The Distress Call

Kate Harper descended a set of wooden stairs that led to her basement. She was a woman of thirty two years old and she lived in a county called Downy up in Virginia.

The wood creaked and whined following her every step as if they were her shadows. The basement smelled of damp wood and dust and oil. Motor oil. It was a small cube shaped room with a single light bulb hanging up in the middle of the room. Along the two walls to her left lay a shelf each. Shelf one was full of multiple cans of paint, paint brushes and empty tin cans.

Shelf two also full with items. Several boxes of spare motor parts, a box of metal tools and there at the bottom a metallic box with even more tools beside it. Mostly Screws, screwdrivers and wrenches. The box was the size of a kid’s lunch box. She reached for it and examined its surface. It was rusty and old and dust had settled on its surface. Kate couldn’t even remember the last time she had had to open this box. She latched it open. Launching a slight cloud of dust in the air. She coughed for second but that was it. Her fingers moving hurriedly.

She was breathing heavy and fast. The box opened to reveal a small revolver lying at its side at the center of the box. A six-shot revolver. Four inch long barrel. Its handle was wooden. Beside the gun was a similarly small box of ammunition. She took the gun. Checked its load. It was already loaded. Six bullets.

She opened the ammunition box and found about 18 spare rounds standing upright like soldiers waiting to be commanded. She wanted to test if the gun worked fine but she couldn’t do it immediately.

As her father always said Never trust a gun you haven’t personally fired with your life.

She collected the gun and the spare ammunition. She rushed back up the stairs. At the top lay a door. It was ajar. Going through it she was now in her kitchen. She shut the door to the basement. Her kitchen was small really. A sink by the window, a stove three feet to the left just before the door that led to the back of the house, a small kitchen island in the middle. Draws hang by the walls painted white just as the entire room. The draws had different cabinets for different items related the kitchen naturally. Pots and pans and clean dishes as well as dining utensils. On the kitchen island, in the corner was a knife block with a complete set of knives and a set of keys. A white apron also hang up the wall a short distance away.

She walked past the island. Through another doorway. This one leading to a small hallway one end leading to a short set of stairs. The other leading to the front door. Hanging on the walls of the hallway were three framed photos. One of a little girl being carried by a man in fatigues. A beautiful woman in a stunning sun dress standing beside him and a little ten year old boy standing in the front with a wide grin on his face. It had been taken on the day her father had been deployed. The other photo she was standing alone in a gown, it had been taken the day of her graduation. The third photograph she was standing right next to a young man. Blonde hair, blue eyes. It was her boyfriend who had disappeared five days ago and only called her today telling her she was in danger and was to get out of town as soon as possible. He didn’t mention why nor what he had been doing or why that was so. Yet the urgency in his voice had gotten her moving within minutes.

Kate walked to the stairs leading up. She climbed to another hallway with three doors. Two lying in opposite walls-the left led to the bathroom, the right led to the guestroom. The other stationed at the end. That was the master bedroom. Her room. She rushed in. Lying on the bed was an open suitcase. She had packed light for easy carriage as her brother had once told her ’the lighter you pack the faster you can move’.

Three shirts. Three trousers. A toothbrush. Toothpaste. A sweater and now a box full of .22 spare ammunition. She quickly zipped up the bag and lifted it by the handle. Her smartphone was already in the front pocket of her jeans so she only placed the gun in her waistband in the small of her back. She walked out turned the light in the room off. Raced down the stairs back in the hallway to the front door. She turned to the kitchen grabbed the keys from the kitchen island and went out through the door to the back.

It was seven o’clock so it was dark out. She heard the crickets chirping through the night. She closed the door behind her. Her boots landed on the soft grass. A short wooden fence separated her yard and the neighbors ten feet away. She looked left and right and listened. Nothing. It was quiet. She moved to the left. Keeping close to the walls just how her dad had taught her. The air was chilly and slightly cold and now Kate berated herself for not wearing a sweater. Just as she was about to go back inside she heard a crash.

The sound of something banging to a wall. She looked back. Her eyes wide and trembling. If she wasn’t mistaken it sounded like her front door! She didn’t delay any further. Turning around a corner she appeared at her drive through. Her parked VW facing her as if it was telling her ‘hurry the fuck up’.

And that she did. She didn’t care about being silent either. She fumbled with her keys. The very same keys she had taken right before she had gotten out through the kitchen. She unlocked the driver’s door and carelessly tossed her suitcase across the driver’s seat. She eased in and shut the door hard. Put the key in the ignition and had the motor running within seconds. She put the car in reverse, stepped on the gas all the way to the floor.

The tyres span against the cement ground. Squealing and releasing the fumes from the resulting friction into the air. The vehicle swerved sideways slightly before easing out to the curb. Kate spun the wheel right and felt the car move in unison into the road. She pushed the lever to D and the car churned forward. She took a few seconds to look toward the house through the passenger window. The front door hanging open just as a large man came into view. He was panting. Obviously he had run all the way from upstairs. He brought up his hand. pointing something at her window.

She took a second to realize what it was. Her eyes widen before she put her head down. A sound akin to a thunder clap resounded just as the window of the passenger door exploded into a shower of glass. A low shout escaped her lips and the urgency in her heart only grew. She turned the wheel away from the curb and was now driving in the middle of the road. Good thing it was empty this evening. She pushed the vehicle further. Running at 80km/h. Saw a turn and took it without braking.

THE MAN lowered the gun in his right hand and used his left to fish into the inner pockets of his jacket. He fumbled for a few moments before taking out small block shaped cellphone. A burner. He dialed a number and put it to his ear. He waited. The phone rang three times before someone picked up.

“The guy wasn’t at the house” he said. “There was also a woman in a car a VW. The small one. She seemed to have known we were coming and by the time I realized she had already taken off. I managed to shoot out one of its windows I’ll have the others on the lookout for it. Shouldn’t be hard to miss”

The man received his instructions and hang up. He looked to the floor where his empty shell had fallen. Picked it up and placed it in his pocket. No need to give the cops anything to work on, he thought as he moved away from the house. The surroundings were quiet as if he had never been there in the first place.