She could hear him clawing at the door now, shredding the wood. She didn’t know how much longer the dresser would hold him back.
Ashley plugged the vacuum cleaner in.
Jen turned it on and set it right by the door.
The clawing stopped. It sounded like a body tumbled down the stairs. She knew it had worked.
“We’re saved!” Ashley screamed.
Jen smiled and hugged her. “Why?”
“Because were McKnight women!”
They both laughed.
Jen tried to breathe normal for the first time since coming into this room. She couldn’t. This wasn’t over yet.
“He’s still in the house,” Ashley said. She screamed everything because they could barely hear each other over the whirring from the vacuum.
Jen nodded. “We’ve got to figure out how to get him out or how to get ourselves out. What do you think?”
Ashley scratched her head. “He’s a big cat. He should be outside.”
Jen winked at her. “Then that’s where he’ll be.” She pushed on the dresser, moving it away from the door.
“What are you doing?!”
Jen knew she would have to manipulate Mr. Whiskers out the door with the vacuum cleaner. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She pushed the dresser away. The door behind it looked like shredded paper.
Jen looked at Ashley. “The power cord isn’t long enough to go down the stairs. Stay behind me and move the cord to the outlet on the stairs as we go down. Got it?”
Ashley started to cry again. “But what about you?”
Jen knew there would be a five second or longer window between changing the power outlets. Five seconds Mr. Whiskers wouldn’t be afraid. Five seconds that could be the end.
“If anything happens to me, then run. Run as fast as you can.” She opened the door and shoved the vacuum out.
Mr. Whiskers wasn’t upstairs.
Jen motioned for Ashley to come out of the room and follow her. She stepped to the top of the staircase and saw her cat on the floor below. He appeared to be growling but she couldn’t hear him over the vacuum. He wouldn’t move.
Jen took a deep breath.
Ashley was shaking.
It was now or never.
“Let’s do this,” she mouthed to Ashley.
She grabbed the vacuum and guided it down the stairs, one step at a time.
Mr. Whiskers moved his paws back and forth. It looked like he wanted to come up the stairs and attack them but couldn’t do it. He took a couple of steps back then ran back into the front bedroom.
“It’s working!” Ashley shouted.
Jen turned and shouted, “Get ready!” She tugged on the power cord. She was halfway down the stairs and the line was getting tight. It was time to switch the outlets.
They would be okay. The plan wasn’t perfect. They would have to be the ones who left the house. Jen could call the police or animal control to come back and put Mr. Whiskers down.
“Ready!” Jen shouted.
The vacuum went silent.
Jen jerked her head when the front door opened.
Carla stepped into the house and put her coat on the rack again. “Cleaning the stairs? Really?”
The vacuum came back on.
Jen couldn’t move. Mr. Whiskers was in the room next to the door.
“Mom!” Ashley shouted. “Run!”
Carla’s eyes grew wide when she turned her head toward the bedroom.
Mr. Whiskers raised his rump, swayed his tail, and growled.
“I’m sorry!” Jen yelled. “I love you! I’ll take care of her!” It would be impossible to save all of them. She loved her sister but she had to save Ashley.
“Mom! No!”
The vacuum died again. It must have come unplugged.
Jen turned to tell Ashley to plug it back in.
Ashley was right behind her. Her face was covered in tears.
“I’m sorry, Aunt Jen. I can’t let my mom die.” She jabbed the box cutter into Jen’s gut. She pulled it out and jabbed it in over and over.
Jen felt weak. She fell over the vacuum and landed on her back on the stairs.
Mr. Whiskers roared.
Jen watched him step out of the bedroom, look up at Carla, then continue to the stairs. That’s when she knew Mr. Whiskers wanted her all along. Like the creatures at the circus, he wanted revenge on his master.
Ashley stepped over her body. “I’m sorry, Aunt Jen. The cat wants you. I want my mom. We do what we have to do to survive.” She held the box cutter in front of her and marched toward the great cat.
