Chapter 9: Back Fire

“WHERE IS IT?” Paul screamed as he jerked Peter upright by his neck.

Peter was too stunned to do more than grab frantically at the other man’s bony arm as he choked him. His mouth hung open as he desperately tried to catch his breath. He tried to say something but he could only whisper painfully. “Plea...” he gasped as tiny dots of light began to flicker before his eyes. He was distantly aware of the barking dogs fading as a rushing sound drowned out all external noise.

“I know you have it, you little piece of shit!” his attacker growled in his face. “It’s around here someplace. GIVE IT TO ME!” He released the boy and thrust him backward to lay gasping for breath as he guarded his sore throat.

“What...,” Peter panted. “ ... money?”

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME KID!” Paul screamed at him. He turned away and stumbled over a chair. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the offending item and flung it across the room. Peter’s heart lurched when he saw it crash into his computer and monitor, before bouncing off the desk to crash loudly on the floor. In the dark, he couldn’t tell if it struck anything fragile.

“Paul!” he cried out, trying to get the man’s attention. “What money? What do you want? Maybe I can hel...”

“YOU KNOW WHAT MONEY!” The man was deranged. Peter began noticing more than just his erratic behavior. He smelled like rotting garbage, too.

‘Call 9-1-1,’ he thought to himself after a second of clarity. His cell phone was on his nightstand and he grabbed for it in the darkness.

“Do you have any idea what they will do to me if I don’t pay them their money back?” The man wept as he staggered into the table, knocking it over.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a small voice said over his earpiece. Peter clamped his hand over it to dampen the sound.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” Paul yelled, turning on him.

Peter rolled off the opposite side of the bed, crouching behind it. “Paul! Calm down. You are at 347 Poplar Drive! If you keep it up the neighbors will call the...”

“I know where I’m at you fucking bastard!” the intruder replied loudly. “Where’s my fucking money at?”

“I don’t know what money you’re talking about,” Paul replied, trying to sound calm. “You’re gonna wake up mom!” He regretted his words as soon as he spoke them.

“JANET!” he screamed, charging for the door. He struck the jamb as he tried to exit. The light switch flicked on, then off and back on again, causing Peter to blink as his vision failed him in the brightness.

“NO!” he yelled as he stumbled after the man. Into his phone, he whispered, “Please hurry! This is Peter Shipley; I think he’s on drugs or something...”

“JANET! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY MONEY?”

“Units are on the way,” a calm female voice replied. “Can you...”

They both heard the door open upstairs and the top landing lit up from the bedroom fixtures. “Peter?” Janet called out fearfully. “What’s all that...?”

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! YOU STOLE MY FUCKING MONEY!”

“Paul?” she screamed. “What are you doing...?”

“Mom! Get back in your room and lock the door!” Peter cried out as he turned on the lights in the living room. Paul began running up the steps but stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. He nearly toppled backward as he clambered back to his feet and continued his ascent.

“PAUL!” Peter screamed frantically, “She doesn’t have any money!”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

There was a frightened shriek from the bedroom as he collided with the door and found it locked.

“Oh God! Please hurry!” Peter breathed into his phone.

“FUCK YOU!” Paul screamed at the top of the stairs.

“They are three minutes out...”

Peter looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. There were knives in the kitchen.

“PAUL!” he yelled as he waddled quickly across the room. “I have the money!”

“I knew it!” the man yelled triumphantly and began stumbling back down the steps.

“I hid it in my room!” Peter coaxed him as he appeared back at the bottom landing. “Under my bed!”

He watched with small relief as the filthy figure dashed back into his room. There was a crash as his table was struck again and splintered.

Sirens could be heard approaching, and Peter slinked his way towards the front door, quietly. He opened it wide but left the porch light off.

There was more crashing and creaking as his bed was overturned.

“WHERE IS IT?” Paul demanded from inside the room as the first police car pulled up to his driveway. The blue and white lights lit up half the houses on the street. He peeked outside and saw two shadowy figures approaching his porch steps with their guns drawn. He frantically waved them in towards the door. Another squad car pulled up behind the first.

“Hurry!” he called to them with a harsh whisper.

“Where is the intruder?” one of the officers asked him, crouching by the door.

Peter pointed, “He’s in my room! Be careful! He’s on something and he was busted two weeks ago in Vegas for heroin.”

