I hesitate, wanting to let the women get down first, but my father pushes me forward.Īs soon as my mother’s feet touch the ground, she’s sprinting for the gardener’s shed, Freya close behind. I’m not sure the spindly wood will hold my weight.
My mother is already descending down the trellis. Meanwhile, shouting and thundering feet seem to be coming from every direction inside the house. I can still hear fighting down on the grounds, on the west side where the helicopter is located, and also at the front of the house where we would have gone to access the garage. My mother motions for us all to stay silent. It gleams blue-black in the moonlight, a dark cap around her pale face. Unlike my mother, Freya’s hair is pin-straight, barely a strand out of place despite her exertions. “What the fuck is happening?” she whispers to me.
My mother cracks the French doors, hissing, “Come on!” to the others.įreya joins us on the balcony, followed close behind by Efrem and my father. My father snatches up Efrem’s knife and finishes disposing of the second soldier. My sister rolls out from under the chaise, leaping to her feet. Then an arm darts out from under the chaise, stabbing a letter opener down through the top of the soldier’s boot, pinning his foot to the floor. My mother readies her rifle, barrel pointed directly between the soldier’s eyes. Efrem is forced to drop his knife so he can yank the man’s hand away from the trigger.
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