ears, they rushed into J.C.’s bedroom to hide.
Kaycee gently closed the door behind them.
“Lock it,” whispered J.C.
“No, they’ll know we’re here for sure,” she countered. “Do you remember that space in your closet where the old furnace used to be?”
J.C. nodded his head.
“Can we both fit in there?”
“No, just me.”
Kaycee furrowed her brow as she considered her options. “I have to get to Dad’s shotgun, but I need to make sure you’re safe. Hurry, get in the crawl space and stay there until I come for you. Can you do that?”
“Um-hum.”
J.C. opened the bifold doors to his closet and moved some toys and a few stored pillows out of the way. The panel to the closet pushed inward and he made his way inside the dark, dank space. Kaycee quickly covered up the access point and closed the doors behind her.
She made her way back to the bedroom door and cracked it slightly to look down the hallway. The man and woman were milling about the living room, picking up the family’s home décor and tossing it aside, as it wasn’t of interest to them.
Kaycee knew they’d turn their attention to the bedrooms next, so she decided to make her move. She slowly opened the door to avoid detection, and as soon as the two intruders turned their backs to her, she dashed into the master bedroom. This time, however, she closed and locked the door behind her. Kaycee knew she’d be trapped in there whether the door was open or locked shut. If she forced the intruders to break in, she’d have the precious seconds she needed to respond.
Tyler had purchased a bed that contained a hidden compartment in the headboard for his weapons. A key lock was installed at the top of the headboard with a spring-tensioned access door. Kaycee knew her dad kept the key in the nightstand drawer. She scrambled across the bed and retrieved the key. She stood on the bed and pressed down on the access door, which popped open. She quickly inserted the key and turned it.
Nothing happened.
Then she walked backward and studied the headboard. Why isn’t it opening?
She grabbed the top of the headboard and gave it a slight shake, hoping the gun would suddenly reveal itself.
“Let’s check the rest of this place out,” said a woman’s voice from the hallway.
“I’m guessin’ they just left, ’cause there ain’t no car and the dryer’s runnin’,” her male partner added.
Kaycee began to shake as panic set in. She dropped to her knees and flung the pillows out of the way. She ran her hands along the decorative panel inserts along the headboard. Then she felt the upper part of the panel give way. She pushed it a little harder and her dad’s Mossberg 590 shotgun fell into her hands.
Yes! Let’s go! she shouted in her head. Kaycee stood on the bed and glanced out the bedroom windows.
The mob was moving past their house and down the street toward the city. She quickly slid off the bed and made her way to the window, cautiously glancing outside. To her right, the streets were empty, although signs of the locusts were evident. To her left, the marauders were antagonizing a wayward motorist and breaking out windows of homes as they went.
Kaycee swung around and steadied her nerves. It was still very quiet in the house except for the gentle tumbling sound of the dryer. She knew the moment she pulled the slide of the shotgun to load a shell into the chamber, as her dad had taught her, the loud metallic click would draw the attention of the intruders. Tyler had once told her that nothing frightens a burglar more than the sound of a shotgun racking a round.
Kaycee decided to test his theory, but she’d wait until the people entered the room. With the gun in her hand, the lanky eleven-year-old gained confidence and stood defiantly waiting for them to enter. The only question she hadn’t asked herself was whether she was capable of pulling the trigger.
Chapter 34
Rankin Residence
East Clay Street
Richmond, Virginia
Kaycee heard them breathing before she saw the door handle begin to turn. When the lock stopped the handle’s progress, the intruder turned it the other way. Kaycee’s hands turned clammy and the barrel of the rifle began to shake as her nerves started to fail her. The handle shook violently as the person on the other side grew frustrated.
“Open up, dammit!” the woman screamed as her partner began to pound the six-panel door with the back of his fist. Blow after blow evidenced their anger and their violent intentions.
“Go away!” shouted Kaycee.
She heard the two whisper to one another. They were plotting.
“Open up, kid!” the man shouted. “Or we’ll huff and we’ll puff and we’ll blow the door down. Then we’ll make you pay for the trouble you caused us.”
“I’ve got a gun! I’ll shoot!”
Kaycee was certain this would back off the duo of intruders. The response she got surprised her.
They paused for a moment, and then the two thugs began laughing uproariously. It was an evil cackle combined with genuine delight at terrorizing the young girl.
“You aren’t gonna shoot anyone!” shouted the woman. “Open this door, or we’ll burn the place down with you in it!”
Kaycee instantly grew afraid that they meant what they said. She’d heard her parents talk about the fires around Richmond earlier and knew it was bad guys like these two responsible for them. She thought of her brother huddled in the dark space in his closet. She knew he could hear them shouting at her. There wasn’t much time.
The first kick at the door almost broke it off its hinges. The flimsy bedroom door lock wasn’t designed to keep members of a crazed mob out. One of the marauders kicked again, and the door almost gave way.
Kaycee didn’t hesitate. She squeezed the trigger and the Mossberg blasted a load of #10 birdshot into the center of the door, blasting a hole in the hollow door with over eight hundred lead pellets. The recoil knocked her backwards onto the bed while the shotgun flew over her head onto the floor by the wall.
“Arrggggh!” the man screamed as the lead shot found its way through the opening. To be sure, the hollow door slowed the impact of half the shot, but the other half performed admirably, scattering into the hallway and ripping into the faces and exposed skin of the assailants.
Kaycee flung herself over the back of the bed to retrieve the gun. Pain seared through her right shoulder, which was now partially dislocated. Yet she found an inner strength. She scowled as she picked up the r
ifle and loaded another shell into the chamber.
In position to fire again, she could see into the hallway. Blood splatter was all over the wall that was adjacent to J.C.’s bedroom. The drywall was littered with pellets, some of which fell out periodically as the young girl waited for the attackers to make their next move. She listened.
Nothing.
Had she killed them? Both, with one shot?
Her mind raced as she took a step around the bed and cautiously approached the door. She steadied the shotgun’s barrel on the opening, planning to shoot again if she saw movement. The pain in her shoulder became worse, but she was able to block out the distraction. Kaycee peeked through the opening.
It’s easier the second time, she thought to herself.
Then she heard a dragging sound. Crawling noises across the wood floor and down the hall near their kitchen.
Kaycee moved to the side of the bedroom door to view the hall from a better angle. There wasn’t anyone outside the door, and then she noticed a bloody handprint near the doorjamb of J.C.’s room.
“Help me!” groaned the man from the area of their living room.
“I’m trying,” whispered the woman. “We’ve got to go before she kills us.”
“My shoulder,” the man was crying. “It’s… it’s… it’s gone.”
Kaycee was emboldened. The young girl sensed fear in her adult attackers, and a killer instinct overcame her. She’d never felt this exhilarated in her life, even at the top of Kingda Ka. She pulled what was left of the door open and ran into the hallway.
“You’d better run!” she screamed.
The terrified woman screamed back, begging for their lives. “Okay! Okay! We’re leaving! Don’t shoot!”
Kaycee moved slowly down the hallway, steadily pointing the shotgun in front of her. The shoulder pain was worsening, but she wanted to finish the job. She arrived in the living room and swung the gun back and forth. Then she turned her attention to the front door.
The knob and door were covered in bloody handprints. A pool of blood had accumulated on the stoop. Kaycee ran to the bay window and slowly parted the sheers to look outside. The intruders were hobbling down the sidewalk, not looking back. The man was putting all his weight on his partner by draping his left arm over her while his right arm dangled from a mess of tendons and bone. A trail of blood marked their path out into the street.