They Came After Me

by C S Allen

  HISSS!

  The damn spider was now at my door as I could see its shadow moving around under the door. “Fuck you, you piece of shit, you’re not going to get me, you bitch!” I yelled. I turned to look outside my window again and realized that my gun was sitting on my dresser. “Oh my God!” I said out loud and quickly went over to pick it up. I quickly pulled the slide back to put a round into the chamber and then pointed it at the door. I turned off the light in my room so I could see the spider’s shadow underneath the door. I could see the shadow moving around, so I shot once through the door, and the spider didn’t make a sound. My ears where ringing and hurt a bit from the loud gunshot. I could now see the light from outside my door coming through the new hole I had put in it. I got close to the hole to see if I could get a glimpse of the spider and whether I could see that it was still moving around. I took two steps back from the door and then shot three more times through the door.

  HISSS! Hisss!

  I must have hit it, so I shot through the door again, shooting another three times. I heard what sounded like something shuffling against my door, and then I saw what looked like a black, hairy looking claw. Bam! Bam! Bam! I shot the last three bullets from my gun at the lower half of the door, hoping that I had killed it. My ears hurt, and I had a high-pitch noise in both from constantly shooting at the door. I felt confident that I had gotten the spider because that black claw didn’t move when I shot the last three rounds. I tossed my gun on the bed and went over to the door to look out the holes I had put in it. The spider wasn’t moving, and it looked like a big, hairy mess of legs everywhere. “Damn it, I still can’t get out of my room,” I said. The spider was up against the door, and it was too big for me to get over or around it.

  “Hey, Will, you still alive up there?” someone yelled from downstairs. I was excited and felt relieved that someone had come to rescue me.

  “Yeah! I’m stuck in my room!” I yelled back.

  “Aww, that’s too bad!” the person replied. I then realized whose voice that was yelling up to me; it was Tom. “Why don’t you jump out your window to safety?” Tom yelled.

  “How did you get into my house, you asshole?” I asked.

  “It was a cool idea to put alarms on the windows and back door, but you didn’t put anything on your front door, you dumbass!” Tom replied. “I guess I’m going to have to take care of you like I did your buddies at the camp. The newspaper will read that you committed suicide with your gun since you were depressed. I know you shot all ten rounds in your gun, Will, nice of you to just leave it hanging around so I could check it,” Tom stated, while coming slowly up the stairs.

  I quickly went back over to my window and looked down; this time there was a man looking back up at me.

  “Did you see my buddy outside your window yet? He’s got a gun just like yours, and he’s wanting to break it in,” Tom said. He was now outside my door. “What did you do to this poor little spider, Will?” Tom asked, taunting me. “Hey, Will? Why did you have to keep your mouth running when you came out of the coma? You had an opportunity to live your life in peace, but you had to start shit again. It’s a shame that you got your parents killed, Will,” Tom stated.

  “Oh yeah? How’s that when I was in a coma, asshole?” I replied.

  “Let’s just say they were driving too slowly, and I had to give them a nudge to speed up. It’s not my fault that they couldn’t handle a little nudge and went off the road and died,” Tom stated with a bit of a giggle.

  I wanted to kill Tom right then when he mentioned that he had pushed my parents off of the road. I had to do something to make sure that I survived, so I looked around my room. I opened my drawers for any kind of weapon to use and found a pair of scissors. I then remembered the hunting knife in the closet that I’d been given as a present.

  “You coming out or are you going to jump out the window? Make up my mind for me, Willy!” Tom yelled through my door.

  I went into my closet and found the hunting knife and survival gear that my aunt Kelly thought I should have for my birthday years back. I looked through it all and found matches and thought of burning something and then throwing it out at the guy outside my window.

  Pow! Pow! “Hey, Willy boy? Did I get ya? You still alive in there?” Tom yelled.

  I couldn’t believe he’d shot two bullets through my bedroom door. Tom was more dangerous to me than the guy outside, so I grabbed some old newspapers and lit them on fire. After a few seconds, they caught and started burning quickly, so I stuffed them under my bedroom door.

