October 26th, 2006
“Glide me towards you…”, Vedders soothing tone sat heavily in my bleary brain, washing the tiresome swirl of another long workday away.
Sam plopped down next to me on the couch, turning the knob on the radio a bit lower before pouring some wine in the glasses which sat before us. She placed her hand on my shoulder, moving her thumb in rhythmic circles.
“How was your day, baby?”, her voice carried like a melody of concern, angelic as it was quizzical. Work had been stressful, and Sam knew the long hours were beginning to wear on my tired, aching body. Caring would be an understatement to describe her.
I decided to forgo the glass and took a deep pull from the bottle instead.“Just another day, bugs”, I replied, meeting her curious eyes. I could feel the bags pull tight underneath my eyes as I conjured up as sincere of a smile as I could. I hope I didn’t look as rough as I felt. She returned a warm smile as she ran her hand over my cheek.
“I’ll put something on the TV, you should try to relax… take your shoes off”, she said. Sam turned the radio off and squeezed my leg before hopping up to retrieve the remote.
Suddenly, she froze.Her gaze seemed to be fixed on the living room window. I’ll never forget her eyes, her eyes that always seemed so relaxed and worry-free were now replaced with something else. Terror, pure terror, as a deers eyes are in the semis headlights.
“Babe?”, I said, wincing at the break in eerie silence. She remained still.Sam whimpered and backed away as I jumped up from the couch. I looked out the window and saw… nothing? I moved closer, cautiously so. The night was still, the speckled sky casting dimly over the empty street. Not a soul to be seen.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?”, I turned to Sam who was still cowering against the wall. I remember her eyes, glazed primal with fear. She remained still, though her panic stricken eyes drifted to me. Her body shook like a wanderer lost in a frozen tundra.Finally, she spoke.
“I… I saw someone looking in”, her voice cracked, hardly coming out above a whisper. I’d never seen her so scared before. I peered out the window once more, studying the intricacies of the night, pondering what might lurk in the darkest shadows neath the parked cars. I shivered.
“I don’t see anything out there, baby”, I said, feeling wholly unhelpful in easing her nerves. She stood now, carefully gliding back towards the couch. She brought the wine glass to her lips, the rim chattering against her teeth as she took a sip. She sighed.
“Will you go out and check for me?”, she asked, her green eyes beckoning like a lost pup. Despite my unease in entering the dark and the unsettling feeling which had begun to creep over me, I knew I couldn’t say no.
“Of course”, I tried my best to remain unwavering, to play the part of the fearless boyfriend. Approaching the door, I grabbed the Louisville Slugger propped in the corner before heading outside.
‘The neighbors are gonna’ think I’m crazy’, I thought, though I couldn’t shake the fear and doubt which Sams reaction had caused me. The night was cold and when the wind blew it was nearly unbearable, the end of Fall was nearing at that point. It was the kind of cold that makes you lose all your other senses, that drives the lizard part of your brain to seek shelter.
The night hadn’t been particularly dark, the glowing stars illuminating much of the vacant street. Despite this, I pulled the flashlight from my pocket and swept over the front yard. Crunchy, amber leaves littered our yard in great piles, but aside from that I couldn’t make out anything that might raise alarms. Not yet, at least.
I stomped through the leaf piles, nearing the corner of the house to check our side yard. However, something stopped me. It felt as though thousands of strings had pulled the hair on the back of my neck up, the shiver of fear now replacing that of the cold. I looked through our front window, seeing Sams shadow watch as I made my security sweep.
God, I probably look like such a bitch.
I stepped once, twice, holding my breath before poking my head around the corner. Nothing. More fallen foliage and the buzzing heater had been waiting for me on the other side. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Sam would be pleased that there wasn’t some sort of deranged stalker on the loose.
I stomped carelessly through the leaves, unconcerned about whatever ghoulish things might be watching from beyond the shadows. I stopped before the door, my mouth falling agape.
‘DONT TURN AROUND’, the page which had been freshly taped to our front door read. The world spun a bit, my heart throbbing angrily in my throat. I stood there for a moment, thoughts spinning wildly around my head. The feeling of being watched sat heavier now, my chest heaving up and down violently. No longer did it feel cold outside.
