Outside the Fire

by Boyd Craven

  Steve was creeping up the stairs, but when he heard Amber scream, he ran. He’d been trying to be quiet in case it was another false alarm or a nightmare that had startled one of the girls awake… and he didn’t want to scare his girls. But hearing Amber let out a surprised or pained scream gave him a full adrenaline dump. The door to their room was cracked open, and a harsh white light seeped out from the edges.

  He hit the door with his hip, his finger already finding the safety and flicking it off. A dark figure was wrestling with a wild Amy. Despite screaming, Amber was already reaching into her bedside stand where she kept her own concealed piece when Steve saw a second figure in the leftover glow of what looked like Amy’s flashlight. It had been coming in the window when he’d hit the lights.

  Both wore black hoodies, and both had what looked like dark scarves or masks over most of the face. Steve didn’t hesitate and put a round center mass into the figure coming inside. It looked like an old cowboy movie where the bad guy got shot and the figure’s arms pinwheeled backwards and fell out of sight. He barely heard the thump over the ringing in his ears from the .45’s discharge.

  The shot had given Amy a moment when the figure that was trying to silence her had looked up sharply when Steve rushed in and fired off his round. She was already rolling off her bed sideways when the grip that was holding her went slack. Amber jumped at the figure from her own bed, abandoning the urge to get the gun apparently. For a moment, Steve had a clear sight but hesitated, and then both daughter and the figure were wrestling.

  He didn’t realize who was yelling at first, but he knew it was him when he grabbed the figure in the black hoody by the back of the neck and yanked. He was almost in a rage, and when Amber saw her dad yanking, she let go. The figure screamed in pain as Steve used every ounce of strength to pull them away and then with what looked like one hand, shoved the figure towards the window.

  They stumbled and for a second he had a chance to try to look. A wisp of blond hair trailed out from the bottom of the hood, the shape was familiar, slender…then the hand went to the waistband in a fast movement and Steve started pulling the trigger. After five shots, he realized that Angela and the girls were screaming too as that figure slumped backwards, their legs barely hitting the wall as they tumbled out the window.

  “Get them to the shelter,” Steve snarled.

  “No, Daddy. Reload,” Amber said, wiping her eyes.

  “Are you ok?” Angela said at the same time.

  “The bad man, I heard something bump, but I thought it was a nightmare,” Amy said. “Then I saw it move. He must have been pulling the screen out.”

  “I’m ok,” Amber said. “Bitch got me with her nails though,” she hissed, showing furrows on her arm from where she had been wrestling with the figure.

  “Bitch?” Steve said, his mind working faster than his body.

  Steve stared at her for a minute and then looked down at his boxer briefs, all he had been sleeping in and walked over to her nightstand. He pulled out her pistol, ejected the magazine and took her spare. In the heat of the moment, he had just taken his gun. He changed his partial out for a full magazine.

  “Go to the shelter, now. I’ll throw on some pants and see what’s going on outside. If everything is all clear, I’ll come get you right away.”

  “Let me come with you,” Amber said right away.

  “No, you need to look out for your sister. I’m going with him,” Angela told her.

  “None of you—”

  “We’re a team,” Angela said, cutting off all further conversation.

  The gunshots and then Steve blowing the whistle had people running. Angela had ensured that the girls were safe and that Amber was rearmed while Steve pulled on some basketball shorts and got his Maglite. He made it around to the side of the house even as two figures carrying flashlights came running his way. For a moment, he saw the ladder pushed onto the side of his house, one of the screens carefully placed on the ground, leaned against the house, and two figures on the ground.

  One had a huge pool of red underneath them, almost looking black in the harsh light of the flashlight and the other with a smaller pool, their legs kicking carefully.

  “Steve, that you?” Lucy’s voice yelled, just as the flashlight hit him in the face.

  “Yeah, and Angela,” his wife said, shining her own flashlight at the running figures.

