by Ryan Garner
“You better run...” One of the men said angrily before the three males sprinted towards Ken as he moved towards the fireplace to obtain his makeshift weapon. Just as he grabbed the poker one of the rioters who was built like a linebacker collided with him at full speed. Ken was knocked violently off his feet and crashed to the floor with a thud. The impact was so hard that it caused him to release both the poker stick and his flashlight; each rolling off in a different direction when he landed. The flashlight cast a surreal specter of illumination over the room. Before he had the chance to react much less pick himself up off the floor he was struck in the head by someone’s foot. The blows after this came fast and hard and over and over again; a variation of kicks, punches, knees, and elbows as the three attackers pummeled him mercilessly. The pain was agonizing as he rapidly felt himself being beaten into unconsciousness.
Lori was completely frozen in terror as she sat weeping on the carpet. “Why are you doing this to us?!” she cried out.
“It’s not our fault you can’t fight back.” She heard a female voice say just off to her right. She turned to look, but before her eyes could even focus on the person standing beside her, she was struck in the face by a hard object. The pain was excruciating and she was knocked to the floor. She immediately felt blood begin to gush from her nose and mouth. She was stunned and could not see, but she could hear the laughter coming from the group of people now standing over her.
“Wow…white girls bleed a lot.” Another female heckled from the crowd that continued to grow around her. A sobbing and bloody Lori was then jerked up by her hair and struck again, this time across the side of her face. Down to the floor she fell again.
“Ken!!!” She cried out just as she was kicked square in the stomach by a rough edged boot. The wind was immediately knocked out of her and she gagged, coughed, and struggled for a breath of air that would not come. Ken never responded, his limp body continued to be battered by several of the men who had stormed their home.
Before Lori could catch her breath she felt someone grab a fist full of her hair and jerk her back into an upright position; there was so much blood smeared all over her, much of the rest of her hair stuck to her face. Several sets of hands grabbed her arms and clothing and aggressively pulled her to her feet. She glanced over to the last place where she had seen Ken only to watch helplessly as the group of large men continued to viciously beat his limp, swollen, and bloodied body. Still unable to breath, Lori could not even scream at the horror of her situation.
She was grabbed, pushed, and jabbed before again being knocked back to the floor. Numerous hands were on her, too many to count. Some were hitting her while others groped her body and pulled at her clothes until they began to tear away from her. At long last she was finally able to draw oxygen back into her lungs. Lori took in one deep gulp of air and let out a blood curdling scream as the assault on her body continued.
….
Wendy hurried Lauren into her bedroom and quickly shut and locked the door behind them. She then moved a wooden desk chair in front of the door, jamming the back of it under the doorknob; trying to barricade the entrance as best as she could. They could already hear shouting and sounds of a scuffle coming from downstairs, it sounded like people were fighting.
“What are we going to do?” Lauren asked as she frantically looked around the room with her flashlight before finally making her way over to a window and carefully looking out from behind the drawn curtain. There were dozens of people in front of her home and hundreds more moving around the immediate area. Trying to escape would be impossible. Lauren was more than terrified. She could hear the continued gunfire coming from the direction of her neighbor’s home and saw flashes from the Jennings’ large bay window. How she wished her own family had some means of defending itself against the bloodthirsty mob.
Moving over to her closet Wendy opened the door and began to pull out some totes, boxes, and other various pieces of clothing creating an opening that someone could slip through.
“You’re going to hide in my closet’s crawlspace. I don’t think anyone will find you in there and you’ll be safe until it’s over.”
“What about you?” Lauren asked.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll find someplace else to hide.” Wendy responded as she beckoned to Lauren with her free hand and pulled back some more clothes creating a larger entryway. Hidden inside the closet was a small set of double doors that led into a small crawlspace. Wendy and her family had never used it, but since she had been a child she had always suspected that it would make a good hiding spot. She knew they would find out if that assumption was true or not today.
Suddenly, Lauren and Wendy’s world was rocked when they both heard their mother’s bloodcurdling scream. A sickening and horrific feeling overtook them both. They couldn’t help it; each girl began to wonder what was being done to their mother just several yards away from their position. After an ever so brief pause their mother let out another excruciating screamed again, this time even louder. If it were possible she sounded as if she was in even more pain this time around. Tears streamed down Lauren’s face and she could not move. Instead she just covered her ears trying to blot out the sounds of their mother’s wails. A third scream came, but this time it was cut off shortly after it began. What had the people downstairs done to their mother? Wendy could only wonder as more and more disturbing answers flooded the forefront of her mind. However, for the moment there was no time to dwell on such things. Wendy quickly walked over to Lauren and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards the closet.
“You have to hide.” Wendy said trying to fight off her own tears and stay strong for her sister.
“Hide with me.” Lauren said as she moved into the closet.
“I can’t…they’ll know we’re inside if someone doesn’t put everything back where it was.”
“Wendy please! Don’t leave me alone!” Lauren begged.
