Pause, then heavy footsteps coming my way, and the door swings open. I find myself looking up at a guy with a buzz cut, a ratty T-shirt and sweatpants that look like he's been rolling around in the dirt. I want to give him credit and say that he's been in the back playing with the dogs, but he really doesn't look like a guy that has played at anything in his life.
"Who the fuck are you?"
Right. "Hi! I'm from the shelter. I think Travis came by earlier? One of the dogs needs special diet food. I'm just bringing it for him." I smile, trying to make myself seem as harmless as possible. I'm half hoping he's just going to tell me to fuck off so I can tuck my tail between my legs and make a beeline out of here.
He furrows his brows in suspicion. "Travis sent you?"
I nod. "Yeah, he was tied up in something else."
"Uh, yeah, alright. Come on in. You can put it in the back." Oh God. That's about the opposite of what I want. I didn't expect him to actually invite me in, but on the other hand, this is my chance to get a look, right? Get in. Give food. Get out.
"Sure, no problem." I carry the bag past him and down a hallway that cuts through the middle of the house, towards what looks like the kitchen. There are stairs up on one side, and closed doors on the other. It’s not a real murder house. Right? A knocking noise behind one of them startles me. Maybe I don't want to know.
As I reach the kitchen, I realize there's someone in there. He gets up as I come close, and we stop dead at the same time.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" asks the jerk who came in looking for Junkyard.
Oh no.
"I'm—I'm just dropping this off. How are you doing? Did you ever find your dog?" This is me not being suspicious. Look how innocent and stupid I am. Nothing to see here.
"Come here, bitch," he orders and I know I'm screwed.
I throw the bag at the man, more to get it out of my hands than any hope of achieving something. It's heavy. Then I turn and run.
"Stop her!"
I use the little head start I have for all it's worth. The door is right there. If I can only get into the van and lock the doors, then?—
The man who let me in comes out of one of the side rooms to see what's going on, leaving me only the stairs. Not a good option,but better than running into his arms. I take the steps two at a time, trying to ignore the thumps of heavy boots behind me.
At least there isn't a third guy waiting for me on top. Maybe I can get out a window? If there's a bedroom…
No time to think. I just pick a door and hope it's a good choice.
It's not.
It’s a half-bath. Toilet, sink and a teeny tiny window. I slam the door, and at least there's a key. I turn it just before the handle rattles like he's going to rip it right off. I could yell for help, but there's no way I'll be able to squeeze out the window. I pull out the key and cling to the door handle, trying to prevent it from turning, but he's too strong. The lock holds, at least for now.
"Bust it down?" It's the guy from the front door, so now I know they're both out there.
Something hits the door so hard it rattles on its hinges. I let out a terrified shriek and start looking around the room for something to defend myself with. Best I've got is a plunger and some air freshener.
I grip the plunger in one hand and get ready to use the mountain fresh scent like bear spray.
"Go get a screwdriver. We can just take the hinges off." The thump and grunt of the sound of someone throwing themselves against the door makes it rattle again. The voice yells to me, "Might as well come out and make this easier on yourself. We’re not gonna kill you. We just want to make sure you understand how important it is to keep your fucking mouth shut. But if you make us work for this, I can’t guarantee we’ll ask nicely. You love dogs, right? How’d you like to give them some attack training?"
Jesus, these guys are crazy. What the hell are they doing here that's worth killing someone over?
"I—I won't tell anyone if you just let me go. I swear." My voice cracks. I'm trying so hard not to break down here. I'm supposed to be tough, someone who makes things happen. I guess that’s exactly what I did, but not how I hoped.
There’s a coarse laugh from the other side of the door. "Aw, I’m sure you mean that, but I fucking know you’re with the Eagles. Did you know their days are numbered? There’s big shit happening, baby, and they aren’t invited. Maybe I’ll send them a piece of you. Do you think they’ll like that?” He thumps the door with his fist a couple of times. "Might as well come out and get it over with."
I’m an idiot.
Not because I got myself into this mess. Well, notjustthat. But because I forgot I have a freakin’ phone.
Me:MURDER HOUSE SOS
