Lane heard a car door shut and looked to his left. A bull got out of a car parked in front of Mrs. Smallway’s house. At least the head was a bull, the rest walked like a man dressed in black.
“He’s number four,” Amanda said.
“Looks like the wild kingdom lives next door to you. First a white stallion then an elephant. The last one was a unicorn. Got a zookeeper next door?” Frank asked.
“Something like that. I’ll put on a fresh pot.” While Lane crossed the street, he thought about Mrs. Smallway’s glassed-in addition and what Matt might see if he looked out his bedroom window. Lane stepped over a drift running across his sidewalk and opened the front door.
The TV was on but Riley and Matt were gone. Lane heard a voice in the back bedroom. He took off his boots, put on his slippers, and went down the hall. He peeked in the door. Arthur and Matt stood on the bed, pressing their faces against the window.
“Maybe we’d better not look,” Arthur said.
“That’s gross!” Matt said.
“I’d have to agree with you there,” Arthur said.
“What’s up?” Lane asked.
Matt and Arthur turned. They looked at Lane, then at each other. Matt started to laugh.
“Actually, that’s a good question.” Arthur stepped off the bed. Matt followed.
“Some kind of party.” Matt moved past Lane.
“That’s right. A social gathering,” Arthur said.
“Not much doubt what they’re doin’,” Matt began to laugh again. His runners squeaked as he went down the hall.
“Not much doubt at all,” Arthur said.
Riley followed Lane down the hall and into the kitchen.
“New shoes?” Lane asked.
“Yep,” Matt said.
Lane said, “I’d better make a fresh pot of coffee.”
He followed Arthur, who sat down at the kitchen table.
Matt squeaked all the way to the front door to see if any more trick-or-treaters were arriving.
Riley went to the dining room and curled up under the table next to the window.
Amanda sipped her coffee. “Not bad.”
“What’s this?” Frank nodded at the black Acura parking around the corner in front of Lane’s driveway.
A person dressed in black stepped out of the car.
“The ninja outfit will fit right in at the neighbour’s party,” Frank said.
The ninja went to the back of the Acura and opened the trunk.
“It’s a woman,” Amanda said.
“How can you tell?” Frank asked.
“I just can.”
The woman stepped from behind the trunk. In her right hand she carried a bottle with a flaming wick. She put another bottle in her jacket pocket and a third in her left hand.
“Shit. Molotov cocktails!” Frank spilled coffee in his lap when he reached to open his door.
Bobbie walked closer to the dining-room window. She touched the flaming wick to the bottle in her left hand. With an underhand toss, she threw one bottle through the window.
Riley was startled by the sound of shattered glass. He stood, then darted from under the protection of the table. The retriever’s back was showered with glass, gasoline, and flame.
Lane turned as the glass broke. He heard Riley howl.
Arthur stood.
The dog was a fireball. Riley hit Arthur behind the knees. Arthur’s head caught the edge of the table as he fell to the floor. Riley careened down the hall, then launched himself through the glass of the front door. The safety glass exploded into pebble-sized bits.
“Riley!” Matt jumped through the empty aluminum door frame and ran out into the storm.
Flames spilled onto the floor. The dining room filled with black smoke. The air was tainted with the stench of gasoline.
Lane ran down the hall and opened Martha’s door. He threw her blanket back, pulling her to her feet.
“Wha…?” she asked.
“Move!” Lane pushed her toward the door.
“My head’s spinning,” Martha said.
Lane tucked his head under her arm and halfcarried her down the hall. He saw Arthur on the floor. “Arthur! Jesus! Arthur, get up!” Smoke and flame filled the dining and living rooms as he turned right, stepping over the broken glass.
“My feet!” Glass ripped the soles of Martha’s feet.
Lane heard two gunshots.
“Stay still!” Frank ordered. He pulled his Glock from its holster and pointed it at Bobbie. Wind-driven snow obscured his vision.
Bobbie looked directly at Frank, pulled another bottle from a jacket pocket, touched it to the lit wick, then stood with her arms extended.
“Stay still!” Amanda stood about five metres to the right of Frank. Her Glock was ready.
Bobbie tossed one bottle at Frank’s feet. The glass shattered. Liquid fire poured over his shoes and licked up his pant legs.
“Oh, Jesus!” Frank jumped left into a snow drift.
Bobbie cocked her arm to throw the remaining cocktail at Amanda.
Amanda fired twice. Both rounds hit Bobbie in the chest. Bobbie looked down at the front of her jacket. She sat down in slow motion, then leaned to the right.
The cocktail in her hand tilted. The wick ignited the gasoline. It glowed under the snow as it ran down into the gutter.
Bobbie looked at Amanda and said, “How could you shoot me?” Bobbie stared at the bottle and reached for it.
Amanda kicked the bottle away from Bobbie.
Lane sat Martha down on the sidewalk. He looked up the street. Through the blowing snow, he spotted Riley. The dog was a yellow flame disappearing around the corner.
“Riley!” Matt’s voice carried on the wind.
Martha said, “Arthur! Where’s Arthur?”
Lane looked at the house. It glowed from the inside. Smoke was beginning to billow out the top of the broken front door.
Lane followed Martha’s bloody footsteps back into the house. He stepped through the aluminum frame. Inside, he dropped to his knees. The smoke was just above his head. He crawled into the kitchen. He looked into the dining room. Oxygen was being sucked in through the broken windows. He found Arthur in the kitchen. Lane grabbed Arthur’s shirt-collar and dragged him down the hall.
Lane coughed. The smoke grew thicker. The hair on his head and arms felt as if it might burst into flame.
Still on his hands and knees, Lane backed out the front door, lifted Arthur under the arms, and hauled him down the stairs.
Someone grabbed Arthur’s feet.
It was the police officer, Amanda. She said, “Get him in the car! I’ve called for help. Anybody else inside?”
“No,” Lane said.
They carried Arthur to the car. Martha was already inside. Lane caught a whiff of burned flesh. Frank sat in the front seat and moaned.
“Help’s coming Frank! Hold on!” Amanda said.
“Arthur?” Martha asked.
They propped Arthur in the back seat. He leaned up against his sister. There was a bump the size of a plum on the side of his head.
Lane and Amanda looked at Bobbie lying on the sidewalk. Both opened their doors. Amanda went to the trunk and pulled out a blanket. Lane picked up the first aid kit. They walked across the street.
Bobbie was on her side. She looked at Amanda. “She shot me! I was unarmed and she shot me.” The voice was cotton candy sweet.
Amanda leaned and put the blanket over Bobbie’s feet. Then the officer pressed her hands against the wounds to slow the blood loss.
Lane opened the first-aid kit.
Bobbie said, “I’m going to destroy both of you!”
Lane looked at Bobbie.
She was staring at him. “I know everything about you, you pervert. How’s your boyfriend? He’s still inside isn’t he? Serves him right!”
Bobbie turned to Amanda. “And you, you bitch, you shot me for nothing! Once I get back on the radio, you’re going to have to crawl into a hole! I’ll destroy you!”