“Señora Lisa, sompin is happin!”
Lisa turned to see Clyde appear in the mouth of the beach-access stairwell holding a smoking object in each hand. He leaned somewhat backward, his left arm sticking straight back to the beach, looking for a moment like he was going to tip over. Then, like a mouse trap, he sprang, releasing whatever was in his hand. “Oh my God, Miguel, get back from the window!” Lisa yelled as she raced back toward the living room, desperate to put distance between her and the patio door. Miguel practically leaped after her. They all heard a bottle break against the wall followed by a whoosh. Only a couple of seconds later, a second bottle broke right outside the open patio door. Some of its pieces scuttled inside, sliding all the way into the kitchen. Another whoosh and…
“FIRE!” Lisa yelled. They all scrambled for the front door.
“Shit-shit-shit!” Bill let the escape ladder drop, landing beside the kitchen island, and he jumped off the A-frame. “Lisa, is it clear out front?”
“No, dammit.” Her face dripped with fear. “Lots of men with guns.” Then she spoke in a quieter tone, “Some across the street and one outside our window right here. Whatawedo?”
“Miguel, shoot a couple of rounds out the patio door. I’ve got another idea,” Bill yelled, already racing into the safe room entrance, and then disappearing into the garage.
Miguel walked into the kitchen. Pow-pow, he fired off two shots with Bill’s .45. Maria and Ana stayed with Lisa, crying as their panic grew. After a couple seconds, pow-pow, another two shots.
Bill appeared again with a much longer extendible ladder. “Miguel, go up first. I’m going to hand you this. Then Maria, then Ana, then Lisa, then me.” Bill took controlled breaths, trying to remain calm, pleased he wasn’t panicking. He watched Miguel scurry up the ladder, disappearing for a moment in the void outside, before reappearing to reach down for the extendible, which he grabbed and hoisted through the opening.
After the flames started eating their blinds and the ceiling above, the hungry monster unleashed by their neighbor reached into the dining room to consume its furniture.
“Okay, Maria, let me hold Ana and you climb up. Then I’ll hand her to Miguel.” Bill was working it out as he spoke, not really sure how he would ascend the ladder while carrying a howling baby. He looked at Lisa, who seemed outwardly steady, but he knew she was terrified. Bill smiled and received a tepid one in reply. Maria was almost all the way up, Miguel already grabbing her arms and pulling her through. “Lisa, help me get the baby up there.” He handed Ana to his wife, who slung her weapon around her back like she might have tossed on a purse only days ago. Pushing the A-frame directly under the rope ladder, Bill hopped up a few steps and took the baby from Lisa, then turned and carefully mounted two more steps to hand her off to Miguel, who was already hanging down at the ready. He cradled Ana in temporary safety.
“Give me the rifles. You go after me.” Needing no urging, she did and he disappeared through the hole with them. Lisa scurried up the rope ladder after him. Half way, she paused and watched the fire-monster consume their flat-screen in the living room, and begin working its way to them. No time to be sentimental, not with the heat baring its teeth in warning. She clambered through the opening.
Bill was already at the back corner of the roof, bringing his rifle up and leveling it on Clyde, who was poised to fling another one their way. Bill squeezed off a hasty shot, knowing he missed before the report even hit him. However, the shot did the trick, grazing and startling Clyde, who dropped his Molotov cocktail on the backswing. It crashed into a box holding several more, broke the others, and the box exploded in flames, some of which jumped onto the splattered liquid covering Judas. The flames flew up one arm and down one of his legs. “I’m on fire!” he screeched as he jumped up and down, patting at the flames searing his skin. He flopped into the sand writhing in pain and panic. Clyde hid behind the sea wall, away from the danger.
Bill ran back to the skylight and tugged the ladder toward the eastern edge. “Help me, Miguel. Grab that end and hold it.” Bill yanked on the ladder, elongating it to almost twenty-five feet, until he was at the roof edge. Bill hoped that was enough, if he remembered the numbers correctly. “All right, we only have one shot at this,” he said as he walked toward Miguel midway along the ladder, pushing the base into the parapet. “Lift it and then walk toward me.” Miguel did so as Bill held the base down until they had it standing upright, as if they were planning to climb up into the heavens.
Two loud noises toward the front of the house caught their attention. Lisa had unloaded a couple of shots towards the armed men out front. Shadows scurried around trying to gain cover. Brilliant, Bill thought.
Bill steadied the ladder while Miguel tightened his grip on the bottom, planting his feet against the parapet base, butt on the ground and hands holding the second rung; he looked like a water skier waiting to be launched. “All right, here goes. Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Bill said as he pushed it forward, towards Max’s house. Like a tree felled by a lumberjack, it slowly listed at first and then rapidly raced to the other house, its bulk and gravity causing it to tumble, until finally it crashed onto Max’s roof. The force lifted Miguel two feet, but his hands held tight as Bill threw all his weight on their side of the ladder to keep it from bouncing off. Momentary silence… It held!
“Miguel, you first. Lisa, you still watching the front?” He sat on the ladder, straddling the wall ledge, while Miguel shimmied across the void of their side yard below.
“They’re hiding, staying out of sight,” Lisa responded. Bill watched the rear of the house. Both Judas, who must have been close to dead, and Clyde were gone. He turned back to see where the other men with guns were. Where were they, and more importantly who were they?
“Ta bien,” Miguel called out.
“Maria, you next,” Bill ordered gently, once again taking her baby. This was going to be much more difficult.
32.
Big Guns
“Oh my God.” Sherriff Ralf stood statuelike, still unprotected, staring north toward the University of Wyoming. Coming down the road was something Laramie has never seen, except at its museum.
“Is that a fricking ta-tank?” Edgar was hyper-ventilating again. “It is, and it’s moving. Sheriff, how is that possible? I thought cars and trucks won’t work ever again. That’s what Dr. Reid said. How can they…” he trailed off, needing all his focus to keep breathing, having none to spare for chit-chat.
Ralf was just as perplexed. Not a single car or truck started since this thing everyone had been calling the Event hit. Something to do with their electronic ignition system, but then here was this tank. It looked ancient; perhaps the reason for its functionality, and it looked familiar. “It’s the tank from the Old West Museum, where they compared Civil War weapons to World War II weapons.” Ralf attempted to figure this out aloud. “And what the hell is that mounted to the outside of the tank? It looks like an old wire lathe.” He answered himself. And then knelt with Edgar on the wall, partially protected, frozen by no less shock than if ET had come down and demanded entry.
The clatter of the tank’s tracks on the asphalt pavement rattled the earth beneath their walkway, an approaching tremor announcing its intent to unleash a violence against which they had no defense. A squeak-squeak-squeak from the wheels accompanied the clap-clap-clap of the track. The roar from the tank’s thunderous engines echoed off the clapboard facades of the turn-of-the-century homes that lined what had always been a quiet residential street.