Glen Tate - 299 Days - The 17th Irregulars

“I feel like I can help him by being there,” Kellie said. “I can be there for him. I love that. I love it, Mom. I feel like it’s what I’m supposed to do.”

Sheila realized that her daughter was madly in love. Good. Wes was a great boy. A gentleman. A real catch.

“I’m so happy for you, honey,” Sheila said as she gave Kellie a big mom hug, the kind of hug only a mom can give. They danced around the kitchen for a while.

“See!” Sheila said, crying with joy, “Not everything is horrible. Some things work out, Lil’ Kel-Kel,” which was what Sheila had called Kellie since she was a little girl.

Then someone knocked at the door. Assuming it was Wes, Kellie ran to the door. She stopped in her tracks and ran back toward her mom.

It was Ethan. He was furious.

“Let me in!” Ethan screamed. “I need to talk to you!” Kellie and Sheila were terrified. They froze.

Ethan kept pounding on the door. He sounded crazy and mad. Kellie and Sheila thought he would break the door down.

Sheila ran into her bedroom and got her .38. Kellie ran into the room behind her. She loaded it as quickly as possible. Her fingers felt weird and clumsy, like her hands were cold, but they weren’t. It was the adrenaline. She couldn’t make her hands move, in the one moment that she needed them to. Finally, she got the gun loaded. Sheila locked the bedroom door.

They knew Ethan could easily kick in that flimsy bedroom door and its tiny little lock. They had gone from one of the happiest moments they’d had recently to the scariest, in about five seconds.

The pounding stopped. Ethan yelled, “I know about you and him. I know all about it.” He realized he was crying and felt humiliated. Would he turn that humiliation into action or run away like a wuss?

It was silent after the pounding stopped, and Kellie and Sheila waited in the bedroom for a minute or two. Kellie’s tongue was all tingly and she felt like she was floating a little bit. She felt stronger than ever. She knew she could run faster than ever, but she was terrified, as she sat there waiting for Ethan to break in and for her mom to shoot him, if she could. Maybe her mom would miss. Ethan probably had a gun because he was a guard. He probably had one of those big guns.

Kellie looked at her mom and whispered, “Are we gonna die?”

Sheila mouthed back, “No,” and pointed the gun at the bedroom door.

Another minute or two passed. It was still silent. Maybe Ethan is pouring gasoline on the house, Sheila thought. Maybe he was getting in through the garage. Had she locked that door? Sheila couldn’t remember. Kellie and Sheila were listening for any little creak or tiny sound. They jumped when the refrigerator went on and started humming.

Another minute or two went by; still nothing. If Ethan was breaking in or starting a fire, he sure was doing it quietly. Given how upset he was, and that he was crying, Kellie wondered how he could be so quiet out there. She expected to hear him sobbing, but she didn’t.

Wes would protect them, Kellie thought. Ethan was like Kellie’s dad; all angry and crazy and trying to hurt them. This wasn’t the first time Kellie and her mom had been hiding in a locked bedroom, but this hadn’t happened since Kellie’s dad took off.

This time was different, though. Her mom had a gun. She had purchased it right as everything was going crazy before the Collapse and crime was so high. Kellie was glad her mom had that gun. It made things fair. If a big man was trying to come after you, that little gun made it fair.

Was this too good to be true? Sheila wondered. Maybe Ethan had left. She hadn’t heard him for at least five minutes. If he were out there, he would have made some sound by then.

“I think he left, baby,” Sheila said to Kellie.

“Maybe he is coming back with a gun,” Kellie said, sobbing. She had been holding back the tears because she didn’t want to make any noise, but hearing her mom talk, even at a whisper, released the stifled cry. So the tears came flying out. Kellie couldn’t control her crying. “Maybe,” Kellie said, “he is going to drive his truck through the house. Maybe…”

“Stop,” Sheila said sharply. “You’re making things up. You’re scared. We need to get out of here. He’s not here now. He would have made some noise. If we can hear the refrigerator, we could hear him. He’s not here now, but might be coming back. We gotta go.”

Kellie was terrified of opening the bedroom door; she was safe as long as it was closed. She looked up at it. He could be standing right outside the door and be waiting for them to open it. She was convinced that Ethan was standing outside that door and smiling, silently waiting for them to come out.

“No,” Kellie whispered. “He’s right outside the door. Waiting for us. Probably with a knife from the kitchen.” Kellie thought about what it would feel like to be cut to pieces with a kitchen knife.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Sheila whispered. “He hasn’t made any noise. We have to leave.” Sheila slowly stood up and kept the gun pointed at the door. She needed to lead now. Kellie would follow.

Kellie cringed. “No. He’s outside the door,” she said out loud.

“Shhh,” Sheila said. She was slowly walking toward the door. Kellie was cringing behind the bed.

Sheila put her left hand on the door knob and had her gun in her right hand. She slowly turned the knob.

Ping!

Kellie jumped and started screaming.

“It’s just the lock on the door,” Sheila said. That screaming had given away their position, so Sheila might as well talk at a normal volume. Besides, talking normally might reassure Kellie that Ethan was not in the house.

Sheila wanted to show Kellie that Ethan wasn’t outside the door, so she confidently opened the door.

Nothing. No one.

“See,” Sheila said. “Nothing.” Sheila realized that saying that was the jinx in every horror movie. Once a person said that, an axe would come swinging through the air. Then Sheila felt stupid for thinking horror movies were a good predictor of what happened in real life.

She walked through the door, gripping the gun so tight that her hands were hurting. The sweat was making it slippery, but she had a firm grip. A very firm grip.

Sheila started walking slowly through the house, opening every door and slowly peeking in each room. She went around each corner, pointing the gun and exposing as little of herself as possible, like she had seen in the movies. She was amazed at how much she was moving like in the movies.

A rhythm was developing. Pointing the gun around a corner, moving a little bit, swerving around the room and swinging the gun around the whole room in case anything was in it. Looking behind herself and quickly moving to the next room. Doing the same thing, at the same pace, just like in the movies.

Finally, Sheila was in the living room, which was at the other end of the house. The front door that Ethan had been banging was still closed and locked.

Now Sheila had to check the garage. For some reason, she was extra scared and cautious opening the door from the house to the garage. She looked and it was locked. Thank God.

She started to open it slowly so that if he were in the garage, he’d have plenty of warning and would maybe make a noise, so she would know to start shooting through the door.

Finally, the doorknob was all the way to one side. It was time to actually open the door. Sheila pushed on it gently. The door creaked and she nearly jumped. That was the same creak that she had been meaning to fix, but today it was more scary than annoying.

She opened the door a little and looked into the dark garage. It was light out, but the garage didn’t have any windows and the light wasn’t on. She paused to listen for any little tiny noise.