I knew I didn’t have long, I didn’t have long before someone’s axe would be sticking out of my back and poor Sam would find me belly up on the front steps. With whatever courage I had left to muster up, if there was any to begin with, I spun on my heels.
Again, nothing. I’m not sure if that was worse or not.
I took a step back, reaching behind me to tear the note off our door before sliding back inside. If Sam wasn’t panicked before, I’m sure she was now, watching me frantically lock the door and shove the stopper underneath the handle.
“What’s going on, what’d you see?!”, she practically screamed, running over towards me. I simply handed the crumpled sheet to her. Her eyes shot to and fro, reading the messy handwriting repeatedly, searching for answers that weren’t there. She was as white as a sheet, her face twisting up as tears began to bubble up from the corners of her eyes.
“I’m gonna lock the windows, you call the cops”, I said, trying my best to look and sound like I hadn’t already pissed my pants.
After I was confident that all the windows in our bedroom and the kitchen were locked and the blinds had been drawn, I returned to the living room to find Sam sat solemnly on the couch, her lip quivering as she cradled the phone in her hands.
“The phones not working, it’s just buzzing… I cant even dial anyone”, she was trying hard not to completely lose it, her hands shaking violently as a steady stream of quiet, resigned tears fell down her cheeks. I held her close.
I knew I had to hold my shit together, that I had to get us through the night and keep Sam calm. I walked over to the couch as nonchalantly as possible, keeping the bat handy as I sat down next to her.
“Why don’t you put some TV on? We’ll just ride the night out and leave in the morning… I dont think it’s safe to go outside right now anyways”, Sam winced, squeezing the phone tighter in her hands. I continued, “Besides, it’s probably just some idiots trying to mess with us…”.
We remained on the couch like that for a long while, reruns of Judge Judy playing quietly on the television as the shadows of our home didn’t seem so deep and threatening now. I’d been lying earlier, but maybe it really was just some dumb kids trying to play a prank on us. My nerves began to recede and seeing Sam sleeping peacefully had made me tired myself.
The people bickering on the television had begun to warp into a mush of noise as my eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Sleep was on the horizon.
Then, a fierce knock at the door shook us both wide awake.
“Dates City Police Department, I’d like a quick word”, an authoritative voice boomed from beyond the portal. Sam hopped up from the couch, eyeballing the front door as she took a cautious step forward. I pulled her back down.
“Wait a second”, I said, turning to the window behind us to peek through the blinds. I’m not sure what I was planning to see, perhaps some ghoulish figure dressed in all black waiting for his victims to unwittingly open the door, but standing at our doorstep was what appeared to be a regular, everyday officer. I breathed a sigh of relief and made my way towards the door, opening just a few inches so that the rest of my body was concealed.
As silly as it may have been, I kept the bat in hand, tucked behind me.
“Hello?”, I blurted, unaware of how anxious I really was. The officer smiled and seemed to ease up a bit himself.
“Sorry to scare ya’ son, we’ve just been getting complaints in this area of someone…”, he paused for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully, “basically, someones been leaving weird notes and looking through windows, knocking on everyone’s doors, y’know?”, he continued, his brows furrowing as he seemed to study my face. We both remained silent for a moment.“Bring me that note”, I said, motioning Sam over.
I talked with the officer for a while, confirming that the very same thing had happened to us earlier that night. He kept our note as evidence, reassuring us that a squad car would patrol the street for the remainder of the night.
“Well, anyways, sorry to wake you folks up so late, hope ya’ll can get some rest”, he said, before turning to walk off.
“Thank you, sir, uh… what was your name, I never got”, I’m not sure why I felt the need to ask but the words just seemed to fall out.
“It’s Mark, Officer Mark Weaver, sir”, he replied as he continued the short walk back to his car. That was that, I suppose.
The night continued on as it had before. We remained on the couch, the slugger still nearby just in case. Once again, with the TV droning and the soft hymn of the fan overhead, we found ourselves wrapped in each other’s embrace, drifting merrily off to sleep.
Peace wouldn’t last so long this time.Another knock emanated from the front door, maybe twenty minutes after it had happened the first time. It seemed frantic, the quiet knocks coming in rapid successions. I’m not sure how long this had gone on before we both shot awake.
