The old man cackled. “A little something I picked up after the Gulf War. Only got a couple rounds left, on account of them bein’ so expensive. But hooo-whee, she drops the hammer, don’t she?"
"Marty, your house is on fire—we’re going to try to draw them off so you can get out,” Cami said.
"Negative!” he snapped. “We just have to hold them a little longer…”
"What are you talking about?" asked Cami. "Even counting the three guys that we’ve managed to take out, they still outnumber us two to one!"
The gunfire from the side yard stopped and as Cami watched, the attackers in front of Marty’s house looked as one toward the street, lowered their weapons, and ran. "Mitch, something's going on—get to the front! Hurry!"
She tossed the shotgun at him, and he caught it in midair as he ran from the kitchen.
"Marty! What's going on?" Cami begged. "Talk to me!"
"Mom, do you hear that? It sounds like…cops?" Amber asked.
Cami shook her head and worked her jaw. "No, sweetie, I don't hear much except this ringing…”
"Cami! There's a bunch of cops out here!” Mitch reported from the front room.
Gunfire erupted from the front of the house. Cami was relieved to find when she reached the living room that the attackers were now focused on three sheriff's deputy cars that blocked the road in front of her house. The deputies had emerged from behind their vehicles, all in tactical gear and bulletproof vests. AR-15's crackled and rattled over the hoods of their cars, and two more attackers went down.
"Let ‘em have it!" Cami ordered. She stepped up next to Mitch and drew her pistol. Mitch placed the shotgun barrel through the slot in the plywood over the broken front windows, and sent lead downrange. The shot tore into the rear ranks of the attackers, and two more men went down screaming. Cami fired off several blind shots in the direction of Shorty and the last thugs.
Bullets sparked off of cop cars and the beat-up gold Toyota that sat at the end of her driveway. Mitch looked at her. "That's the car that we saw—these are the same guys that attacked me and Amber,” Mitch racked another round in the shotgun and roared as he fired once more.
Cami watched as Shorty gathered his surviving troops and they scattered across the street toward Harriet's house. Shorty and the giant ran forward and dove into the gold Toyota. As the deputies poured fire into the front of the car, the rear wheels spun in a cloud of smoke and plowed across the ditch in front of the squad cars, and out of the battle. The deputies swung their automatic rifles toward the surviving attackers who’d fled to Harriet's house, but everyone froze when a second vehicle barreled down the Spaldings’ driveway, fishtailed into the street—and took out Cami's mailbox—and followed the gold Camry toward the north end of the neighborhood.
Two of the deputies jumped in their vehicles and raced after the attackers on tires that squealed in protest. Sirens wailed and lights flashed, and the cop cars were gone in a heartbeat.
The last deputy ran across her front yard toward her house, stopped to check the bodies in the driveway and examine the damage to the house. "Hello in the house! My name is Richard McIntyre—Knox County Sheriff! Is anyone in there in need of medical assistance?"
Cami felt the tears stream down her face as she threw back the deadbolt and opened the bullet riddled front door. It reeked of spiced rum and a puddle of wasted alcohol covered her front porch—along with a generous helping of broken glass and rags—but she smiled, nonetheless.
"I've got wounded people inside, but nothing serious. Please check on my neighbor! He's over 80 years old!"
The sheriff nodded and tucked his chin to his shoulder where he squeezed the radio attached to epaulets on his uniform. "Two and three, get back here, we've got casualties and a fire to put out."
The Sheriff holstered his weapon, and Cami did likewise. They shook hands—his clean, if sweaty, and hers caked in mud, blood, and booze. "Cami Lavelle. It’s really nice to meet you, Sheriff McIntyre.”
He nodded. “You folks stay put. We’ll be back in a minute—I’ll go check on your neighbor. What's his name?”
"Marty Price,” Cami called after him.
The sheriff waved his thanks and sprinted around the house. The gear on his utility belt made an awful racket as he ran.
Cami shut the door, locked the deadbolt, and ran back to the kitchen. Amber had Gary on his feet, and Mitch's dad leaned against the table to steady himself. Mia clawed her way to her feet and looked at Cami. “Is it over?"
"I think so," Cami replied.
"Come on, let's get your boys," Amber said. She took Mia by the arm, and the two of them ran for the stairs. Mia screamed for her children as she went down the hall. Cami smiled as she heard the pitter-patter of little feet on the upstairs floor as the boys exploded from the media room and reunited with their mother. There was plenty of crying and sobbing, but all of it happy.
Sighing, Cami turned her attention to Marty's house and saw Sheriff McIntyre assist the old man through the front door. They stepped out as Kirk ran in circles around both of them and barked excitedly. The smoke still billowed from Marty's house, as the blaze continued unchecked. She threw open the back door, ran across the yard, and caught up with them a safe distance from the flames.
"What can we do?" she asked the sheriff.
"There's not much we can do," Marty said. "None of us has the water pressure to put that out. Trust me, it won't be a total loss. I've got plenty of fireproof material built into the attic.