  “What are you trying to do, Willy, commit suicide?” Tom yelled.

  The rug caught fire and started to come into my room and I stomped the flames out. I could hear the police or a fire truck in the distance, and I was hoping they were coming my way. I ran quickly back over to the closet and grabbed a flare gun that I had forgotten about. I loaded it, and then Tom shot again.

  Pow! Pow! Pow! “I know you’re still alive because I can hear you!” Tom yelled.

  I knew Tom wasn’t coming in because that spider had to be in the way or was still moving somehow. I figured he was going to get me anytime now since the fire was moving on the rug. I went back over to my door and tried to guess where Tom was standing outside my door. I then opened it enough to put the gun out and shoot in Tom’s direction. BANG! The flare sounded like it ricocheted off of the far wall and then back against mine, but it didn’t hit Tom in the process. I then heard stomping as I loaded another flare and shot it as quickly as I could. BANG! I aimed in the direction of Tom’s stomping, and I heard what sounded like someone hitting a punching bag. Tom was making grunting sounds as I loaded another flare and shot out the door as fast as I could. BANG! The flare ricocheted again about three times, making all kinds of sounds as I slammed the door shut and locked it. I ran over to the window and looked down and saw the man still standing at the bottom, waiting for me to jump out. I took aim at the guy and shot the flare, knowing that I wasn’t going to hurt him in any way.

  BANG! I watched the flare bounce off of the ground, just missing the man’s head by a foot or two. He ducked and ran for cover behind a few trees that divided my neighbor’s property and ours. The fire had to be going pretty well because smoke was trying to get inside my room from under the door.

  “Hey, Tom, you still alive out there, you prick?” I yelled. The sound of the sirens was getting closer, so I felt that I was about to be rescued. “Hey asshole, you still out there?” I asked a bit louder. I didn’t hear anything except the sounds of a possible fire burning in my house. I looked back out the window and couldn’t see the man who was hiding outside my window. I had to think quickly. Did Tom take off with his co-conspirator? I had to know if Tom was outside my door, waiting for me to come out, so he could shoot me. I couldn’t look under the door, but I could feel heat against it, and I was more scared now thinking about being burned alive. The only way out was to jump out my window.

  “Hell no, I’m not” I said out loud, talking to myself. I pulled the top sheet off the bed and ripped it in half. I could hear the fire crackling outside the door, and the paint bubbled on my side. I tied the ends of the sheet together as tightly as I could, and then I put one end on my three-hundred-pound barbell set on the floor and tied it tightly. My bedroom door was now warped, and smoke was starting to fill my room. I could see the red and yellow colors from the intense flames coming through the side and top of my door, and I started to panic. I did my best to get out of the window, and by holding onto the bed sheet, I then lowered myself down. I looked around for the man who’d been outside my window, but he was gone.

  I could see the blue and red lights reflecting from a police car and a fire truck coming from the front of my parents’ house. I quickly ran around to the front and saw firemen getting hoses out, and a police officer standing nearby his vehicle. I looked around for Tom and didn’t see him, thank goodness, and quickly made a dash for the policeman.

  “This is my house, I’m th
e only one who lives here, no one else is in the house!” I yelled over the sounds of the fire truck, sirens, and the men running around, who were making noises with their equipment.

  “Okay! Hold on right here!” the policeman stated and then ran over to a fireman and spoke to him for a few seconds. Another fire truck and police car came as I watched my house go up in flames. I was totally in shock and didn’t know what to do because of everything that had happened. “Hey, what’s your name, kid?” a police officer asked me, as he walked over to me.

  “William Reed,” I replied.

  “Is this your home, Mr. Reed?” the officer asked.

  “Yes, it is,” I replied sadly.

  “Mr. Reed, were you in your house when the fire started?” the officer asked, while he took out a pad of paper and pen from his shirt pocket.