“No…hide…I’ll be fine, I promise.” Wendy said as she pushed her sister towards the tiny crawl space. Lauren carefully moved through the small opening and then saw Wendy close the doors behind her. She heard the sound of boxes, and other materials being stacked back up in front of the entrance doorway. Just then, Lauren heard a frighteningly loud pounding sound coming from Wendy’s bedroom door. People from the mob were now upstairs and trying to get into the bedroom.
….
David swiftly raised his upper body above the window line and took aim with his rifle. There were dozens of people standing around in his front yard and hundreds more in the street. He quickly searched the area for a threat. His sight was assisted by the illumination of burning cars and other property. It only took a split second for him to find a threatening individual.
Standing on his lawn with a raised pistol in his hand was a young man dressed in bright red baggy clothing; David noted that the man’s pants sagged so low that he was surprised they hadn’t already fallen off of his body. For a brief moment David and the thuggish looking male locked eyes and just as the man began to point his weapon toward him, David squeezed the trigger of his rifle. David was so keyed up he did not hear the round go off thanks to the adrenaline fueled auditory exclusion. This led him to squeeze the trigger two additional times. Strangely, while he did not hear his weapon discharge he did hear the empty brass shell casings that had been expelled from his AR-15 strike the wood floor causing a distinct and hollow “clinking” sound.
All three rounds streaked through the shattered bay window and hit the rioter who barely had enough time to let out a brief screech of pain before he dropped to the ground. Almost immediately after disposing of this threat David heard another weapon discharge and a bullet entered the den area and struck the wall behind him. More weapons began to fire and he could hear the rounds impacting all around him. Looking to his right he observed another male near his front porch. Quickly shifting his upper body he reacquired his new target and fired three more rounds this time shattering a portion of the bay
window that had not already been destroyed. As the man fell backwards he fired his handgun sending a round flying wildly into the air.
Suddenly, David saw someone directly in front of him climbing through the large shattered window. He must have missed the looter’s approach during the action of the firefight. He briefly cursed himself for allowing someone to get this close to him and his family, but before the man had a chance to gain full access to the house David fired two more rounds. At that close a range there was almost no need to aim; his first round smashed into the man’s head and the other tore through his throat. Before the intruder had a chance to react he was hit two more times from behind. The mob had become so wild and crazed that the shooters weren’t even trying to pick their targets anymore; they were just firing their guns randomly at anything and everything. The aggressor’s body went limp and dropped away, hitting the windowsill with a fleshy thud before falling back into the holly bushes below the window.
That worked out well… David thought to himself as the dead man may have actually saved his life by stopping the incoming bullets.
A large portion of rioters had now taken notice of David’s home and were running quickly towards it. Dozens of them were forming a wave of oncoming bodies. Fortunately this helped to obscure the armed rioters’ ability to aim even though this did not stop them from shooting haphazardly into both the crowd and the house. The actions the mob had forced upon him made David sick to his stomach, but he quickly began to squeeze the trigger of his rifle over and over again as the crowd rapidly closed in on his position. The AR-15 sent round after round out through his window. Many people stumbled and fell the instant they were hit; however, in an ironic twist of fate, even if they weren’t killed by the gunfire the large and oblivious mob of attackers that followed behind the injured trampled over them with little regard as to their wellbeing. Others continued to run towards his home even after being struck by the 62 grain bullets, compelling him to fire multiple rounds into some of the same people. Due to the large number of attackers David knew it would only be a matter of time before the mob simply overran his house.
Just then, he heard the clank of his rifle’s bolt lock to the rear indicating an empty chamber. He ducked below the windowsill and dropped the empty magazine out of his firearm. People were pounding on his front door again and smoke hung in the air of the small den area. After firing so many rounds he could actually taste the sweet flavor of aerosolized gunpowder in the back of his mouth. It was a distracting sensation, almost as if someone had dumped an entire packet of sweet and low in the back of his throat.
Retrieving a fully loaded magazine from his carrier vest he slid it into the magazine well of the AR-15 and pressed the bolt catch with the thumb of his left hand sending the bolt carrier group back to its firing position with a metallic clank. Raising his body back above the windowsill David had just enough time to fire off several more rounds dropping a few more people who were moving up the stairs of his front porch.
Suddenly, he observed a female within the mob hurl what looked like a flaming bottle towards his position. David ducked out of the way of the Molotov Cocktail just in time to avoid injury, but he was unable to stop the incendiary device. The bottle struck the hard wooden floor of the den and the glass shattered, immediately spreading gasoline all over the floor and causing flames to spring up and over the couch that was located behind him. The fire rapidly climbed the wall reaching the ceiling in just seconds.
“Shit!” David shouted as he looked behind him just in time to see the wall become engulfed in flames. There was no time to stop the fire; it was already too late for that. The house was lost and would be consumed by flames in just a matter of minutes. David turned and fired off a few more rounds into the oncoming mob to slow their progress towards his front door. He then retrieved two cylinder shaped cardboard looking tubes from his carrier vest. Both were colored black, gray, and white, but could have easily been mistaken for a toilet paper roll except for a plastic circular pin that was protruding out of the top. Pulling the pin out of both cylinders David hurled them both through the bay window. One landed in the center of his home’s driveway while the other landed just short of it. A few seconds after they landed the cardboard tubes began to hiss and sputter and gray billowing smoke poured out of them helping to obscure the front section of his home.
