by Ryan Garner
….
David Jennings lifted the weighty, OD green Pelican Case up on top of his kitchen table and set it down on the wood surface with a clunk. A fit white male with black, salt and pepper hair and a few days growth on his beard, David had kept himself in relatively good shape for a man in his mid-forties. He wore black BDU pants and a snug dark blue t-shirt. Black combat boots and a holster on his right side containing a Glock 21 .45 caliber handgun and a double magazine pouch on the opposite side of his body finished out his attire. As he took stock of his weapons the sound of the mob making its way further into his neighborhood and closer to his home was growing louder by the second.
He quickly unlatched the five clasps that kept the high impact plastic case secured and opened the top cover revealing a dark gray interior. Set inside the spongy foam was a Colt AR-15 rifle. A former Army Ranger turned mechanic, David had chosen never to obtain a level III permit or register any of his weapons. And of course he would never willingly turn in his firearms either; even after President Jordan had given the unconstitutional order to do so. Today he was particularly thankful that he had made the decisions to disobey. With a riotous mob flooding into his community he knew there was a good chance that it was going to take everything he had to defend his family.
Over the years he had elected to put a few additions onto his rifle; a quad forend rail and grip, a weapon mounted high intensity LED flashlight, a red dot reflex sight, and a single point sling to ease with carrying. A dozen fully loaded thirty round magazines and a carrier vest were also stored inside the Pelican Case. He removed the rifle, pulled back the charging handle checking for an empty chamber and then removed one of the thirty round magazines from the case and slid it into the magazine well, hearing a click when it locked in place. He then set the rifle down on top of the case.
“Are you sure this is necessary? The police might be here any minute or they might just pass right on through.” Debora Jennings, David’s wife of twenty years asked in a nervous tone.
“I hope you’re right.” he said as he moved further down the kitchen table and placed another Pelican Case on it. Unlatching the clasps he opened the chest revealing a Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun with an extended magazine tube. It too had a weapon mounted LED flashlight, a sidesaddle with extra shells attached to the frame of the weapon, and a two point sling. Several cases of Federal Vital-Shok 00 Buckshot were also inside the case. David removed the shotgun and after depressing the action bar lock switch he slid the forend to its rearward position and checked the empty chamber of the weapon. He then dropped a 00 Buckshot shell into the open chamber and moved the forend back to its forward position, combat loading one round into the chamber before he began to load additional rounds into the magazine tube.
“I really do hope the police arrive soon or they just move right on through and go on about their way, but I can’t afford not to be prepared if they don’t.” David said as he looked over at his wife who had a fearful look on her face. After pacing back and forth their yellow Labrador had taken a seat next to Deborah. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he could sense something was amiss.
“Tom!” David called to his 14 year old son who quickly appeared in the kitchen entryway. He motioned for him to come over and David carefully handed the shotgun to his son.
“It’s already loaded with one in the chamber, safety’s on.” Tom nervously nodded his head as he took the firearm and pulled the two point sling over his upper body. He had shot this weapon numerous times before, but this time the situation was drastically different.
“I need you to guard the back door and help protect your mother and sister while I watch the front door. Can you do that?” David tried to sound as calm and soothing as possible even though his own stomach was in knots and his heart was pounding rapidly. Although it was obvious that his son was shaken, Tom still nodded his head in agreement.
“Ye…yes sir.” He responded.
“David…What are you doing?” Debora asked becoming more visibly shaken by the minute.
“Protecting you and the rest of our family.” he said in a much more serious tone as he glanced over at his beautiful wife. She was more casually dressed than he was, wearing jeans and a blouse. Upon his insistence she too was wearing a sidearm; a Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm.
“Where’s Taylor?” David asked.
“In her room…she’s getting pretty scared.”
“Can you bring her down here for me please?” David asked, his tone shifting back to a reassuring one, hoping his relaxed nature would give some comfort to his wife. After a moment’s hesitation she turned and left the kitchen. He could hear her climbing the stairs of the house a few moments later. David’s Labrador, Radar chose to stay in the kitchen with his owner.
David reached across the table and retrieved a holstered Ruger SR22 .22 caliber handgun. His 12 year old daughter had shot this firearm before, but he had never dreamed he’d be giving it to her for self-defense at such a young age. David hoped it would merely be a precaution and that such a horrible decision would not be forced upon his young daughter.
A few minutes past before Deborah reemerged in the kitchen with Taylor in tow. David walked over to his daughter with the Ruger in his hand. It was readily apparent that she was already frightened and that the growing sounds of the riotous crowd outside only increased her distress. He couldn’t blame her, seeing an angry mob of hundreds descending on their neighborhood would put anyone on edge. David knelt down in front of his 12 year old daughter trying to exude an aura of calm for his scared child.
“Taylor, do you remember when we went out to the McCarthy’s farm and went shooting those times?”
Taylor nodded her head.
“You remember what we all talked about afterwards, about why we keep guns in the house?”
“Yeah…” Taylor responded in a weak voice.
