The Intruder

he came instantly awake, heart beating fast. She lay in the dark listening to the sounds of the house. Everything was quiet. What had awakened her. A noise? The house gave back only silence as she held her breath and listened intently, trying to hear over the beating of her heart. Why was her heart beating so fast?

Drawing back the blankets, she swung her feet over the side of the bed. Without a sound she moved to the open bedroom door and again held her breath, listening. Fifteen seconds felt like hours. Then she heard it. A thud and the scrape of table leg. Someone had ran into the hall table by the foot of the stairs.

Someone was in the house. It couldn't be Robert. He and Davie wouldn't be home till day after tomorrow. He had called from LA earlier that evening. Someone else was in the house. Her heart raced and she struggled to control the panic. She moved back into the room, groped for the phone by the bed, knocking it to the floor. The thud and ting of the bell as it hit the carpet was alarmingly loud to her. Feeling in the dark, she found the receiver, and pulled the rest of it to her by the cord. Breathlessly she held the phone to her ear. No dial tone.

Had she knocked it out of commission when she dropped it, or had they cut the wire. If they had cut the wire, they weren't just a burglar. She was in trouble. Their lot was large. No neighbors were close enough to hear her if she screamed. Robert had locked her pistol in the gunsafe downstairs in the den. Oh god.

She fought back the panic. She had to hide. She couldn't get out of the house if they were in the downstairs hall by the stairs. She couldn't climb out the windows. They were too high off the ground. She had to hide. Where could she hide. Her mind blank, she stood shaking by the bedroom door. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms as she struggled with herself. Try to think.

Get out of her bedroom. The intruder would see the bed where she had been sleeping. He'd look here first. Quickly she slipped down the dark hall to the guest bedroom, feeling along the wall with her hand.. She could barely make out the furnishings in the dim light offered by the window. She struggled to think of the room and where she could possible hide. Her mind would barely work. It was hard to make the thoughts come over the rising panic. There was no good hiding place here.

She quickly went out into the hall and across to Davie's room. His room was darker yet with the huge oak tree outside the window. She looked at the branches outside the window, but there was nothing close enough for her to reach. She searched the room, as much from memory as from what she could see in the dim light. There was no good place to hide. She turned and went to the door. Her hand was on the knob when she heard steps in the hall at the head of the stairs. It was too late to go out that way. Oh God. What now. Panic closed around her. She turned first one way and then another. She wanted to run, but there was no place to run to. She was trapped in the small room.

She put her ear to the door, but could hear nothing except her heart. It felt like it would burst from her chest. She opened her mouth, tried to control her breathing, and listened. Nothing. She put her hand on the door handle, but couldn't make herself turn it. She stood with her head leaning against the door.

A noise in the hall outside.

She looked around the room in panic. She had to do something now! Quickly she flattened herself and slid under the small bed. Again all was silence, except for her beating heart, loud in her ears. She strained to hear as she breathed through her mouth. Her face was close to the bedsprings. She could smell the dust that had collected on the slats holding the box springs. Her nightgown had ridden up around her hips. She pulled it down. It felt incredibly thin, offering no protection.

She lay under the bed and watched the bottom of the door for any movement. The passing seconds seemed like hours. Three minutes--an eternity. Her breathing had slowed and her heart now beat at a more normal rate. Hiding under the bed! How ludicrous. If the situation were not so dire, she would have laughed.

As she looked around the room, she could see very little from her hiding place. The bedspread reached to within inches of the floor. She noticed Davie's baseball bat in the corner of the room. Quickly, she scooted out far enough to reach and pulled it back with her. At least now she had something with which to defend herself, even if only a bat. She felt the smooth, cool wood in her hands and let her cheek rest against it. There was no room to swing it, but she felt better with it in her hands.

She lay and waited. Several times she thought she could hear someone moving in the master bedroom, but wasn't sure. Time stood still as she lay in the dust holding the bat to her cheek.

She saw the door move. No sound, but the door slowly inched open. She held her breath, her heart resumed it's thunder. She watched the shoes move into the room, then stop. He must be listening. Surely he could hear her heart. She breathed in short quiet pants through her open mouth.

The intruder moved to the closet door and opened it. She could hear the rustle of clothes. He stood for a moment, moved back to the door, hesitated and went out. He left the door open. She could hear him now, moving around. First in the hall, then back into the master bedroom. She lay under the bed, hoping that he would get tired of looking and leave.

As she lay there, she heard him open a window. Probably to see if she were on a roof outside, she thought. He moved into the guest room. Again the window. Now back to Davie's room. She watched the shoes as he moved to the window. The sound of the opening window seemed loud. The intruder moved back to the door, but just before going out he stopped and turned. Long seconds.

She could see him dropping to his knees to look under the bed. Though she couldn't swing the bat, when she saw the face she poked at it, hitting him in the cheek. Quickly she scooted out from under the bed, and ran for the door. Almost out the door, she felt the tug on the nightgown, pulling her down. The bat went flying from her hands. She felt the weight of him falling on top of her, knocking the wind from her and mashing her face into the carpet. As the rough hands turned her over, she struck out at him with her fist, only to meet a solid chest. She couldn't breath. The hard back hand knocked her head to the side. Again he struck and then again. Things started to go dark.

She came instantly awake, heart beating fast. She lay in the dark listening to the sounds of the house. "What a shitty dream." All was quiet. The house gave back only silence as she listened and waited for her heart to return to normal. She closed her eyes to try and go back to sleep when she heard it: A thud and the scrape of table leg. Someone had ran into the hall table downstairs by the living room.

Someone was in the house. She reached for the phone, but knew that it would be dead. She slipped out of bed and pushed the privacy lock on the bedroom door. Moving back to the bed, she sat on the edge and pulled open the drawer of the night stand, reaching underneath and taking the pistol from the Velcro straps that held it in place. The pistol was always there, against Robert's arguments.

She cocked the hammer, pulled back the slide far enough to reassure herself that a round was chambered, and set the safety. She sat and waited. Her heart beat fast, but there was no panic. The pistol was reassuring. She breathed deeply and tried to make herself relax as she waited. In her mind she could hear her father's lecture from years ago. "Give them a chance to leave, but at the first movement toward you, shoot. Don't hesitate. If they're hard enough to face a pistol, they're hard enough to kill you."

It seemed a long time before she heard the quiet sound of the door knob being tried. Seconds later the privacy button was opened by the hole in the outside knob. He had come prepared with the right tool. Her thumb offed the safety. The door swung open and the black shape of the intruder appeared in the doorway.

"Go away, I've got a gun," she said with as much authority as she could manage. She held aim on the center of his chest, using the two handed grip her father had taught her, finger inside the trigger guard now that she was on target.

The intruder hesitated, but then moved toward her. The sound of the shot was deafening and the flame from the muzzle reached almost to the dark shape. The intruder was thrown backward and came to rest against the wall by the door. She turned on the bedside light and looked at the unkempt figure bleeding on her rug. His stale odor mixed with the powder smell as it reached her nostrils and she shivered. The hand holding the knife moved as he braced himself and tried to rise from the floor. Again she heard her father's voice from long ago: "Anybody worth shooting is worth killing. Make sure he's down."

She raised the pistol again and made sure with one shot to the heart. The knife slipped from his hand to the floor. Lowering the pistol she thumbed on the safety. Only then did she break down and start to cry.

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