Survive the Panic

by Harley Tate

  Leah spun around and squinted through the peephole. Four men assembled behind Greg with some sort of log or hunk of metal. She couldn’t let them break the door in. She sucked in a breath. “It’s getting dark. Not the best time for a social call.”

  Greg grinned at his buddies. “This isn’t a friendly visit. It’s inventory time. Open up so we can inspect.”

  Crap.

  No way could she open the door without Grant home. “How about we do it in the morning when there’s enough light? It’s super dark in here. You’ll be wasting your time.”

  A beam of light blinded Leah through the peephole and she jerked back.

  “Don’t need the sun. We’ve got plenty of flashlights. Open up.”

  “Grant’s sleeping. I don’t want to wake him up.”

  Greg chuckled and his belly jiggled. “All the better. Let the man sleep and we’ll be out of there before you know it.”

  With all of my gear and weapons. Leah frowned. She couldn’t open the door. If she did that, it would all be over. Five guys, all with football builds and thick hands, would be no match for her, Oliver, and Susie.

  She stared at the collection of guns on the dining room table. The air rifle, two full-size rifles, and a shotgun. It had been years since she fired a shotgun and she’d only done it a handful of times when Grant took her to an outdoor range north of town to shoot clay pigeons.

  It had been fun, shooting the little clay discs out of the sky and watching them explode. But shooting a man was a heck of a lot different.

  She glanced at the window. Grant had left an opening big enough to peer out of and wedge a rifle barrel in between. Could she shoot one of Dan’s rifles? Would the bullet go through the window glass?

  Leah had no idea, but if he didn’t leave, she didn’t have much of a choice. Once Greg made it inside, her ability to defend the place dropped to zero. She had to keep him out any way she could.

  “What’s taking so long, Leah? I don’t have all night.”

  “I need time to get everything ready and wake Grant up. It’ll be easier if we get all our things and put them in one place.”

  “Right. So you have time to set up an ambush? No thanks.”

  “It’s not an ambush.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Because I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not now, not ever. I’m a nurse for goodness’ sake.” Leah glanced down at Faith. “And I don’t want you snooping around in my bedroom.”

  Greg laughed and Leah crossed her fingers. After a few moments, he gave in. “All right. Thirty minutes. But that’s it. When we come back, I expect you to welcome us with open arms.”

  Leah exhaled in relief and squished her face up against the door to watch as Greg and his friends sauntered down the driveway and into the street. They were actually leaving.

  She rushed back to the living room.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Greg is demanding an inventory. He wants to come in and take all our stuff.”

  Susie almost leapt off the couch. “But Grant and Dan aren’t home!”

  “I know.” Leah glanced at her watch. “They should be back soon. I stalled and got us half an hour.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  Leah covered her collarbone with her hand. “We need to prepare for the worst. If Grant and Dan don’t make it back, we’ll have to defend this place.”

  “I’ve never shot a gun.” Susie stared past Leah to the dining room where all their weapons sat waiting.

  Oliver shoved his laptop in his messenger bag. “I don’t think I can. When we were out there on the road—” He cut off in midsentence as the color fled his face.

  “Maybe we could negotiate.” Susie’s leg bounced up and down as she talked. “We could shove part of the gear outside as a peace offering and hope they go away.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea in theory, but Leah shook her head. “Greg will know we have more. He won’t be satisfied until he takes it all.”

  Susie slumped in her seat. “Then we should hand it all over.”

  “What?” Oliver twisted to face Susie. “We can’t. If they take all my equipment, we’ll never get back online. How will we know where to go?”

  “You said yourself, none of it works anyway. What does it matter?”

  Leah held up a hand to cut the argument off. “Oliver’s right. We can’t hand anything over.” She glanced at the front door. “Give me a minute.”

  She stalked back to the dining room and picked up one of Dan’s rifles. Three times as heavy as the air rifle, her arm sagged with the weight. Leah pressed it against her shoulder snug and tight.

