by EE Isherwood
Carmen waved to the mother.
“Remember to keep those windows open,” I called out. “Be ready for anything.”
I realized Penny was going home alone.
“Hold up, I’ll walk you. Carmen, you ready, too?”
The women walked on either side of me. There wasn’t far to go, so the walk for Carmen was only a few seconds, but it was a good habit to encourage.
“Good night, you two,” the pretty Cuban called out as she walked up her driveway.
“Night,” Penny and I replied.
“Stay alert,” I advised for the tenth time.
We walked around the island of bushes, since it was hard to see the ground there. When we reached Penny’s driveway, my neighbor halted.
“Let me guess, stay alert,” she chuckled.
“Do your best,” I replied. “I’ll be keeping an eye on things, too.”
“That makes me feel better, Frank. Thanks again for everything you’ve done today. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to have someone like you as my neighbor. My day would have been a lot different if you weren’t around.” She bounced the little girl in her arms, as if to keep her from waking up.
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the morning.”
We parted ways, though I didn’t move from my spot until I saw her walk inside her home. While I stood there, I figured tomorrow night it might be a good idea to set up a bonfire near the circle, to provide more light for people walking around at night. It might also serve to comfort everyone, since a bright fire could add a sense of security to our street.
Another item for my growing list of things to do.
When I got to my house, I decided it wasn’t enough to simply sleep inside with the windows open like I’d told everyone else. Sure, a typical neighborhood watch consisted of residents who remained vigilant for illegal activity, but few people actually took them seriously. If a member stumbled upon a crime in progress, they would certainly report it, but almost no one took it upon themselves to actively protect their neighbors. That’s where I had to be different.
I pulled out a camp chair from my outdoor gear and set it up at the threshold of my garage right behind the ‘Vette. I put an LED flashlight in the cupholder of the seat, then I placed my shotgun up against the back of my car, so I could grab it in a second. I felt for the Springfield XD-S on my hip, to be one hundred percent sure it was still on me. When I was satisfied I could properly defend myself, I fell heavily into the chair, more than ready to cash out.
It seemed like days ago I talked on the phone to my nephew back in Chicago, though it had only been since the morning. Was he bedding down under similar powerless circumstances, or was Chicago safe? Maybe he was watching the news about Florida and wondering if I was alright. Would he try to drive down and help me out? I’d have done the same if our positions were reversed.
I jotted lines in my notebook several times as I sat there, each another piece of the survival mentality I was trying to foster. Each gave me a boost of alertness with the knowledge it was an important skill, piece of equipment, or resource I needed to share with the others. However, despite knowing my list was impossibly far from done, I eventually fell asleep.
In what felt like seconds later, I was startled awake by the clinking of broken glass.
Without cars, planes, or the hum of a thousand air conditioners, the Florida night seemed unnaturally quiet. It was that contrast which made the breaking glass noise stand out.
The commotion came from the retired cop’s place, which was the house to my right.
I grabbed my shotgun and peeked around the corner of my garage door. A little more glass tinkled to the ground, but it sounded like the damage had already been done. A moment later, I strode across my lawn to get a better view of the home, and clearly saw the front door was wide open.
I jogged onto the neighbor’s driveway, went up the walkway to the front porch, then I tiptoed to the edge of the doorway. Glass from the central pane of the door was scattered on the inside floor.
Men spoke in low voices inside the home.
I waited a couple of minutes to see if I could make out what they were saying, but they were deep inside, so I couldn’t hear them very well. I tried to see if it was the homeowner, Mr. Drummond, thinking he might have had to break into his own place for some reason. I decided not to get any of my neighbors involved until I knew more. Plus, I currently had a huge advantage over the intruders. They had no idea I was there.
I snuck into the front room, avoiding as much of the glass as I could. Then I wound my way toward the other side of the house, so I could be closer to the culprits. By the time I’d gone through the dining room, I heard two voices clearly.
“He has a fifty-inch flat screen,” one guy said.
Immediately, I knew it wasn’t the homeowner.
Quietly, I flicked off the safety on my semi-automatic shotgun. I already had a round in the chamber, so I didn’t need to rack the first shell. It was tempting to rack a round anyway, to make the thieves shit their pants at hearing it, but I’d learned from my books never to risk a misfeed or jam when you already have a huge tactical advantage.
“We should take it, bro. It’s probably the only good shit in this place. Even the garage is full of junk and a shitty old car. You can really tell a couple of old fogies live here.”
Taking a risk, I peeked around a corner. Two men were silhouetted by the moonlight coming in through the sliding glass doors at the far end of the kitchen. The pair stood on opposite sides of a table, with a dark bag between them, as if planning what to put inside it. As best as I could tell, they had no idea I was there.
There would never be a better chance to end the situation peacefully.
I decided to go for the surprise.
While I wasn’t going to rack a round to scare them, I still had a loud voice.
“Freeze, dirtbags!” I yelled.
CHAPTER 12
The second I shouted, both of the men sprang away from me as if my voice had a physical presence. They screamed in fright as they stumbled, but they didn’t put their hands up or surrender, as I’d hoped.
“I said freeze!” I repeated.
