The House Ain't Safe

I've never been much of a runner. I'd run for the ice cream truck and I'd run from something chasing me, That's about it. Welp, there definitely was something chasing me. The shack seemed like it was miles off in the distance, but the adrenaline kept me going. I could see all the years Lindley spent studying Taekwondo kicking in because she was on the fucking move. At first I struggled to keep up with her, but the desire to preserve my life put a little pep in my step. 

Fight or flight. We've all learned about the mechanism in science class. Some external stimuli triggers survival mode in the body- Blood and oxygen is rushed to the muscles, all types of hormones are released, the immediate need to nourish the body or excrete wastes is postponed.  Thank God for that last one because knowing that there's a gang of zombies shuffling behind you definitely calls for a piss your pants moment. 

50 more feet. 

I signaled for us to go on opposite sides of the house so we could peek in the windows to make sure there were no unwanted guests. 

Even with just one light  on in the entire house, I could see that the wall was completely decorated. 

A moose head. A camo patterned crossbow. A shot gun encased in glass that rested on a mantle next to antlers sporting a big blue ribbon. And...holy shit...

25 seconds later, Lindley was by my side. It was completely dark in the portion of the house she peered into. She was ecstatic to know that my side was lit. She nearly jumped for joy when I told her I saw hunting paraphernalia. "There's definitely weapons in there!" She gleamed. She nearly shit herself when I pointed out the dark figured crouched in the corner, 15 feet away from the front door. 

It was only in that moment we were still and quiet enough to hear the crying.