A large portion of the aggressing crowd had observed the effects of the Molotov Cocktail and were now content to wait and see what the Jennings’ next move would be. Would the family stay inside and be burned alive or would they come outside to be devoured by the angry mob? It made no difference to most of them.
….
The popping sound of gunfire was suddenly and violently interrupted by the crashing sound of Wendy’s door giving way to the aggressors’ assault. A terrified Lauren huddled in a ball in the far corner of the small crawlspace, tears streaming down her face as she heard multiple sets of clogging footsteps storming into her sister’s room.
God help us… She prayed.
There was a brief pause then Lauren heard Wendy yelp before sounds of a struggle ensued. They must have found where her sister had been hiding. Lauren could hear the voices of both men and women shouting and yelling as noise from the scuffle continued to grow louder.
“Somebody grab her legs!!” An angry male barked.
“Hold that bitch down!!” A sinister female’s voice shouted as the loud crashing sound of furniture being overturned was heard. Wendy screamed.
No…please God no… Lauren continued to pray.
“Yeah! Work that white slut over like her mother!!” Another man yelled.
Lauren’s whole body was shaking uncontrollably as she heard her sister’s wasted pleas for mercy. By this time the mob had been worked into such a vicious, seething frenzy an emotion such as mercy was a foreign concept to them. Next came the disgusting sounds of her sister howling in pain. Hearing the noise of her sister’s horrific cries and the demonic laughter and enjoyment of the people who were doing so many awful things to Wendy, Laruen knew she was on the verge of completely losing it. Making any noise at all would give away her location so to keep herself quiet Lauren did the only thing that she could think of and bit down on her hand…hard. With every visceral noise that followed Lauren clamped down harder and harder. Soon she could taste blood her in mouth; her hand was bleeding.
The grotesque sounds of her sister being brutalized by the violent and murderous crowd were excruciating and Lauren felt utterly helpless and paralyzed with fear. More gunshots from across the street punctuated the sounds of Wendy’s barbaric and unrelenting assault. Lauren covered her ears with her hands, but could still hear the group cheering individuals on as they each took their turn with Wendy. As horrible as it sounded Lauren began to wish they would just kill her sister instead of putting her through this torment, but that fate seemed destined for an excruciating wait. Time ticked on as Wendy was violated and Lauren was forced to listen, each second taking an eternity to pass for both young girls.
….
David moved quickly down the short, darkened hallway that was rapidly filling with black, choking smoke. He illuminated his path using his weapon mounted flashlight and stepped into the living room where his wife and daughter were huddled. Smoke was pouring into the room from behind him.
“We’ve got to go…now.” he stated to Debora.
“Where?” she asked as she continued to cover Taylor with the heavy bullet resistant vest and hold onto Radar by the collar. The Labrador was straining against her to run to David and help defend his home.
“Anywhere, but here.” he responded before calling out to his son. “Tom!” he shouted to which Tom quickly emerged from the rear kitchen area of the house and into the living room still carrying the Remington 870. Judging by his demeanor David assumed he had not needed to use the firearm; he was very thankful for this.
“We’re leaving…Take your mom and sister to the car and…”
“DAD!” Tom screa
med cutting his father off in mid-sentence as he quickly raised the shotgun. Before David had a chance to react the deafening boom of a 12 gauge shotgun blast echoed throughout the house. There was a meaty thwack sound that followed directly after, but no one could hear it. All of their ears were ringing from the close proximity to the gunshot.
Both Debora and Taylor screamed the instant the gun discharged and David spun around and dropped to one knee taking aim with his rifle just in time to see an older black male who had just emerged from the bedroom hallway crumple to his knees and fall over onto his back. A brick fell from the man’s hand. The Federal Vital Shok 00 Buckshot had torn a gaping hole in the man’s stomach region and blood quickly began to gush out of his abdomen the second he hit the floor. Even though he was not dead the choking and gagging sounds the manmade signaled that he soon would be.
David turned back around to see his son standing there nearly white as a sheet and shaking uncontrollably. He stood and carefully took the shotgun out of his son’s hands and handed it over to his wife.
“It’s okay Tom…you did the right thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Tom wasn’t able to speak. He was still in a state of shock, but he did manage to nod his head in acknowledgement.
“We have to go now.” David said in a commanding tone as he hurried his family out to the garage area and to their awaiting vehicle.
….
Lekarl Watts waited eagerly in the driveway of the burning house about eight feet away from the garage door. He coughed repeatedly as he covered his mouth with his shirt and tried not to inhale too much of the black noxious smoke coming from the house mixed with the gray cloud that the smoke grenades were creating. He wasn’t sure why someone had chosen to toss those into the driveway, but he wasn’t about to lower himself to the likes of a garbage man and pick them up.