Low light driving was on the menu for the last leg of the trip. David found it too dark to drive with no lights at all, so relented and used his parking lights. The dull orange glow ahead of him forced him to drive slower than he liked, but this country highway David knew very well. As he drew closer to the city proper, the popcorn sound of gunfire in the distance grew. So far there had been no strange traffic blockades or green fires. The hilly road rolled on. David passed the 35 MPH sign that meant he was about a mile from the one major intersection in town, an orange glow flickering in the near distance. As he crested the hill, pulling near the in-town Dollar General, he clicked his lights off completely.
The intersection, dominated by Calera Town Hall was utter Hell. Police cars with their lights flashing, and other vehicles were ablaze. Automatic and high powered gunfire crisscrossed the road ahead. It seemed there was a battle being fought over the Hall itself, though David could not tell if the police were inside defending, or outside assaulting. David quietly backed up the road and back behind the hilltop he had just crested. Where he was, it was only a half mile from his in-law’s home. His family’s home. Not even in a mad dash could I make it through the wreckage and gunfire, David thought. However, it wasn’t far to navigate around. A quick three-point turn and the Lincoln was heading back towards the highway. Before it reached the river of madness that Highway 65, David hooked to the right into the hick trailer park, through, and onto the somewhat hidden country road beyond. Thanks to the straight shot, and a generous amount of speed, David traversed the neighborhood unimpeded.
“Of all places I’d eat it,” David said aloud. “That would’ve been the fucking one.”
The broken and potholed littered road greeted him quietly as he bumped along. The equally ruined and unmarked crossroad greeted him with equal lack of enthusiasm. David scanned his surroundings as the land-yacht bumped along. The orange glow of his dimmed headlights doing their best to light the way. Several derelict homes watched broodingly as he rode by. Had he not known them from the numerous times Giselle had driven by them, David would not have noticed their deep, shadowy existence. David half expected a hail of gunfire, or even arrows, to riddle his car from some unseen mob of insane…
The Towncar dramatically bumped onto the shoulder of Highway 31. David quickly wheeled the car towards the right. The same direction as the Town Hall warzone. David hoped that the forces that were intent on taking the Town Hall were not rallying this far back on the country highway. So far, the gunfire was still a mile away when he turned left again. Over the railroad tracks. Pass the defunct workshop. Left. Right. Right again. And now I am coming up behind our home.
The dim orange lights illuminated a hopped up pickup truck loaded with TVs and other electronic equipment. David could see two men maneuvering his father-in-law’s TV out of the front door. The TV he had purchased for them two Christmases ago. David flipped his brights on and threw the car into park as he exited.
“What the FUCK are you doing!?” David yelled.
The two men immediately dropped the TV and the younger looking one reached for something behind his back. David fired, aiming low at the man’s leg. The round struck near the knee and sent him spinning to the ground. The older man threw his hands up. David approached. He had not been aware that he had the pistol in his hands when he left his vehicle. He had simply reacted as he had many years ago, his hands and fingers immediately remembering what it was to be infantry.
“Please, David.” The older man cried, dropping to his knees.
“Mr. Deandre!?” David yelled recognizing the voice instantly. “Is that you and Antwan!? Why the Hell are you robbing our house!? We had you over for barbeque just last weekend.”
Deandre simply breathed loudly in return before realizing that Antwan was still next to him, bleeding. There was no direct response. David figured the prevailing madness had overtaken them too.
“You get up and take Antwan to the hospital,” David commanded, the pistol leveled at him.
Again David marveled. The weapon felt so firm, resolute in his hands. He felt as if someone could strike it with a stick and not only would the stick shatter, David would’ve been unmoved by it all together. When David’s musings finished, he fired another round into the ground in front of the two. Deandre was helping Antwan hobble towards the pickup.
“I didn’t say anything about driving. Urgent care is only a half mile away. Walking is only a fitting punishment for what you have done to us, who counted you as kin. When we sort this out with the police, you can come to get your truck.”
Deandre squinted at him silently but seemed to silently agree. The two men hobbled away, rounding the side and heading through the field in the back. David kept that cold, steady bead on them until they were out of range. David then rushed to the front door.
“Giselle!? Dany!? Darryl!?” David called.
“Oh my God, David!!!” Giselle gasped from the living room.
David pocketed the pistol as his entire family converged on him. Giselle immediate embraced him followed by both of his sons. Giselle’s mother was tending to her husband. Mr. Jalaan attempted to stop the thugs himself, but thankfully only received a few bruises and a bloodied lip. Punk bitches, David thought, beating on an old man.
“Is everyone alright?” David asked when things calmed a bit.
Giselle related the night’s events to David. They had started moving the essentials and pricey items into the basement like David had instructed. While they did not head immediately to the basement, they waited with everyone camping in the living room in case things got worse. Everyone was asleep when Denadre and his son burst in. Everyone was confused that family friends would break into their homes. And only the first evening things had gone weird. When Jalaal stood up to them there were a few punches traded until Antwan joined in and turned the tide. Afterward, they proceeded to take the computers, game system, and TVs from the house.
David was relieved that nothing else had happened in his absence. Giselle’s father was fine, though a little worse for wear. The TV was destroyed, but he was not concerned about it. David fired the truck up and drove it, stolen goods and all behind their home so as not to attract any more thieves. Then everyone secured all the doors and windows before retiring in the basement amongst the old sofa, chairs, and mattresses.
James C Gilliam 