Intrusion

Ferdinand J. Reinke 3 Tyne Court Kendall Park, NJ 08824 908-209-3625 [email protected] 3,500 words.

INTRUSION by F. J. Reinke

CHAPTER ONE Chapter Subtitle

Coming home It was late. I shouldn't have stayed after the business meeting, but clipping those marks was too easy. Just too easy to demonstrate that those young fellows need to study their technique and practice more. But practice was expensive in time and supplies. It was about commitment. I quietly let myself in and locked the door going directly into the bedroom. Frau would gripe about the smelly clothes and the tool box, but I think secretly she thought my hobby wasn't as bad as some of the ones she'd heard about. I was tired, and it was going to be a long day tomorrow at work after the long holiday weekend. I had no idea how long it was going to be. And, not at work either! # - # - #

Cats wailing I dozed off. It seemed like I had just laid down when my "cats" started wailing. I knew it was later. Frau griped about my "cats" from time to time. They weren't animals, but batteries. I had uninterruptible power supplies on the expensive electrical stuff. The computers, all three of them, both the TVs, and the stereo, all had their own ones. I had picked them up over time at various sales. When they needed replacing, I'd get that on sale somewhere as well. Hence when the power company took one of its infrequent outages, it sounded like a herd of cats wailing out on the back fence. Or at least that's what imagined if that common cartoon event ever happened. It really was like six different children all with dirty diapers and demanding attention. I waited a few minutes to go reset them. Some times, in the wee hours, the power company was doing work somewhere, and they'd hit the line. Usually by the time I went and "petted each cat" (i.e., sleepily stumbled from ups to ups reseting the alarm), service would be restored. On restoration, each cat would again "sing" the praises of the power company restoring their power with their rendition of "my powers back and better than ever" song. So that required another round of "petting". "Yes pussycat, I know that mean power company left you alone and now is back." Sometimes, if I just waited a minute, only one round of petting would be required. Or, if I was really lazy and could endure several minutes of wailing, they'd reset themselves. Usually, that length of time would awaken a grumpy Frau, so that option was best avoided. But it was always better to wait and see. I was just about to get up and I heard a strange noise. Like a snap. Then I heard the big old patio door sliding open. It was unmistakeable. And, the noise was not an accident. It was the big heavy patio door sliding on track from side to side. And, I was always meaning to wd40 that track, but kept forgetting. So it was hard, sticky, and noisy. Now I was glad I was lazy. # - # - #

Swoop I was energized, scared, and almost acting on autopilot. Survival school five decades ago had drilled in OODA. Observe, orient, decide, and act! My first instinct was recognize that I had no idea what I was dealing with. My second was to protect Frau and myself by escape, but there was no exits to hit. We were in a bag! A room with one way in and out. Getting thru the windows would take time. Awhile ago, during horseplay, not the other kinda play, I had unintentionally pushed Frau right out of bed. We both landed on the carpeted floor in one fell swoop. It was funny at the time. Now I was going to do it deliberately. So, I reached alongside the bed, grabbed my pants and my bag, and schoched real close to her. Here goes. Hope this isn't a dream! Sproong. We were both on the floor with me pushing back towards the corner. She said "Hey."; I said "Quiet!". It must have been my tone or my shoving but she wiggled back to the corner. Then we heard the thunk for the living room. The cats were starting to time out of their waling. That thunk was distinctive. I had this gadget that controlled the TV and VCR. It allowed it to change the channels on the cable box and start and stop the VCR. I gave to Frau as a birthday present. It allowed me to program her various soap operas' schedule on different channels. The VCR wasn't designed to change a cable box's channels so prior to this thing she only get one of the three shows she liked. Downside was this thing needed to be line of sight to the three (tv, cable, vcr) boxes to work. So it would sit on the living room table carefully balanced on a roll of paper towels. That was just the right spot. It also mean that walking by it too quickly, bumping the table, or vibrations for the ac would send it tumbling. It was a distinctive sound that we had heard many times. My heart was now really pumping. I popped open my bag. Then I reached up on the bed, bundled the covers over some pillows, and put the spread over it so, I hoped, it looked like we were still sleeping. Then, I took my tools from my bag. George and Martha never felt so good. Didn't I mention my tools before? No! Well, George and Martha are an pair of identical Automatic Colt Pistols Model 1911 45 caliber. I'd bought them for Y2K. My tool bag was the guns and their tools that I'd bring to the gun club meeting once a month. I also had my business and personal cell phones in the bag. Flashlight too. So, now I had only one problem. What to do next? George had a full clip of nine shots; Martha had the club limit of five. For some reason, the club voted that all clips used on the club range were to be loaded with five shots. It made sense since most people shot groups of five. No sense having loaded guns around with four live rounds in them. Right now I was cursing that rule. See George and Martha were really two Georges! The only difference was the blue or red dot on the bottom of the magazine. That dot was invisible in the dark.