  I had a bad feeling about what was about to happen with being questioned. I had to be careful because if I said too much then the officer would make me look like I was either crazy or had tried to burn down my parents’ house. Luckily, I had an idea as to what I was going to say when the officer asked if I had any idea what started the fire and I told him. “I was screwing around with a flare gun and caught my house on fire by accident.” After saying that, the officer just shook his head.

  I called my aunt from a neighbor’s house and told her that I had an accidental fire and needed her help. I couldn’t say what really happened in front of my neighbors, who were listening in on my conversation. They were a nosy bunch, asking me all kinds of questions about what went on at my house. When I was done talking to my aunt on the phone, I went outside and watched a part of my house burn down. I could see that no flames were coming out of my bedroom window, but in the back side, my parents’ room was on fire. The whole area of my parents’ home was full of smoke, and it felt surreal to watch the firemen douse the flames with their fire hoses and punch holes through the roof.

  My aunt arrived about twenty minutes after I’d gotten off the phone with her. She came up the sidewalk and called my name out from a short distance to get my attention. “I had to park at the end of the street because the police blocked everyone from coming down here,” my aunt stated.

  “It’s okay, Aunt Kelly, I’m just glad you’re here,” I replied.

  “Oh, Will, this is so awful. How are you holding up?” my aunt asked, as she put an arm around my waist.

  “It was them, Aunt Kelly, those bastards from the government who did this. They tried to kill me tonight with another spider and shot at me while I was in my bedroom. I have enough evidence now to prove it all with one dead spider on fire and bullet holes around my room where Tom tried to kill me,” I said, while watching the fire smolder.

  “My God, Will, you need to have some kind of witness protection program from the police. The state trooper or the county sheriff’s office needs to get involved with protecting you,” my aunt said worried.

  “I already answered the police officer’s questions so we can get out of here. Let’s talk on the way back to your home. I’m feeling exposed out here in the open,” I replied.

  I kept a lookout for Tom while walking to my aunt’s car. There were lots of people watching the fire department put out the fire, and he could have been there. Once in the car, I felt safe to talk as we left my street on the way to my aunt’s house. My aunt couldn’t believe what she was hearing and kept saying, ‘oh my God,’ and ‘this is crazy,’ as I told what had happened to me. “If we talk with the FBI, maybe they can help me keep safe,” I suggested.

  “I agree, Will, we should call them tonight when we get to my house. Maybe we can get the government to call off the dogs and leave you alone for once,” my aunt stated.

  We pulled into her driveway and got out of the car to go inside my aunt’s house. On the way inside, she told me that she had a surprise for me and that I wouldn’t believe it until I saw it. Aunt Kelly told me to go into the living room and have a seat and she would be right back. I did as she said and waited while my aunt went into a closet in the bedroom hallway. While I took off my shoes, my aunt returned with a shoe box and sat down beside me. “In this box was something that belonged to your grandfather, and then it was passed down to me.[pe18][CA19] I’m giving this to you now because you need it more than I do, Will,” my aunt said, as she opened the box. Inside was a handgun with a couple of gun magazines and ammunition. My aunt then placed the box on my lap and said, “Happy birthday and Merry Christmas, Will. I hope you know a little bit about guns,” she added, with a smile.

  I was in a little bit of shock to see this big black gun sitting in the shoe box, and I didn’t know what to say. I just reached in, picked the gun up, and treated it like it was thin glass, ready to break. It was a really cool and mean-looking gun to have in my hands.

  “Do you know the history of this gun, Will?” my aunt asked.

  “No, I have no idea except you said that it was passed down from my grandfather,” I replied.

  “Well, your grandfather Charlie had this gun in World War Two and used it a few times. He made up stories about shooting Germans with this gun, and sometimes he would forget. He would joke around and tell your mother and me that this gun killed a lot of Japanese during his time fighting in Japan, even though he was never there. Your grandfather Charlie was a funny guy and would make up all kinds of stories. I believe he would have loved to give you this gun. It’s called an M1911, and it was an army issued gun[pe20]. Anyway, this is your gun now if you want it for your own protection,” my aunt said with a smile.

