protected, had been violated, and a feeling of horror and disbelief grabbed him. The blood drained from him, he could feel his innards churning, and the sick rising in the pit of his stomach. Soon he knew, if he didn’t control it, there would be a stinking mess everywhere.
It was a nightmare. A series of nightmares. First the car crash, then the machine gun attack, then the suspicious police inspector, and now this. Was nowhere safe any more? How could this be happening to him? Would it never end? So many terrible questions for which he had no answers. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to cry out and scream and shout to the heavens above that it just wasn’t fair. He wanted to run away. And he could do none of those things. All he could do was what he always did. Take his courage in both hands, pray a little to a God that wasn’t listening or didn’t care even if he was, and try to do what normal people were supposed to do. Carry on.
He carried on.
First he examined the evidence to see if there was anything to tell him who had done this or why. But there wasn’t much. Someone had broken in to his home and by the looks of things, they hadn’t been subtle about it. Instead of jimmying the lock the door had simply been pushed in, the deadlock had held as it was supposed to, but the timber around it had splintered and the doorframe had then broken completely away. He had no idea who would do that, especially out in the open on a quiet street during the middle of the day, but whoever it was he was strong.
Smashing a doorframe apart took a lot of force. The sort of force made by a man hurling himself at the door like a battering ram. Quite possibly, since he had a state of the art deadbolt system, several times. It must have made a lot of noise when whoever it was had busted the door down. A lot of noise in a normally very quiet street. And his home was on the high side of the street, the front door and entrance exposed to anybody walking by and the neighbours across the road.
It didn’t make sense. Harris Street was one of the better streets in the township. The sort of street in which things like this just didn’t happen. It wasn’t as if it was near the new comprehensive school full of teenage vandals. Someone must have seen it surely. His neighbours must have heard something. But if they had, where were the police? Looking around though, there was nobody there. He could see the taxi driving off in the distance and no one else at all. Maybe that was the downside of living in such a quiet street. There was no one to see anything.
Fearing the worst Rufus pushed the door open a little with the tips of his fingers to peek inside, worried that whoever had done this might still be inside. After all he hadn’t been gone very long. He needn’t have worried. The man wasn’t there any more, but even through the crack Rufus could see that his house had been burgled. More than burgled. Vandalized.
“Oh Crap!”
Pushing the door the rest of the way open Rufus could finally see all the way into his house and he didn’t want to. Someone had been there. Someone had turned everything upside down, obviously searching for something. And then when they hadn’t found it they’d decided to pretty much destroy the place.
His burglar alarm was no longer on the wall, though it was still attached to part of it. It was just that that part and the grey box of state of the art electronics, were on the far side of the room in pieces. It looked for all the world as though someone had simply ripped the box out of the wall and flung it across the room. Maybe they had.
Stuff was everywhere. Things had been chucked all over the floor, shelves had been emptied and their contents strewn all over the place, and they hadn’t stopped at his main room. Cutlery and crockery, much of it smashed, told him they’d been in the kitchen, though why they’d tossed that stuff all over his lounge he didn’t
It was a nightmare. A series of nightmares. First the car crash, then the machine gun attack, then the suspicious police inspector, and now this. Was nowhere safe any more? How could this be happening to him? Would it never end? So many terrible questions for which he had no answers. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to cry out and scream and shout to the heavens above that it just wasn’t fair. He wanted to run away. And he could do none of those things. All he could do was what he always did. Take his courage in both hands, pray a little to a God that wasn’t listening or didn’t care even if he was, and try to do what normal people were supposed to do. Carry on.
He carried on.
First he examined the evidence to see if there was anything to tell him who had done this or why. But there wasn’t much. Someone had broken in to his home and by the looks of things, they hadn’t been subtle about it. Instead of jimmying the lock the door had simply been pushed in, the deadlock had held as it was supposed to, but the timber around it had splintered and the doorframe had then broken completely away. He had no idea who would do that, especially out in the open on a quiet street during the middle of the day, but whoever it was he was strong.
Smashing a doorframe apart took a lot of force. The sort of force made by a man hurling himself at the door like a battering ram. Quite possibly, since he had a state of the art deadbolt system, several times. It must have made a lot of noise when whoever it was had busted the door down. A lot of noise in a normally very quiet street. And his home was on the high side of the street, the front door and entrance exposed to anybody walking by and the neighbours across the road.
It didn’t make sense. Harris Street was one of the better streets in the township. The sort of street in which things like this just didn’t happen. It wasn’t as if it was near the new comprehensive school full of teenage vandals. Someone must have seen it surely. His neighbours must have heard something. But if they had, where were the police? Looking around though, there was nobody there. He could see the taxi driving off in the distance and no one else at all. Maybe that was the downside of living in such a quiet street. There was no one to see anything.
Fearing the worst Rufus pushed the door open a little with the tips of his fingers to peek inside, worried that whoever had done this might still be inside. After all he hadn’t been gone very long. He needn’t have worried. The man wasn’t there any more, but even through the crack Rufus could see that his house had been burgled. More than burgled. Vandalized.
“Oh Crap!”
Pushing the door the rest of the way open Rufus could finally see all the way into his house and he didn’t want to. Someone had been there. Someone had turned everything upside down, obviously searching for something. And then when they hadn’t found it they’d decided to pretty much destroy the place.
His burglar alarm was no longer on the wall, though it was still attached to part of it. It was just that that part and the grey box of state of the art electronics, were on the far side of the room in pieces. It looked for all the world as though someone had simply ripped the box out of the wall and flung it across the room. Maybe they had.
Stuff was everywhere. Things had been chucked all over the floor, shelves had been emptied and their contents strewn all over the place, and they hadn’t stopped at his main room. Cutlery and crockery, much of it smashed, told him they’d been in the kitchen, though why they’d tossed that stuff all over his lounge he didn’t
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