I considered reloading the clip but I had a feeling that I'd be a little busy in the coming minutes. So, now I just waited # - # - #

First two In my spare minutes, I did have one thought. Could it be the police? With the drug war, police raids at the wrong address were not that uncommon. Besides, they might have moved quicker and been louder. They are supposed to knock, or at least announce themselves. Right! I busied my self. I put the left hand gun down. Felt around the bag for the two extra magazines, flashlight, cell phone,and extra ammo. I thought if I have to start reloading magazines, then I've stumbled into WW6. But, on the off chance I'd have to reload, I thought about that one handed video I did last year. I remembered finger the release, drop the mag like the movies, put the gun down flat, slide the new mag almost all in, pick it up with the pinky under the mag, pound on a hard object (not so hard as to hurt that pinky), and finger the safety. Then, I heard the door locks. Someone was trying to open the front door. From the inside! I had a habit of unconsciously forgetting to lock the bottom lock. I could hear two clicks and a tug. Another two clicks and a tug. Another click and a tug. Another click and a tug. Another click and a tug. Another click and a door opening sound. (Yeah, it needs wd40 too!) I listened carefully. I wanted to know how many bandits I was facing. Some muffled angry voices. And, in the darkness I could see two shapes enter the bedroom. "Wake up!" a booming voice yelled and one shape fired into the wall above the bed. That's good enough for me. I paid more attention to my left non-dominant hand, but squeezed off three rounds from each hand. I guessed the range was spitting distance. The echo was ear splitting. I forgot to put in ear plugs. Frau must be terrified. I could see in the flashes, both targets going down. Like taught, center of mass. It's only in the movies that people get up from being shot. From a 45, not going to happen! It was silent. Now I had a real problem. One hand had two shots left; the other five! But which was which? If I fired two more rounds, either that gun would lock open empty or have four rounds left. Maybe I was out of bandits? Ok, let's be safe, assume that there are an unlimited supply of bandits. Since I was a better shot right handed, let's put two rounds in the general direction of where they might be. It's only in the movies, that walls stop bullets. So I "aimed", that's euphemism for pointing it in a general direction at an assumed height for the first shot. The kick will make the second one's direction any one's guess. All I knew was I rather be on this side rather than the receiving end. SO here goes. Pull, pull. # - # - #

Next two I assume that I hit something or someone or, if I was lucky someones. There was a grunting yelps and thud. Then, Martha clunked, locked open with that characteristic sound that yells, "feed me". I heard some one say loudly "he's out; rush 'em!". I saw one shape coming around the corner, heard spitting fire, and flashes into the bed. Two from the not-empty George ended that. From George's second flash, I could see the target folding at the midsection. "There are two" someone called out. But now I had a bigger problem. Martha was out and George only had three left. And, there was at least ONE more target out there. I needed to get a fresh magazine into Martha. Blow off George's three and get a fresh magazine into him. It also occurred to me that since I would then be out of loaded magazines, if time permitted, it might be a good time to call for some help. If my neighbors hadn't attribute this fracas to a late night war movie, they might had called. I don't think the war movie was possible, no grenades. I had the two mags in the bag. I'd have to do this lefty. Leaving the still lethal George in my dominant hand ready to protect us seemed wise. # - # - #

