Trouble is a Friend of Mine

I contemplate my options. Throw the rake through the window and climb in? Climb through, drag the rake behind me, and then start swinging? Maybe signal Digby first? Or maybe this is a stupid idea. I look across the street to my house and I’m immediately ashamed of myself for wanting to run home.

But the decision is made for me when hands grab my shoulders and drag me in backward through the window, rake and all. I scream as the windowsill scrapes my back and the back of my legs. I look like a cursing, feathered baby being birthed into that room.

The attention momentarily away from him, Digby grabs a table lamp and hurls it. Unfortunately, the lamp stays plugged in and there’s a doggie-on-a-chain effect. It’s enough of a surprise, though, that Digby is able to jump the guy.

Meanwhile, I swing the rake around, wildly trying to accomplish I don’t know what, but I succeed in creating chaos.

Zillah runs back in, screaming to her men about the bomb in the basement. Her foot catches on the tarp midsentence, though, and she flies forward. Her gun fires when her hand hits the floor.

We shut up and freeze.

‘Where’s Ezekiel?’ Digby says.

We immediately form a temporary alliance. We are the people in the house about to explode who have lost sight of the bomb-maker. We descend into slapstick as all five of us try to squeeze through the doorway simultaneously. Digby gets out first and he tackles Ezekiel, but it takes Zillah’s help to wrestle Ezekiel into the living room.

Ezekiel drops his phone while Zillah ties him to the radiator with her scarf.

Digby picks it up. ‘“Call ended.” That means …’

‘The bomb,’ Zillah says. ‘Go!’

Zillah and her thugs run to the front door. Digby and I are hot on their heels. Behind us, Ezekiel begs, ‘Please! Please untie me!’

We keep running until Ezekiel says, ‘I’ll tell you what happened to your sister!’

Digby goes back into the room.

‘Digby, what are you doing?’ I say.

‘Talk,’ Digby says.

‘Untie me,’ Ezekiel says.

‘Then fine.’ Digby walks away.

‘They screwed up. They were supposed to take you that night … not her,’ Ezekiel says. ‘And I know why.’

‘Princeton,’ Digby said.

I go back and help untie Ezekiel. Without having to discuss it, we know our fastest exit’s through the window, so the three of us dive out and hit the ground running.

About twenty feet from the house, Digby says, ‘We should du—’

He doesn’t finish because the house blows. I once saw a Discovery Channel show that described being in an explosion as getting hit by a hot steel wall moving at the speed of sound. But I can tell you this is inaccurate.

Being in an explosion is like having a hot steel wall moving at the speed of sound go through you.

I black out.

When I wake up, I’m facedown, wondering why the phone’s ringing. Then I realize that’s my ears ringing and that I’m totally deaf otherwise. The mansion’s on fire. My hand’s still clutching the rake handle.

Mom runs toward me, her mouth wide open in a scream. She gets down and cradles my head in her lap.

Over and over, I tell Mom I’m okay, but by the time first responders roll up, I feel like hell. Everything I own hurts. Moving my foot an inch sends agonizing pain up my leg.

I see Digby lying near me. My ears clear a little and I’m upgraded from total deafness to hearing everything from under a foot of water. I call out Digby’s name a few times and that wakes him up. He crawls to Ezekiel, who’s on his back doing an awesome impression of being dead. Digby slaps Ezekiel to rouse him. He’s shaking him when paramedics push Digby off and start CPR on Ezekiel.

A pair of paramedics work on me too. I’m blinking in and out of consciousness, seeing only seconds out of every minute that elapses. Every time I come back around, I’m attached to more equipment.

The neighbors are on their lawns. Some take photos when I scream as they lift me onto the gurney. I’m in a plastic collar and strapped onto a board so I can’t turn my head, but out the corner of my eye, I see them trying to similarly immobilize Digby. He’s struggling, shouting something no one understands.

I look in the direction Digby’s straining toward and see medics wheeling Ezekiel away. Somehow, messed up as I am, I know something’s wrong. There shouldn’t be a big bag on the gurney’s bottom rack. Then I see the paramedics’ faces. It’s Schell and Floyd in paramedics uniforms wheeling Ezekiel and the bag of money into their stolen ambulance.

I yell, but everyone ignores me too. I don’t blame them. It’s a long story to tell and I don’t know where to start, so I yell hysterical nonsense. They’re getting away, but when Floyd unlocks the back of the ambulance, the door flies open and smashes Schell in the face.