by A. American
“Son, you’re drunk, and she has asked you to leave. You need to go now.” It was the old man. On the porch of the house next door, an old woman was watching what was unfolding.
Lonnie turned toward the old man, leaning against the truck and resting on an elbow propped on the hood. “Err, whut, ole man, you gonna make me? Whutcha gonna do, call the fuckin’ law?” He laughed and reached over for the jar.
“Lonnie! I told you to git. I don’t want you around here; now go!” Mandy was starting to get a little worried, and it showed in her voice.
Dammit, what the hell. I don’t want to get involved in this shit, but this guy seems to attract it like a Muffin Monster. I dropped my pack and kept watching through the binos. With no man-made noise, and the fact they were all speaking in raised voices, I heard them clearly. Lonnie spun the lid off his jar and took a long pull; he drank the raw, hard liquor like only an alcoholic could, like it was water. He finished off by wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and spinning the lid back on.
“Mandy, I’ve tried to be nass, but yer jus’ bein’ a fuckin’ bitch.” He was looking at the old man when he said this. The old man took a step forward.
“All right now! You get—” He was cut off. Lonnie lunged from his rest on the truck with surprising coordination considering his level of intoxication. He caught the old man square in the nose with a hard right. His nose exploded, and he went down hard. Mandy screamed, as did the old woman next door; she was running toward her husband. Thomas came around the truck and was standing behind Lonnie.
“Ay, Thomas, throw ’iss piece a shit outta here.” The old man was on the ground, and Thomas started for him.
Lonnie turned toward the porch. Mandy could see the crazy in his eyes. She ran into the house, herding the kids in front of her; they were already crying. Lonnie walked up onto the porch. Mandy had shut and locked the door. She was screaming through the door; you could hear the fear and the tears in her voice.
“Get outta here. Leave us alone!”
“I tried to be nass. Now wurr gonna do is my way, bitch!” He reached behind his back and pulled out a stainless short-barreled revolver.
Mandy was still screaming, “Ryan’s gonna kill you, Lonnie. You know he will!”
“Ryan is on a rig in the fuckin’ gulf. He ain’t cumin any tam soon en ewe know it. Now open this fuckin’ door!” He was standing in front of the door, scratching at his head with the barrel of the revolver, his hillbilly hat rocking back and forth.
“He’ll be here soon. Go away; please go away!” She was crying now.
From behind, in a taunting manner like that of a school yard bully, Thomas was pushing the old man back toward his house. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. What in the hell? What in the hell could I do? There were two of these window lickers and at least one gun.
“What’s a matter, Mandy, you thank yer pussy’s too good fer me? You always been a damn tease. Well, I got news for you, bitch; yer gettin’ yers today!” With that, Lonnie kicked the door in.
The hard, dry pine of the old door frame splintered with a crack that sounded like a rifle shot. Mandy was immediately terrified, and this in turn terrified her kids. They were all screaming and crying, and Lonnie was screaming and cussing—all this served to bring the chaos unfolding in front of me to an overwhelming crescendo.
“Thomas! Get yer ass in ’ere!” Lonnie shouted.
From inside the house, the sounds of furniture slinging across the floor mixed with glass crashing and breaking. Adding this to all the existing chaos, it was more than the senses could take. My heart was pounding, and my adrenaline was pumping. Thomas turned and headed to the porch steps. When he did, suddenly everything slowed, and the sound was blocked out. It was as if I stepped outside the situation and was looking in. I dropped the Devildog from my waist and pulled the XD out and stuck it in my waistband. I pulled a spare mag out and put it in my left front pocket. I took my jacket off and dropped it on the pack. When I dropped the coat, I saw the hatchet. My Gerber hatchet was tucked between one of the sustainment pouches and the main pack; I pulled it out and removed its sheath.
Thomas was on the first step to the porch. I took off across the road in a crouch, double-time. I was moving at about thirty degrees away from the house toward the woods on the right side. I made it to the bush as Thomas entered the house. There were three windows on this side of the house. The one in the living room was blocked on the lower half by a fuel oil drum set on two concrete saddle stands. I used that as some cover and moved to the side of the house. Getting flat on the wall in front of the tank, I drew my pistol. Inside I heard Lonnie struggling with Mandy. She was definitely putting up a fight.
