The Dark

I woke up gasping in the dark.

It was just another night, Tuesday night. I could feel the abject terror only inches away from my jugular just begging me to react. It wanted me to curl and cry, but I didn’t. I listened.

In the bed next to me she was breathing softly. She is usually far more sleepless than I, but now she was indeed asleep. I listened, but the sound machine was playing its incessant rain track. It had no pattern, and I could hear a faint something in the midst of the racket. I strained, every muscle and ear drum tense with effort. It was right there, THAT noise that I hear. That indistinct thump-thump at random intervals.

Usually, I wake, I listen, and I feel the peaceful vibe. This time is different. An unknown fear remained, taunting me from just over the side of the bed. I spent a few horrible minutes waiting and bending my ear towards any unexpected noise. The more I listened the more the noise machine drowned my ability to think.

So I extended my hand slowly onto the nightstand and felt the cool plastic handle of my Glock. It fit me well and comforted my mind. I have cleaned, studied, and trained with this tool so many times that my mind and body were highly familiar with the details of its workings. Carefully I slipped out of bed with the pistol aimed at the floor and my finger off the trigger. I was well aware that there are four people living here other than myself.

In the hall the darkness suited my night eyes. I felt the placement of the front door knob and deadbolt, and as I snuck into the living room one of my big dogs stretched his legs and looked at me with a curious look as if to say, ‘What are YOU doing up?’ This eased my mind. Three dogs and no barking means I can feel pretty sure there is nobody in the house.

As as I turned the corner into the kitchen I see the night light, and the terror is still present in a real way. Under the table the second dog was scratching his snout on the floor with a characteristic ‘thump-thump’ that I have heard a thousand times. He could not be bothered to stop when I came in.

“That’s it.” I told myself. “He does that, I get freaked out, I look around and it’s okay. This is like last time.”

But like every time, I always complete my scan. There are reports lately of two men walking through the neighborhood knocking on doors and looking for who is and who is not home. I am up already and it makes no sense not to check the exterior doors. Even five feet away I could see the bolt on the back door gleaming in the kitchen night light. It was locked.

I turned and crept slowly down the stairs and looked into the den. It was silent and I heard the faint whir of my computer in the corner. Neo stares blankly at me from the Matrix poster on the far side of the room. The door to the garage is at the bottom of the stairs and beyond it lies the last external door. I opened the door and stepped through while flipping on the light switch.

Two men dressed in black fatigues hunch over a glowing, wooden box in the center of the garage. Their heads swiveled in surprise, and as I stepped back in shock, one of them launched himself at me at full speed. My reaction was to raise my pistol and fire, but the distance was too close and this man was very quick. His gloved hand slapped the Glock from my hand in under two seconds.

With his other hand, he pulled my head down with a rapid motion into his rising knee. I saw red as my nose crunched under the impact. The pain was immediate and blinding, and as my hands extended to soften my fall I heard a voice fading with my consciousness.

“Get the woman and kids. It’s set to go off in fifteen…”