  It was Matthew and Lucy. Her flashlight moved and lit up the figures Steve had been looking at. All held their guns at the low and ready, seeing a handgun a few feet from the figure under the largest pool of blood.

  “Help….” the figure writhing on the ground said.

  Steve handed his flashlight to Angela and walked over, his gun trained. He knelt down and pushed the mask up. Billy Wilson laid there, blood coming from his mouth, his skin already pale and getting paler. He looked and saw his round had hit the neighbor in the chest, just off center.

  “What were you doing?” Steve asked.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Clark Wilson’s voice came out of the dark. The flashlight Lucy held swiveled to light him up.

  “Oh man, get him out of here,” Steve said.

  “Da…” Billy’s eyes closed, and he let out a rattling breath, a large bubble of blood breaking on his lips.

  “Who are you shooting….” Clark was in his boxers and saw the face lit up from one of the flashlights.

  “No….” he screamed and went running towards his son.

  Steve moved to the side and walked over. The next figure had several holes in the same center mass area but he got a better look. The fall onto the concrete had done as much damage as the bullets, but he could still see the slender figure beneath the black, and the slight feminine curves. With a shaking hand, he pushed the mask up. A girl, no more than twenty-two or twenty-three looked up at him sightlessly. She’d probably been dead as soon as she’d hit the ground. Her teeth were partially rotted out, but she didn’t look emaciated like so many others he’d seen lately. A chemical smell came off her clothing and a small taser was in her left hand.

  Voices behind him, Steve turned to see Matthew holding back Clark and Lucy talking to Sarah Wilson. There were more screams, wails, and more people shouting. More lights coming their way.

  “She was just a kid,” Steve told her.

  “Smell that?” Angela asked softly.

  “The chemical smell?” Steve asked.

  “Crack or meth. I can’t tell. It’s been forever since I volunteered at the County—”

  “Steve!” Matthew shouted and then he was tackled.

  He was hit while he knelt, and it bowled him over sideways. He tried to get an arm up, but fists pummeled him and a cursing, spitting, and biting Clark Wilson did everything in his power to kill Steve. Angela screamed and beat at him with the butt of her pistol before holstering it and swinging with Steve’s Maglite.

  Matthew was half a heartbeat behind that and pulled at the neighbor. His arms were locked on Steve and he bent his head in as if to kiss him and Steve screamed in agony. Matthew grabbed Clark by the hair and tried pulling him off before losing his grip. A single gunshot went off and Clark stiffened, Matthew grabbed him by the hair again and yanked. Clark flipped over on his back, a blackened hole, now gushing, was in his sternum. Sarah started screaming harder, but she had her arms wrapped around Lucy, who was holding her up more than holding her back.

  Steve sat up, holding his throat. It was inflamed, red. There were scratch marks and the bottom of his jaw was bleeding from a crescent-shaped bite. His hands shook as he put the Colt on safe, rolled over, and started vomiting.

  The community meeting was a circus. Word had gotten around to those who hadn’t shown up in the middle of the night. In one fell swoop, they had learned that the Taylors had wiped out two-thirds of the Wilson family and killed the Wilson boy’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. That much they could get out of Sarah who kept crying and picking at her hand. At some point, one of the Wilsons had removed the
stitches, but she worried the scar there till it was angry and red.

  “I’d like to ask the volunteer neighborhood watch to disband,” Doug Morris shouted over the din of shouting.

  People turned to look at him and he stood up. “Not only should they disband, but we need to elect our own arm of law enforcement. Not anybody who wants to help and has a gun. You see what happened here last night? You saw what happened two weeks ago? Death. People have suddenly gone gun crazy, and human beings are dying!”

  Somebody else shouted, “I was one of the first ones there after Deputy Lucy, those two that were killed were breaking into the Taylors house, and he caught one of them messing with his younger daughter! The dad went insane and tried to rip out Steve’s throat!”