“Thomas, take ’ese two brats an’ put ’em sumwhur!” Lonnie shouted.
“Leave my kids alone, you asshole!” Mandy screamed.
“Yew do whut yer told, and they won’t git hurt!” Lonnie bellowed back.
“What’cha want me ta do with ’em, Lonnie?” Thomas was as dumb as I was told.
“Put ’em in the fuckin’ closet!” Lonnie ordered.
Mandy was still struggling and cried out for her children. It sounded like she got away from him for a minute, but Lonnie had had enough. Mandy let out a cry. “That’s it, bitch!” A loud slap came from the house, and it sounded like she hit the floor. I chanced a look into the window and could see Lonnie grab her by her hair and start to drag her down the hall.
“Git ur ass in the bedrum, dammit. I’ve waited a long tam fer this! Yew deal with ’em snot-nosed brats. Yew kin have a turn on ’er when I’m dun.” With that Lonnie dragged her into the bedroom and partially closed the door. Thomas grabbed both of the wailing children by the arm and dragged them to the closet. He opened the door and threw them in. “Shut the fuck up, you damn brats!”
He slammed the door and started to pull the coffee table over to the door. While his back was to me, I crawled up onto the porch and got up beside the screen door. Taking off my hat, I threw it on the porch in front of the door by the steps and tried to get as flat as I could against the wall. The coffee table banged down on the floor.
“Gawd damn screamin’ runts, fuck!” Thomas said as he walked toward the door. He stopped just inside the door, and I heard him digging around his pockets. The unmistakable sound of a Zippo lighter popping open came from no more than six inches from my face and then the strike. I could smell the tobacco catch and heard him close the lighter. In the back of the house, Mandy was still screaming, and the sound of tearing fabric filled the house.
“Now im gunna show yew whut yer good fer!” Lonnie yelled.
“Then I will,” Thomas said as he pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch, the door banging shut behind him. He stepped out to where my hat was lying on the porch. His right hand was in the pocket of his jeans, and I could see the grip of the revolver sticking out of his back pocket; Lonnie must have passed it to him, or he had his own. Thomas was looking down at the hat and stuck the toe of his boot out toward it. I took a step closer to him as I raised the hatchet. I brought it down with all my might on the crown of his head; the wet thunk sound was sickening. He immediately went limp and fell face first on the porch, his head hanging over the first step and the handle of the hatchet sticking straight up.
I opened the screen door and sidestepped inside. The bedroom door at the end of the short hall was open about four inches, and I could make out movement but not much else. I eased up to the door and brought my pistol up; my eyes were burning a hole through the front sight. Inside I heard Mandy gagging and Lonnie cursing.
“Open yer fuckin’ mouth, bitch!”
I used my left elbow to push the door open. Mandy was sitting on the edge of the bed, naked. He was standing in front of her with his pants around his knees. He had two fists full of hair pulling her head toward him. “Hey, Lonnie,” I said in a low voice. He turned h
is head over his left shoulder. I squeezed the trigger, and the round hit him just below the corner of his left eye, snapping his head back. That stupid-ass hillbilly hat flew from his head as his lifeless body fell to the floor. The explosion of the shot caused Mandy to scream out; she flung herself back onto the bed and pulled her knees up into a fetal position. I looked down at the body. There was a terry cloth robe lying on the end of the bed. I picked it up and moved toward Mandy; my hands were shaking so badly that I thought I would drop it.
I tried to cover her, but she was fighting me, screaming like a banshee. “I’m not going to hurt you! Calm down!” She was obviously in shock. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her. On the nightstand was a glass of water. I picked it up and threw the water on her. That stopped her, and she fell back on the bed, sobbing, not even trying to cover herself. I took the robe and covered her. “I’m not going to hurt you, and neither are they. Can you get up? I’m going to go get your kids. Can you get up?” I was trying to calm her down and get her head working again.