Jen saw everything upside down from her position. Mr. Whiskers was at the base of the stairs now. Ashley walked right by him, holding out the box cutter. He didn’t even look at her.
Ashley raced into her mom’s arms.
Carla picked her up and held her. She was on her cell phone, screaming into it.
Help would be coming.
Shoot To Live
THE WIND cools my arm as I cruise down Main Street in my 4 seat Miata with the top up and windows down. The whooshing sound it makes behind me is like the white noise from a broken TV. The grass in the median is full of beer cans, cigarette butts, and colorful weed flowers. The late evening air is calm and comforting.
“Turn here!” Richie shouts from the passenger seat. He’s pumping his handgun towards First Street.
Jeeters, O’Brien, and Baxter are crammed in the back seat. I’d roll the windows up but one of them shit their pants. My money’s on O’Brien.
The Miata whines as it turns at 80 miles an hour. I’m expecting it to flip over. O’Brien must be weighing it down with his dirty diaper.
“Where the fuck are we going?” Jeeters screams at Richie. I know it doesn’t matter. We’ll be dead before we get there.
“Just keep driving,” Richie says to me. “We’re almost—”
There’s a bang and one of the rear tires blows. The car is skidding, spinning, and I can barely hold on to the steering wheel. That diaper won’t hold the car down this time.
The car flips over and crashes on Richie’s side. It’s scraping against the pavement. Sparks are flying all around me.
And now nothing. Everything has stopped. I don’t see anything. I don’t hear anything. Is this it? Have I become one with the ether?
Sirens are blaring all around me now. Bright lights flood my cornea.
“Shit.”
I kick my door open. I’m almost out but I reach for Richie and pull him out with me. I see the guys in the back seat are struggling to get out too.
I hear gunfire.
All five of us are out and we’re crouching behind the car. The cops can’t see us. It’s only one cop car, but I know more are coming. A lot more.
There’s not much time to make a decision. Richie looks at me and points to the house on our left. It’s a modern brick home. The right size for a family of three and a poodle.
Now Richie is pointing at Baxter, our best shooter. “Get ready.” Richie motions to me, O’Brien, Jeeters, and himself. He’s imitating his fingers moving like legs toward the house.
Baxter nods and cocks his gun.
I put an open palm in the air and lower my fingers one at a time.
Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
Baxter stands and fires hot lead at the cops.
The rest of us high tail it for the house.
I turn the front door knob. It opens.
People are too trusting.
Richie, Jeeters, and O’Brien are shooting at the cops now. I see Baxter racing toward us. I join in the shooting.
Baxter reaches us and we scurry inside. I lock the door when I close it.
Deadbolt, too.
I bend over and try to breathe. An hour ago I was watching the Packer’s game on TV. God I hope they won. Now I’m running from bullets and trying to make sense out of what happened. We were supposed to teach the cop a lesson — rough him up a
little. Not kill him.
O’Brien grabs my shoulder and points to a family huddled under the kitchen counter. It’s a young mom, dad, and boy. No poodle.
The dad stands and says, “Take whatever you want.”
“Sit down and shut up,” I say. I tell the guys to make sure all the doors are locked and windows covered.
“Are you gonna eat that?” O’Brien asks the family. There’s a half-eaten ham sandwich on the counter.
The woman cries and shakes her head.
I tell O’Brien to put his gun away and help the others. I see he didn’t waste any time getting the piece engraved with O’B in gold. Someone with his mental capacity should never have a gun but I can’t blame anyone but myself. I had provided the guns for protection, and look where it got us.
“Whatever,” he says, and shoves the gun down his pants.
