An Attack
Now, squatting in the cold attic of what used to be her home as two soldiers cleaned out all of their food stores that they found while Sloane stayed patiently where she was, her warm breath freezing out before her in little clouds, she thought, I’ve been so gullible. He meant to hit us earlier all along. I should have guessed. That was most likely staged. I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming. I thought we at least had two days to get ready. I’m such an idiot. I can’t let them take us.
And then soon, military truck tires squealed as they gained traction on the icy road. They were gone and the muscles in Sloane’s thighs ached in pain and her feet were so cold they were numb. Yet, she waited and listened for a time longer to the silence and continued to mutely damn herself for overlooking the dangers before. In her crouched position, she finally turned her head toward the light and knelt farther down to her knees, sliding along her shins toward the opening. She peered outside, not trusting that they didn’t leave a watcher to catch them as they came out of hiding.
Looping the canvas backpack of supplies over her shoulder, Sloane slid first one foot and then the other through the opening and stayed on alert while she rotated her ankles around until she felt the blood moving through them once again.
Confident that the girls were safe where they were for now, Sloane opted to climb down and check out what might have happened to her K-9 crew. She was afraid of what she might find and thought it best to discover the situation without the girls present. The silence was deafening and not having at least Sally the poodle yipping was a daunting sign. Something was very wrong.
Once she was down on the ground, her frozen feet stung with pain as she took each step on the crunchy frozen lawn. Sloane quickly and cautiously circled around to the back entrance of their home and found the back door unlocked and opened more than a few inches. The odd smell hit her again and made her cough. What she saw inside, when she flashed her light beam around, made her sick. Not only were their supplies missing, but they also destroyed everything else that was left. Sloane took a step and stifled a scream from a sharp pain in her foot after having stepped on a large shard of broken glass.
She had to set her bag of supplies down to flash the light beam onto her foot. Blood streamed downward to the rice and dried beans strewn across the floor and as she reached for the glass piece, she realized it was imbedded deeply into the underside of her foot. “Ugh, that’s just great.” She pulled it out quickly and reached for the opened door that contained several dishtowels hanging out haphazardly.
“I’m such an idiot,” she whispered to herself. It was one of those moments when all the hard work meant nothing and defeat meant everything. “Keep it together, girl,” she told herself and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford the self-doubt now and wrapped her bleeding foot in the towel and applied pressure to the open wound. While she held still, she looked around and saw straight out the opened front door. Dry goods littered the entire way. “They certainly didn’t give a darn about wasting anything.”
Finally, she remembered just behind the kitchen door there was a pair of green Hunter rubber boots. They used to be a fashion statement; now they were a necessity. She kept the towel wrapped around her foot and shoved her feet into them. That was as good as she could do for now. She had other priorities underway and after clearing her lungs with the outside air, she wrapped another dishtowel over her mouth. After making her way through the kitchen and then the living room, she felt fairly sure there were no other intruders inside the house nor was there any sound from Sally. Sloane turned around toward the kennel where Sally slept at night. She peered into the crate, seeing only her curly white fur as she lay on her side.
She detected no gunshot wounds; no blood remained to indicate injury. Taking a few more steps, Sloane knelt down and opened the kennel. She felt for the dog’s pulse at her neck and it was gone utterly, along with the life she once held.
“Oh no!” Sloane stood up and turned toward the door. She’d dropped the makeshift mask and ran.
Her steps slid after she ran around to the side yard of the house and nearly fell down the dewy grass incline. When she reached the girls’ hideout, she was almost too afraid to know. She pounded three times with her fist in the cadence they’d planned and she waited in bitter agony. “Oh God, please no.”
When met with only silence, again she beat the side of the steel door frame. “Wren! Open the door! Mae! Nicole! Please open the door, it’s Mom!”
Nothing.
An eternity passed and she pounded again and begged for the door to open or a sign of some kind. Then movement from up the small incline caught her attention. She drew her gun before she realized and found herself aiming at Ace.
“Hi boy! Come here,” she called and he did but swayed on all fours. When he reached her, he collapsed and licked her hands sleepily. She felt all over him and there were no injuries to find. Then suddenly the metal door latch creaked open weakly. Sloane shoved it open the rest of the way and grabbed the first hand she saw. She found herself screaming at the sight within the safety chamber, “Oh my God, no!”