“My kids?” She sat up clutching the robe.
“Yeah, they’re okay. I’ll go get them. Get yourself together and come out. I don’t want to bring them in here. She looked around the room and gasped, covering her mouth. Most of what little brains Lonnie had were on the wall and curtains, along with hair, meat, and bone. It was a horrible-looking damn mess. I pulled the comforter off the bed and threw it over his corpse. “Come out when you can, okay?”
I went out of the room. Pulling the table away from the door and opening it, I was greeted with the faces of two scared-shitless kids. Their eyes were red and puffy; the little one had snot all over her face.
“It’s okay, guys. Mommy’s okay. Come here.” I picked the little one up; her diaper was full—I mean, we’re talking load-test full. I reached out for the little guy’s hand. “Come on, big brother, can you show me where mommy keeps the diaper bag so we can change sister’s diaper?” He stood up, and I could see he had wet himself too. I can’t blame them; I was surprised I didn’t piss my pants. He took my hand and led me to the sofa, where he tried to pick up the bag from where it sat on the floor at the end of it.
I laid the little one out on the cushion. “Can you hand me a diaper, buddy?” He reached in and took one out. He had stopped crying, but the little one was still at it. He reached back into the bag and took a pacifier out and plugged it into her mouth, which did the trick. “Good job. Give me five!” I stuck my hand out, and he swatted it. In undoing the diaper, I was met with a horror. I would rather deal with Lonnie’s brains, I thought. “Yikes!” I said, and little man chuckled. “Can you give me the wipies?” He went back into the bag and pulled out the tub of wipes, set them down, opened the lid, and handed me one. I went to work. By now he was relaxed, she wasn’t crying, and it was quiet, except for the sound of Mandy retching down the hall. I finally got the little girl cleaned up and sat her up on the sofa. “You stay here and watch little sister. I’m gonna check on Mommy, okay?” He nodded.
I went to the kitchen and found the trash can. The bag in it had a little trash but not much. I pulled the bag out and dumped the contents into the can. I went to the bedroom; Mandy was in the bathroom with the door shut. I went over to the body; grabbing the bag by the bottom, I pulled it inside out up my arm. Reaching down, I grabbed a handful of Lonnie’s hair; it was thick and slimy and at the same time gritty. Lifting the head, I pulled the bag down over it with my other hand and dropped it back on the floor with a thud. “I don’t guess that’s going to help much,” I said. The bedroom was a damn nightmare, and I leaned down to cover the body better with the comforter. In the living room, I heard Mandy talking to the kids; they were crying again, and so was she.
I walked out to the living room. “Miss, I’m gonna go over to your neighbors to check on them now. You gonna be okay for a minute?” She nodded, hugging her kids tight, with her face buried in their hair. I walked to the door. As I was pushing open the screen door, I heard, “Thank you.”
I turned to look at her. With tears in her eyes, she said it again, “Thank you.” After all the shit that just happened, this, this is what gets me kinda choked up. I felt a lump in my throat. All I could say was, “You’re welcome.” Then I turned and went out the door.
Walking out on the porch, I looked down at Thomas’s body; I felt pity for him. If it wasn’t for Lonnie, he wouldn’t be here. He was probably a good guy, if a little dimwitted. I’m sure he has a decent family that will miss him. Grabbing the hatchet by the handle, I wrenched it from his skull. I was surprised at how little blood there was. The hatchet had effectively sealed the wound, which bled very little. Upon removing it, a small flow began. I grabbed his legs and flipped him off the porch.
“Hello, the house!” I shouted as I approached the neighbors, I didn’t want to be shot.
The old man stepped out, this time with what looked like an old sixteen-gauge automatic shotgun cradled in his arms. He had cotton stuffed in both nostrils, and his eyes were already turning black. “Only one shot. Wur’d the uther’n go?”
“Neither of them are going anywhere. Could your wife come over and help her with the kids?” I motioned toward the house. As I did, an old woman came out of the house, holding her sweater closed across her stomach, and made for the house. She didn’t even acknowledge me as she went by.