I kneel in front of the family. Their backs are against the counter. I can tell by the father’s strained face that he’s angry but too scared to do anything about it. The mother is staring at her feet and humming to herself. “Just keep quiet,” I say. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
I smile at the boy. He’s not more than eight years old. I can tell by the way he’s staring at me that he’s not afraid at all. He’ll probably kill all of us if he gets the chance. I grab his hand and shake it. “This is what a real man does when he wants to make a statement. You’re in charge, boss,” I say to him as I stand and walk into the living room.
I hear more sirens coming from every direction.
“Keep an eye on them,” I say to O’Brien when he comes back into the room. I nod at the family. “They’re your responsibility.”
Jeeters steps up to me and says, “How did they know? How the fuck did the police know?”
I hadn’t thought about it until now. Twenty minutes ago we were at the Murphy’s house. Baxter was robbing the place when the cop showed up. He hid and called us to help get him out. We were gonna teach the cop not to mess with us. But Jeeters got it in his head to kill the cop.
The cops outside had showed up right after that.
“Someone told them,” I say. “One of the neighbors must have seen us.”
Jeeters laughs. “We scouted that house first. You and I both know it would have taken 30 minutes for the other cops to get there.” He shakes his head and spits. “Someone told them alright.”
I know what he’s suggesting. But I trust my men. Jeeters is just old and paranoid.
“Baxter, turn the TV on,” I say. “Let’s keep an eye on the news.”
Baxter nods and walks to the 60 inch in the living room. “We tried to rob the wrong damn house,” he mutters. The other house had an old analog. He tunes to the local news.
“Damn,” Richie says, standing by my side now. “Let the motherfucker burn.”
The Burtson Hotel is on fire. The scrolling marque at the bottom of the screen says 2 people were found dead and the second floor set on fire. Foul play is suspected.
“Listen up,” I say so that they can all hear me. “We need to make a decision.” They’re all looking at me. I have no idea how I became the one in charge.
A helicopter thunders above us.
Jeeters sits in the love seat and crosses his arms. “As long as it doesn’t involve me looking out the window.”
“Those cops are not gonna let us walk out of here alive.” I look at each of them, half expecting to be attacked. “Not unless we turn ourselves in.”
“Hell no,” Richie says. “There’s only one reason those pigs want blood.” He stares at Jeeters. “Because Old Man Winter decided to blow one of their brains out.” He smirks at Jeeters. “That was cool.”
Richie never liked Jeeters but I think he has a man crush on him now.
“Someone told them,” Jeeters says to no one.
“Someone told who what?” Baxter says.
I take a deep breath. “Jeeters has a crazy notion that one of us called the cops.”
“What?” Richie says. “He’s delirious from the shooting.”
“It’s not crazy,” O’Brien says, licking his fingers from the finished ham sandwich. “The new guy is really good with a handgun. If it looks like a cop and quacks like a cop...” He looks back down at the family on the floor. “Got any cookies?”
We’re all staring at Baxter now. He’s only been in the group for three months. He volunteered for the job at the Murphy house.
“I don’t have anything to do with this. I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. What about him?” Baxter is pointing at Richie.
“What about me, bitch?”
Baxter shakes his head and laughs. “We all know you want Rob’s spot. Always trying to control everything. Maybe you thought you could get him out of the picture.”
“You son of a bitch,” Richie says. He lunges for Baxter.
Baxter shoves his gun at Richie’s head.
“Hold up!” I yell. I motion for them to separate. I don’t like what I see on the TV.
“Officer Tom Myers was shot to death tonight while investigating a home invasion,” says the cute blonde with a microphone. She’s wearing a red pantsuit. It matches her shoes. “Four suspects have been identified and are currently in a standoff with local police.”
I can’t breathe. My picture is on the screen. My name is underneath it. It’s the same for Richie and O’Brien and Jeeters.
“How the hell do they know who we are?” Richie throws his arms up. He’s glaring at Baxter. “Goddamn traitor.”
I snatch Baxter’s gun from him.
“Rob, you know me. I go to church with your family for Christ’s sake!” Baxter’s eyes are wide, pleading.
