He sprang to his feet, ready to move, but still, he protested. “Wait. I—”
The truck rolled closer and closer.
“Now. Go. Get your shoes on.”
He was running down the hall. “What? Why?”
I was on his tail and thinking quickly as he stuffed his feet into his shoes, questioning me all the while.
There were two windows in his room. One that faced the front of the house, one to the side and hidden from the street. I glanced out the front-facing window as Seth’s big, loud pickup truck rolled to the curb, running over the Belgian blocks I’d laid around the garden in the spring. I watched him get out of the truck and saw the coal-black metal gleaming in his hand, glimmering in the downpour.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Don’t panic.
I reluctantly tore my stare from the window and saw Noah standing beside me, his frightened expression aimed where mine had just been.
“I-is that a gun?”
“Look at me.” I took his shoulders in my hands.
He was trembling, shaking his head involuntarily. “Soldier, w-why does he have a gun?”
I glanced out the window, praying we had time, and saw Seth climbing the porch steps to the empty house next door.
He thinks they’re in there.
It was obvious when I saw the gun in his hand, but it was even clearer now.
Seth was here for one reason, and it wasn’t to talk.
“Noah. Listen to me right now.”
He looked at me then, his eyes rounded with fear and too petrified to cry, even as his bottom lip quivered.
“You’re going to climb through the window, you’re going to stay hidden and get away from the house, and when you turn the corner, you’re going to run. Do you know the way to the police station from here?”
He nodded frantically.
“Good. You’re going to take my phone, and when you get to the next street, you’re going to call 911. Okay? Keep running. Run as fast as you possibly can and get to the cops. Do you understand?”
I pushed at the window at the side of the house, finding it stuck. I cursed loudly, then grabbed Noah’s baseball bat. Terrified Seth would hear the shattering glass, I winced as I swung, just as a crack of thunder crashed overhead.
“Thank you,” I caught myself saying out loud—to who exactly, I had no idea.
As I pulled the blanket from Noah's bed and used it to push away the jagged shards of glass jutting out from the window frame, I said, “Noah, tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
“What are you going to do? Tell me.”
“Uh-uh … stay hidden until I get to the end o-of the street, c-c-call 911, then run.”
I grabbed his shoulders, guiding him to the window. “And where are you running to?”
“The police.”
“Good. O—”
My words were cut off by a loud crash coming from next door. I turned to look out the other window, knowing Seth would be coming any minute.
“You have to go,” I hurried to say, draping the blanket over the bottom of the window frame. “I'm going to help you out, and you're going to drop down. Ready?”
He could barely nod as the tears began to stream down his face. He threw his arms around my waist, holding on for sweet life.
“I love you,” he cried. “I-I didn't say it before, but I do. I-I love you.”
“I love you too, buddy.” A blinding pain seared through my chest as I took his wrists in my hands, knowing I had to get him away from me while wanting to hold on tighter than I’d held anything before.
“N-no, y-you come too,” he begged, his sobs growing stronger. “G-get Mom. We … w-we can—”
“We don't have time,” I told him gently, prying his arms from around me and stuffing my phone into his hand. “Come on, buddy. Take a deep breath. You gotta do this for me, okay? Go get help.”
I didn't wait for his response as I maneuvered him toward the window, easing him out into the downpour.
My hands were under his arms, ready to let him go when he said quietly, “You're gonna save Mom, right? You're not going to let him—”
“Nothing is going to happen to your mom,” I whispered, meaning every word. “Now, remember what I said, and go.”
He dropped to the wet grass and held tight to the wall of the house, crouching in the shadows, and I nodded to myself, knowing he had this. He was going to be okay.
I couldn't spare the time to continue watching him. With the bat in hand, I hurried to the room next door and shook Ray awake before running to the closet.
“Soldier?” she asked, her voice groggy. “What … what are you doing?”
“You have to wake up,” I instructed, digging through the sheets on the top shelf and finding Grampa's gun.
“What? Why? What's wrong? Is it No—”
“Seth's here.”
And as if the psychopath could hear me utter his name, I heard his thunderous footsteps clomping against the porch next door.
He was coming.
Ray bolted upright in bed. “What?”
“Seth is here,” I repeated, checking the barrel to find the chamber loaded.
Thanks, Grampa.
“Oh my God, Noah!” Her voice was shrill, and I urged her to be quiet.
“Keep your voice down,” I ordered, whispering as I hurried to her side. “Noah is fine. I got him out. He's going to be okay.”
Please, God, let him be okay.
Without another word, I hauled her out of the bed and positioned her in the corner, wedged between the dresser and nightstand. I pulled her down to crouch against the wall and pressed the gun to her palm.
“Take this.” I positioned her hands around the grip.
At the feel of the cool metal in her grasp, her breath quickened with the rapid ascent of her panic. “What? N-no, Soldier. I-I can't. I-I d-don't—”
“He has a gun, Ray.”
“Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God …” She trembled violently.
“Ray. Take a deep breath. Try to calm down.”
“You t-take this!” she hissed in a loud whisper through the tears streaming down her face. “I-I-I c-can’t …”
“No.” I shook my head. “I'm a convicted felon on probation. If I fire a gun and I happen to get out of this shit alive, I'm done. And I'm not going back to prison. I'm with you, or I'm nowhere at all, okay? So, you're going to sit here, and you're not going to leave this room.”
The crack of splintering wood came from outside, and I stood, peering through the window. Seth had begun to climb the stairs, only to be stalled by the crumbling of the step I had never fixed.
“Holy shit,” I uttered in a breathless whisper, unable to wrap my head around the coincidence.
You don't have time for this. Move.
“I'm going to lock the door,” I told her, moving backward away from the window, watching as Seth struggled to free his leg. “You do not open it, no matter what you hear. And if someone comes in, you shoot. Do you understand?”
“Soldier, I-I can't do this—”
“Tell me you understand, Ray.” I grabbed the baseball bat from beside the closet door.
“O-oh God,” she sobbed, struggling to regain control of her breathing.