One of the guys threw himself at the sliding glass door, perhaps thinking he could break through.
“Shit!” the man yelled as he hit it.
To my surprise, he crashed outward to the back patio without the sound of broken glass, and I concluded it must have been a screen door rather than plate glass.
“Come on!” the man yelled to his partner.
The other guy had also jumped in panic toward the rear exit, and he turned to look at me for a second, but then his shadow hopped out through the gap to follow his friend.
I could have shot them at any time. Dark or not, there was enough light to see my targets and ensure my rounds hit them. However, I’d gotten so much of a jump on them they were absolutely no threat to me, and they’d abandoned their goody bag on the table, meaning they were no threat to Mr. Drummond’s belongings. Their wild shrieking and cussing also gave me the impression they were teenagers, rather than hardened criminals.
The two shapes sprinted for the canal, and I guessed that they were running to a boat.
I went through the hole in the back door, noting that the man had in fact thrown himself through the flimsy screen, rather than the glass. I figured they’d opened the door earlier, perhaps to cool the place while they ransacked it.
Once on the patio, I kept my shotgun handy, but I wasn’t going to fire it unless the men came back at me, since I’d risk some of the buckshot traveling across the canal and hitting the houses on the next street.
“Don’t try it again!” I shouted into the darkness. “Or I’ll have to shoot you!”
The guys didn’t stop at the canal, nor did they have a getaway boat. They both splashed into the water and paddled away from Mr. Drummond’s property. Once in the canal, I was certain they were kids. Their voices squeaked with fear as they conversed
about where to go, whether I was going to chase them, and whether they were safely out of range of my shotgun. A professional would have known voices carry forever over open water.
I watched and listened for about five minutes as the would-be thieves swam like crazy to get away from me. The canal wrapped around the cul-de-sac on the next street, giving them an escape route. Since the builders had yet to trench the canal around the other half of our block, I could have walked along the bank to keep up with them, but I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. They could have accomplices, or I could be shot by a neighbor who might mistake me for the bandits.
Only when I couldn’t hear them splashing and cursing did I let my guard down enough to go back inside my neighbor’s home.
The big TV they mentioned was still on the wall of the main family room, and other than a few loose papers tossed on the floor, it didn’t appear as if much had been disturbed. I chalked it up to my quick reaction to their home invasion plans.
After a quick tour of the main house, I opened the door to the garage.
“Mr. Drummond, you crafty bastard. I had no idea you were a packrat.”
The thieves had said there was nothing other than junk in the garage, but they’d been one hundred percent wrong. The three-car garage was typical of the oversized space of the houses in our neighborhood, but the retired couple had crammed tall metal shelving into every square inch of the first two bays. Row upon row of canned foods, bottled water, and dry goods made it look like a hoarder had looted most of a Walmart store. The third bay was a car with a black cover over it. A pile of lumber and plywood had been crammed into the remaining space on the far side of the vehicle.
I slowly backed out of the garage, wondering what I’d stumbled upon. The ex-police officer had obviously been planning for a serious hurricane. The plywood was perfect to cover the windows of his house, and the food would allow him to ignore evacuation orders and ride it out. It was the level of preparedness I’d been aiming for when I headed to Florida.
The last thing I checked was the bag on the table. I expected it to be full of treasures, but it only had a couple of hammers, a flashlight, and a little crowbar. The tools to break into a house.
My light hit a reflective surface on the back entrance. I’d not noticed it earlier, but the heavy sliding door had been cracked near the handle. It looked as if the thieves had tried to smash their way in but weren’t able to bust through the hurricane glass. It explained why they’d circled around the home and broke in through the front door.
“Amateurs,” I mused.
I closed and locked the sliding door, then I went through the house and out the front. Since I didn’t have a key, I had to leave it unlocked, but I wasn’t going to take my eye off the house until Mr. Drummond or his wife came back. Even though they weren’t there, it was my responsibility as part of the neighborhood watch to ensure their belongings stayed safe.
My first stop was Luke’s place.
It only took Luke about five seconds to reach the door after I knocked.
“Frank? It’s three in the morning. Everything okay?”
“Sort of. How did you get to the door so fast?”
“I did what you said. I slept in my front room with my window open so I could hear anyone at my front door.”
“Did you hear breaking glass about fifteen minutes ago? Someone tried to rob Mr. Drummond’s house.”
“Shit,” he whispered. “I didn’t hear that at all. I take it you did?”
“Yeah. I spent the night in my garage because I was worried I would sleep through anything but a revving engine if I was in my bed, or on a couch. I got lucky when I woke up to the sound of breaking glass at Drummond’s place.”
“Trevor?” he asked.
I hadn’t been expecting it, but as soon as he said the name, I had a strange sensation that he was correct. My initial instinct said they were teenagers, but Trevor wasn’t much older than one. The pair of thieves didn’t act very smart, either, which seemed to fit Trevor as well.
“When I got there, I snuck inside and scared the shit out of the two thieves. They jumped in the canal to get away from my shotgun, so I never saw more than their back sides.”
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“We have to post guards,” I replied. “I didn’t think we were there, yet, but I believe we already need someone to stay awake in the overnight hours.”
