by Mark Tufo
We are illuminated in momentary strobes as lights come on, but the dimness returns. Quick enough that night vision is not drastically affected. More sounds of glass breaking come from the screen door, followed by a grinding, metallic twisting sound. The aluminum from the screen door screams in protest as though it is being bent in ways it was not designed to.
“Don’t concentrate on the sound in front, but focus on listening for sounds in your coverage area,” I whisper, not taking my eyes from the kitchen entrance.
I can’t see the kitchen from this angle so the first visual sign I will have of anything will be when it enters the room some twenty feet away. This is where I keep my gun aimed. I’m on my knees holding my gun and the shaft of the flashlight on the ground next to me, ready to bring it up if necessary. More of the metallic, twisting sound echoes inside and then, a loud pop. The screen door latch or hinge has popped off. I hear Bri sniffle and Nicole whisper to her, “It’s going to be alright Bri. I’m here.”
A loud, thundering boom comes from the front door. I don’t hear the wood give way so I think the door is still holding.
I should have put something across the door, I think as another booming thud sounds.
I wanted to leave two routes open to leave from in case we needed, but I never thought anything would be slamming into the doors with a semi. I feel my heart beat faster as it keeps my adrenaline flow up. My gun is still pointed at the kitchen entrance. My hand is steady but my mind is shaking as I think about my kids being here. I feel myself bracing for another impact, but only the deadened sound of silence prevails. The afterimage of the thuds still rings in my mind. The silence worries me almost as much as or more than the banging.
Another shriek reverberates through the night. This one seems to come from a little distance away. If I have to hazard a guess, I would say from a neighbor’s house or a little farther. Another scream erupts from the same area. It sounds more human and of someone experiencing total fear.
Oh my god, I think, there’s someone still alive.
Another scream shatters the night but is overshadowed by an ear-piercing shriek from just outside. Tin cans rattle once again. The last sound of the night is another shriek, but far off into the night. I hear no more screams or shouts.
“Everyone wait here,” I say and edge to the kitchen entrance with my cupped light and gun. At the corner, I peek around low and let a beam of light escape from between my fingers toward the front door to see it is still shut tight in the frame. I creep silently toward it, steeling myself in case another sudden thud comes.
Damn, I have to go to the bathroom, I think, edging up to the door to look through the peephole. If something bangs against the door right now, I may just let loose.
Looking out of the peephole, I see only the clear, starlit night. It is amazing just how much light reaches the earth and lights it up from stars millions of light years away. Many of them probably no longer in existence but their light still comes to rest on us. It’s mind boggling sometimes. The end of the gravel driveway and small rock wall across from me are lit up by these far away stars. I see a corner of the screen leaning outward to the right. Nothing is moving. I pull the door slightly testing its integrity. There is only a little give. I thank whomever it was in the night that screamed, drawing that thing away from us, and send my prayers their way asking the spirits to help them as they did us.
I walk back to the group. “Is everything okay, Dad?” Nicole asks from the shadows.
“Yeah, babe, I think so. For now at least,” I answer.
I head into the bathroom to relieve my full bladder brought on by my over-worked glandular system making a mental note to flush come morning. We drag our sleeping bags to where we were sitting, draw them over our legs for warmth, turn out our lights and wait.
An hour passes before everyone settles back into their bags to try to get some sleep while I keep watch. Judging from the rustling of the bags, not much rest is actually being done. I am exhausted from the day and night and want to drift off. Luckily, my mind is still keyed up and going a mile a minute so I don’t head off into dreamland. The only indication that morning has arrived is the sound of birds greeting the dawn outside.
I walk to the back door and peel back the blanket a touch to ensure that the day has indeed come to us. The light of the coming dawn shows through the crack between the blanket and the door’s window.
“Up and at ‘em,” I call out, but am met with only groans and the motion of teens rolling over in their bags. Well, apparently they did drift off at some point.
“Come on, everyone get up. We have a busy day,” I say, heading outside to start the generator.
The morning sun, just rising over the mountains to the east and peeking its way through the trees, greets me. The world spins as it has in the past and will continue to do so regardless of what happens to the life inhabiting this rock flying through space. The day is beginning to warm up. The screen door hangs outward and to the side, held on only by the bottom hinge. Broken glass lies on the front deck. I look at the jamb and find it has come loose but held up amazingly well considering how hard the front door had been hit. The cans lie twisted on the deck with the strings still attached.
After starting the generator, I tell everyone to roll up their bags before heading over to my place to gather my stuff. Arriving at the front door, I take out my gun and throw the door open. Light reaches inside through the door turning the darkness into a lighter gray. No movement. I reach in and turn on the lights. It is only a large single room, so I see at once that it is clear, just as I left it the day prior. I switch into a flight suit and gather clothes, toiletries, and other gear putting them into my olive drab duffle bag. I also put my abalone shell, cedar, wooden matches, and my black and red paint into a red bag to take along.
“What’s that for? Cool factor?” Robert asks as I walk back in, referring to my flight suit.
“Nah, lots of convenient pockets, and, if there are any military personnel left, I may be able to bluff my way through,” I answer.