“Please… please, l-let me in”, the voice on the other side sounded familiar, albeit more husky, seemingly wheezing and grunting in pain. I jumped up from the couch and peeked through the blinds once more, my eyes surely deceiving me, my dreaming brain surely conjuring up this horrible sight before me.
I lingered there watching the bloodied officer for a moment, my mouth surely agape. Sam darted for the door and opened it before I could say anything, allowing Officer Weaver to fall in a heap on our living room floor.
Blood poured generously from the mans stomach, collecting in a ruby hued pool on our floor. I winced at his pained groans.
I have to commend Sam for her quick thinking in that moment, running to the bathroom to get a towel as I stood there like a bumbling idiot. The officer and I remained there, his guttural cries the only thing penetrating the stillness, the silence.
Sam returned with the towel, shoving it in my hands and instructing me to put weight on the officers wound. As I fumbled with the towel and attempted to pull Mark out of the fetal position he was in, I could hear Sam putting her shoes and a coat on.
“What’re you doing”, I hissed.
“I’m going to get help, stay here with him”, she was frantically trying to pull the other shoe on her foot before making her way towards the door.
“No… don’t”, Mark said between labored breaths. Finally, he turned over to face us, his face had turned a sickening pallor.
“T-there’s two-”, he took a moment, clutching at his gushing abdomen, “there’s two of them out there… they h-have knives”, he continued, pulling up his shirt to show the severity of his injury. From what I could see, before the gash filled once more with the red stuff, it didn’t look good.
Sam had covered her eyes, blocking the heinous scene away. I could hear her whispering to herself, whispering soft prayers to a God she’d denounced long, long ago.
“T-take this, stay here til’ the others come”, Mark wheezed, using whatever strength he had left to unclip the firearm from its holster. He shoved the thing in my shaky hands.
I’m not sure if Sam or I would’ve been the better candidate at that point to use the gun, but it seemed he’d made the decision for us. I looked over at Sam who’d taken up residence on the floor, her head tucked between her knees. The soft whispering, the soft prayers continuing.
Suddenly, the officer began to violently rattle. The husky wheezing now replaced by sharp, painful croaks before finally falling still.
“Oh, fuck”, the words seemed to just fall from my mouth. I dropped to my knees beside the officer, clutching at his still-warm arm as my mind began to swirl down the drain of resignation. I could feel hot tears begin to well up.
Our cries, our pleas for help, for the officers, for some sort of deity to come to our rescue were soon replaced with more violent knocks on the door. They seemed more angry this time, unrelenting.
Sam clawed at the floor, crawling as quickly away to the wall opposite the front door. I planted my back against the wall next to her, readying the gun in my hand. Even with the front door being ten or so feet away, I’d be lucky to hit anything with how fiercely my hands had been shaking.
The constant knocking seemed to slow before being replaced with something much more sinister. Beyond the door I could hear soft scratches, much like a cat trying to escape a room or cage they’re locked in. The scratches grew heavier, turning into heavy scrapes which squealed along the length of the door.
The mess of Sams cries and the scraping on the door filled the room, sending me into a fit of dizzying nausea. Finally, however, the scraping seemed to come to an end.
My raw, bleary eyes drifted towards the dead cop on our floor before shifting to the door which concealed whatever horrors might lay beyond it. Sam cried softly next to me.
Hopelessness?
I dropped my head back into the wall which created an audible bang that made Sam jump. All I could do was laugh. Perhaps this is what the gladiators felt as they lay on the gritty arena floor, a sword threatening to puncture their throat.
A heinous crash sent glass splintering down to the kitchens floor.
Then, silence.
I jumped up, readying the gun as adrenaline replaced my resolved demeanor. The kitchen was concealed by the corner of the living room, concealing the monsters which had taken up residence in our once peaceful home. In our home. In our home.
A surge of anger pushed me forward and around the corner as I attempted to empty the clip. The firearm only clicked with every pull of the trigger.
Click, click, click.
I stepped back in horror, realizing it had never been loaded. I looked up from the gun, a brick lying on the floor had been the culprit of the broken window… what at a waste of bullets that would’ve been.
I threw the gun down, shuffling closer now to the brick which laid in a heap of shattered glass. Another note was attached.