  Grant had shown her how to work the lever action earlier in the day and she knew it was loaded and ready. Dan didn’t have much ammo, but with eight rounds of 30-30, she should be able to defend the house. She focused on the window.

  The thought of shooting Greg made her skin crawl. Ever since the bombs, Leah survived by running and hiding. She never had to defend what was hers. It was easier to escape than stand her ground, but this time, she couldn’t run.

  She looked back into the house where Oliver and Susie sat in the living room, surrounded by gear. They couldn’t make it out without Greg finding them and they couldn’t carry all the gear. It was an impossible task.

  If they were going to protect what they had, she would have to fight. Leah turned back around to the door and grabbed the door jam Grant had fashioned out of wood. She shoved it under the handle and wedged it in tight with her foot.

  A battering ram would break the door down no matter what, but the jam might buy a few minutes. She picked up the other rifles and the shotgun and hurried back to Susie and Oliver. “Time for a crash course in shooting. I’m terrible at this, but try to follow.”

  She showed them both how to work the lever on the other rifle and where to load the ammo. Then she pumped the air rifle and explained the difference.

  Oliver and Susie followed along, each asking questions Leah couldn’t answer. As she finished, Susie pointed to the shotgun. “What about that one?”

  Leah hesitated. “Honestly, if it comes to the shotgun, we’re probably out of luck. I don’t have any idea how to load it.” She picked up. “But shooting shouldn’t be any different.”

  “Maybe Greg won’t come back.”

  “We could still sneak out the back. Then if he breaks in, we won’t be here.”

  Leah opened her mouth to argue when a pounding once again echoed through the house.

  “Time’s up! Let us in or we’ll kick the door down.”

  “Guess we’re out of options.” Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose and picked up the rifle. He glanced at Susie. “We’ll do our best, right?”

  She nodded and Leah hurried back to the front door. After opening the slat in the shutter, she fit the rifle barrel through the plywood and let out a breath. “We changed our minds. You can’t come in.”

  Greg laughed and Leah leaned down to line up the sights. In the dark, it was hard to make out the shapes. Was that a body or the tree in the front yard? Crap.

  “Don’t play games, Walton. Open the damn door.”

  “No. And if you don’t go away, you’ll regret it.”

  Greg laughed even harder and Leah’s pulse quickened. He wasn’t going to leave. She would actually have to do this.

  His lumbering shape turned around in the driveway and other bodies separated in the dusk. Now’s my chance.

  Leah inhaled and let the air out in a slow stream to calm her jumpy hands. She focused on the shape she thought was Greg in the driveway. All I have to do is pull the trigger.

  Her finger twitched against the metal.

  I can do this.

  She waited for Greg to turn around. No matter what he planned to do, Leah couldn’t shoot him in the back.

  As Greg began to turn, he froze. “What the hell is that?”

  Leah rose up as a rumble of an engine came from the direction of the neighborhood entrance. Grant! He
’s coming home!

  She smiled in relief until an air horn blasted out three times. Greg and his friends walked down toward the road, heads all pointed toward the entrance.

  A strip of KC lights on a pickup truck came into view and slowed outside Leah’s house. She couldn’t see anything beyond the lights, but she could hear whooping and hollering and a host of shouts.

  Greg and his buddies stopped moving as a megaphone clicked on.

  “Attention! This is your friendly neighborhood band of thieves.”

  Leah swallowed.

  “We’re here for all your shit. So pony up, bitches!” Laughter bounced off the houses and Leah lowered the rifle.

  She looked down at Faith beside her feet. “Looks like we’ve got bigger problems, now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  GRANT

  Westfield Parkway

  Smyrna, Georgia

  Monday 8:00 p.m.

  Grant strained to listen over the sound of his own heart. The chances of the gate shutting on its own were slim. The car lot sat flat and level, with no natural slope to guide the metal back on the track.

  No, the only way the gate shut was due to a person. Someone most likely still inside. Grant worked closer to the gate, crouch-walking along the side of a car until he reached the front fender.

