Series: Sean Moriarty
Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
I don’t know him, but I don’t want to see him die.
“My stupid phone won’t work in here!” Sonya says in frustration. “I can’t call the police.”
James needs help, but I have no idea how to help him. Not when we have no weapons and two vulnerable babies.
“Does this thing, this computer or whatever, have any kind of weapon systems?” Sonya asks as the screen changes to the backyard.
I shake my head. “If only…”
The security system is expensive and no doubt state of the art, but the kind of weapon system Sonya is talking about just isn’t a reality.
“There has to be something here,” Sonya thinks out loud as she spins to look around the room. “Your man has to have some guns in here.”
“My man?” I repeat, not sure if I heard her right.
Did she call Jude my man?
“You’re living with him, aren’t you?” Sonya says as she moves forward and starts to rip through the stacks of boxes one-handed. “Sleeping in the same bed?”
“Yeah…” I admit numbly.
“Then he’s yours,” Sonya says as if she has the authority.
Tossing a box to the side, she starts to dig through the next one only to stop and jerk her head towards the bed. “And from the way he looks, I bet he can’t sleep without a gun somewhere nearby.”
“There you go again, talking about the way he looks,” I grumble. “What’s wrong with the way he looks?”
I continue to stare at the screen, willing for it to change again. This conversation is totally silly, but it’s a nice distraction from the gravity of the situation.
“Like I said earlier, total serial killer.” Sonya walks up to the bed and tries to lift the corner but can’t with Alex in her arms.
Setting Alex down in the playpen, she glances at me. “It’s in his eyes. It’s always in the eyes…”
The screen cycles back to the front yard, showing the cars again.
Growing bolder now that most of the opposition has been eliminated, two men are easing out from behind their doors.
And James isn’t straightening. He isn’t taking any shots at them.
Why isn’t he shooting?
He remains crouched, prodding at his right shoe.
When no one shoots back at them, the men grow even bolder and begin to creep up my driveway.
James won’t hear me if I scream. There’s too much metal and concrete between us. And I have no way to contact him.
No way to tell him that the men are sneaking up on him.
“I knew it!” Sonya says triumphantly.
Unable to tear my eyes away from what’s happening on the screen, I have no idea what she’s talking about.
Out of nowhere, a car barrels into the three cars parked on the street, knocking the two men trying to sneak up on James off their feet.
The picture switches to the backyard, and I want to scream.
Until I see two more men climbing over the back fence.
Checking the second screen, I see that James is up now, shooting out the window. Completely unaware of the men coming up behind him.
I have less than a second to make a decision.
Quickly setting Abel down, I tell Sonya, “Stay here, protect the babies!”
Then I rush over to the safe room door and shove the handle down to push it open.
It’s a lot harder to push the door open from the inside for some reason than it was to close it. The damn door is so heavy, it feels like it takes forever to open. Fighting me every inch as if it doesn’t want me to leave.
Tears of worry and frustration stinging my eyes, I push with everything I have until I create a gap big enough to squeeze through. My ribs bending painfully, I wiggle my way through the crack and race to the bottom of the stairs.
“The backyard, James! Behind you!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
A few moments later, multiple shots ring out, and I can only hope James heard me in time.
Knowing better than to go up the stairs and get my ass shot, I run back to the safe room to check the camera feeds.
Squeezing back through the crack between the door and wall, I pull hard on the door, expecting it to resist me, but it slams easily.
The bones in my arms vibrating from the force of the door slamming, I spin around and run up to the screens.
My eyes lock on the second screen, searching for James.
But he’s gone. No longer crouched below the window.
All that’s left is a small, dark puddle.
“Oh no,” I cry, my stomach clenching painfully.
Did they get James?
I look at the fourth screen but it’s blank. Either the feed is messed up or the camera is gone…
“What? What’s wrong?” Sonya asks.
“Where is he?!” I screech and resist the urge to punch the keyboard.
“Who?” Sonya asks.
Is she serious?
I twist around to snap at her, “James! Where is he? Did you see what happened?”