"What happened?" Cami demanded. Her eyes fell upon the chunk of plywood that had been blown from the panel over the kitchen sink window. Gary's blood had splattered against the sink. "Are you hit?"
Gary shook his head. "Lucky shot—the wood splintered and got me pretty good. I'll be fine," he said.
"Where are they?" Cami complained. "I can't see anything!"
Another boom echoed from Marty's house, and someone outside screamed again. "Whatever Marty’s shooting, he’s certainly getting their attention!" Gary said.
"Some of the guys are peeling off from the front door,” Mitch warned from the living room. "They’re heading around the side of the house!"
Cami moved to the far corner of the kitchen and peered out the window. "I see them.” She fumbled on the counter for the Marty's radio. "Marty! They're coming for you!"
“Let ‘em,” he snarled. "This house is hardened."
Cami watched through the jagged slot in the plywood as several attackers sprinted across the side yard and took up position behind trees. They poured fire on Marty's house to little effect. Every window was encased in steel shutters. Bullets sparked off the window coverings and took chunks of brick and wood off of the siding, but the house held firm.
"Cami! There's a huge guy out in the front yard! He's got a bag of…oh, man—they got Molotov cocktails!"
Cami froze. "Amber!" Cami yelled. "Get down here!"
"What is it?" asked Gary as Mia wrapped his head in gauze. Blood had already seeped over his ear where he’d been clipped by the plywood shrapnel.
Cami raced to the front door and called over her shoulder, “They're fixing to firebomb us! Get ready to evacuate!"
"Incoming!" Mitch warned.
Cami flinched when she heard a bottle smash against the front door. She met Amber at the bottom of the stairs and urged her to retreat back to the kitchen. "Mitch, get over here," she said. "Give me the shotgun and get back to the kitchen."
Cami stood alone at the front door and waited for smoke to seep in. She waited, and another bottle smashed against the door. Still no smoke appeared, but she did notice the bottom of the door seemed wet. Outside, on the other side, she heard a muffled curse.
“What's going on?" Gary called from the kitchen.
"It's not as easy as it looks in the movies,” Cami replied with a smile. She crept up and peered through the peephole, careful not to leave her body directly behind the door. "The biggest man she'd ever seen appeared at the edge of the driveway. He had to be 6’ 8”, maybe 6‘ 10” and 300 pounds of pure muscle. Cami swallowed.
The giant took instructions from Shorty, who hid behind one of the decorative bushes next to her front walkway. The big man nodded, then turned, lowered his shoulder and charged at the front door. Cami gasped, and backpedaled, barely able to bring the shotgun up as the front door shuddered in its frame. She tripped and fell down in the hallway, but managed to keep the shotgun aimed at the door. Gunfire crackled in the distance, and she heard Amber yell something incoherent to Marty over the radio. Her world shrank to the front door as it shook again under the impact of the massive human on the other side.
“Enough is enough," Cami growled to herself. She jumped to her feet and raced into the living room. Just like Mitch had said, she couldn't see the man by the front door through the living room window—the angle was too shallow. Desperate, she stuck the barrel of Reese's shotgun through the crack and pulled the trigger, nonetheless.
The shotgun kicked and exploded flame and noise. The front window shattered, and a spread of steel BBs ripped through the air. A guttural howl erupted by the front door, and Cami saw the huge man stagger back, fingers stained red with blood as he gripped his side. She’d managed to wing him after all. He cried like a child and alternated between coughs and shouts but staggered away from her house to collapse behind one of the shrubs. Shorty emerged, fired a shot at the front room—which spent most of its energy when it hit the 3/4” thick plywood—and ran to the big man’s side.
Amber appeared around the corner of the living room. "Mom! Marty's house is on fire! They're throwing Molotov cocktails over there!"
Cami followed her daughter back into the kitchen and peered through the slits in the plywood. Smoke billowed from the front of Marty's house, but the gunfire continued unabated.
Cami raised the radio to her lips. "Marty! Your house is on fire!"
No response.
Cami looked at her motley crew of defenders. Amber had a small cut on her cheek and a thin line of dried blood down her chin. Mitch appeared uninjured, but his hands were stained with the blood of his father. Gary still sat on the floor and leaned against the fridge, his head wrapped in bloodied gauze, and his eyes glazed over. Mia crouched next to him and held her reddened hands to her ears as she curled into a ball and attempted to hide.
"Amber, honey—check the bandage on Gary. I think Mia put it on a little too tight. He looks like he's ready to pass out, but I don't think he’s lost that much blood."
Amber ducked down to check on Gary while Mitch hovered nervously. Cami brought the radio back to her lips. "Marty! Do you read me?"
Another earsplitting boom erupted from Marty's house, and Cami watched as the head on one of the attackers turned into a pink mist. The body stood erect for a moment, then toppled over.
"Holy crap, Marty! What are you shooting over there?"
