“It’s okay. You did good, Laura. It’s okay.”
“Was it Mia? The girl, was it her?” Laura asked hesitantly.
“Not anymore; I don’t know what she was.”
“Did she attack you?”
“She would have. I’m certain of it,” he mumbled.
“I heard your gun. Did you kill her?”
“I don’t know; I watched them take her away.”
Jacob sat down wearily. “I found some soup,” he said, changing the subject. “You should eat.”
“You haven’t eaten, Jacob.”
He lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. “I’m okay… I just want to rest,” he said.
Chapter Four
“Jacob, Jacob, wake up,” Laura whispered.
He turned over and looked at the dark ceiling, searching the room in a daze. It was early in the evening; the sun was just beginning to go down and low light still broke the edge of the curtains. Katy was sleeping soundly at the foot of the bed. Jacob closed his eyes tightly then opened them again, blinking until his vision cleared. He looked at Laura lying next to him. “What is it?” he asked, still groggy.
“Someone is—” she began as a cracking of wood sounded from somewhere outside behind their house.
Jacob froze and put his hand to her lips. He rolled out of the bed and placed his feet on the floor as his right hand searched the nightstand for his pistol. He felt its cool frame and gripped it tight. There was another bang and a thump from somewhere outside. He got up, crept around the foot of the bed, and walked to the bathroom window. He slowly pulled back the cardboard and investigated the yard.
Two crouched figures were next to the plank wood fence that separated his yard from his neighbors. They were young—teens, maybe early twenties—wearing light backpacks. One, a young man, held a crowbar; a young girl was close behind him. They were looking in the direction of his back deck. There was another sound of splitting wood followed by a loud pop, and he saw the two individuals get to their feet and run to the deck.
Jacob knew someone was breaking in and that they’d managed to jimmy open the French doors off the family room. He heard them below now as they closed the door. Muffled voices seemed to direct someone to move furniture—probably to brace the destroyed door. Jacob looked behind him and saw his wife through the open bathroom door, sitting up in the bed with Katy in her lap. He held a finger to his lips as he crept toward her and stopped to kneel next to a heat register in the floor. With his ear pressed against it, the ductwork funneled the muffled sounds from below.
“There isn’t shit here. Why are we stopping, Frank?” a young male voice said.
“We need to hold up, at least until morning. We can’t keep stumbling around in the dark; they’ll find us,” answered a gruff older man’s voice.
Jacob listened to the two males arguing, the female remaining silent. The sound of kitchen cabinets and the pantry doors opening, and closing was followed by complaints about the house having no food or water. He listened as they continued to stomp through the house; opening and dumping drawers… then a foot fell on the bottom steps.
Jacob took his ear from the floor vent and, returning to the bedroom, moved to his wife’s side to scoop up his daughter. He kept her head against his chest in case she made a sound. Jacob quickly moved them through the bathroom and into the walk-in closet. Laura sat in a corner, and Jacob placed Katy in her lap. He told his wife to be silent and wait for him. As he crept back, she reached out and grabbed his arm.
“What are you going to do?” she whispered.
“Let’s just see who they are first,” he said, walking into the bedroom. He took a position where he could observe the heavy wooden door.
The steps slapped against the hardwood stair treads. Whoever was attached to the feet was not trying to be quiet. The footfalls sounded thunderous over the silence of the room, and Jacob imagined heavy work boots. The sound dulled as the feet left the stair treads and stepped onto the carpet at the top. He heard them near the door. He stared intently at the knob and watched it turn side to side. Then it rattled as someone shook the handle, the heavy door hardly budging thanks to being locked tightly in place with the screws.
“Hey, Joey! We got a locked door up here!” the gruff voice called out.
“Will you be quiet?” Jacob heard another respond. “You want them to hear us?”
The door rattled again. “Boy, they ain’t going to hear us indoors.”
Jacob heard softer footsteps running up the treads, followed by a second set. The lighter footsteps approached the door and Jacob could hear them shuffling around on the landing. The knob turned and rattled again.
“Damn, who puts a bolt lock on an inside door?” the younger voice muttered.
Jacob heard metal slide along the doorframe then a creak and pop of splintering wood. He knew one of them was applying a crowbar to the doorjamb. He ducked into the bathroom doorway and leaned out, keeping the pistol in his hand. He was confident the door wouldn’t move with the deck screws. Even if they were able to seat the crow bar, they would need a fire axe to remove it from its frame.
“Wait, there might be people in there; let’s just leave it alone.” Jacob heard the girl speak for the first time.
“Girl, you’re stu—”
“Damn it, Frank, I told you not to talk to her like that,” the younger man said.
An exaggerated laugh echoed in the hallway. “Boy, what are you going to do about it? You’d be dead right now if I hadn’t come back for your ass.”
“Screw
