I’m asleep in the stable when the shooting starts. It took me a long time to settle and I’m groggy as hell when I wake up to a loud popping sound coming from the house.
At first I think it’s fireworks. Cherry bombs maybe. Luca used to let them off all the time when he was a kid. Tied them to my cat’s tail and roared his head off with laughter at the consequences. I remember being sickened by it, going to tell my mother only for her to tell me she never liked Sir Whiskerton anyway.
I had to have one of the maids call the veterinarian for me. Sir Whiskerton was put to sleep the same day. Ever since then, I’ve hated the sound of explosions. Remind me too much of how I felt back then.
The thing I remember most is the sound of Luca’s baying laugh, pointing at Sir Whiskerton and yelling, “Look at it, look at it, fucking look at that!” My father looked out of his study window and I thought for once he might do something. He just went back to his work.
So when I sit up in the middle of the night to the familiar popping sound coming from near the house, I think it’s Luca again. Is he doing it to Mario and Luigi? Is this his way of getting at me?
It doesn’t take long for me to realize those sounds aren’t cherry bombs. There are no fireworks lighting up the sky outside the stables.
It’s gunfire. Underneath the noise is a howling wind. What is that? The stable normally rocks and creaks when it’s blowing a gale but the place is still.
The shots are still firing, echoing around the estate.
I’ve heard gunfire before but never like this. When my father is at the shooting range at the back of the house, there’s a distinctive popping sound that reaches all across the estate. This is like that but much louder. That means much closer.
I brush the straw off my face as I stand up. My first thought is the dogs. Underneath the pop pop of gunfire, I can hear them howling. I need to save them.
I run over to the door and ease it open. In the darkness I can see flashes of light coming from the windows of the house. Are they shooting at me? Is that what’s happening here? I glance to my right and I can see the glowing lights of an instrument panel, glass door swinging open beside it. It takes my brain a moment to work it out, piecing it together.
That’s a helicopter. The noise of rushing wind is the rotors turning.
Why is it here? What’s going on?
I wonder if the Feds have come for my father at last, whether his illicit activities have finally caught up with him. Is that why there’s a shootout?
The dogs are still howling. I have to get to them. If I can grab them, I can get them back to the stables. We’ll be safe in there. The inner stone walls will protect us.
I push the door open far enough for me to squeeze through. I take a deep breath, wait for a pause in the shooting, and then make a run for it.
It’s the worst decision I could have made. I’ve left safety and now I’m trapped in no man’s land. The moment I start running, the shooting starts again. Someone is firing from around the side of the stables, aiming toward the house. The people in the house are firing back and I’m stuck in the middle.
I hear bullets whizzing past me, one so close to my cheek the heat scorches my skin. I drop to the ground, hugging the grass, trying to bury myself in the damp earth. My feet scrabble into the grass.
I think I’m screaming but I can’t be sure, the noise around me is too loud. Is that an explosion? What’s going on? Has war broken out and no one thought to tell me?
I catch sight of a pair of feet running past me. They belong to a man dressed in black, his face hidden from view. He’s not noticed me, sprinting toward the house, firing as he goes.
I don’t want to move ever again. I just want to stay here and melt into the soil. But I can hear the dogs howling and I can’t leave them to die alone.
I force myself to my feet. The gunshots are still loud but they’re not coming this way anymore. Now they sound like they’re coming from inside the house.
I run for the kennels, my lungs burning by the time I reach them, my legs weak from the effort. I shove open the door to the stalls.
Mario is backed into the corner, looking terrified, his ears down, his eyes wild. I approach him as calmly as I can get myself, shushing him gently.
“It’s going to be all right,” I say as he slinks forward, low on his haunches, wincing at each gunshot he hears. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” I keep talking in a low voice to him, trying to act like there’s nothing wrong.
Once he’s in arm’s reach, I get a leash on him, bringing him with me to get Luigi who’s already waiting for his leash, tail wagging even as his head remains low to the ground.
He lets me get the leash hooked on but he doesn’t want to move. A window shatters far off in the distance and then there’s the muffled boom of another explosion.
“Come on,” I tell Luigi, pulling at his leash. He still doesn’t move. “You’ll die if you stay here.” There are holes in the far wall. Stray bullets have already made their way in here. We need to get to the stable. The stone outer walls will keep us far safer than the thin wood of the kennels.
“Please,” I mutter, scratching him under the chin while, teeth exposed, he growls in fear. “Trust me.”
At last he slinks forward. I can’t run but I can drag them out into the night. I do my best to ignore the flashing of light from gun barrels, concentrating on getting back to the stables.