Authors: Angie West
***
Damn, how deep
is
the thing buried
?
I scowled at the dirt while I continued to dig
—
and pray.
I could see the shadows of two men inside my kitchen.
Finally!
Oh, finally
!
I nearly shouted in relief as the shovel struck something solid.
I didn
’
t shout, of course, because that would have been a very bad idea, all things considered.
I barely stopped myself from simply tossing the shovel down.
Instead, I lowered it carefully onto the ground out of sight from the window and knelt down with the trowel.
The bout of nerves was easing a little now that I wasn
’
t standing up ramming a shovel into the dirt with nothing but an old oak tree for protection.
Why hadn
’
t I thought to bring a weapon?
I bit my tongue and hoped it wouldn
’
t come to that.
If it did…well, there was always the shovel.
I used the trowel to uncover the box and dug out the sides a bit more to grab the metal lock box.
Lock box?
Shit.
Well, I would deal with that later
...b
reak it open if I had to.
I picked up the shovel and the box, leaving the trowel lying on the ground.
I didn
’
t need it and couldn
’
t get a good grip on it anyway with the box tucked under my arm.
“
Going somewhere?
”
I didn
’
t turn around
, not
right away at least.
I had already figured that it would take one heck of a lucky streak to get in and out with my house under surveillance.
I
’
m not that lucky.
Funny thing though
...
after the first few seconds of not being able to breathe, the nerves were gone.
I turned around and stared down the man who stood three feet from me in the yard.
His eyes widened a bit in what I took to be recognition.
“
You
’
re the doctor?
”
Doctor?
Well, that was a first.
I supposed that I was, but personally, I still thought of doctors as the people I went to on the rare occasion that I was sick.
“
I asked you a question.
”
“
I live here.
Who the hell are you?
”
The last part came out more like a squeak than a command.
Hey, the guy was big
,
ok
ay
?
“
You need to come with me.
”
Right.
I saw the way his left hand moved a little closer to his pocket and didn
’
t think.
I moved as fast as I could and prayed it would be good enough.
I dropped the box, put both hands on the shovel and swung hard.
The first hit flung his gun against the shed across the yard.
I didn
’
t breathe or look at him after that, I just struck out with the shovel again, blind fear putting my full weight behind the swing.
I connected with something solid and watched as he dropped to the ground in a heap at my feet.
Dropping the shovel from limp fingers
,
I tried to catch my breath as I stared down at him.
I was pretty sure he was out cold
,
but still I side stepped a bit and tried not to scream as the screen door opened again.
I thought quickly
,
which was amazing considering my first instinct was to drop to the ground and yell
‘
don
’
t shoot
.
’
I dove to the other side of the yard and dropped to my knees.
My hands scraped at the ground in a frantic search for the gun.
The effort was made twice as hard since I seemed to be having trouble breathing all of a sudden.
“
You! Stop!
”
Damn!
Something brushed my ankle though
...
something cold.
The gun?
I turned slowly, lowering myself completely to the ground.
The object was now inches from my head, and I could see that it was
,
indeed, the gun.
Thank you, God
.
I closed my eyes and shoved away everything else but the task at hand.
Stay calm
.
I ordered myself.
Steady.
“
Don
’
t shoot!
”
I yelled to the man I didn
’
t dare look at.
Mostly I didn
’
t want to see that he was closing in on me
, though
I was fairly certain he wasn
’
t.
I thought, hoped, that he was still on the other side of the yard, by the door.
Then again, his friend had been terrifyingly quiet in his approach, I reminded myself.
But somehow, knowing that he could be walking toward me at any minute made me want to freeze and never move again.
His voice sounded like he ate glass.
“
Get up slowly, hands where I can see them
,
”
he
ordered with deadly calm.
“
Ok
ay
, I
’
m getting up now.
My leg, it hurts
. Please
, I need help…not sure if I can make it.
”
I tried to put some tears in my voice.
Not that it was difficult
, I thought in disgust.
Steady
,
I reminded myself again.
I did glance up at the man then.
I guess he wasn
’
t all that big.
Tall
,
yes, and muscular from what I could see in the dark.
The gun he was holding made him look ten feet tall.
“
I can
’
t
stand on my own
.
He hurt my leg.
”
I turned pleading eyes to the gunman and forced my hand to remain still and in place.
And then it happened
...my
golden opportunity
, or
at least one that I quickly figured was as good as I was likely to get.
