‘If you must,’ his wife acquiesced. At the young man’s nod, she ushered her two sons upstairs.
The two young men stood, obviously bracing themselves for what was to come.
The father, his plea unheard by his wife, decided to try a different tack with the two gentlemen. He breathed deeply and calmed himself before speaking. “Look, guys, I don’t know what this is about or what my voting has to do with it, but I think we can talk about this. Sound like a plan?’
The two young men actually chuckled. They now flanked the father, to the left and right of the chair in which he sat. The taller one spoke. ‘Sir, we were interested in talking, but you wanted to be difficult. And in front of your wife and kids. You’ve just proven that you’re a bad influence. We’re here to help you, your family, your neighborhood, and your country. We are here to start teaching you about patriotism.’
‘Patriotism? Are you saying I am not patriotic? I believe in the Constitution, the American flag. Everything that this country has stood for since its founding. I believe in checks and balances. Executive, legislative, judicial. I believe in…’
‘Sir, we don’t particularly care about your views of American history. Or about your beliefs. We care about your actions. And according to those, you have opposed the ideals of this country. Now, please stand and make this easier for us.’
He sat, careful not to make any rash movements. The two young men obviously outmatched him in strength. And they had him surrounded. He grasped the arms of the chair, about to rise.
There came from the front door a knock. His wife descended from her perch atop the stairs, intending to answer, but the short, stocky man held his fat hand up to her and made for the door. He opened to find an old woman who the husband immediately recognized as the odd Miss Oneiros from down the street. The families on the street knew little about her, except that she enjoyed her evening walks with her two Pomeranians, Bia and Eris. She had moved into the neighborhood about six months earlier and she kept to herself.
‘Hello, young man. Is the man of the house at home?’ she asked.
‘Uh…’ The young man stuttered for a moment. ‘He is not available, ma’am.’
She glanced inside at the husband. ‘But he’s sitting right there,’ she spoke matter-of-factly. ‘Why are you fibbing to me?’
‘Excuse me ma’am. I said he is not available. I suggest you leave.’
She began to speak, mumbling at first. As if she was having some kind of autistic episode. Those listening caught only a few incoherent words. She finished. Then, she began what sounded like a rehearsed speech. ‘We are the Sons and Daughters of Liberty. Your abuse of power has ended. What you have forbidden, we will do. What you have given, we will take. What you have taken, we will redeem. The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure. ‘
‘Look, lady, I’ve been patient. I’ll only tell you once more. Get the hell outta here.’
She raised her cane and poked him in the chest. ‘Young man, you leave me with no choice.’ As he swung his arm to knock the cane from the woman’s hand, she pulled a hidden trigger at the head of the cane and watched as the young stocky man fell backwards, his head leaking blood.
‘Oh shit!’ the tall young man yelped. He pulled his concealed weapon but didn’t have the chance to fire. Another shot came from outside killing him instantly.
The husband sat in the chair staring at the old woman.
‘Well, I dare say you’d better come with me, Paul. I don’t think you’ll be safe here. Will your family be joining you?’ Miss Oneiros asked sweetly.
This entry is meant to stand alone, but it is also part of a developing story.
See Part 1
See Part 2
2 comments:
A scary backdrop to this. Interesting.
Wow very intense really didn't expect that. Nicely done.
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