“Get outside! GO!” The second cop grabbed him by his arm and dragged him out onto the porch in his underwear, before following his partner inside.

Peter crouched beside the open door and hugged himself as the other two cops raced across the yard toward him.

“YOU LIED TO ME!” he heard from inside. “I’M GONNA SMASH YOUR FUCKING HEAD...”

“POLICE! FREEZE!” one of the cops yelled.

“FUCK YOU PIG!”

“DROP IT! AND SHOW US YOUR HANDS!” the other ordered.

“ARHG!” Paul screamed back defiantly.

Gunfire erupted from inside his house causing bright flashes against the porch rails. Peter ducked his head and covered his ears as the shots repeated several times. He flinched and rolled over to curl into a ball as more shots followed. Even with his ears covered he had never heard blasts so loud even when he scored a few M80s on the Fourth of July, a couple of years back.

“STAY DOWN!” he heard as his teeth began chattering in terror.

“I SAID: STAY DOWN!”

He lifted his face from his knees just as two more shots rang out causing him to flinch again and clutch his legs tighter.

By daybreak, the entire street was lined with official vehicles from the first responders, crime scene investigators, and the coroner’s team. Immediately after the shooting, fire and aid were summoned to assess the ‘perpetrator’ and try to talk Janet into opening her door to let them care for her. They could hear her sobbing within the room and there were no signs that any of the gunshots went awry. It ultimately took a strong shoulder from a larger firefighter to breach the door. This sent her into hysterics and they spent several minutes trying to calm her down before loading her into an ambulance and hauling her off. In the meantime, Peter was provided with a set of clean APD sweats and a sweater and allowed to reclaim his wheelchair after the investigators cleared it. He wasn’t permitted inside the house but when he described where his cell phone, wallet, checkbook, and bank card were — someone retrieved them for him.

He called Ronnie knowing she would probably be sleeping.

“Hello?” her groggy voice answered. “I hope you realize how early it is because I may kill you in your sleep...”

“Ronnie it’s Peter,” he interrupted, speaking over the loud radios and conversations around him. “I’m sorry it’s so early but there has been an incident with Paul.”

“Peter?” she replied with more clarity in her voice. “Paul? I thought he was in Jail down in Reno...” Her voice became muffled, “Shut up! It’s my brother! ... sorry, Peter what’s all that noise? What happened? Are you guys alright?”

He patiently waited for her to stop rambling, “Yes Mom and I are fine. Well, mom is pretty shaken up and they had to take her to the hospital for observation ... but otherwise we are ok...”

“Jesus! What happened? What about Paul?” she exclaimed.

“I guess he got out of Jail somehow and made it back here,” he replied. “He broke into the house about an hour ago and tried to attack me and Mom. He was out of his mind on drugs and the police had to shoot him...”

“Holy Fuck!” she nearly screamed. “How in the fuck did he get out of jail?” she demanded.

“I’ll tell you what Ronnie,” he barked back into his cell phone. “His bullet-riddled body is lying on the floor in my bedroom! Why don’t you just give me a second and I’ll go fucking ask him!” Several investigators and technicians turned to look at him as he clenched his teeth and bit back any further words.

“Oh my God!” she gasped in his ear. “Jesus fucking Christ! I’m sorry Pet...”

“Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he interrupted. “My nerves are just a little raw and I’m still trying to get my head around it.”

She didn’t reply for a few seconds. “Oh man,” she breathed into his ear finally. “Okay, look. I’m gonna have to catch a flight because my cars in the shop...”

“No!” he cut her off again. “I appreciate what you are thinking but I’d rather you just stay there and try to focus on your school stuff. I know this is a lot but I didn’t want you to hear it on the news.”

“But, what are you gonna do while Mom is in the hospital? Peter, you’re just a kid. Who is...”

“I’ll be fine,” he growled back. “I already have Jeremiah and our Lawyer Scott, handling things. I can stay with friends until we get our house back...”

“How long will that be? Weeks? Months?” she blurted.

“Doesn’t matter, Sis. We can afford a hotel if we need it. You can’t fix anything here so please just stay over there and I will let you know as things develop. What is your ARPANET user code anyway?”

