Steve Hamilton - North of Nowhere

I heard a door open and shut behind me, and then the muffled sound of the dog barking and trying to tear the door down with its teeth and claws.

“All right now, that’s better. You’re gonna go upstairs with this man here, and you’re gonna open up your safe. Make sure you keep your eyes on the ground, eh?”

Keep your eyes on the “groond,” eh? Definitely Canadian.

“We hear one funny noise, we start shooting your friends. Do you understand?”

They left the room. There were five of us on the floor now, with two men watching over us. They paced around the table, moving silently in their green slippers. Miata kept attacking the closet door.

I could see one shoe, where the dog had ripped the fabric. Old athletic shoes, a dirty shade of gray, with blue diagonal stripes. I couldn’t guess the brand.

I looked at Jackie. He looked good, all things considered. He was calm. He returned my look, giving me a slight nod.

Bennett was still catching his wind, his eyes closed.

Kenny’s eyes were wide open. He was shaking, and obviously scared out of his ponytailed head. I didn’t dare say anything to him. Look over here, I thought. Goddamn it, hold yourself together. I willed him to look at me. His eyes didn’t seem to be focusing on anything at all.

I couldn’t see Gill’s face, but his body was still. I’m sure Gill is just fine, I thought. It’s Kenny I’m worried about.

And Vargas. I hope he’s cooperating up there.

Maybe five minutes passed, though it could have been five hours. The two men kept pacing. I looked at their legs, tried to measure their stride. Both around six feet tall, I thought. The one with the athletic shoes a little heavier than the other. So let’s say maybe 180 for Man Number One, the man who sounded Canadian. A little over 200 for Man Number Two, with a description of his shoes that wouldn’t be much help to anybody. Definitely Glocks they were carrying, now that I got a little better look, and both identical. I tried to remember the most common model numbers-Glock 17, 21,31…I didn’t know the gun well enough to say.

Man Number One went to the window. As he moved away from the table I got a better look at him. He was wearing blue jeans and some sort of black, shiny plastic coat.

No, a garbage bag. He had a black plastic garbage bag on. Along with the surgical mask, and the cap made from the same green fabric. As he turned around, I saw his eyes. I could see that he had fair skin, and eyebrows so blond they were invisible.

He looked right at me and saw me looking at him. I quickly looked away, but it was too late. I heard him come toward me, and then once again I felt the weight of the gun press against my left temple.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

This is it, I thought. This is the last thing I feel. The carpet against one side of my face, the gun against the other. A dog scratching at a door, the last sound I’ll ever hear. Until the gunblast.

I waited for it. The gun didn’t move.

“What’s taking them so long?” the other man said, his first words. This man didn’t sound Canadian. “Maybe one of us should go check on them?”

“Just relax,” the man above me said. I felt the gun leave my head. “Give ’em another minute.”

“I should have shot that dog.”

“You don’t shoot dogs.”

“That one I would shoot. It’s not even a dog.”

“Thing’s so small you would have missed it.”

There was a sudden commotion from upstairs. It sounded like glass breaking.

“The fuck’s going on up there?”

“It’s okay. He told you to expect that.”

“Sounds like he’s destroying the place.”

“You know what he’s doing.”

There was another crash, and then another. A few seconds passed, and then there was another crash that had to be a window breaking.

A minute later, the third man came back into the room.

“Where is he?” the first man asked.

There was no answer, not one that I could hear.

“Are we done?”

Again, no answer. Maybe the man was just gesturing with his hands, or nodding his head.

“All right, let’s get the hell out of here then,” the first man said. “Gentlemen, here’s what you’re going to do. I see a very fancy oven in that kitchen. I’m sure it has a timer on it. I’m going to set it for fifteen minutes. During that time, you will not move, eh? Do you understand me? You will not move a muscle. I hope you appreciate the fact that we didn’t shoot anybody. In fact, you’ll notice that you still have your wallets, your watches, your wedding rings. Please don’t make us change our minds. It would really spoil the evening, don’t you think?”

On that note, they left. We heard the door close. A vehicle started up in the driveway and then drove away. We all kept lying there on the floor. There was no other sound except the dog in the closet.

“Like hell I’m staying here for fifteen minutes,” Jackie said.

“How’s everybody doing?” I said. “Bennett? You all right?”

“I think so,” he said, sitting up.

“Get down!” Kenny said. “Didn’t you hear what they said?”

“Kenny, if they come back,” Bennett said, “I’ll be sure to tell them not to shoot you.”

“Where’s Vargas?” Gill said. “I don’t think he came back down.”

We all looked at each other-not including Kenny, who still had his nose buried in the carpet. “Why don’t you guys make sure they’re gone,” I said. “And call the police. Jackie and I’ll go see about Vargas.”

“You got it,” Bennett said. “C’mon, Gill.”

Jackie rubbed his legs as he stood up. “I’m too damned old for this,” he said. “You reach a certain point in your life, you shouldn’t have guns pointed at you.”

“I can’t argue with that,” I said. We went up the stairs.

Jackie stopped midway up, leaned over with one hand on his knee, the other on the rail.

“Jackie, are you all right?”

“Is this what it felt like, Alex? When you were a cop and that man was pointing the gun at you?”

“Yeah, it was,” I said. “Right up until he shot me.”

“Do you think they would’ve shot us if they had to?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”

“Which room is he in?” Jackie said, pulling himself back up. He went to the first door and pushed it open. “He’s not in here.”

“All that glass breaking,” I said. “I’ve got a feeling he’s down here…” I led him to the last door in the hallway. It was closed. I gave Jackie one more look, and then I pushed the door open.

Vargas was on the floor, his hands on his face. The rest of the room was in a complete shambles. All the maps had been torn off the walls. The display cases had been broken, every single one of them. The window overlooking the river was shattered.

“Vargas!” I said, bending down next to him. I put my hand on his back. He was alive.

“Oh God,” he said. “Oh God oh God oh God.”

“Are you all right?” I helped him up. He got halfway up and then sat back down against the wall. He looked at me, and then at Jackie, and then at what was left of his room.

“What happened downstairs?” he finally said.

“Everybody’s fine,” I said. “They just left.”

“The dog’s still in the closet?”

“Yes.”

“Anybody call the police yet?”

“Bennett’s probably doing that right now,” I said.

“He put the gun on the back of my neck and said, ‘Open the safe, or this bullet will come out right between your eyes.’ When I opened it, he made me get down here on my knees and cover my face with my hands. And then he started smashing everything. I was afraid to look.”

“You did the right thing,” I said. “Nothing else you could’ve done.”