Bad Habits, Part 8
Bad Habits, Part 8
It was obvious someone had broken in. He knew they would have scampered if they heard him driving up. Sound carried a long was on the beach. He?d
lived here a number of years without a break-in. But petty theft was bound to happen eventually, to every unattended house along the beach. Bummer, he
thought.
He unlocked and checked out the downstairs bedroom where the glass was broken. His flashlight beam threw irregular glints from the shards of the
window pane, but there were no other immediate signs of damage. There was no easy access to the upstairs, where he lived. The most they could have
gotten were his tools and tanks for water and propane. He checked it all out and nothing was missing, nothing big anyway. Why did they break in if
they didn?t steal anything?
After he was convinced nothing was missing he went upstairs. No break-in?s here. Everything was in order. He poured a drink and turned on the power,
water and satellite systems, flipped on the television, sat down in one of the kickback chairs, wondering. Maybe he got back just as they were
breaking in? His habit was to be north of the border for several months this time of year, but liquor was cheaper here and he?d decided to stay. Maybe
I surprised them, he thought. He poured another drink, straight, wondering how the first had gone down so quickly. By midnight he was sleeping in the
chair fully dressed.
During the moonless night, he had no idea what time, he heard hushed sounds coming from below. Was he dreaming? The solar had run down and quit and it
was pitch black inside the house and on the beach. He located his flashlight, kept it off, and walked silently to the balcony where he could see
below, the driveway, the beach. A small shadow was nestled along the shore. What looked like cloaked men, only in shadows perhaps, silently carted
cartons from the garage to the boat. What the hell was this he asked himself. He hadn?t checked out the garage the night before, There was nothing of
value there. What could they be doing?
He turned from the balcony, wanting a drink. As he turned, his shirtsleeve caught on a nail. He turned and, with his free arm, tried to undo the
tangle.
Then he dropped his flashlight.
He froze, could watch it falling as if in slow motion. As it struck the stones below the balcony and fell apart, small components of the original
battery seemingly hovering in the air before they came clattering down onto the stones. The scene on the beach, the men, the boat pulled just ashore,
all the tiny beach sounds, froze. From between the boat and his drive came a muzzle flash and a loud pop and thud?he was knocked to the railing of the
balcony, then found himself on the floor, wondering what had happened. He heard another flash, pop and thud, wondered what was happening?
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