‘WE’RE ALREADY INSIDE’, I hardly had time to read the zanily written note before Sams scream caught me off guard. I spun on my heels, ready to give whoever threatened my baby a fight like hell.
Sam and the officers body were gone.
I looked to the front door which was now hanging wide open, the cold Fall air passing gently over my boiling skin. I darted for the door, giving the assailants as little time as possible to get away. It’s strange, I was no longer afraid of what might happen to me.
I reached the door, looking out into the night. Among the pools of crunchy, amber leaves, among the still, parked cars, stood a man dead in the center of the walkway leading to our home. From what I could see, through the shadows of the night, he wore a white dress shirt, tucked neatly into his brown slacks. His hair was slicked back.
He began to approach the door, making the sawed off shotgun in his hand apparent as he tapped it against his thigh.
“Fucking do it, fucking shoot me!”, I screamed through gritted teeth.
“Leave her al-”, I was cut short, a rough arm taking a hold of my neck from behind. I tried to scream, to wiggle my way out, but whoever had me was much stronger.
The stranger in front of me drew closer as the world began to fade to black. Despite my struggles, despite having my love taken away from me, there was nothing I could do. The last thing I remember seeing was the butt of his shotgun.
When I awoke, when I opened my eyes again, the world remained black. My hands were bound, my head buzzing and swirling like the gnarliest hangover one could endure. I tried to move, to stand up from the chair I had found myself to be bound to. I slumped backward, my mind dulled beyond the point of caring.
I could hear someone sniffling near me, struggling against what I assumed to be their own restraints. The pain from trying to speak, to cry out for help, was so immense that it seemed to shock me out of my stupor. All that I could muster were soft groans, pathetic whimpering.
“Josh?”, it was Sam, her voice quivering even worse than it had earlier. Her distress continued, “Josh, is that you?!”, she grew frantic.
I couldn’t speak, the pain in my jaw searing throughout my entire face. The butt of his shotgun must’ve broken it.
‘Mhm’, was all that I could manage, but even that felt agonizing. I’m not sure how long we remained seated there, wherever we were, bound to those chairs. Minutes, hours, days… I’m really not sure. The only thing I knew was that a burlap sack had been placed over my head, its rough material beginning to rub the tip of my nose raw. I sat quietly, the silence occasionally broken by Sam pleading, whimpering.
After calming a bit, I’d come to the conclusion that we were still home, still in the living room no less. The very same reruns of Judge Judy continued on in the background, the very same reruns we’d watched peacefully before our world came crashing down. Beyond the two of us it was utterly silent, nothing stirring in the room around us.
A long while passed before rescue finally arrived. I could hear several voices and several more beyond that on the radios which the police who’d entered our home had with them.
Eventually, we were freed from our restraints, having been tied down with bailing twine to our own chairs. Despite a black eye and various bruises, Sam seemed to be alright… physically, at least. I wasn’t so lucky, my jaw had been broken as I suspected, along with several teeth having been knocked out in the process. My entire body felt black and blue.
The police gave us a once over, determining that we hadn’t sustained any life threatening injuries. They questioned us as much as possible, investigators and neighbors outside and eager to see what had happened.
One of the officers, his name I don’t recall, showed us a sheet of paper they’d found hung from our front door. Unlike the other notes that had been left before, this one was written in a much finer script.
‘Home Intrusion Preparedness Test; This home had been thoroughly studied and the behaviors of its occupants researched before testing took place. We determined that the two occupants were in their mid to late twenties and had minimal to no security system in place (including alarms, weapons, pets, etc.,). Very limited action was taken before the occupants succumbed to fear, allowing their emotion to cloud good judgement. The home invasion took place at approximately 10:15 P.M. and concluded at approximately 11:50 P.M. after the occupants had been subdued. Taking all of this into consideration, it’s with our best judgement that we score this house a D+ on our preparedness scale. We can only hope that future homes yield better results.’
Truly, I wish I could say that was the end of it, that the nightmare had finally ended. Despite all of this, despite the chilling note they’d left, I’ll never forget seeing Mark Weaver standing among those crowding our front yard as they escorted us to the ambulance.
To this day, 17 years later, no one has been caught for what they did to us.