After she told him he memorized it and ended the call. He remained on the porch for a while longer, answering questions and completing a statement for the detectives. Then he was led to the driveway where several of his neighbors were gathered around. They bombarded him with questions until a sympathetic policeman sent them away.

“Vultures!” he muttered. He reached into his squad car and produced a thermos. “Here, kid. I hope you don’t mind cream and sugar — I can’t take it black.” He poured him a cup of the steaming beverage and Peter accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you, officer,” he replied softly. His head was still spinning from everything that had occurred in the previous hours. “Do you have any idea how long it will be before we can go back into our home?”

The cop scratched his head. “I would imagine it won’t take long for them to remove the body,” he replied. “Then the technicians and investigators will probably wrap their end up in by this afternoon or tomorrow.” He shrugged. “You’re gonna want to have your room cleaned by pros who specialize in this sort of thing. That’ll probably take another couple of days.”

That was far sooner than he expected. “So, there won’t be yellow crime scene tape everywhere?”

“It’s not technically a crime scene seeing as how it was a police shooting,” he explained, “and fully justified from what I gathered. That guy was amped up on some heavy stuff!”

“Tell me about it!” he nodded in agreement.

“Peter!”

He spun his chair around to see Kathy running towards him from the street. She was dressed in cut-offs and a tank top and her sandals smacked the pavement with every step. His spirit soared when he saw her terrified expression changed to relief.

“Oh, thank God! You’re okay!” she cried joyfully as she flung herself into his arms, threatening to knock the wheelchair over. “Oh my God I was so worried!” her voice was muffled in his shoulder. She pulled back and stared long into his face with concern. “You are okay, right? And your mom?”

He had to swallow emotionally as he gazed back into her loving eyes. “Yeah,” he replied harshly. “We’re okay.” ‘Much better now!’ he thought to himself.

“What happened?” she asked. “All my cousin heard on the scanner was that there was gunfire at your address and a possible fatality.”

‘Ouch!’ he thought, ‘No wonder she was so freaked out.’ He nodded towards the front porch where investigators stood around. “Paul broke in last night...” He frowned, trying to recall the break-in. Then he remembered the hidden key. “He wanted ‘his’ money.”

“He’s dead right?” she turned to face the nearby officer. “Tell me he’s dead.”

“I can’t comment on that ma’am,” he replied tactfully, while he nodded his head towards the coroner’s van.

“He’s dead alright,” Peter added. “They had to shoot him eight or ten times, he was totally fucked up on PCP or something.”

“Good! I hated that piece of shit!” she retorted. “So, what now? Where’s your mom at? Can I take you somewhere?” She was tripping over her words as she tried to come to terms with all the activity around them. “Can you leave yet?”

Peter looked at the cop and he shrugged. “My guess is Auburn Regional. Let me call the Supervisor on scene ... just a sec.” He turned his mouth towards his lapel mike and stepped away.

They waited for a minute before he turned and gave them a thumbs-up. Kathy grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and began briskly rolling him down the street. “I had to park on the next block,” she explained.

“Thanks for coming,” he replied earnestly.

“Yeah...” she suddenly slowed way down. “Um, look. I’m really sorry about how I acted.” She fumbled for her words again. “I don’t think I can even express in words how fucked up I feel about it. But if you can forgive me, I swear I won’t ever do it again and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

He felt her waiting for his answer anxiously as they slowly crawled down the road. “I am just happy as hell that you are back, babe.” He reached up and clasped her hand as she gripped the wheelchair. “I’m sorry for freaking you out like that. I should’ve listened to myself, but...”

“What?” she asked with barely a whisper.

“I’m glad you know. I would have had to tell you eventually, right?”

She stopped and he felt her hand caress his curly dark hair. “I love you so much,” she replied bending down to kiss him passionately. It may just have been the second-greatest kiss they ever shared.

“Um, where is the Maverick?” he asked as he saw the black and yellow Datsun growing nearer.

“Oh,” she replied, “I think I blew the engine or something. My Uncle was pretty pissed about that. I promised to pay for it, but he doesn’t think I can.” She used a key to open the hatchback while he climbed out of his chair. “I can afford it right?”

“Babe, you have enough money to completely rebuild it,” Peter assured her. “And if you throw in my share of the profits, you could buy him a new one altogether.”

