This can’t happen here!
The call. THAT call. The terror in the woman’s voice.
“THEY’RE HERE! PLEASE HELP US! GOD HELP US!”
You know that no matter how fast you drive over these roads – roads you know like the back of your hand, you’re going to be too late! You know her, God, you know her. You know her husband, and you’ve known them for years. The desperation in her voice, the sheer terror. And the screams as you hear the door to their house crash open, the shouts to “get down on the floor, get down on the floor!”
The phone goes dead. Oh God, I am not going to make it in time! You press harder on the gas pedal, but you know it is already too late.
This isn’t some random person. This is someone you know; not a close friend, but someone who grew up in your community. They seemed like a really nice couple. He was a little strange, always wearing that camouflage jacket and talking about the government. You know the type, the “tin foil hat people”, the “conspiracy theorists”. Well, you had always just chalked it up to PTSD from all those tours over there. But when they really needed you, you were not able to help. You were all the way on the other side of the county. Your county. And they needed you!
The screams are still ringing in your ears; I’m going to be too late! Desperate thoughts stream through your head. Just let it be a home invasion, just a robbery, take the money and go, leave them alone, they are good people.Details