Chapter 17: Past Demons

“WHERE IS IT?” Paul screamed, jerking 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 struggled futilely to catch his breath. He tried to say something but could only whisper painfully. “Plea...” he gasped as tiny dots of light flickered before his eyes. He was aware of the barking dogs fading as a rushing sound drowned out all the noise.

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

“What...,” Peter panted. “money?”

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

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

“YOU KNOW WHAT MONEY!” The man was deranged. Peter noticed more than his erratic behavior. He also smelled like rotting garbage.

Call 9-1-1! His cell phone was on the nightstand, and he grabbed it in the darkness.

“Do you know what they’ll do to me if I don’t pay back?” The man sobbed 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’re at 347 Poplar Drive! If you keep it up, the neighbors will call the—”

“I know where I am, you little bastard!” the intruder yelled. “Where’s my fucking money?”

“I don’t know what money you mean,” he replied, trying to sound calm. “You’re gonna wake up mom!” He regretted his words immediately.

“JANET!” he screamed, charging for the door. He struck the jamb as he tried to exit. The light switch flicked on, off, and then on again, causing him to flinch at the brightness.

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

“JANET! WHERE’S MY MONEY?”

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

They 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 MONEY!”

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

“Mom! Get back in your room and lock the door!” Peter yelled as he turned on the living room lights. Paul started 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 up.

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

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU, BITCH!”

A frightened shriek came from the bedroom as he collided with the locked door.

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

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

“They’re 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 reappeared at the bottom landing. “Under my bed!”

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

Peter heard approaching sirens and quietly slinked towards the front door. He opened it wide and flicked the porch light on.

More crashing and creaking as his bed was overturned.

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

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

“Where is the intruder?” an officer asked, crouching by the door.

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

“Get outside! GO!” The second cop grabbed him by his arm and dragged him 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—”

“POLICE! FREEZE!” one cop yelled.

“FUCK YOU!”

“DROP IT! SHOW US YOUR HANDS!”

Peter heard Paul scream defiantly.

Gunfire erupted inside, causing bright flashes against the porch rails. Peter ducked his head and covered his ears as the shots repeated. He flinched and rolled into a ball as more shots followed. Even with his ears covered, he’d never heard blasts so loud, even from the M80s he scored last 4^th of July.

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

“I SAID: STAY DOWN!”

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

By daybreak, the street was full of official vehicles from first responders, crime scene investigators, and the coroner. After the shooting, fire, and aid were called to assess the intruder and try talking Janet out of her room. They heard her sobbing, and there were no signs of errant gunfire. Ultimately, it took a strong firefighter to break the door, which sent her into hysterics. They spent several minutes calming her down before taking her away in an ambulance. Peter received a clean set of Auburn FD sweats and reclaimed his wheelchair after investigators cleared it. He wasn’t allowed inside, but the investigators retrieved his phone, wallet, checkbook, and bank card.

He called Ronnie first.

“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. “There’s been an incident with Paul.”

“Peter?” she replied, suddenly alert. “Paul? I thought he was in jail?” Her voice became muffled, “Shut up! It’s my brother!” Pause, “Sorry, Peter, what’s all that noise? What happened? Are you alright?”

He patiently waited for her to stop rambling: “Mom and I are fine. She is shaken up pretty badly, and they took her to the hospital for observation ... otherwise, we are okay.”

“Jesus! What happened? What about Paul?”

“I guess he got out of jail 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 fucking mind on drugs! The cops shot him!”

“Holy Fuck!” she hissed. “How the fuck did he get out of jail?”

“I’ll tell you what, Ronnie,” he snapped. “His bullet-riddled body is lying on my bedroom floor! Let me go fucking ask him!” Several investigators and technicians turned to look as he clenched his jaw.

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

“Sorry for snapping at you,” he interrupted. “My nerves are shot, and I’m still trying to get my head around it.”

She didn’t reply for a few seconds. “Oh man,” she breathed finally. “Okay, look ... I’m gonna catch a flight. My car’s in the shop—”

“No!” he cut her off again. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather you stay there and focus on school. I’m sorry for the early call. I didn’t want you to hear it on the news.”

“But what will you do while Mom is in the hospital? Petey, you’re just a kid. Who is—”

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

“How long? Weeks? Months?” she blurted. “What about Kat?”

It struck him like a slap in the face. “Don’t ask,” he muttered bitterly. “Look, we can afford a hotel if needed. You can’t fix anything, so stay there. I’ll let you know as things develop. What is your ARPANET user code?”

After he disconnected, he remained on the porch, answering questions and completing a statement for the detectives. Then, he was led to the driveway, where several neighbors were gathered. 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 felt profoundly grateful for the gesture.