  In the silence of the night, he could hear crickets and the steady hum of a million flying insects, all buzzing in the humid air.

  There! A footstep? A scrape against a car?

  Grant didn’t have a clue, but he couldn’t waste any more time. If Greg decided tonight would make a good night for an ambush, Leah couldn’t defend the house on her own. Susie and Oliver couldn’t do much more than scream and hide in the bathroom.

  I shouldn’t have left them. Grant cursed at his foolishness. Now he was stuck miles from home in a car lot with someone who either wanted to flush him out, steal, or both.

  He held his gun low and pointed to the ground and tensed to spring forward when someone spoke.

  “Yo, D, I don't think any a’ these are gonna start.”

  “Shut up, you idiot. Someone might hear us.”

  Grant eased around the front of the car and double-timed it to the end of the row.

  “One of ’em’s gotta work. They can’t all be dead.”

  “Let’s get to the office and find the keys. We can go one by one.”

  The voices were loud enough for Grant to make out all the words. Ten feet away, he guessed.

  Based on the tone, Grant pegged them for a pair of teenagers looking for a new set of wheels. Maybe harmless, maybe not. But if he could find Dan and get out of there before they made it back to the working cars, he had a chance to avoid anything nasty.

  Grant backpedaled down the row of cars until the trailer came into view. He turned and ran behind it, stopping once he was hidden by the building to search for Dan.

  It didn’t take long. The man sat behind the wheel of a beater with the dome light on with a scowl on his face. Grant shook his head. That motorcycle might fall apart if they both had to ride it home.

  “No luck?”

  Dan jerked and hit his head on the visor. “Damn it. You want me to piss my pants?”

  Grant grinned. “That’s one way to get you off the back of the motorcycle.” He motioned at the car. “No luck?”

  “It’s the fifth one I’ve tried. Can’t get a single one to start.”

  Grant stuck his hand out. “Give me some keys. I’ll see if I can find one before the kids at the front of the lot figure out we’re back here.”

  “That’s what the noise was?”

  Grant nodded. “A couple of teenagers trying to boost a truck. They haven’t figured out that it’s hopeless.”

  Dan handed over a handful of keys. “Let’s get this done and get out of here. I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Neither do I.” Grant clicked on the flashlight to scope out the keys. One Cadillac, an Oldsmobile, and two Buicks. He hustled up to the first Buick and tugged open the door.

  A cockroach scuttled out into the night. Grant grimaced and slid into the driver’s seat. He stuck the first key in the ignition. It wouldn’t turn.

  He tried the second. It turned and the car groaned. Come on. He pumped the gas and tried again, holding the key all the way forward. The engine sputtered and protested, but at last, it revved to life. Yes!

  Grant left the engine running and ran back to Dan. The man was now behind the wheel of a Chevy, rooting through a pile of keys.

  “I got the Buick to start.”

  Dan shoved a key in the ignition, but it wouldn’t turn. “I suppose you want a medal.”

  “No, but we should get out of here. Those kids will be here any second.”

  “You said they were harmless.”

  “No. I said they weren’t out to get us. Not the same thing.”

  “Hey!”

  Grant stood up. The boys from the other side of the lot stood on the stoop of the financial building. A flashlight beam hit Grant in the face.

  “Yeah?”

  “How’d you get that car to start?”

  “Luck. Been trying them all.”

  “You shouldn’t be helping them.” Dan stuck another key in the ignition. It didn’t budge.

  “Why not?”

  “Because they want what we have.” Dan tried a third key and it cranked, but the engine didn’t even wheeze. “Damn it.” He thumped on the steering wheel as the flashlight beam bobbed and weaved their way.

  “Get back to the car. We don’t want them to steal it.”

  Grant sighed, but Dan had a point. He ran over the open door and fell into the driver’s seat just as one of the kids reached the front of the car. With a yank of the handle, Grant slammed the door shut.