Reload OK, just like the demo. Keep George generally aimed at the doorway. Finger the release, put Martha on the bed, grab the empty, put it next to me, can't afford a mix up, put the gun down flat, slide the new mag almost all in, pick it up with the pinky under the mag, pound on a hard object, and finger the safety. Release the slide lock. Martha was now back in the game. Go Martha. Swap her to my dominant hand. Put George on the bed, flop the L to the other side, take Martha, and with my left had pick up George. Now what? Martha in the right hand has either five or nine shots. George in the left hand has three left. Waste George's three to reload? Replace George with the last magazine. Either with 9 or 5? Waste three to get five. Argh! Then I'd have my last fourteen. Decisions, decisions. There's no guarantee that I can do that slight of hand twice without a flub. So do you want fourteen? You may be sitting with 12 right now. Sitting fat! Do you want to start playing around. With bad guys coming in soon. # - # - #

Call for help Seemed like a lull in the action. Time would be well spent calling for Custer's Seventh cavalry. I'm sure the doughnut eating clean up squad would be there promptly. In time to write the reports and cluck how having a gun in the home hadn't helped. At Columbine they waited for all the killing to stop before they entered. That's all they were was a "clean up squad". But, I needed some outside help. I put down Martha and picked up the cell phone. "911 What is your emergency?" "Home invasion. Armed. Shots fired." "What's your name and address?" "I'm a little busy right now. Can I speak to a cop?" "No, sir. I need your name and address." From the hallway, I could hear: "He's on the phone. Rush 'em!" I saw shapes at the doorway. George was ready. Three right to left waist high. I put the cell phone down and picked up Martha. I figured three gunshots would do for my name and address. Hope the lady's ear wasn't too close to the phone. I was deafened by the roar. We'd been in the corner for awhile. I figured tactically we should move. So I shoved the attache case towards the other corner. Used my right hand with George to push Frau. All while keeping Martha on the doorway. We skootched into the corner at the foot of the bed. I figured I had to change the dynamics here a little. Eventually, one of them would have to get lucky. First, I took out the other cell phone and speed dialed my acquaintance who was a reporter. I didn't wait for him to talk, but said: "It's me in a fire fight at home." Figure if I had him live that was good enough and if it was his machine, it would record until it ran out. I took the flashlight out, turned it on, and pushed it under the bed aimed at the door way. I could see bodies in the doorway. No doubt that George and Martha had turned this from a kidnap, extortion, murder into carnage. Maybe the bad guys would just give up. # - # - #

Next two folk But I was soon corrected on that notion. Silently, two shapes appeared at the doorway. One fired at the bed. I just put three from Martha and three from George where they could do the most good. From my point of view. The shapes went down like a deflating balloon as George locked open. Dropped him and transfered Martha to my dominant right hand. Did the old one handed reload under pressure. I now had either Martha with 2 or 6 and George with 5 or 9. Either way it was 11. That's what the arithmetic gave me. I was still concerned about ammo. Did I dare put both guns down and begin to reload a magazine in the dark? Argh! # - # - #

Probe for one I put down George and picked up the cell. Time to try again. "Hello, police, help?" "Detective Lane Cavalier here. How may I help?" "Well, Sergeant Gruberger, I'd appreciate if you'd come and clear out the bad guys." "Sir, my name is Lane." "Yes, Sergeant, I'm the home owner and I have several bad guys down hard and an unknown number trying to enter my bedroom." "Sir, I said Detective. Are you under duress?" "Just stress, Sergeant Gruberger, just stressed. How would you feel with bad guys just down the hall?" "Units are just arriving. Stay put. we'll get you out of there." "I'd suggest that you identify yourself before entering the bedroom. It's a free fire zone." "Understood" I put the phone down and picked up George. I was expecting more customers any minute now. # - # - #

