I try the doors first. You never know and so ease around the porch to the front door keeping my foot falls light. Balls of my feet; slowly increasing my weight with step, testing for creaky boards. No window on this side so I don’t have to worry about being seen from the inside. Upon reaching the front door, I stay against the wall and try the door handle. Yep, locked. I leave the porch and walk around to the back door making sure to keep under the windows while keeping an eye on the neighbor houses just to make sure I am not in for any surprises. My head is a constant, slow swivel. Reaching the corner of the house, I kneel surveilling the back yard looking for movement or any indication that I am not alone and feel slightly foolish for playing commando here in someone’s yard. But the kids said someone was in the house and I keep that and the recent events clear in my mind.
Looking along the back side of the house, a small, basement window is set into the foundation at ground level. Robert was right; there is no way they could fit through that. Crouched there, I ponder whether I should peer in to let them know I am here or if this would cause them make noise either from startle, excitement, or hope. As much as I dearly ache to see them, even with a quick glimpse through a small window, I don’t want to jeopardize their situation any more than it is.
Rising, I ease along the back of the house checking my shadow so as not to cast a shadow across the window. I sidle up to the back door and test the knob. Locked with curtains across. I peek in the window corner. Nothing. At least here though, I am able to see below the curtains and it is pitch black inside. A thin ray of light hits the floor through the small opening but that is it. Back to plan A.
As I turn to leave the back door, I hear a faint scuffling sound and a very low growl. It is so low that I am not even sure I heard it but in the absolute silence of the world around me, it rings like a bell inside my head. So, if there is anything inside, it seems to be on the ground floor. At least for now. I follow my path back to the front porch.
Before climbing back the porch, slowly and silently, I remove the shotgun shell from the chamber. I am going to have to break in the window panes and supporting slats with the butt of the shotgun. Not the best idea with a loaded gun, safety on or not. The business end will be pointed in entirely the wrong direction. Chamber open and ready for a shell yes, actual shell no.
Silently, I walk back to the wall beside the front window. “Ok, well, I guess the stealth and silent approach isn’t going to work here. It’s going to get a bit noisy from here on out,” I breathe to myself. I was hoping to be able to find a stealthy way in and get the kids out without whatever is in there knowing but as I guessed and dreaded, that is just not going to happen.
Break out one entire side of the panes, — Det cord would be especially handy right now but I seem to be fresh out — reverse the shotgun slamming home a shell, use the tip of the barrel of the shotgun to lift the curtain rods off or force them down on this end bringing light into the room, crouch away from the window on the porch covering the room, and see what I see. That is the entirety of plan A. I again think about playing ‘climb on the roof and check every window’ for a stealthier entry point but am also fairly certain that whatever is in there, if anything, already knows I am here. Plus, my knees again cast their vote for Plan A and seem to have the majority vote in this instance. I also have to keep care initially not to let the barrel poke inside after drawing the curtains down so that it can’t be grabbed from inside.
Adrenaline has me pretty keyed up. That is good for reflexes, but if it is not kept under a semblance of control, it can lead to mistakes. My Arrid XXXtra Dry is getting a workout trying to keep pace.
A deep breath, another one, and I feel my nerves settle into place. I step in front of the window with the butt aimed upward at the first cross intersection of slats on the side, hoping to take out several sections of slats both to the side and upward. These are generally only glued together so I figure three good shots, with each shot focused on the two slat intersections above the previous ones, should cave the entire side of the window in. Game on.
Steeling myself back, I thrust forward and up with my arm and shoulders. The forward momentum of my shifting weight is focused entirely on the intersection of the two slats. A flash of a second before the butt meets my aim point, I shift my head down with my chin in my chest to protect my eyes and vulnerable parts of my neck from flying glass and wood. I feel the contact first with my forearms, then shoulders, and continue to drive forward. Go through the point of impact, I remind myself.
The sheer volume of noise from the glass and slats breaking is enormous. Especially considering the silence I was engulfed with. It sounds like a glass bomb went off. Pulling back quickly, I refocus instantly on my next aim point and thrust forward in the same manner. The momentary glimpse I catch of the window, besides focusing on my next target, is of broken glass and slats either missing or turned up and in. Some of the glass is still falling, catching various prisms of light. More noise comes from the second blow but not as loud as the first. Finishing with the third blow, I step back momentarily, bring the pump action forward chambering a shell and fully expecting a tidal wave of action. Nothing. The window is completely demolished on the right and silence once again dominates the scene.
A warm breeze picks up, reminiscent of those lazy summer days. The days when a breeze would carry the sounds and smells of summer; the sound of lawnmowers lazily chugging along leaving the sweet smell of cut grass; the smell of BBQ’s wafting from backyards; the sounds of kids playing; the ringing of a bike’s bell or the music of an ice cream truck as it makes its way through the neighborhood. Outside of the city, the breeze would bring the smell of trees, a feeling of peace, and the simple joy of just being outside in the sun. A part of my mind realizes those days of peace, joy, and warmth was not that long ago, but this breeze, although carrying the feeling of summer, also carries a slight, sharp, pungent odor along with it. Almost too faint to notice, but it’s there nonetheless. It stirs the curtains slightly but not enough to allow a view within other than to let me know that darkness reigns inside.
I glance around momentarily to see if my festivities have drawn any attention. The only thing I see is a dog standing in the street a short distance away looking in my direction. Not directly at me towards me. Must be a neighborhood dog. Although hard to tell, it appears to be some sort of German Sheppard/Lab mix. That is another thing to think about down the road. The pets are most likely going to migrate to their wilder, more feral side as they integrate themselves back into the survival-based food chain. Another fleeting thought passes through wondering how, and if, they will be affected by what is going on? Will their DNA be susceptible to the change or will they have immunity? Apparently satisfying itself that all is right in the world around it, the dog continues across the street and disappears between two houses as I refocus on the window and task ahead.
Rising, I step back toward the now open window. I am focused on any sound that might emanate from within and tense for anything that might erupt. My muscles are loose but the adrenaline is wrapped around me. With the light tan curtains still wafting slightly in the breeze, I raise the barrel of the shotgun to the curtain rod and give it a good push to lift it off its bracket. The rod and curtains lift up slightly and I feel the release of pressure against the barrel as the rod lifts and the curtains begin their fall to the ground. I step back into a semi-crouch to begin the final step of the Plan A entry — to see what I can see.