gfralin
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Yelp - 10/30/2007
Yelp
I opened the back door thinking I was simply going to let the dog in. She’d been barking to get in for about five minutes and I was tiring of her shrill bark. She barked at everything so I paid little attention to her warnings of impending doom to her flock.
A Shetland Sheep Dog, otherwise known as Shelty or Miniature Collie. They bark at anything entering their territory, or any part of their flock leaving it.
When I reached for the door handle pressed the latch the wind grabbed the storm door like a piece of paper and pushed it all the way back against the exterior thus bending the top bar once again.
“Damn”
“Grab her Bill.” I had no time to wonder as a large male hand grabbed my wrist hard enough to bruise their fingerprints into the flesh.
Why didn’t they run when they heard Ducky barking. They were strangers and should have run at her warning.
“My ex had one of those barking pests. I ignored that one too,” said the same voice that commanded Bill.
“Shut up about my name.” Bill snapped back.
Laughing the ‘boss’ pushed everyone into the house and out of sight. I don’t know why I didn’t scream. I’m not a screamer I guess, but I was angry. And I can really yell.
“HEY YOU GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME ALONE.”
“Don’t think anyone heard you in Alaska lady.” For some odd reason the man seemed unconcerned. I lived in a small town with several retirees close by.
I twisted my arm out of Bills hand stomping his foot and throwing my body into his. He was like a quarter inch steel wall.
“Why do you think I have Bill do the rough stuff?”
“GET OUT. MY NEIGHBORS CAN HEAR, AND I’M LOUD ENOUGH FOR THEM TO HEAR AT THE POLICE STATION TWO BLOCKS AWAY.”
“Keep it up and I’ll kill anyone of them that comes around here. I’m just as strong willed as my friend is physically.”
“Now, shut up and go get me a clean cloth, needle and thread, and a small paring knife.” He emphasized small as he held out a hunting knife that would fillet a moose.
That was when I noticed the blood on his leg. It was bright red arterial blood, and a lot of it. The femoral artery was my best guess.
“How did you get that?”
“Your town cop, who is dead as your neighbor over there, so don’t start anything.”
Who were these guys: prison escapees, bank robbers, or murderers? I went for the first aid kit I kept on a top shelf. It had gauze, sterile dressings, alcohol wipes, and even some over-the-counter pain killers. Tears were streaming down my cheeks at the thought of dear Mr. Whitman laying dead in his garage, or the policeman somewhere in his patrol car having bled to death.
“I just have to my little sewing kit out of the drawer over here. I may be better off using your knife to cut to the artery and sew it up before you bleed to death.”
“What are you saying lady.”
“I’m saying that blood is from an artery, and you lousy belt around your leg is a temporary and dangerous treatment at best. You’ve slowed it, but any tighter and you cut the circulation to the leg if that’s the femoral.” My voice was sarcastic and my fear must not have come through as much as my anger.
“What are you Dr. Frankenstein?” Bill laughed.
“I’m a nurse. I know about the anatomy of the body. Your friend here needs a hospital and a doctor’s care, but I’ve already figured that’s out of the question.”
“Fine, let me hold the knife though. I’ll cut my own damn leg open.”
“Oh, smart choice. Then you get to make it worse with a poor cut. Besides you’re about to pass out.”
“Lady, if I didn’t need you right now you’d be dead.”
“Be my guest.” I replied calling his bluff. I knew he was dangerous and capable of making good on his threat, but my adrenaline was pumping and I never was much for backing down (a nearly fatal flaw in this instance).
I sat my butt down on the floor and crossed my arms across my chest. My legs were folded under me tightly like a child who refuses to move.
“Ok, lady I’m getting weak here. Get up and help me with this.” He looked at Bill who now had a gun barrel pressed against my forehead.
“Are you going to kill me anyway? I mean what’s one more to you. If I refuse, at least one of you goes with me.”
“Damn, you are obstinate.”
I got up from my posture. The stall had worked as I could see the injured mans pallor growing ashen. He was beginning to lean and yawn from the weariness that comes from blood loss.
Bill backed across the room with the gun pointed at me.
My hands were beginning to show my fear with their shaking. I tried to hide it as much as I could by keeping them working. I threaded the needle, using a small piece of paper trick that my mother had taught me. The thread was doubled and I dipped it in alcohol. Then I picked up a lighter and burned the needle and the knife for sterilization.
Then as I slowly cut into his thigh near the wound, I heard him scream. “Bill, you better deck him a good one and knock him out.”
Bill didn’t hesitate. He used a pressure point that told me he had some experience in prison. He’d probably seen the technique used for a take down. Then he lay his partner on the floor.
I felt for the artery. The blood was pumping little spurts with each heart beat. The makeshift tourniquet was holding it that well. I’d pulled off his shoes and socks along with his pants before starting.
That was when I noticed that Bill was taking a keen, if not morbid pleasure in watching the process. His attention was off of me and the hand holding the gun was relaxing away from me.
He was just close enough. I didn’t think, or decide, I moved and plunged the knife deep into Bills forearm then pulling it out and plunging it into his belly.
The surprise on his face seemed to almost admire what I’d done. He was still conscious and able to fight so I grabbed the gun as it dropped from the injured arm.
Next to me in the corner was a pumpkin about the size of a large basketball. I picked it up and shoved it into Bills face as hard as I could.
After the commotion I dialed 911, and then saw the police car was already pulling up in front of my house. I saw my neighbor walking toward him and being signaled back.
Standing in front of the kitchen window, blood spattered all over me, the police officer knew instantly they were there. I nodded and ran to the door to let him in, keeping the gun aimed at the Bill.
“Are you hurt? Officer Collins was looking at me with concern. He took the gun from my hand.
“No.” I said, “They said they killed you and Mr. Keller.”
“Bluffing, I did shoot that one though while he was running from me. Idiots escaped the prison and then decided to rob the convenience store on the highway through town. I was up there patrolling when the call came through.”
“He going to live?”
“Which one?”
“Either.”
“Not a whole lot longer unless they get medical attention.”
“You got some lady?” The policeman spoke up. Your neighbor heard you yell and called the station. You do fast work.”
He started to chuckle, but I was in the bathroom at the head. Pouring out my stomach contents and bawling like a scared lamb.
Diary entry 10-31-2006.
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