David handed the holstered SR22 over to his daughter. “Well there are some very dangerous and bad people outside and that time may be here so I need you to be brave and hang onto this just in case, okay?” Taylor’s heart was beating rapidly as she reached out and took the weapon. After taking it she carefully moved it to her waist and clipped the holster onto her jeans. Unbeknownst to David, Tom, and Taylor, Deborah quickly wiped a tear away from her cheek. This shouldn’t be happening. Her children should not have to go through this. She knew her husband was absolutely right in all that he was doing, but it didn’t make the situation any more bearable.
“Now can you do me a favor and make sure all the lights in the house are turned off and then meet your mother in the living room after that?”
“Yeah…” Taylor said in a weak and nervous tone as she turned and walked out of the room. David was relatively certain that all the lights in the house except the ones in the kitchen were already off, but giving her a task to complete was his way of trying to keep her mind focused and off the worst possibilities. Deborah gave him a confused look after he gave their daughter her instructions.
“Maybe they’ll think no one is home and pass right on by.” he said. Deep down, he severely doubted this theory. Deborah took a deep breath. David could tell she was struggling with her emotions. He stood and walked over to his wife placing his hands on her shoulders.
“You’re going to be okay.” he said. “The kids are going to be okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to any of you...I promise.” She nodded her head in response to his statement, still fighting back her fear and tears.
“Thank you.” She whispered in a raspy voice.
“Dad?” Tom said in a distressed voice at which point David looked over at his son who had a very disturbed look on his face.
“Yes?”
“If…” Tom balked, “…if someone tries to break into the house…does that mean I should shoot them?” A weighted silence fell upon the room after Tom asked this momentous question. His son was asking if he should kill someone. It was a question that both David and his wife never imagined they wo
uld ever have to answer, especially given their children’s age. The inquiry almost seemed to signal the death of innocence on Tom’s part. Both parents felt their hearts sink upon knowing full well what the answer must be. After a brief pause David finally answered.
“Yes…shoot them.”
….
“They’re getting closer.” Lauren Hammond looked nervously out of the oversized bay window in her parent’s dining room and up the street towards the large crowd that was steadily encroaching further and further into her neighborhood. The young, 14 year old girl with brown hair and blue eyes, daughter of Ken and Lori Hammond had never seen anything even remotely like this before. The most unrest this community had ever seen was the occasional loud party, or reckless driver. The shock over a vehicle break-in would be talked about for weeks after it occurred. Today there appeared to be an angry mob, hundreds of people forcing their way closer and closer to her family’s home, but why were they even here? Why were they so angry? What had her family and neighborhood ever done to them?
“Have you gotten through to 911 yet?” Ken Hammond asked his wife as they nervously paced about in their kitchen and adjoined living room area making repeated calls on their phones.
“No…All I get is a stupid busy signal.” she responded in an annoyed voice as she tapped a few different places on her phone's touch screen display and began to dial again.
“Me too…” Wendy Hammond, Ken’s oldest daughter said almost immediately after her mother had finished speaking. At 16 years old Wendy looked much more mature than her age. A beautiful girl with full bodied blond hair she could have easily passed for a young college student in her early twenties.
Growing more concerned by the minute, Ken, a middle aged dentist and die hard suburbanite dialed 911 again on his cell phone. He received the same response they had all gotten for the last twenty five minutes; a busy signal. It was quite unsettling for him since 911 was never supposed to be busy. The calls were supposed to keep rolling over to other dispatchers until someone finally answered the phone. That was what he remembered hearing in a news story several years ago and that was how he thought the system was supposed to work. At worst, if Wilmington’s communications center was overwhelmed the calls should be routed to New Hanover County, and then to the Highway Patrol after that. Why weren’t any dispatchers answering the phones?! Why weren’t the police here already?! Surely, numerous other homeowners in his neighborhood had already called 911 and some of them had to have managed to get through. Why weren’t there squad cars and armed police men and SWAT teams and helicopters everywhere by now? He was a tax paying citizen and currently the police were neglecting their duties to him. He firmly intended to write a letter of complaint about this to both the chief of police and the city manager as soon as this was all over.
“Where are the police?” Lori asked Ken her voice noticeably more stressed.
“I…I don’t know. I’m sure they are on the way…they would have to be. I’m sure someone in the neighborhood has gotten through to them. They'll be here soon I'm sure.”
“Why aren’t they answering their phones then?!!” Lori’s voice rose as she walked from the living room into the dining room where Lauren was still standing. Looking outside she saw a few small groups of people moving down the road in front of her house. The large bulk of the crowd was still further up the street, but small gangs of people were now beginning to wander closer and closer to her home. She again dialed 911 on her phone and again received a busy signal.
“Damn it…” she said in an exasperated tone.
Suddenly, out on the street where Lori had left her minivan parked she observed a male approach her vehicle with what appeared to be a hammer in his hand. To her and Lauren's astonishment he smashed out the passenger side window of her vehicle. After reaching inside and unlocking the passenger door he jerked it open and he and another male and female began to rummage around inside of the vehicle.
“KEN!!!” Lori shrieked. “Ken!!!”
