The familiar buzz of the alarm chirped in Dave’s ear. The room was still dark, as the sun was still sleeping. Dave smacked his palm against the button, silencing the din that woke him. He lay in bed for a moment and rubbed his face, which started his morning routine.
Get up. Get dressed. Put your pants on. Eat breakfast. Clean the dishes. Check the water gauge. Check the weather. Head into the garage. Check the supplies.
It wasn’t necessarily the routine that Dave enjoyed, but the discipline of it. Each day he forced himself to get things done more quickly and efficiently than the day before.
Before he left the garage, he grabbed another IV from his medical bag. When he checked on Eric, he was still asleep. Dave replaced the empty IV bag with the fresh one and closed Eric’s door quietly behind him.
The sun was starting to peek over the horizon, and the first colors of morning shone through the windows. Brooke was still passed out on the couch. Dave set a glass of water and two aspirin on the small coffee table next to her. He figured she’d probably need them.
With everyone still sleeping for what seemed like the foreseeable future, Dave grabbed his rifle and headed out the front door. He nestled the Winchester Model 70 Alaskan over his right shoulder as he made his way out to the side of his fenced yard that separated his property from the surrounding woods.
Dave peered through his scope and into the forest. Every few yards, he had set trip wires loaded with shotgun shells to alert him to danger. Part of his morning routine was making sure that none of them had been disabled.
Dave stepped over the vegetation carefully, making sure not to stumble. Each wire he checked remained untampered with. Satisfied with the outcome, he retraced his steps and headed out of the woods the same way he’d come in.
Brooke was sitting up with her head hung low between her shoulders when Dave walked back inside the living room. She had both hands cradling her face.
“What did I drink last night?” she asked.
“It wasn’t so much what you drank, but the amount,” Dave said.
The two aspirin were gone and the glass of water was half empty. Brooke’s hair puffed out in all different directions.
“You look terrible.” Eric was standing in the hallway entrance to the living room holding his IV stand. “And that’s coming from a guy who has a bullet hole in him.”
“Leave the woman alone, Eric. The only reason she was drinking was to forget she ever met your sorry ass,” Dave replied.
“Alas, another female casualty in my history of torrid romance.”
Brooke grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and slung it at Eric’s head. He ducked, the pillow narrowly missing his face, and almost knocking his IV over.
“Don’t worry. You’ll find someone else,” Eric replied. “What’s for breakfast?”
After finishing the glass of water, Brooke managed to stand up and took a stroll to wake up the kids. Dave fired up the stove, and Eric sat down, still taking advantage of the fact that he was recovering.
“How long do you plan on milking that?” Dave asked.
“Are you kidding me? Free room, staying hydrated, decent food. I don’t plan on leaving. Besides, I know you could use the company,” Eric answered.
“You use the word ‘free’ like I haven’t been keeping track of everything I’ve had to use for you. You can expect an invoice next week.”
Dave cracked a few eggs over the skillet and dropped a few pieces of bacon on it as well. The sizzling pops of grease, bacon, and eggs sent delicious aromas into the air.
“Hey,” Eric said. “Thank you.”
Dave almost dropped the spatula in the pan. “What was that?”
“You heard me.”
Dave slid the bacon and eggs onto the plate and smiled.
John and Emily came down the hall, accompanied by Brooke.
“That smells amazing,” John said.
“I hope you like your eggs sunny side up,” Dave said, setting the plate down and pushing the empty beers from last night aside. The movement caught John’s eye as he made the connection between his mother’s groggy state and the clinking bottles.
“Dang, Mom,” John said.
“Not so loud,” Brooke replied.
“And that, kids, is what a hangover looks like,” Eric said.
Brooke, John, Emily, and Eric inhaled their breakfast, and Dave picked up their plates almost as fast as he put them down. John helped grab some of the dishes and joined Dave in washing them in the sink.
“Oh, Brooke. I have a friend up in Mobile that might be able to take a look at your car. He could probably replace your windshield and do something about the bullet holes,” Dave said.
“I don’t know if we have that kind of time,” Brooke said.
“It wouldn’t take long. He used to do wrap jobs on boats and cars before the economy started to go bad. I think he still has some of the materials left. I’ll give him a call.”
“Thanks, Dave.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“So how about seconds?” Eric asked.
Before Dave could fry up another egg, a gunshot echoed outside. Dave immediately went to the rifle still propped up by the front door. Brooke was close behind him.
“Where did it come from?” Brooke asked.
“East. It’s from a trip wire I have set in the woods,” Dave answered.
Brooke nudged past him, looking down the roads.
“What it is?” Dave asked.
“Someone’s been following us,” Brooke said, still looking around. “The guy who shot Eric. I think it’s him.”
“How would he even know you’re here?”
“I don’t know. He just…”
Brooke trailed off and then sprinted to the garage. Dave followed her through the house, rifle in hand, trying to keep up with her. John and Emily had joined him in pursuit of their mother, and Eric tried to keep up while dragging his IV behind him.
The light in the garage was already on when Dave turned the corner. Brooke was bent over, roaming around the cruiser. She checked the tire wells and the undercarriage of the front, sides, and back. The backs of her arms, legs, and shirt were covered in dirt, but when she came up from the back, she held a small, black, rectangular device with a blinking red dot.
“It’s him,” Brooke said.
The crash of broken glass sounded in the back of the house. Dave stepped forward, aiming his rifle down the hallway. The slight thump of footsteps grew louder until the tip of a boot and the rim of a black cowboy hat edged around the corner.
Dave fired a round down the hallway that echoed a deafening roar in the garage but sent the bounty hunter recoiling behind the safety of the wall.
“Go! I’ll hold him off,” Dave said.
Brooke helped Eric into the car and removed his IV, and John buckled Emily into her seat. Dave hit the garage door opener, and as the door lifted, the morning sunlight slowly seeped inside. Dave backed out of the garage, keeping his rifle aimed down the hallway.
The cruiser’s engine cranked to life, and the vehicle peeled out of the garage. Dave heard the sound of broken glass and gunshots again and realized that the bounty hunter was shooting from the front window. He turned the corner and fired a few rounds into his own house.
Dave slammed his back against the hard concrete pillar for cover and tried to squint through the shards of glass to get a better look. The black cowboy hat was the first thing Dave saw before the bounty hunter sent three more rounds from his shotgun that sprayed concrete over his right shoulder.
“Shit.” He knew he was in a bad position. And he’d be damned if he was going to let this guy run through his house. Dave sprinted back into the garage and down the hallway. He paused before entering the kitchen, listening for any signs the bounty hunter had moved or opened the front door. After a few seconds of silence, he crept around the corner and edged along the tile that ran up against the living room carpet. He followed that line until he made it to the wall that separated the front hallway down to the living room by the front door.
“This is your last chance! Put your gun down and I won’t kill you,” Dave said.
The answer Dave received came in the form of a canister that exploded in a flash of light. Dave dropped his rifle, and all he could see was white. Before his eyes could adjust, he felt a hard thump on the back of his head and collapsed to the carpet.