“Can I wear one?” Robert asks.
“No. Although we may be able to pass you off, the chances are slim. Not with them both having the same nametag. Besides, I only have one flight cap,” I reply.
We eat a quick breakfast and throw our gear into the vehicles. I grab a ladder from outside and bring it in to provide access to the attic for Mom to use as a bastion of refuge. I also store some candles, food, water, matches, flashlight, and batteries, so she will have items already there in case she has to move fast. She is still adamant about staying.
“If you have to use that, bring the ladder up after you and shut the access hatch. You may be able to get down during the day, but be very careful about that since it’ll be dark inside the house at all times. You may have to stay up there for a few days. Don’t forget to bring your gun and ammo if you have any more,” I tell her, standing at the foot of the ladder. “We’ll be back in a few days. You can set the cans up on the deck steps each night to give you some warning.”
The water has had a chance to heat up by this time so we all bathe. With the last of the gear loaded, and feeling a little refreshed, we head to the vehicles. Robert and Michelle will be in the Honda. Nicole, with Bri on her lap, will ride with me in the Jeep. Robert, Nicole, and Bri all give Mom a hug before I step up to give her one.
“I love you, Mom,” I tell her. “I am so thankful for you. You be careful.”
“I love you, too!” she says, and I leave her embrace with tears welling in my eyes.
“Stay right behind me,” I tell Robert as he opens the driver’s door. “If you need to stop or pull over, flash your lights or pull up beside me and let me know.”
“Okay, Dad,” he responds.
“If I pull over, pull over with me but keep a little distance. I’ll wave you closer if I need to. I’m planning on stopping at Kennedy Creek for a little bit and then, the Fred Meyer in Tumwater before we head up north,” I say.
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nbsp; He gives me an odd look and a nod before picking up the keys and climbing into the car. The sun hasn’t yet cleared the top of the trees as we pull out of the driveway and begin our journey. I look into the rearview mirror and see Mom waving to us from her position on the front porch. We turn out of the driveway and she disappears from sight. I feel an immense sadness fill my heart.
“Be safe,” I say under my breath.
We head down the road and onto the highway. I glance at the gas station as we pass. Everything still looks as it did yesterday; the white truck still parked as it was before. The roads are quiet. Passing by the casino again, I oddly notice that significantly more cars are parked there than at any of the stores or other places we have been.
Funny, I think shaking my head, how people would still flock there despite all that was going on. Perhaps that’s a little indication about human nature?
Farther down the road I make the turn toward Kennedy Creek. We have spent a lot of time here in the past, whether hiking up the creek, mountain biking in the hills and woods, or just climbing around. We park the vehicles and climb out.
“Are we going to your place?” Nicole asks, stretching her legs.
“Yeah, Nic,” I answer.
“Can I go with you?” she asks.
“Sure, I would love to have you with me,” I reply. “Are you guys coming with?” I ask, addressing the rest of our little group. “Or do you want to wait here?”
“How long will you be?” Robert asks.
“Not long…under an hour,” I answer.
“I’ll stay here with Michelle,” Robert pipes up.
“No offense, Dad, but I really don’t want to walk that far,” Bri comments.
“Okay, guys. Watch out for others and honk if you see anything,” I say as Nicole and I begin to head up the dirt road.
We all have our own special place in these hills. For Robert and me, we have our mountain, which we have dubbed Mt. Robdad. We have spent the better part of summer days riding our mountain bikes up there, prowling around the ridgelines and exploring various trails. It takes us around two hours of hard riding to get up there. We also hike the creek for miles under the hot sun. Sometimes, I’ve taken Bri to the creek down a little lower on hot summer days. There are several pools where we play in the water all day long. But Nicole, I take her to my special place in the woods.
We hike up the road, mostly in silence, enjoying each other’s company even in our present circumstance. This place has always been a place of peace and harmony for me. We turn off the road after a bit and start up through the trees. The land slopes upward into the firs and cedars blanketing the area, and we climb up to where an old cedar stump sits on a hill. The stump stands taller than me and is about six feet across. The scar of an old lightning strike is sliced into it with chunks of still-scorched wood and bark lying about its ancient roots. This is where I gather the charcoal for my black paint. Beyond is a little clearing between sharply rising hills that ends against a cliff. A very small creek flows through the middle originating from beneath the cliff at the far end. I found this place long ago. It is a place where the spirits live, showing themselves from time to time.
“I love coming here with you, Dad,” Nicole says as we place our phones, money, knives, guns, and anything along those lines at the base of the stump. “It’s so peaceful here.”
“I love you here with me, Nic,” I say, reaching my arm around her shoulder and giving her a quick hug.
I pull out my abalone shell, cedar, and matches. Putting the cedar in the shell and lighting it, we smudge ourselves before stepping past the stump and out into the clearing. The sun beyond the cliff wall has not reached the bottom of this small valley, but casts streaks of light as it glows through the trees growing at the top of the cliff. Walking across the spongy ground, I lean down to the small creek splashing my face and hands. We climb and take a seat on the ground a part of the way up the hill. This is a place where I come to settle my mind and contemplate. Nicole comes with me when I do. I sit and let the place fill me. Squirrels run up and down the trees chasing each other and who knows what else as Nic sits by my side, taking in the place herself. Sometimes, clear answers will come to me here and sometimes, it is just a spiritual filling up.