When she got to the porch, I saw her look down at the body of Thomas. She didn’t even hesitate, going right up the stairs into the house. “Mandy!”
“Name’s James. That’s ma wife, Edith. You dun a good thang thur. He been comin’ around the last two days. We always got him to leave, though. Never thought he’d do anythin’ like is.” He nodded toward the house. “It’s good you was here. I don’t know whut woulda happened if you wasn’t.” We started walking toward the house; he stopped at Thomas’s body and looked down. “That’s a hard thing you done, son. Be careful, or that sort of thing will consume ya. I outta know. I looked into the eyes of six men as I kilt ’em. It’s somethin’ that will be with you ferever.” He looked at the hatchet in my hand, which I didn’t realize I was still holding. “Hell ova thing, son, hell ova a thing.”
We went into the house. Mandy and Edith were sitting on the sofa. “Ladies,” I said as I walked in.
Mandy looked up, “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything anyone else wouldn’t have. I’m glad you an’ the lil ones are safe. What are you going to do now?” I walked over and sat on the edge of the coffee table.
“I wanted to go to my mom n’ dad’s, but they live about fifteen miles from here an’ I can’t walk that far with the babies.” She motioned to the two little ones, who had wandered over to James. Apparently he kept suckers in the pocket of his overalls, and they knew it.
“Why don’t you load up what you and the kids need in that truck and get over there? It runs; you can make it.” I pointed to the truck. Mandy and Edith just sat there for a minute.
“Well? There’s no reason to stay here now. Go to your mom’s,” I said,
Edith jumped up. “Let’s go, honey. I’ll get the kid’s stuff. You get what you need.” And with that they were off.
While the ladies were packing up what they needed, James and I walked out to the truck. It was a rust bucket; James started it up, and it ran fine. It was without a doubt the loudest thing I had heard, though. It felt like being on the starting line at a damn funny car race. James shut the truck down. “Damn thing sounds like shit but runs strong,” James said.
“Yeah, from the way I saw them two yahoos driving it, it should make it fifteen miles.” I turned and went to the house.
The ladies had a pile of stuff by the front door. I started hauling it out to the truck and piled it in the back. They soon had everything they thought they needed. I went back into the house and poked around in the kitchen. There wasn’t much there; actual
ly there was nothing in there. Walking into the living room again, I asked, “Did you pack all your food up?”
“We didn’t have any. If it wasn’t for Edith and James, we wouldn’t eat.” She nodded toward the old couple.
“We couldn’t let you and them babies go hungry.” She tussled the little guy’s hair as she said it. “We never had any grandkids, so these are as good as ours. We love ’em jus’ the same.” Mandy walked over and hugged the old woman, both of them tearing up.
Mandy stepped back wiping her eyes. “We should go. It’s going to be dark soon.”
“Mandy, do you have a gun?” I asked.
“No, Ryan had to take his to the pawnshop. He was out of work for six months before getting the job on the rig.” You could tell she was afraid for him.
I walked out to the yard where Thomas’s body was lying and flipped it over, pulling the revolver from his back pocket. I patted his pockets real quick and found the lighter, a pack of 305s, and a Buck 110. Going back into the house, I checked Lonnie’s body. He had a BIC lighter and another pack of 305s. In his left front pocket were twelve .38-lead round-nose bullets. I flipped open the cylinder on the revolver, and it had the same thing. Pulling the knife from its sheath, I looked at the blade—it was cheap Pakistani steel—and dropped it on the floor. It wasn’t worth its weight to me. On second thought, I pulled the sheath from the belt and stuffed the knife in it.
Back in the living room, I asked Mandy, “You know how to shoot a gun?”
“Yeah, Daddy taught me how. I learned on a .22 revolver.”
I handed the revolver to her.
“Take this then. It’s basically the same thing, just a little bigger.” I held out the spare rounds and dropped them in her hand. She flipped open the cylinder and checked it and then, with a flip of her wrist, snapped it shut. Oh yeah, she’ll be just fine, I thought.