The wind dragged the branches across the corrugated roof- a terrible ripping noise. David stirred in his bed, drenched with sweat. Something sounding like a tin can rattled around outside, stopped, rattled again. Then he heard the trucks arriving, distant purring at first, then louder. He leapt out of bed, heart pounding, and made it into the kitchen before they opened fire on the guard outside. He went deaf from the racket for a second but kept moving, grabbing all the cheap metal knives from the kitchen and dropping them into the pockets of his cargo pants.
Then they were coming in through the back door with dogs, smashing everything around. So he turned and rushed again to the front. They’d already shot Marcie and the guard’s dying body was pumping blood all over the weathered floorboards. He was halfway through the door, like he’d been trying to get back into the house.