Using her elbow, Jessica got the door open, and began walking to the car, weighed down heavily by the bags.
“Hey!” yelled out someone.
Someone was coming out of the house next door, waving his hand at Jessica.
Her eyes went right to his hand. She half expected to see some sort of weapon. A gun. A knife. Something.
But he held nothing.
He stepped out onto the small stone stoop, and another person followed him. And another.
And another.
Jessica quickened her pace.
15
His wife was sobbing downstairs, clutching her mother’s body.
Jim was upstairs, with a plastic bag in hand, busy emptying the bathroom of any sort of medicine.
He’d started to blame himself. He should have taken Judy with them. He shouldn’t have left her there.
And maybe that was true.
Maybe it’d been the wrong thing to do.
He’d been so focused on getting to Aly that it had clouded his judgment.
But that was natural.
The only thing to do now was to go forward. To make the next right decision.
Hanging onto what he couldn’t change would just slow him down.
There were countless bottles and boxes to take. A lot of it was over the counter stuff. Antihistamines, aspirin, ibuprofen, and things like that.
But Judy had also hoarded prescription pill bottles. Many of them were full or half full. She’d had a habit of going to the doctor when the slightest ache, pain or sensation came up. Then, she’d typically take a couple of the pills, decide they weren’t helping, and then leave the bottle in the bathroom, not knowing what to do with it.
Jim ignored the expiration dates on everything. He knew they didn’t always relate to reality. He’d heard from a doctor client once that it was safe to ignore the expiration dates for most of the common drugs, like antibiotics.
For other drugs, it was best to heed the dates. Jim didn’t know which were which, but he figured he’d figure it out later.
The thing now to do was just gather everything that could possibly be useful. There was no telling in what state Aly’s uncle’s lake house was in, or what sort of supplies were there.
Jim took almost everything, leaving only the things that would obviously be of no critical use to them. He left the bottles and bottles of skin lotion. He left the brushes and combs, but he grabbed things like tweezers and small scissors. They could be helpful for treating wounds.
Jim left the bathroom, leaving the door swinging behind him.
In Judy’s bedroom, next to the bathroom, he found the bed tidily made and everything put away.
It was a strange sensation, ransacking the bedroom of his recently deceased mother-in-law, but it was what he had to do.
He threw the dresser drawers open quickly, looking for anything that jumped out at him. He wasn’t expecting to find much, but it made sense to give everything a look.
There was a roll of cash in the sock drawer, which Jim grabbed and stuffed in his pocket without counting it. He doubted it’d be any good, but who knew, maybe someone would accept it in a trade.
The top drawer was filled with jewelry, which Jim grabbed and stuffed into the trash bag without a second thought. Possibly good for a trade somewhere down the line.
Provided they lived that long.
The other rooms were filled mostly with junk. Old furniture and antiques and family pictures that would have no use.
There wasn’t going to space in the car for any of that stuff.
But, on second thought, Jim dashed into one of the spare bedrooms where he knew a photo album was. Aly might appreciate having it. He stuffed it into the bag along with everything else.
Jim’s boots were loud as he rushed down the stairs.
Rob was rushing towards the door, loaded down with trash bags.
The front door swung open before Rob could get to it.
It was Jessica, her gun in her hand.
“There’s a bunch of people outside,” she said. “And they’re angry.”
“About what?” said Rob.
The reason didn’t matter to Jim. He didn’t bother to wait for her answer. It’d be something, and there was no reasoning with a mob.
“How many?” he said.
“About a dozen now,” she said, answering his question instead of Rob’s. “They were in the neighbor’s house.”
“Armed?”
She shook her head. “Not sure, but I don’t think so.”
“Nobody owns guns around here,” said Rob. “This is a fancy neighborhood.”
“You can’t be sure,” said Jim.
Aly’s sobs filled the air as their conversation fell silent for just a brief moment.
“We’re going to have to get out of here quick,” said Jim. “How much more is there to get?”
“I wanted you to take a look at the basement, and…”
“You got most of it already?”
“I need one more trip to the kitchen,” said Jessica.
“Go. Now. I’ll get Aly. Then we’re out of here. Rob, help her.”
They dashed off.
In the other room, Aly was now curled up in the fetal position next to her mother.
Jim crouched down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
She continued sobbing.
“Aly,” he said, using the gentlest voice he could muster in the situation. “I know this is hard. But there was nothing we could have done.”
Aly just sobbed.
There was a loud knock on the front door, which Jessica had shut and locked behind her.
Another loud knock.
“We’ve got to get out of here, Aly. We’ve got to go now.”
She turned towards him. Her face was streaked with tears. The little makeup she wore was running. Her mouth was puckered up in a sob and her nose was running.
“How can you say that?” she said. “My mother just died!” Her words became nothing but a wail.
“There’s a crowd out there and they want something. They thought we were criminals before, and I’m sure it’s worse now. If we don’t leave now, we’re never going to get out of here. Come on.”
Jim grabbed her gently by her arms and tried to coax her to her feet.
But she pulled back away from him and threw herself down onto the hard floor.
“We’ve got to go, Aly.”
Another knock at the door. Louder, this time.
“Hey! We know you’re in there!” shouted someone.
“Aly,” said Jim. “Get up.”
She turned and looked at him, an expression of immense hurt on her face.
Suddenly, the window looking out to the front yard shattered. Someone had broken it.
Jim stood up in a flash, pulling Aly to her feet as well. “Get back,” he said to her.
Jim reached for his Ruger, strode rapidly to the front door, and threw it open.
A dozen angry faces greeted him. Some he recognized. Some he didn’t. Some were neighbors that he’d seen here and there when visiting Judy.
Some were just faces that he’d seen in passing while driving on that same street. It was strange to see them now, fury and vengeance written across them just like words.
Jim leveled the revolver. Pointed right at the chest of the nearest man.
Those in the back of the crowd scattered.
But four in the front stood their ground.
“What’s this about?” said Jim, his voice cold and gravely.
“You’re a killer.” The man’s voice shook a little as he spoke, as he eyed the revolver. But he stood his ground. In another time, Jim might have been impressed.
“And where are the police?”
The men glanced at each other.