had one, I opened the bottle and started drinking, just like that doctor said. I knew he'd get sick. That was just like him."
"Tell me in the car, Jen," I said.
I put the tobacco stick in her hand. She took it. I pulled my towel up around my nose and mouth, hung the strap of the bag around my neck, and took her by the elbow. I stood her up, and then grabbed the shotgun.
We made it to the living room but had to stop. There was the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Out the front window, I could see the other two by the Blazer.
"There he is," she said. "What an asshole. You hear me, you son of a bitch?!"
She broke away, jumped on, then over the foldout couch and at the man in the doorway. When he stepped inside, she nailed him in the crotch with the stick. He folded up into a neat ball at her feet. The other two men were on their way up the porch.
I got to her before she got outside, and pulled her through the dining room. I could see the back door in the kitchen on the other side of the refrigerator.
"We'll circle around," I said, but I knew I was just talking to myself.
Out back, there were shallow footprints in the snow that had been partially filled in with newer snow. There was a snow-covered gas grill to the right of the steps and a snow-covered garbage can to the left. The backyard was fenced, so we headed for the gate. I realized then that she wasn't dressed for the cold. She was wearing sweatpants, a lightweight sweater, and some house slippers.
I stopped her underneath the kitchen window, next to the garbage can and leaned her against the house.
"I'm cold," she said.
"I know. I'm going back for your coat and shoes. Stay right here."
She looked like she was going to say something, but I left before she could.
I stepped into the kitchen, and shielding myself with the refrigerator, I peered into the dining room. There was no one there. As quietly as I could, I made my way toward the living room. All three men were out on the front porch again. I was about to try sneaking past the open door to her bedroom, when I noticed a row of coats hanging on pegs behind the front door. Beneath them was a row of shoes.
The men were going down the steps toward the Blazer. Quickly and silently, I ran to the coats. I took a bulky brown one from its peg and draped it over my arm, and then I picked up a pair of pink and white running shoes.
I would need to get the men away from the truck so Jen and I could leave.
I went to the doorway, "Hey! I'm up here!"
Their heads jerked up, and they came at me. I ran back through the house. When I got to the fridge, I stopped to see if they were still following. As soon as they entered the dining room, I ran out the back door.
Jen was bent at the waist, leaning on the stick. The snow at her feet was brown and melting.
"They're coming," I said as I ran past her.
"I puked," she said.
I got to the gate and nudged it open with my foot.
"Now, Jen!"
The back door flew open, and one of the men fell out into the snow. A second man stumbled out on top of him. Jen seemed to come to her senses, and bolted away from them. She was having trouble getting traction in the snow in her slippers, and her feet would run in place for a few steps, make progress, and then she'd fall to one knee. The third man leapt out of the house. When his feet hit the ground, they slipped in the snow, and he landed on his butt. The whole scene looked like something from a cartoon.
I backed against the gate, to hold it open. Jen made it to me before the men could recover. I closed the gate, and looked for something to prop it closed. I started to use the shotgun, but Jen stopped me.
"Are you outta your mind?" she said, looking at me like I was an idiot. She jammed the tobacco stick into the ground, and then leaned it over so that it was wedged under the gate's latch. Then she took the shotgun from me.
More people were coming
"Tell me in the car, Jen," I said.
I put the tobacco stick in her hand. She took it. I pulled my towel up around my nose and mouth, hung the strap of the bag around my neck, and took her by the elbow. I stood her up, and then grabbed the shotgun.
We made it to the living room but had to stop. There was the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Out the front window, I could see the other two by the Blazer.
"There he is," she said. "What an asshole. You hear me, you son of a bitch?!"
She broke away, jumped on, then over the foldout couch and at the man in the doorway. When he stepped inside, she nailed him in the crotch with the stick. He folded up into a neat ball at her feet. The other two men were on their way up the porch.
I got to her before she got outside, and pulled her through the dining room. I could see the back door in the kitchen on the other side of the refrigerator.
"We'll circle around," I said, but I knew I was just talking to myself.
Out back, there were shallow footprints in the snow that had been partially filled in with newer snow. There was a snow-covered gas grill to the right of the steps and a snow-covered garbage can to the left. The backyard was fenced, so we headed for the gate. I realized then that she wasn't dressed for the cold. She was wearing sweatpants, a lightweight sweater, and some house slippers.
I stopped her underneath the kitchen window, next to the garbage can and leaned her against the house.
"I'm cold," she said.
"I know. I'm going back for your coat and shoes. Stay right here."
She looked like she was going to say something, but I left before she could.
I stepped into the kitchen, and shielding myself with the refrigerator, I peered into the dining room. There was no one there. As quietly as I could, I made my way toward the living room. All three men were out on the front porch again. I was about to try sneaking past the open door to her bedroom, when I noticed a row of coats hanging on pegs behind the front door. Beneath them was a row of shoes.
The men were going down the steps toward the Blazer. Quickly and silently, I ran to the coats. I took a bulky brown one from its peg and draped it over my arm, and then I picked up a pair of pink and white running shoes.
I would need to get the men away from the truck so Jen and I could leave.
I went to the doorway, "Hey! I'm up here!"
Their heads jerked up, and they came at me. I ran back through the house. When I got to the fridge, I stopped to see if they were still following. As soon as they entered the dining room, I ran out the back door.
Jen was bent at the waist, leaning on the stick. The snow at her feet was brown and melting.
"They're coming," I said as I ran past her.
"I puked," she said.
I got to the gate and nudged it open with my foot.
"Now, Jen!"
The back door flew open, and one of the men fell out into the snow. A second man stumbled out on top of him. Jen seemed to come to her senses, and bolted away from them. She was having trouble getting traction in the snow in her slippers, and her feet would run in place for a few steps, make progress, and then she'd fall to one knee. The third man leapt out of the house. When his feet hit the ground, they slipped in the snow, and he landed on his butt. The whole scene looked like something from a cartoon.
I backed against the gate, to hold it open. Jen made it to me before the men could recover. I closed the gate, and looked for something to prop it closed. I started to use the shotgun, but Jen stopped me.
"Are you outta your mind?" she said, looking at me like I was an idiot. She jammed the tobacco stick into the ground, and then leaned it over so that it was wedged under the gate's latch. Then she took the shotgun from me.
More people were coming
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