“Where were you?” I ask. I can’t look at his face. When we got to the Murphy’s house to help get him out, all we found was the cop. No one saw Baxter until after the cop was dead.
“Where was I?” Baxter’s face is drowning in sweat. “I was in that house doing exactly what you told me to do. Then that fucking cop had to show up.” He steps toward me. “I waited until you got there.”
I shake my head. “Your face isn’t on the news.”
“Boss?” Richie says.
He doesn’t have to say anything else. I know what the question is.
“Do it.” I turn my back.
I hear a shuffle. A lamp crashes. Two men are grunting.
Richie brushes past me. He’s dragging Baxter’s body, kicking and screaming.
“Rob!” Baxter shouts. “Don’t do this!”
I still can’t look at him. Richie drags him into the front room and slams the door.
BANG!
The woman on the kitchen floor screams. She’s holding her son. Her husband is holding her.
Richie steps out of the front room and closes the door. He nods at me.
“Shot fired! Shot fired!” The woman in the pantsuit on TV is hiding behind an open car door. She’s starting to piss me off. Cop cars with flashing lights are lined down the street. The helicopter is still flying around like a blood-thirsty mosquito.
“We do not have a visual,” the news lady continues. “We cannot confirm if a hostage or suspect has been shot.”
My cell phone vibrates.
I fish it out of my pocket and stare at the caller id. It keeps vibrating. I can’t move. It’s my wife Michelle.
I look around at the other guys and will them with my eyes to shut up. My heart feels like a hammer beating against my chest.
I press the ‘receive’ button and turn away from the guys.
“Rob?” Her voice is soft and shaky.
I can’t answer.
“Rob? What’s going on?”
I take a deep breath. “I love you Michelle.” Bobby is crying next to her. Bobby is four months old.
“What have you done?” Now she’s crying, too. “The police are here. You’re all over the news.”
“I know.” I wait a few seconds. “I don’t think I’m coming home.”
“Why are you doing
this? We need you.”
I step into the hallway by the door. My legs won’t stay still. “Michelle, listen to me. I don’t have anything to do with that cop dying. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve done it for you and Bobby.”
She’s silent now. I hear her breathing hard.
“I want you to take Bobby and go to your mother’s. I’m sorry for everything.” I can’t drag this out. I pull the phone from my ear and press “End”.
I walk back into the living room and look over at the family in the kitchen. How did it ever come to this? I’m a good guy. I pay my tithes.
“Everything okay?” O’Brien asks. He’s drinking a glass of milk.
I point to the family. “We need to let them go.”
I hear Richie huff.
I look at him and Jeeters. “They don’t have anything to do with this.”
Richie shakes his head and laughs. “The only thing that’s keeping us alive is those three bodies.” He spits. “They’re not going anywhere.”
He’s forgetting that I’m in charge. “Back down, Richie.”
“Richie’s right,” Jeeters says. The old man is still sitting in the love seat, splayed out like this is a vacation. “We can’t let them go. They’re hostages.”
I can’t stand Jeeters but I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I never thought I’d see the day he and Richie agreed on something.
“This is our fight! Not theirs!” My face feels like it’s on fire.
Richie stares at me. “Rob, I need your gun.”
“What? You can’t be serious.”
He doesn’t break his stare. “You’re not fit to lead us anymore. You never were.”
I grip the gun and stroke the trigger. “Come and take it from me.”
I hear Jeeters cock his gun. He’s pointing it at me. “Sorry boss. He’s in. You’re out.”
O’Brien is looking around like a confused baby.
I know I don’t have a chance. Jeeters is on my left. Richie is in front of me. O’Brien is behind me, and I have no idea whose side he is on.
Jeeters stands and pries the gun from me. “That’s a good boy.”
I want to kill him. Old fart.
Richie smirks at me. “That’s what I thought.”
I’m focused on the TV behind him.
Twisted Endings 3: Children of Blood Page 4