  “Oh my God, yes, I want it. This is a great present to own from my grandfather,” I stated.

  “I know how to use it and have shot it a couple of times, Will. Let me show you a few things that you may already know how to do, but I’ll just go over it,” Aunt Kelly said as she picked up the gun.

  Aunt Kelly amazed me with her knowledge of how the gun functioned and operated. She even took the gun apart and then put it back together and did a function check to make sure it worked properly.

  “Will, I want you to feel safe while you’re here. I have a gun in my bedroom and a shotgun in the basement that are loaded. Let me tell you a story about why we have all of these guns. Your mother and I were celebrating a friend’s birthday down in Massachusetts and decided to go to a liquor store. Once inside, two assholes came in with ski masks on and robbed us and the store. If we had had guns on us, we would have blasted them to hell. So, after all of that, we took our anger to the gun store and purchased two handguns, a shotgun, and then your grandfather gave us his M1911. So, now you have a gun with you and plenty of ammo to go with it while you’re here with me,” my aunt stated.

  I was completely taken aback about my aunt. I had always thought she was this easygoing, soft-spoken woman who wouldn’t hurt a fly, and yet, here she was, a gun expert. I was still a bit of a mess with what had happened at my parents’ house, so my aunt and I kept on talking about what happened. I went into every kind of detail that I could remember with the sounds, smells, and what I had seen. My aunt picked my brain, trying to make sure that I didn’t forget any of it. We had some finger foods while talking about everything that night. Our plan was to get up the next morning and make phone calls to the FBI, the insurance company, and then to go by the house to see what I could salvage. I didn’t trust that things were safe there, what with my parents’ house sitting on the lot half open, so I told my aunt that I wanted to be at the house at first light. I wanted to see what had happened to my room and my parents’ room during the fire. I wasn’t even sure if the house was still standing, but I had to go look.

  “Aunt Kelly, I wrote the journal about everything that happened to me over the last three years. I wrote all of it, just as we discussed, because I wanted you to know what happened to us, meaning me and my friends. I’m thinking about making copies of it all and going to a news agency about it. Everyone needs to know what happened, and how the government is responsible for it all,” I stated.

  My aunt wa
s very understanding and agreed that my friend’s parents needed closure. She and I devised a plan to look and see if my journal had survived the fire, and if so, how to make copies immediately.

  “You’re one tough kid, Will. I’m not sure if I would have survived what you’re going through. If I survived, I’d probably be in a mental institution right about now. If we see that the book you were writing didn’t survive, you’ll need to write everything down all over again. I know that you spent many hours on it, and it was tiresome, but your story has to get out there. I’m still in a state of shock about what has happened to you and can’t believe that they are still after you. I just want to find whoever is in charge of this shit and make him or her disappear. This needs to stop now,” my aunt replied. She was definitely angry.

  I didn’t tell my aunt what Tom had said about my parents’ accident because I was tired and it wasn’t time yet. I felt like she was already angry enough, and if I told her my parents had been run off the road, she might just go crazy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, I got up at five thirty and could see the sun was already starting to come up. Our plan was to leave at seven, but I needed to wake up and be more alert than usual. I needed to be able to see everything with clear eyes and mind when I went back to my parents’ house. I didn’t want to miss anything, especially the spider, which was probably burned up and blended in with everything else.

  I could hear my aunt was up because she was stirring her coffee with a spoon, and the aroma smelled good. I took my time taking a shower and then got dressed, thinking about what I hoped to accomplish that day. I was fighting back my negative thoughts the best that I could. My mind was trying to tell me that I was fighting an uphill battle, and it wasn’t worth it. But it was my friends’ lives that I had to fight for, and I had to stay alive to tell their story.

  After having breakfast together, my aunt and I left at six fifty that morning. On the way over to the house, my aunt asked if I had the gun that she had given me and I told her no. I didn’t feel comfortable with carrying one, but my aunt reminded me that my life was on the line.