Tricky leader "Bang" heard from the front. And, near simultaneously, a bad guy jumped in the doorway and fired into the bed. Martha nailed him with two in the gut. Were they ever going run out of bad guys? Then from the hallway: "Ahoy in the bedroom. Sergeant Gruberger here. Are you OK?" Decision time! "Yes. Advance and be recognized!" A shape stepped into the room with guns aimed at the bed. George put four into him. That had to be the end? # - # - #

Help arrives There was a voice on the cell phone. I picked it up. "Anyone there?" I responded: "Yes, now. I've be a little busy. Who's this?" "Detective Lane here. I'm outside your door with a team." "Welcome. I'd come answer the door, but I don't know whose between us." "We're ready to make entry. We have the house surrounded. Are you still in the back bedroom?" "Yes. Anyone anywhere else is a hostile. Come ahead. It's a standard ranch. Right as you come in the door. Bedroom on your right. Bathroom on the left. Next bedroom on the right. Another bathroom on the left. Master bedroom straight ahead. Announce before you come in. And, I'll safe the weapons." "We coming in now". I could hear the door open. Sounded like people moving through the living room and back. Then, I could hear action more to my side of the house. "Clear! Hostile dead! Clear! Hostile down and unconscious! Clear! Hostile dead! Clear! Hostile in the bathtub, badly wounded, cuffed. Medic!" "Hello in the room. Detective Lane here. May we come in?" "Hello, Detective Lane, glad to hear from you. You've cleared the two bedrooms and two baths on your way here? Don't want any surprises." "Yes!" "And you see the bodies in front of you. I don't know if you have any fakers there. But, advance and be recognized. If you have your weapon out, please point it up at the ceiling. I'm still threatened by guns pointed at me. I'm doing the same now." "Sounds reasonable. The bodies don't seem to be moving but my men are covering them now." A man walks into the room, gun pointed at the ceiling, and flashlight at the floor. He sweeps the room until he illuminates me. "Well, I am glad to see you two alive. You don't look worse for wear and tear." "Frayed nerves mostly. Wife's in shock. If you can turn around, I'd like to put my pants on. And, I'm sure she wants her robe." "No problem. Then, we'll get on to reports and clean up." With that he turned around. I got my pants onl Frau, her robe. I retrieved my empty magazines and dump some rounds in my pocket. I holstered George and locked Martha in my bag. And, began reloading clips. With a solemn resolve, that all clips would have the full nine!

# - # - #

Damage I told Detective Lane "we were decent". And he turned around. "My men have the utility fellows working on the power feed that was cut. And, we'll be taking photos before we move the dead." "That's fine." I was focused on the reload. Until I could get to my shotgun. "I'll need your guns for ballistics and your registration papers." Now the fun began. "Well, Detective Lane, why don't you just start with the bad guys? And, leave the honest folks alone." "Procedure!" "Well, I want my lawyer. And, I choose to remain silent." "Very well. But I can arrest you." "On what charge?" "Suspicion of homicide, firearms discharge inside the town limits, interference with a police investigation, and whole load of other things." "Well, you do what you have to do. I'll now ask you to leave the premises. Come back with a court order. Better yet speak to my lawyer." "Are you refusing to cooperate?" "Yes. I just shot a bunch of thugs. You arrest me; you're just a different gang." "I'm placing you under arrest for suspicion of murder. You may have lured all these people in and shot them." "In that case, Detective Lane, why don't you say hello to the general public? My cell phone is live to a reporter. I'm sure he has a few questions." Lane sputtered: "We'll get back to you later." With that the lights came back on and he turned his attention to the bodies. # - # - # The prosecutor's press conference was jammed. "While there are many charges that could have been filed, my office has determined not seek an indictment in the now infamous home invasion case. We recommend people NOT to keep guns in their homes and to call 911 for all emergencies." I thought of the famous book. "Dial 911 and die!" # - # - #

Epilogue I keep a shotgun under my bed. And nine in my magazines. The gun club changed their rules. George and Martha are now always at my side! The RKBA should have been the First Amendment. # # # # # <<<< The End? >>>>