“Nah,” she replied as she folded the chair and wrestled it into the back. “He would never take a new car. He thinks older is better. Besides, he’s not happy unless he’s tearing a motor apart. So, save your money for the Camaro you’re gonna buy me for my birthday.” She smiled wickedly at him as she climbed behind the wheel.

“Well, there goes that surprise,” he grumbled dramatically.

“Yes!” she pumped her arm and reached across to make sure his tonsils were still intact.

“It sounds like they will be keeping Mom in the hospital for a few days,” Peter explained to Jeremiah over the phone. He had been at her bedside for several hours while they ran tests and drew labs. “I guess stress has a way of attacking the immune system and since hers is basically shot — she broke out in hives and they are just making sure it’s not something serious like impetigo or ... whatever.”

“Hmm, I see,” the southerner pronounced ‘I’ like ‘Ah’. “Well, I’ll be keeping her in my prayers. I spoke to Mr. Bales a bit ago, and he’s following up with the police to try and get their investigation all wrapped up.” He hesitated for a moment. “I was allowed to enter the premises and take a gander at your room ... It is a right mess truth be told. I took the liberty of arranging for a company that specializes in crime scene clean-ups to be available as soon as they release your house.”

Peter nodded as he sat by the windows watching cars traveling down Division Street. “Thank you so much for everything Jeremiah,” he replied softly. “Um, this may sound silly but, did you get a chance to look at my computer?”

“Yes, I did and I’m afraid it’s pretty much done for. At least the screen is broken off the main PC Unit, and the keyboard is busted up. From the looks of the face, I’d say you are gonna be needing a new one.”

“Ah man, that really blows!” he groaned as he ran his hand through his hair. “That had all my spreadsheets and databases on it. I’m gonna have to start all over...”

“Would you be open to a thought?” Jeremiah interrupted him.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied with a defeated tone.

“Well, if I understand things correctly a computer is just a machine. A machine that is made up of parts. Like a processor and RAM chips...”

Peter felt like his head had exploded as the lightbulb went off. “The motherboard, power source, and hard drive!” he cried out excitedly. He glanced over at his mom but she remained asleep.

“Well, now assuming you have everything on that hard drive inside your busted machine. It seems easy enough for the likes of you and that Korean kid genius to come up with a solution.”

“Yes!” Peter hissed excitedly. “And he isn’t half as smart as he says he is. You, Jeremiah, are the real genius. I’m gonna build a new machine! A beast! And I’m installing a mouse this time!” His mind was racing as he glanced around the room. “Ah, crap! Kat just left a while ago too! Dammit, I wish I could drive!” he grumbled.

“Why can’t you drive?” the calm smooth voice asked on the other end.

“You need feet to drive a car Jeremiah,” he replied sarcastically.

“But you got feet now. I seem to remember putting them in the trunk of my car before I left your place ... along with your old PC machine,” he replied diffidently. “I was planning on bringing ‘em by the hospital for you later.”

“Yeah, thanks, man. But I’m still learning how to use them.”

“Then you best get to learnin’, everything else is just empty excuses.”

Kathy had run home to clean up the place that she shared with her dad, intending for Peter to live with them while his house was fixed and his mom was in the hospital. So he called Alan and explained what he wanted to do and what he needed from CompUSA and Radio Shack.

“You sure you want the 8088 and not the Am286?” the Asian nerd replied skeptically. “You might need an extra fan inside the tower.”

“Get whichever one we can configure the most RAM for,” he replied excitedly. “And get the extra fan too.”

“How am I gonna pay for all this, dude?” Alan asked.

“Just use the company checkbook, that way I can write the whole thing off and then we can take it out of my proceeds.”

“Okay, can I have your old case and motherboard when we are done?”

“For sure!”

“You want me to bring it to the hospital and build it there?”

“Why not? I don’t know when Kat will be back and it shouldn’t take us that long,” he answered. “They agreed to let me stay here in her room tonight anyway.”

“Right on! I gotta go before my mom gets home and tries to put me to work,” he chimed. “If she calls you act like you got shot too.”

It took him three hours, but when he arrived in Janet’s room, he was pushing a shopping cart and wore a huge grin on his face.

Peter held a finger to his lips and pointed to his mom who was still asleep. Then he wheeled himself over to the big table he had set up to work on. His old PC lay in ruins near the center, along with a shoe box full of three-and-a-half-inch disks with scribbled labels.