(Read Part 1 here.)
“Who’s there?” Dillan called out. He crouched down and grabbed the flashlight. The wind howled outside and I felt a chill go down my spine. “Stay here,” he whispered and walked towards the hallway that led you to the backdoor.
I stood in the kitchen paralyzed with fear. My pulse quickened and my underarms started to tingle with sweat. I wanted to go behind him and make sure he was okay. Then again, I also wanted to call 911.
I bent down to feel on the floor for my phone. Just as I thought I had it, I heard Dillan yell and what appeared to be a scuffle between two people. Instead of grabbing my phone, I ended up kicking my phone across the room. I heard another big bang followed by grunts and hand smacking sounds.
I grabbed a hammer and screwdriver from the counter then dropped down to my hands and knees and crawled to the side of the kitchen cabinet. With Dillan having the flashlight, my eyes were taking longer to adjust to the dark and I was not familiar enough with the home to know where I could hide or escape to.
“I’m here by myself man,” I heard Dillan say as two pairs of footsteps shuffled down the hallway.
“Don’t lie to me, boah. I heard someone else at the do’. Where’s that fancy big gal who bought this place?” The voice had a country twang to it and “lie” sounded like “lah” and most of his words had an extra syllable or an unfinished ending.
I stayed incredibly still and followed the sounds of their footsteps.
“I’m here alone. Why don’t you put the knife down and tell me what you want?” Dillan raised his voice.
A knife?
“I want what’s mines. You comin’ up here tryin’ to ruin my land. This is ma house and I’m not lettin’ it go without a fight . . . or a death.”
“I’m not here to take your house from you, man.”
“Shut up!” I heard a smack followed by a hard thud off to my right. “No more talkin’. I’m tryin’ to make thangs raght and you and whoever else is here are standin’ in ma way. Come out now or I’ll gut yer frand like a fish!” he yelled. “Imma get what’s mines!”
“I told you, I’m here alone!”
I was trying not to breathe. What should I do? I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t see where they were at. I couldn’t even find my phone to call the police.
I was trying to think on my feet when my phone started to chime with an incoming call. The slight illumination from the shattered screen created enough light for me to see where the men were situated.
Dillan was standing with his back to the fireplace and the intruder had what appeared to be a machete pointed at his chest.
“What is that?” The intruder strained his neck around to see where the sound was coming from. “Come out with your hands where I can see ‘em or yer frand here is –”
Before he could finish his last word, there was a loud knock on the door.
“Ssshhh,” the intruder hissed. “Stay quiet. They’ll go away.”
“Uh, uh uh, I don’t think they will,” Dillan stammered. “It may raise suspicion if I don’t answer. My fiancé is expecting me home any minute now.”
There was another knock on the door.
“Ok, but I’ll be right behind you with this in your back.” He gripped Dillan on his shoulder and whipped him around, pushing him towards the door. “Any funny bidness and I’ll take yer head off.”
This was my moment. When Dillan answered the door, I could take this man out. I just had to figure out a way that wouldn’t cause Dillan harm.
Dillan opened the door and I scooted on the floor, praying I wouldn’t make a squeak on the hardwood floors. The intruder stood behind the door with the machete poking Dillan in the back.
“Hi, Officer,” I heard Dillan say. “What brings you to this neck of the woods?”
“I am checking in on everyone with the power outage and light storm.” I heard a woman’s voice and saw a beam from a flashlight on the floor. “Is a Ms. Rebecca Holmes here? Are you okay?”
“Why Officer, whatever would make you ask such a question? Is danger lurking somewhere?” Dillan was talking with a weird accent.
“We have been surveying the area because we got notice of young man harassing residents in the area. Ms. Holmes just moved in after the last homeowner passed. There’s also an abandoned truck parked up the road with a MAGA sticker. Don’t see that often around here.”
“Well, isn’t that just horrendous. The horror and stupidity of it all. Why would his son want this house back?”
There was complete silence. All you heard was the whirl of wind outside. I followed the beam from the flashlight and scooted a little closer to the back of the intruder.
“Uh huh, well here is my card in case you need to reach out. I’m Lieutenant Jenkins.”
“Isn’t that just dandy? Thank you, Lieutenant Jenkins. This door is always open.”
Dillan closed the door slowly and the intruder immediately grabbed his shoulder and shoved him backward.
“Well, aren’t you polite?” He aimed the machete at Dillan’s chest. “That girl has been on my heels. Can’t believe she’s in charge. But not for long.”
As he talked, I crept up behind him.
“After I get rid of you, this house will be mines again.”
“There’s no ‘s’ on mine,” I yelled.
He whipped around at the same time I swung the hammer at his head. When I made contact, a crack vibrated through my hand. He screamed, dropping the machete and I drove the screwdriver into his side. Dillan lunged for the weapon while I swung the hammer at his head again, knocking him to the floor. I stomped on his crotch and ground my heel into his body. Just as I was going in for the third blow, the front door busted open.
“Freeze!”
I stopped mid-swing.
“Put your hands up where I can see them!” Lieutenant Jenkins aimed a flashlight and gun at me.
“I’m not the bad guy. He is!” I pointed the hammer at the intruder and dug my heel harder into his crotch.
“Yes,” she looked down at the intruder whose blood was spilling onto the floor, “but he’s the only one without a weapon at this time and lying in a pool of blood.”
“He was behind the door with this weapon,” Dillan held up the machete, “when I was talking to you.”
“Which I need you to put on the floor.”
Dillan slowly lowered the knife to the floor while keeping his left hand up.
“And ma’am, I need you to back up from the suspect and put the hammer down.”
I dropped the hammer and backed up from the body.
“I’ve got back-up and an ambulance on the way.” She walked over and knelt beside the body and checked for a pulse, “he’s not dead but I’m not sure how much longer he has.”
Dillan and I stole a look at one another as three more cops came into the house followed by a crew of EMT’s.
“Over here, guys.” Lieutenant Jenkins directed the crew before making her way over to us. As she approached, the lights came back on and I got a good look at the intruder. He was a middle-aged white man with what looked to be a hook nose. As they loaded him to the gurney, I saw the tip of a red baseball cap sticking out of his coat pocket.
I pointed towards it as they wheeled him out the door. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“Based on his level of intelligence, I’m going to say that’s exactly what you think it is,” Dillan said. “Maybe without scum like him, America can be great again.”
“You guys handled that well. Are you hurt?” Officer Jenkin stood in front of us. Her curly hair was pulled up into an afro puff and she wore a headband over her ears and edges. She had smooth skin the color of peanut butter and rosy-cheeks from being out in the cold.
“First, how did you know to come back?” Dillan asked.
“You did a great job dropping clues. Especially when you mentioned the previous owner’s son. That was a detail I hadn’t shared, so I knew something was up. Also, no Brotha I know uses the term ‘dandy’ and talks with that corny of an accent. Thanks for leaving the door unlocked. I stayed outside hoping to hear a conversation that would reveal what was really happening. When I heard someone yell, I knew it was time to get in here. I just wasn’t expecting to see you swinging that hammer like that.” She looked at me with wide eyes.
A couple of the EMT’s came over to tend to Dillan’s bruises and wrap us both in foil blankets.
“You saved the day,” Dillan smiled while grabbing my hand.
“If it wasn’t for you making it seem like you were here alone, this may have turned out very different.” I squeezed his hand.
“No, if it wasn’t for you being a master with that hammer, this could have turned out very different.”
“What can I say?” I returned his smile. “Putting an ‘s’ on mine is my pet peeve.”
