Wednesday, November 17, 2010
A Thanksgiving Tale of Terror - Part Four by Cara Putman
Sooner or later he'd known this day would come. He could only hide so long. But he'd never imagined civilians being in the way. Like it or not he was now responsible for keeping them safe, too, even if the kid had Army veteran written all over him from stance to voice.
More gunfire trailed their steps as they rushed up the stairs. Johnny closed the door behind them, then pulled the couch over. Pamela sank behind it, her breath ragged and her eyes darting around the darkened room.
"Johnny, do you think Grandpa's shot gun is still in the bedroom?" Her voice sounded steady, surprising considering the circumstances.
"I'll look." The brother moved with the stealthy movements of someone used to slipping in and out of buildings while hunting the enemy. The movements of someone who was more comfortable hunting, than being hunted.
Pamela turned to him. "What's the plan?"
Cranton's thoughts raced. "How did they find this place?"
"I don't know. It's not in my name yet, and should be off the radar." She rifled through her bag, and pulled out a Glock. She slid the chamber back and checked for a bullet. "They've been too quiet."
He had to agree. And he didn't like it. Not one bit. Especially since he'd barely had time to stop the car let alone do an onsite walk-through. He'd never felt more like a sitting duck. He pulled his trusty SIG from the back of this waistband, just as the sound of exploding glass came from behind them.
"Johnny!" Pamela was on her feet and racing to the sound before he could grab her.