“Dad!! Dad!!” Lauren shouted as Ken quickly came running into the room.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Those people! They’re breaking into my car!” Lori said. Both his wife and daughter stared at Ken waiting for him to do something. Not knowing what else he could do he glanced down at his smartphone and dialed 911 again; and again he received a busy signal.
“What are we gonna do?” Lori asked as she watched the looters begin to pull items out of her vehicle. Ken gave her a blank stare. Finding no immediate resistance to their actions the crowd around Lori’s van began to grow larger and more aggressive.
Just then, another person in the group smashed out another window on Lori’s vehicle. Glass spilled out onto the ground and around the van. At that moment the flood gates seemed to open. Everyone wandering about in the immediate area descended upon the Hammond’s minivan and began to kick, strike, and assault the van; it was as if they were trying their best to destroy the vehicle.
“KEN!!!” Lori shouted. “Stop them!”
“What the hell do you want me to do?!” Ken snapped back angrily at his wife. “I can’t exactly go out there and fight all of them off!”
The small crowd was getting even more destructive and Lori’s vehicle was being rocked back and forth violently until finally in a display that shocked everyone watching, the van was turned over onto its side. The small group cheered and laughed before they slowly began to move on further down the neighborhood.
Ken, Lori, and Lauren were speechless as they watched helplessly as their property was destroyed before the small crowd finally moved off. The noise of the large mob was growing louder and louder. Shouts, screams, and the sounds of breaking glass and other violent noises were getting closer by the second. By now most of the mob was less than a block away from the Hammond’s home. People were quickly streaming through the small neighborhood roadway, smashing and grabbing anything that they wanted.
Even though the light from the setting sun had almost faded away completely enough illumination remained that now due to their closer proximity Ken and the rest of his family were able to get a better look at the bulk of the people that made up the angry crowd. It was primarily males, but there were plenty of females mixed in with the group. Most were of what some would call a “minority” decent, but Ken had no idea why they were all in his neighborhood. It did them no good to come here if this was some sort of protest about equality, jobs, government subsidies, or anything else. In fact he could make out a few banners above the masses that indicated this was their very reason for congregating. While he sympathized greatly with their cause, destroying others’ property was not an effective way to get their point across.
“911 is still busy.” Wendy stated as she walked into the dining room where the rest of her family was standing.
Suddenly, a hard object struck the top frame of the bay window. The impact created a loud thud and the window rattled in its frame. Lori and Wendy jumped, while Lauren let out a brief shriek of fear.
“Let’s get out of this room so they don’t see us.” Ken stated as he began to hurriedly guide Lauren and Wendy away from the window and back further into the assumed safety of the house.
“Ken!!! Ken!!!” Lori shouted as she frantically motioned for her husband to come back over to her.
“What?” He said as he rushed back up.
“Look down there, at the Johnson’s house!” Lori said with tears of dread in her eyes as she pointed at one particular house.
What Ken saw utterly horrified him. A group of men who had initially only been banging on the front door of the home were now engaged in a full on attempt to break down the door. The flimsy wood stopgap did not hold for very long. After a few angry kicks from the group of males the door was smashed open and then numerous members of the crowd flooded into the home. The ambient noise of the mob was already too loud to make out anything specific, but Ken assumed that screaming could be heard coming from inside the home. In fact, he was sure he
could actually hear the Johnson family screaming for help from their now breached home.
Once access had been gained more and more people in the violent horde descended upon the Johnson’s home. Lower floor windows were smashed and side doors were broken down so that additional rioters could gain access at a faster pace. People were aggressively making their way into the house any way they could and at a shockingly fast speed. As they watched the dreaded incident unfold Ken and the rest of his family believed it couldn’t possibly get any worse, but then they saw it.
People were being dragged out of the house. It was easy to see them even in the dwindling light; their fair skin was a stark contrast to the rest of the crowd. While he couldn’t make out exactly who it was that was being forced from their home Ken could tell that it was one male and one female, probably the owners Bret and Heather. He barely knew them, but he had taken the time to learn that the Johnson’s had at least two children. He couldn’t tell if those children were outside among the mass of barbarous people or not.
While Bret was being pulled out of his home by both his arms, Heather was carried out in a much more disturbing and fierce way. A few of the females in the crowd had seized her by her long brown hair and were viciously dragging her away from the home. When she fell to the ground the gang did not afford her the chance to stand; they just continued to drag her. Ken watched in terror as Bret was thrown to the ground on the front lawn of his house and descended upon like an injured gazelle by a group of bloodthirsty hyenas. He was beaten mercilessly and after a few seconds Ken lost sight of him in the growing mass of people.
Heather seemed destined for a far crueler fate. Jerked to her feet and tossed about by the mob for what seemed to be an eternity in Ken's mind, her clothes and body were groped and manhandled more and more fiercely as each second ticked by and the crowd grew increasingly frenzied. Finally, a group of females militantly took hold of her and forcibly thrust her into a gathering of males that were positioned just out in the street. The barbaric horde of men seemed to devour the poor woman and within a few seconds Ken could no longer see her. Now all he observed was a large group of people all fighting to get to the area where Heather had once been. Ken heard Lori gasp in horror.