Going Home by Angery American

Now open this fuckin’ door!” He was standing in front of the door, scratching at his head with the barrel of the revolver, his hillbilly hat rocking back and forth.
    “He’ll be here soon. Go away; please go away!” She was crying now.
    From behind, in a taunting manner like that of a school yard bully, Thomas was pushing the old man back toward his house. He was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. What in the hell? What in the hell could I do? There were two of these window lickers and at least one gun.
    “What’s a matter, Mandy, you thank yer pussy’s too good fer me? You always been a damn tease. Well, I got news for you, bitch; yer gettin’ yers today!” With that, Lonnie kicked the door in.
    The hard, dry pine of the old door frame splintered with a crack that sounded like a rifle shot. Mandy was immediately terrified, and this in turn terrified her kids. They were all screaming and crying, and Lonnie was screaming and cussing—all this served to bring the chaos unfolding in front of me to an overwhelming crescendo.
    “Thomas! Get yer ass in ’ere!” Lonnie shouted.
    From inside the house, the sounds of furniture slinging across the floor mixed with glass crashing and breaking. Adding this to all the existing chaos, it was more than the senses could take. My heart was pounding, and my adrenaline was pumping. Thomas turned and headed to the porch steps. When he did, suddenly everything slowed, and the sound was blocked out. It was as if I stepped outside the situation and was looking in. I dropped the Devildog from my waist and pulled the XD out and stuck it in my waistband. I pulled a spare mag out and put it in my left front pocket. I took my jacket off and dropped it on the pack. When I dropped the coat, I saw the hatchet. My Gerber hatchet was tucked between one of the sustainment pouches and the main pack; I pulled it out and removed its sheath.
    Thomas was on the first step to the porch. I took off across the road in a crouch, double-time. I was moving at about thirty degrees away from the house toward the woods on the right side. I made it to the bush as Thomas entered the house. There were three windows on this side of the house. The one in the living room was blocked on the lower half by a fuel oil drum set on two concrete saddle stands. I used that as some cover and moved to the side of the house. Getting flat on the wall in front of the tank, I drew my pistol. Inside I heard Lonnie struggling with Mandy. She was definitely putting up a fight.
    “Thomas, take ’ese two brats an’ put ’em sumwhur!” Lonnie shouted.
    “Leave my kids alone, you asshole!” Mandy screamed.
    “Yew do whut yer told, and they won’t git hurt!” Lonnie bellowed back.
    “What’cha want me ta do with ’em, Lonnie?” Thomas was as dumb as I was told.
    “Put ’em in the fuckin’ closet!” Lonnie ordered.
    Mandy was still struggling and cried out for her children. It sounded like she got away from him for a minute, but Lonnie had had enough. Mandy let out a cry. “That’s it, bitch!” A loud slap came from the house, and it sounded like she hit the floor. I chanced a look into the window and could see Lonnie grab her by her hair and start to drag her down the hall.
    “Git ur ass in the bedrum, dammit. I’ve waited a long tam fer this! Yew deal with ’em snot-nosed brats. Yew kin have a turn on ’er when I’m dun.” With that Lonnie dragged her into the bedroom and partially closed the door. Thomas grabbed both of the wailing children by the arm and dragged them to the closet. He opened the door and threw them in. “Shut the fuck up, you damn brats!”
    He slammed the door and started to pull the coffee table over to the door. While his back was to me, I crawled up onto the porch and got up beside the screen door. Taking off my hat, I threw it on the porch in front of the door by the steps and tried to get as flat as I could against the wall. The coffee table banged down on the