GOD LAUGHS LAST, pt. 4

"Put your seat belt on, this instant!" I ordered as the truck slammed into the back bumper, sending Beanie through the air and landing her onto the cleaning tub behind the seat. She was in shock and very quiet but, I could do nothing to help her. My heart was breaking at the same time it was pounding out of my chest.

I had to keep my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel to stay one step ahead of these crazy men, who were not playing. Another smash pushed us perilously close to the riverside where a maze of docks and boats bobbed in the dappled water. One more strike from the big truck spun us around, facing back the way we had come. They were hauling the same fancy boat I'd seen at the cottage a few weeks ago when I met Matt, my first romantic disappointment of the summer.

There was no choice but to haul ass back to the cottage, where we could at least lock ourselves in until the Honey Pot Camp staff arrived. The truck chasing us had slowed. Maybe they damaged something while trying to push us off the road. I hoped, anyway.

We rounded the curve before cottage #3 and, skidded into the driveway, I opened the back door to scoop up my dazed Beanie, ran up the steps and nervously fiddled with the cottage lock, dropping the keys twice before getting inside. I locked the door, shoved the sofa and chair in front of it, and then made the rounds of all the windows on the first floor, slamming them shut and locking them as I ran.

Pulling out my phone I called the camp store. "Hey, it's Karol, did Jeff tell everyone what was going on at the cottages?"

"Oh, my God. Karol! Are you and Beanie all right?" Janie said in a panic.

"Where are they, Janie? We're back at cottage 3. The men have a big dark truck and they tried to shove us into the piers at Miller's Point! I had to turn around and drive back."

"Oh, God. We called 911 but they're all at a huge house fire. Jeff, Mike, Todd, and Gordy are on their way. They left a few minutes ago. Do you want to keep talking to me until they arrive?" she asked.

"No. Can you call them and tell them what kind of truck to look for, and where we are now."

"Absolutely. Dark truck, right? Did you see what type?"

"No. I don't know anything about that stuff. Just two guys in a dark truck. One of them has red hair. That's all I know."

As soon as I ended the call the truck rumbled past the driveway. Why would they do that? Now I was confused, as well as terrified. Did I have time to drive away from them again? Or should I stay put? Beanie was pale and shaking. We'd better stay where we were.

Filling a cup with cold water, I insisted she drink it, then took her to one of the bedrooms and made her lie down. I locked that door and barricaded it like the door downstairs. That gave us four levels of safety. There was a window overlooking the driveway and the porch roof where I could stand watch.

'Where were my friends?' I thought frantically, looking around the room for possible weapons. Coat hangers? Fly swatter? Pillows? It was evident that hiding and staying barricaded was our only chance.

Before long I heard a scrabbling sound on the porch below my window and a key turned in the lock. How did they have a key? I thought, with a creeping sense of doom and a sour taste in my mouth. That's not possible.

The sounds of grunting and furniture scraping against hardwood floors told me our first barricade had crumbled. All we had left was the dresser and metal bedframe against the bedroom door. Even with my weight against it, it would be no match for two men.

I got an idea. First, I bundled Beanie inside the blankets, like a burrito, then waited until I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. Quietly opening the window above the porch roof, I climbed out, hanging onto the window frame, hauling a shaking, quiet Beans behind me in her blanket burrito. I hated heights. Hated them with a passion.

Sweat trickled down between my boobs as my damp sneakers slipped and slid over the hot, corrugated metal roof. Trying not to fall on my head or drop my baby girl, I edged toward the support beam that held the roof up at the lake shore side of the porch. I crouched down carefully and gripped the wooden post. Slinging Beanie over my shoulder in her padded bag, I slid down the rough timber. Slivers tore through my jeans and bare ankles. But we made it.

Beanie had never felt lighter in my arms than when I raced to the driveway, hoping to get a head start on our pursuers. I gently buckled her in the back seat and revved the engine, as much as an old relic like this could rev. By the time we pulled onto the road, the men had figured out my ruse and almost collided, as they rushed onto the porch to see us drive away.

I didn't see their truck, so we might just get away this time, I thought, pushing my foot right to the floor of the old van. That's when I heard it. The thud and scrape of something dragging under the vehicle. Shit. Shit. Shit. No. Not now!