He relaxed ever so slightly, his gun hand shifting over and down a fraction.
I moved then
, bringing
the gun up and firing in one fluid motion.
I had only fired a gun twice before
,
and both times had been more than eight years prior.
Maybe I was lucky after all.
The shot he fired at me before he went down in the grass was pitifully off the mark, slamming instead into the shed directly behind me.
I struggled clumsily to my feet from a half crouch and peered over at him.
He was lying on the ground and very still.
I couldn
’
t tell where I had hit him
; it
was too dark to see that much.
Yet from my vantage point I could see his gun was still cradled loosely in his hand.
It never occurred to me to disarm him.
I raced to the oak tree, jumped over the first man on the ground, grabbed the box and ran.
***
I drove first to a gas station.
That was probably stupid considering it was maybe five blocks from my house.
I bought a pack of cigarettes.
The clerk kept staring at me suspiciously and I looked down, almost expecting to see blood on my hands and clothing.
What I saw instead was a pale woman dressed from head to toe in black and covered in leaves and dirt.
Well, at least it wasn
’
t blood
,
I comforted myself as I drove down the highway toward the airport.
I chain smoked for the better part of two hours as I drove.
If
it hadn
’
t been for the headache and the nausea that
were
creeping in, I would have continued to smoke.
But I knew I couldn
’
t vomit and drive at the same time, so I tossed the pack and the lighter into the backseat
—
just in case I was tempted again.
Smoking was not a part of my normal daily routine
.
I was what my sister referred to as
‘
one lucky bitch
.
’
When I wanted a cigarette I bought a pack.
Usually one would do and I would end up tossing the pack a year later when I found it during a cleaning jag.
Megan had been through three different programs over a four
-
year period in order to kick the habit.
Smoking and drinking just weren
’
t things that I normally thought about.
I had seen enough people trying to quit, though, and I realized how rare and fortunate I was to have never succumbed to the addiction.
Tonight, though…
if there was ever a time for it
,
this was probably it
, I thought as I tightened my hands on the wheel and stared straight ahead.
I should have been tired, but I was too wired to even think about sleep.
Besides that, it would take me another three hours to reach the airport I was speeding toward.
There were closer ones
,
but this was the only one that had the flight I needed without a billion transfers.
There would be only one.
This airport also had the soonest departure time.
It would be close, but my flight left in five hours.
That gave me time to park, walk, walk some more, and buy my ticket.
If my lucky streak
holds
I might even be able to eat something a little more substantial than a gas station hotdog and a
Payday
bar
, I thought with a sigh.
You can only forget about food for so long.
Not that it was usually a problem for me.
It took a lot to disrupt my rhythm.
I zoned out for the next half hour, listening to the background noise of the car radio
...some
radio show I had never heard before where people were calling in to talk about their problems and request a song.
I didn
’
t pay much attention to the songs, but there
’
s something perversely comforting about listening to other peoples troubles.
True, most of them were about people
’
s love lives.
But I think that made it better somehow.
All I could think was that I had probably killed two people in my back yard.
The scene kept playing
over
like a loop in my mind as I sped along the black pavement.
It was like being locked in a dark room with my private thoughts and trying in vain to outrun them.
Self defense or not, I didn
’
t think I would soon forget what it felt like to viciously attack another human being.
Damn, why
did
I throw that pack of cigarettes so far back
?
When my purse rang at dawn a little while later, I jumped.
My legs were cramped, my butt was asleep
,
and I was pretty sure that I still had to pee.
I really did not want to talk to anyone at the moment.
But what if it was Megan or my parents? I kept one hand on the wheel and fished around inside my purse with the other.
I didn
’
t recognize the number but what the hell, I already had the thing out.
“
Hello?
”
“
Claire.
”
“
Hello, John.
I
’
d say it
’
s nice to hear from you, but it would be complete bullshit. What the hell do you want?
”
What I wanted was to beat the crap out of him, but I kept that to myself for the moment.
“
Is that
—
?
”
“
You know,
”
I burst out, talking over him,
“
I have had the most fascinating three days
,
John.
In fact, let me tell you
—
I have been followed, my house was taken over by thugs
,
and
—
here comes the best part
—
I was even attacked by not one
,
but two men holding me at gun point tonight.
You know anything about that, Mr. Hanlen?
”
You worm
, I added to myself, gritting my teeth.