  “That doesn’t give him the right to remove their rights to a fair trial. By blowing them away….” a woman’s loud cries shattered the otherwise silent crowd who was watching intently. Somebody put their arm around Mrs. Wilson, and she buried her head on the woman’s shoulder, “By taking matters into his own hands, he denied those young adults of their constitutional rights to a fair trial. Since when does breaking and entering get a death penalty? I would like…”

  Linda Morris stood up angrily and started walking away. Doug grabbed her wrist when she was almost out of his reach. He pulled her back to him and for a brief moment it looked like she was going to be manhandled in front of everyone, but she instead stepped in close to him. He dropped her wrist, and they spoke angrily. The words lost, but the tone wasn’t. Quick as a lightning strike, her hand shot out, slapping the taste out of his mouth. A shocked sound came out of Doug’s mouth, as her knee came up and caught him in a delicate place.

  Doug dropped to the ground, both hands holding onto his family jewels as she stomped away, in the direction of their house.

  “That was kinda funny,” Amy whispered.

  “Yeah, I’m trying not to laugh,” Steve croaked, his bruised throat sore.

  “Don’t talk,” Angela whispered. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  “Dad’s a badass, he can handle some bruising,” Amber said.

  “Hey!” Steve said, his voice sounding like Kermit. “Don’t—”

  “Your dad is kinda badass. Doesn’t give you permission to say it out loud. You two girls held your own by the way. I’m proud of all of you.”

  “You had our backs,” Amy said, smiling at her mother’s words.

  Angela smiled back, her daughter’s words making her seem far older than she was. She was ready and she had been ready to back whatever play her husband did. She’d been as shocked as anybody to discover the figure who’d been trying to keep Amy quiet was a woman, though she’d never seen her husband bodily throw somebody across a room before.

  Both parents had worried about Amy and how she was going to react to it. She slept between her parents to finish the night off, but she didn’t seem any worse for wear. Both girls had slept in the tornado shelter a bit, while the worst of the cleanup happened and were spared knowing everything that had happened. Now, Morris’s words were sinking in a little bit, but they didn’t seem to be hurting the kids, only confirming their convictions in the family.

  “I’d like to propose that we do the opposite of what Doug said,” Matthew said, his voice thundering. “I’d like to expand the neighborhood watch. I’d like to have a group head north and see if that’s where those dozen folks came from, and I’d like to have more eyeballs at night. Especially when we have neighbor on neighbor issues.”

  People murmured, and Jeff stood up next to Matthew. “There’s something else we need to discuss. Food is almost out again. Hunting has not been going well. There’s also the matter of our gardens and watering them and a hundred other things.”

  “Why don’t you ask Steve Taylor about food?” Sarah Wilson screamed, her voice cracking at the end. “That’s what my family died trying to get!”

  “What are you talking about?” Jeff asked her. “He brought some bulk from his church for us—”

  “He has a storm shelter full of food! Look at him, look at his whole family! Yes, he’s been nice and kind, and he’s slowly letting all of us starve to death while he’s killed anybody who has gone after his food or his friends.”

  Her words were half true, but nobody knew why her son and his girlfriend were breaking into the house next door. The crowd murmured at that, realizing the truth in some of that. Many looked at the Taylor family. Like the pastor, they had lost weight, but they weren’t unhealthy. In fact, of everyone there, they seemed to glow with health, and they were better groomed, cleaner and all around in better shape.

  Steve and Angela must have realized the same thing at once, because their eyes locked.

  “A shelter full of food?” Jeff asked her.

  “My son saw it when the farmer was attacked. He ran over to help. If he had shared his food out, my husband and my son might still be—”

  “What kind of shelter?” somebody else screamed.

  Doug Morris stood up, his face red. “He’s got a tornado shelter, same as a few of the other houses in this subdivision. We all had the option to get one when our houses were built. We all didn’t have the option to fill it full of food though….How about it, Steve?”

  Steve stood up, but Angela reached and took his hand and pulled herself up as well. She shushed her husband, gave his hand a tight squeeze and turned to Doug and the rest of the crowd who stared at them with hate-filled eyes.