As the sun’s rays touch the small valley floor, I reach over and pat Nic’s knee a couple of times. “Ready?”
“Yeah, Dad,” she says, looking up with a smile.
We walk out of the valley, gather up our stuff, and head back to our vehicles. On our stroll back, I think about this whole area and how we have all enjoyed exploring here, wondering if we will still be able to in the future or whether all of this and our time here will just be memories.
Back at the vehicles, we take our places once again and drive away, leaving the trees to go their way and perhaps reflect on our passage. Hitting the highway, we continue our journey to the beach.
If all of this had to go down, why couldn’t it have happened in another month? Then, Lynn would have already been home. Everything for a reason I guess, I think, glancing in the rearview to see Robert driving behind.
Reaching the interstate, I turn southbound heading toward the next exit, which will take us to Fred Meyer. The flight computer and watch will come in handy. While that is a mostly true statement, I also know it is a little bit of a rationale. Part of it is that it is a nice watch, I want it, and it is just sitting there.
The lanes of the interstate stretch ahead and behind us. There are a couple of vehicles on the shoulders of the road but for the most part, it is as empty as any other road we have seen. A semi is to the side just prior to the exit with a triangle hazard reflector sitting along the road behind it. Passing by it, I take the exit ramp. I had expected the exit ramps this close to town to be partially blocked, or at least have a few more cars on them, but it is completely clear. Coming to the intersection at the top of the ramp, I notice the traffic lights are dark. Either the emergency power that was operating yesterday has now failed or maybe, it’s just in this part of town. Proceeding across the street, with Robert behind, we pull into the parking lot.
I stop in front and in the shadow of the building. There are no cars in the parking lot, and the front glass doors stare back with darkness inside. I leave the Jeep running as I step outside and walk to the back gathering everyone else.
“The jewelry store is just inside to the right, so we won’t have to go in very far,” I say, nodding in the direction of the doors. “It opens up in front and to the left as well. I want Robert and Michelle inside but just at the doors. Nic and Bri, you stay here with the cars.”
I gather the flashlights we brought with us. “Robert, you cover to the left. Michelle, you cover ahead. I’ll be going in to the right,” I tell them. “We don’t need anything here, so we leave if there is anything inside. Call out if you see anything.”
Before closing the rear door, I grab duct tape and slide it around my left wrist once more thinking, this would have been a great ad for duct tape. Bite protection. I plan to use it to tape and smash in the glass covering the jewelry counter.
“Robert, go start your car and leave it running,” I tell him as I move to the front door.
There are two sets of double doors with glass panels set in between. Looking inside the one on the right, I see that the radiant light stretches a ways inside. Clothing racks are to the left and fruit stands are ahead. Looking to the right, the security fence to the jewelry store is open.
Thank god, I think, turning on my light.
Pressing it against the glass in the same manner as I did at the gas station, I pan the light around the inside. A Starbucks counter comes into view, as does a deli counter stretching into the darkness next to it. I discern no movement within.
“Test the doors,” I tell Robert.
“They’re unlocked,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, pushing myself away, glad for 24-hour stores. Pushing the door open with my shoulder, I step inside followed by Robert and th
en, Michelle. “You two hold these doors open.”
Glancing back outside, I see Nic and Bri leaning against the Jeep.
“Robert, you have that area there,” I whisper, sweeping an arc with my light to the left. “Michelle, you have that one.” I light another arc in front. I step ahead and to the right as their beams sweep their designated areas.
It’s darker in the jewelry portion of the store due to its angle to the radiant light. The same goes for the rest of the store. An inky blackness swallows up the areas where my light doesn’t reach. I edge to the jewelry entrance and peek around the corner with the flashlight extended out. A slow check of the inside reveals nothing but glass cases of rings, bracelets, and watches. Inside, I lean over the first counter shining the light along the aisle behind the counter. Nothing. Moving to the far glass case, I do the same. Nothing. Checking out the store proper, I flash my light down the aisle stretching away. Nothing.
I set the light on the glass case with the light playing out into the store, covering the area as best as I can, while tearing off several lengths of duct tape. I cover a section of glass with the tape to prevent glass flying and it cuts down on the noise. I pull out my knife and smack down on the glass with the butt hearing the glass crack below the tape. I hit it again and the glass gives. I tap a few more times to clear away the glass around the edges and lift the tape peeling the broken glass with it. Reaching in, I grab the watch, sticking it in my pocket for later. A loud CRACK-BOOM fills the inside of the store.
I grab the flashlight and spin around toward the front entrance, going to my knee and bringing my gun to bear. My light stabs out toward the entrance. I am just in time to see a strobe-like flash as another gunshot rolls through the interior. I don’t see Robert or Michelle as the wall of the jewelry store blocks my view of the front doors. I see both of their lights are flashing over to the clothes section where Robert was covering.