“Let me put on some shoes. I’ll be right out.”
“You might want to bring your son, too,” I said.
“Ty? Are you sure?”
“It’s your family so it’s your call. If we have to set up a rotation of guards, we’re going to want everyone possible to take shifts. He seems like a smart kid who would be able to help right away.”
“I’m sure he would,” Luke chuckled. “He thinks this is a game. Wouldn’t stop talking last night about what he’s going to get for a weapon. I told him no guns, so he’s convinced he’s going to make his own bow and arrow, or even a spear.”
“Right now, his best weapon would be a whistle,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “That’s what we need to wake everyone when there’s trouble on our street.”
“He’s not going to like being the whistle guy.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” I admitted, “but the teens have to contribute however they can. None of us adults are in special forces, so we can’t let ourselves believe we can keep everyone under our protection twenty-four-seven. We need to get some sleep, you know, like normal people.”
“I see where you’re going. Let me wake him up. We’ll both be out in a couple minutes.”
“Oh, and Luke?” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Bring my loaner shotgun.”
He looked at me for a long moment in the moonlight before nodding.
“Be right there.”
While I waited, I surveyed the neighborhood. If we were already moving into defending against outsiders, it would change a lot of what I’d intended to do in the new day. Instead of simply cooking jerky and gathering lists, I’d already have to be looking for break-in points in our homes, arranging schedules for guards, and figuring out what valuables needed to be protected. Obviously, Drummond’s garage was now at the top of our list.
I’d gone to sleep thinking our neighborhood watch was vigilant enough, and thankfully I’d gotten up when I heard the breaking glass, but now I knew we had to dial it up even more.
When Luke and a bleary-eyed Tyler stepped into their garage, I joined them.
“We’ve had some excitement tonight,” I said in a quiet voice, “so the three of us are going to hang out in your garage and keep watch so nothing else happens. All we’re going to do is listen, got it, Tyler?”
“Yeah,” Tyler answered. “I hear you.”
I waited for a joke or movie reference, but the kid had nothing to say. I suspected he wasn’t too happy about being on the job in the middle of the night.
Not that I was crazy about it, either.
The excitement wore off in minutes.
Chirping crickets and the endless drone of bug wings created a monotonous spell that lured us all back to sleep. The three of us stood up, stomped our feet, and walked up and down the driveway to fight off the z’s. It was made a lot worse by the fact we couldn’t chat with each other for fear of giving ourselves away. Only when the sun had risen enough to shine inside Luke’s garage was I comfortable coming off high-alert.
“We can talk now,” I remarked.
“Thank God!” the boy cried out. “That was the longest night of my life!”
“Come on, son, it wasn’t that bad,” Luke replied.
“You should try spending the night in your tractor trailer when you’re stuck on a mountain pass in a snowstorm,” I said with a bit of friendly one-upmanship. “You ain’t seen nothing, kid.”
“Well, it still sucked,” he said with a little less volume.
“I’ll get us some coffee--” Luke started to say. “Oh, wait
. I can’t make it without power.”
Coffee did sound good, but we’d have to add it to our list to tackle later. Campers did it every day, so I didn’t think it was going to be complicated, but it simply wasn’t high on our priority list.
“Let’s gather everyone together,” I said with a yawn. “Before we can think about creature comforts like coffee, we have to discuss what happened last night. Tyler, would you mind running around to all the houses and asking them to meet on my driveway?”
“Do I have to go to asshole’s place?” He pointed to Trevor’s.
“Eh, you shouldn’t call him that,” his father reprimanded gently.
“I’ve heard you guys call him that a bunch of times,” Tyler said with a spark in his eyes, as if he relished catching his father in such a way.
“You don’t have to go to his place,” I said to save Luke from admitting his kid was right. “Like with the power breakers, we don’t want to stir up trouble for ourselves. For now, he’s on his own.”
The kid looked like he wanted to press it, but he soon headed across the lawn toward Ben and Evelyn’s home.
My eyes were drawn back to the asshole’s place.
I’d put some thought into Luke’s suggestion that it had been Trevor who robbed my neighbor, but it was impossible to answer him with any certainty. It seemed like two young men about Trevor’s age, but there were probably hundreds of young men within a few miles of our street, so I wanted to be certain before pointing any fingers.
It took Tyler about ten minutes to gather all the neighbors at my house. If we ever had a real emergency, we’d need the meeting to happen a lot faster. We’d need a sliding scale of threat levels, so people knew if they should put on their shoes or just run over wearing whatever they had on. It was another item on my to-do list.
Fortunately, for our first meeting of the new day, there was no real urgency.
“Good morning, Frank.” Penny walked across her lawn, and she wore the same capris pants and loose-denim top as yesterday, minus the sun hat. I realized hygiene was going to come into a play a lot faster than I thought. Luke still wore his black shirt with Kermit on the front, and I was going on twenty-four hours in my Levi’s and favorite Hawaiian shirt. It was understandable not to worry about such things during the heat of the disaster, but going forward we’d need to change clothes more frequently to avoid skin rashes and other bodily issues.