“Thank you, sir,” he replied softly. His head was still spinning. “How long before we can go back in?”

The cop scratched his head. “It won’t take long to remove the body,” he replied. “The technicians and investigators will wrap up by this afternoon or tomorrow.” He shrugged. “You’re gonna want to have your room cleaned by pros. That’ll take another couple of days.”

It was sooner than he expected. “So, no yellow crime scene tape everywhere?”

“It’s not technically that kind of crime scene since it was a police shooting,” he explained, “and fully justified. That guy was amped up on something heavy!”

“Tell me about it!” he nodded.

“PETER!”

He spun around to see Kathy running towards him from the street. She wore flannel pajama bottoms and a Minnie Mouse tank top. Her sandals smacked the pavement with her hurried steps. His spirit soared when their eyes met, and her expression changed from terrified to relieved.

“Oh, thank God! You’re okay!” she cried, flinging herself into his arms, nearly toppling the wheelchair. “Oh God, I was so scared!” she sobbed. Her voice was muffled in his shoulder. She pulled back and stared long into his face with concern. “You are okay, right? Where’s your mom?”

He swallowed hard as he gazed into her loving eyes. “Yeah,” he replied harshly. “We’re okay.” Much better now! “They took her to get checked out.”

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

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

“Is he dead?” she asked the nearby officer. “Tell me he’s dead!”

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

“Oh, he’s dead alright,” Peter added. “They shot him eight or ten times; he was totally fucked up on PCP or something.”

“Good! I hated that piece of shit!” she retorted. “What now? Should we go to your mom? Where did they take her?” She was tripping over her words.

Peter looked at the police officer, who shrugged. “My guess is Auburn Regional. Let me call the Sup on scene ... just a sec.” He turned his mouth towards his lapel mike and stepped away.

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

“Thanks for coming,” he replied earnestly.

“Yeah...” she slowed down. “Um, look. I am so sorry for how I acted.” She fumbled for words again. “I can’t say how awful I feel about it. But if you can forgive me, I swear it won’t happen again, and I’ll spend my life trying to make up for it.”

He felt her anxiously waiting for his answer as they moved down the road. “I’m just happy you’re back, babe.” He clasped her hand as she gripped the wheelchair. “I’m sorry for freaking you out. I should’ve listened to myself, but—”

“What?” she whispered.

“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, kissing him. It may have been the second-greatest kiss they had ever shared.

“Um, where is the Maverick?” he asked as they approached the black and yellow Datsun.

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

“Babe, you have more than enough money to rebuild it,” Peter assured her. “If you include my share of the profits, you could buy him a new one.”

“Nah,” she replied, folding the chair and wrestling it into the back. “He’d never take a new car. He thinks older is better. Besides, he’s not happy unless he’s tearing a motor apart. You save your money for the Camaro for my birthday.” She smiled brightly at him as she climbed behind the wheel.

“Well, there goes that surprise,” he chuckled.

“Yes!” she pumped her arm and leaned over to check his tonsils.

“It looks like Mom will stay in the hospital for a few days.” He informed Jeremiah. He had been at her bedside for hours while they ran tests and drew blood. “I guess stress has a way of attacking the immune system, and since hers is shot—she broke out in hives, and they are just making sure it’s not something serious like impetigo.”

“I see,” the southerner pronounced ‘I’ like ‘Ah.’ “I’ll keep her in my prayers. I spoke to Mr. Bales, and he’s following up with the police as they wrap up their investigation.” He hesitated. “I was allowed to enter the premises and take a gander ... It’s a right mess. I arranged for a crime scene clean-up crew to clear it out as soon as they release your house.”

Peter nodded as he sat by the windows watching cars on Division Street. “Thank you for everything, Jeremiah,” he replied softly. “Um, this may sound silly, but did you check out my computer?”

“Yes, I did, and I’m afraid it’s done for. The screen is broken off the main PC Unit, and the keyboard is busted. You’ll need a new one.”

“Ah, man, that blows!” he groaned as he ran his hand through his hair. “That had all my spreadsheets and databases. I’m gonna have to start 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 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 excitedly. He glanced at his mom, who remained asleep.

“Assuming everything of importance is still on that hard drive inside your busted machine, you and that Korean boy-genius will likely devise a solution.”

“Yes!” Peter hissed excitedly. “And he isn’t half as smart as he claims. You, Jeremiah, are the real genius. I’m going to build a new machine! A beast! And I’m installing a mouse this time!” His mind raced as he glanced around the hospital room. “Crap! Kat just left! Dammit, I wish I could drive!”

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

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

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

“Thanks, man. But I’m still learning to use them.”

“Then you best get to learnin’. Everything else is empty excuses.”

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

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

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

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

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