  “I’m speaking for my husband and my family. Last night our house was attacked by two people who put up a ladder, removed the screen from my daughters’ room and then tried to silence her when she woke up. In the fight, both my husband and my oldest daughter were injured, not badly, but this wasn’t flat out murder like some of these ass munchers are saying!” Her words were biting, and Amber stifled a giggle hearing her mom use “ass muncher” in a sentence. “As far as what they were getting into the house for…who knows? The girlfriend was a known drug user.

  “Sarah Wilson—I am sorry for your loss, I really am. I was there when your son and husband were shot. There was literally nothing else that could have been done. Your husband was choking out my husband and bit him in the face. Only then did my husband defend himself. Now I don’t know what you think we have food wise, but any of you ever been through a harsh winter? One where there were feet of snow and ice?”

  The crowd looked at her, but nobody spoke.

  “We come from Ohio. In Ohio, we did have snow and ice storms that would shut down cities for days or even weeks depending on how bad it got. When we bought our house, we found out it had a tornado shelter. Just like you, Doug Morris,” she said pointing at him, “and like we would do in Michigan, we put in some food and water in case we got stuck down there. Say a tornado came through and knocked the house down, and we were buried underneath there.

  “Now I don’t know what you think we have, but you all aren’t entitled to anything of ours. Not our food, our privacy within our own home, not our possessions, not our kid’s feelings of safety and security, and not our lives. None of you deserve any of that. We’ve already helped this community out, and we always planned on doing it as much as we can. What you all need to do is put this incident to rest—”

  “How about we go over and take inventory for ourselves?” Doug Morris asked.

  Steve pulled his .45, his hands almost a blur. Not everybody in the crowd heard the hammer click back as he cocked it, but later on, many would claim to. Nobody spoke, except the man with the bruised throat.

  “Socialism only works until you run out of other people’s stuff. Unless you want a terminal case of lead poisoning, Doug, I wouldn’t encourage you to try it,” Steve said and then coughed and spit.

  There was a splatter of red in the grass, and Angela turned and whispered to her husband. “Don’t, he isn’t worth it.”

  Steve held the pistol at arm’s length, the barrel unwavering as he aimed it at center mass at the man who’d made his life hell since
moving to Georgia. He ignored the shouts of alarm, the whispers, and the people moving out of the line of fire. More than anything else, he wanted to pull the trigger. He could have dismissed Sarah’s words because she had lost everything, but Doug rabble rousing to have people come and by force… inventory his family’s food? He would die stopping them if that was what was needed. Dwight would take care of his family. Slowly, his finger started squeezing—

  “Daddy, let’s go home,” Amy said, breaking Steve’s concentration as she took his free hand, having gotten up while he was lost in his own thoughts.

  He let out a startled breath and lowered the hammer, before holstering the pistol. He held out his free hand to Amber who took it and pulled herself to her feet.

  “We’re going to do what we can to help,” Angela said. “We had planned on going to the church to see if there was anything else we could do. As you just saw, trying to come after us or forcing us… it won’t end well for you.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest folk to try to turn into Venezuela or North Korea, we see how well that ended up for their people,” Matthew shouted.

  “As somebody who spent a lifetime in ‘Law Enforcement,’” Lucy yelled. “I wouldn’t suggest you try that either. You all saw what happened to the neighbor who tried to break in. No, they didn’t get a trial, but as soon as they went into the house and tried to silence little Amy, the homeowner, Mr. Taylor had every right to defend his family against any and all threats.”

  “You’re just saying that because y’all are friends. Hell, he’s probably feeding you too!” a man shouted angrily, standing up.

  The situation was getting more than a little tense, and Steve gave everyone a look and jerked his head behind him as if to say “let’s go.” Angela nodded, and they all started moving as one.

  “I don’t think so,” Doug Morris screamed and started stalking towards them in a lurching gait, “you’re holding back on everyone here. I knew you were up to something, I just didn’t know—”