  The kids’ hands slapped the driver’s window. Knobby knuckles. Palms creased with dirt. He bent down and grabbed the handle.

  Grant pushed the lock down and glared. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  “Yeah? Well, you’re not me. Out of the car, old man.”

  “Not a chance.” Grant brought the Shield up into view. “Back up or I’ll put a hole right through this window and your chest.”

  The kid raised his arms and Grant used his free hand to click on the flashlight. He shone it right in the kid’s face.

  With a scraggly, barely-there beard and wide brown eyes, he couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Grant frowned. “If you’d asked for help, I’d have been more than willing.”

  “Right. And I got a wad of cash in my back pocket and a girlfriend waiting for me back home.”

  “Where’s your friend?” Grant peered around the kid, using the flashlight to get a better look. Dan wasn’t sitting inside the Chevy.

  Grant spun around, lighting up all the cars within his immediate area. No sign of Dan or another kid. He turned back to the one at the window.

  He was gone.

  Shit.

  Grant killed the engine and pocketed the keys. He couldn’t leave with Dan out there somewhere, but he couldn’t risk the kids driving off in their only working car. He shut the door and used the flashlight to search. With his night vision destroyed, he couldn’t look for Dan any other way.

  If the other kid had a gun, he’d be in a world of hurt, but Grant didn’t think either one was armed. He cupped one hand around his mouth. “Dan! Where are you?”

  A muffled shout echoed across the lot and Grant took off. The flashlight beam bounced as his feet hit the pavement and Grant shouted again. “Dan!”

  This time the older man managed to get his mouth free. “Pissant’s got a .22 up against my ribs.”

  Hell.

  Grant clicked off his light and squeezed his eyes shut. After counting to ten, he opened them. The darkness eased into blobs and shapes. It would have to do.

  Hurrying toward the last place he heard Dan’s voice, Grant kept his feet light and his noise to a minimum. It didn’t take long to find them.

  The bright
burning end of a cigarette led Grant to within five feet of the teenagers. One held Dan by the arms with his forearms locked up underneath Dan’s shoulder blades. Dan’s gut stuck out in front of him like a beached whale and from the pained expression on his face, he hated every second of it.

  The other kid held a snubnosed revolver in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He sucked down a lungful of nicotine before blowing a cloud of smoke into Dan’s face.

  “You blow that crap in my face one more time and it’ll be your face that’s on fire next.”

  The kid laughed before shoving the cigarette between his lips. He coiled back to punch Dan in the gut when Grant stepped forward.

  “Don’t even think about it.” The kid spun around and Grant took aim. “If you so much as look at him again, I’ll shoot.”

  The kid waggled the little revolver in the air and spoke out of the free side of his mouth. “Don’t you see what I’m holdin’? You shoot me and I shoot you.”

  “Ever shot a teensy little gun like that before? They can’t aim for shit.”

  “Oh and yours can?”

  “Better than that toy you’re holding.”

  The kid glanced down at the gun and Grant took a chance. He aimed at the kid’s upper leg and fired. A scream cut through the night air and the kid’s gun flew from his hand and clattered on the pavement

  “You shot me! You freakin’ shot me!”

  Grant didn’t bother to reply, ignoring the kids wails and shouts as he hopped around on one foot. He focused on the other kid still holding Dan. “Let him go or you’ll have a matching bullet wound.”

  Dan grunted. “Shoot him. They can be twins.”

  The kid let Dan go. The older man spun around and decked him square in the jaw and he stumbled back, hitting the hood of a sedan before crumpling to the ground.

  Dan shook out his hand. “Frisk him, will you? He’s got the keys to a Dodge that runs.”

  Grant bent down and rifled through the kid’s pockets until he found a set of keys. He motioned toward the back lot. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “What about the bike?”

  “Leave it. If they can figure out how to ride it, they can have it.” Grant tossed the motorcycle key on the ground. “There’s a bike in the bushes outside the gate. Good luck getting your buddy on the back.”