(It's) Always There
Copyright© 2026 by Daniel Tors
Chapter 24
She would not open her eyes.
...”’You don’t have to be scared, sweetie – I was just playing,’ cloyed the woman to a girl so little and scrunched under a bed, wondering, she must have, if she’d go [poof] until her feelies got better. But ... the woman got on her tummy in the dark, scary room, and reached out for the girl under the bed, only five, yet so, so brave. When the embrace, even through to the ends of her fingertips that pet her side, had calmed the girl, her precious warrior cooed, ‘Mommy?’”
[....]
“For her baby, ‘Mommy’s here again, my little tigress.’ The mother wished to see her eyes, spotting to and fro, so she was patient, laying with her for a long, long time ... And the hugged ball drifted open, showing her mother’s eyes, and some of daddy’s gentler features.”
[....]
“‘Can mommy pull you out?’”
“The little girl, named Navy, nodded, taken into her mother’s arms for a tight, tighter than ever hug that she didn’t ever want to let go. The girl asked, though, ‘W-hy dat guy m-m-make a lou’ s-soun ‘cause i-it was scarrryy... ‘“
“Shushing her, squeezing her close, the mother told her, ‘Mommy tripped and knocked something over; it’s okay.’ Instead, she had a surprise. ‘Wanna see something special, honey? Sit on my lap and I’ll show you something that’s super super duper cool.’”
[.e..]
“‘Remember those pretty starry skies we look up at? and how a big dot just like those gives us nice, sunny days? Well, this is like our own little star, and you get to light it up whenever you want. Mhm, that button ... and... ‘ a warm, shiny glow flicked on under the lamp’s shade, enchanting the little girl that had never seen anything even close to as cool. She let the sparkles dance in her daughter’s imagination – in their deep, dark room – for as many minutes as she could. ‘Mommy found us somewhere ... a nice, safe place where there’s so many more things for my little tigress to play with and... ‘“
“‘I hope you can be happy again for me.’”
...
Idle.
Nothing.
She ground her boots on gritty, dusty, concrete wall.
[..e.]
That was the moment; gone, of course. That was a lot of moments, actually.
[sigh] HmmmmmMMMMMMMMM! December was in the least comfortable position she could find, back on the ground, neck sprained at the hall’s lower corner, legs up in an L-shape, fuckin’ around. Just ... fuckin’ around. Most likely, it had gotten too bright to go out and be useful and maintain electronic shit, her broom’s handle relegated to a delicious chew-toy – its dents were the best part! Yummy.
Such a refined, orderly woman could, certainly, get off her ass, massage her aches and whatnot but in truth she enjoyed the throbbing joint-pain, freezing temperature, and, best part, how her ears rang constantly to no end, worsened by imploring, thronging, silent black.
Just get–
[beep]
...
No it wasn’t.
December listened.
Something moved. The latch above her shook. It moved by someone’s hands.
That was the beep for, “Inside.”
...
They couldn’t pick a lock like that what the fuck even was that lock it was in a block of steel someone could bomb and it would stay in-tact obviously some jackass couldn’t pick it with a hairpin. They can’t. They can’t. These fucking idiots would have put a quality lock in their hatch there’s no real fucking vault door it’s made of wood but the hatch wasn’t it’s done it’s real it’s supposed to stay closed for a longlonglonglong time.
[click]
...
A man’s voice rumbled to another. She didn’t know what.
Muddling from the ground, there was nowhere to help her up. December’s voice was pathetic. “No ... Nononono...”
To fix it, the latch was close. She could twist it back ... but it got further away.
They were coming.
Ends of her reach brushed on steel, which, again, moved from her. Three handles and she could grab none of them as morning blistered her.
They were here.
A woman stood somewhere between two men. Who dragged the door from her was seen first.
She was going to die.
...
An ear-piercing [BANG], then, low, “BACK OFF!” And they did.
The shot went through his leg. He wasn’t dead yet, a giant impenetrable brick keeping him in the corner and her out of sight. “YOU, don’t fucking move! AND WHOEVER’S THERE, DON’T FUCKING MOVE!” She crouched over him, and he wasn’t going to fight with a gun to his face. The woman’s back would be turned.
[BANG] “I SAID FUCK OFF!” He’d nearly been killed. She wasn’t armored, and had an automatic rifle.
“Get up! YOUR FRIEND FUCKIN’ MOVES AGAIN, YOU’RE BOTH DEAD.”
He got up, they didn’t move. He hobbled towards the hall’s entrance, several seconds taken to kick the hatch so it blocked the opening again.
Restrained only by the tiger’s arm, hands behind his back, Darryl entered their view, shown such that her only visible presence was a handgun to the back of his head, the fingers that wielded it, and a peeking, slivered eye that darted between the three men, outline of her form covered near completely by his. She was smart. She was an amateur.
She demanded, muffled by him, “Guns on the floor. Slide them to me – and speak; no moving, no signals. You’re looking at me.”
...
Hunter accepted, “Fine,” put his rifle down, and kicked it toward her. He and Warren followed.
“Those are guns too, dumbfucks.”
... To negotiate, “None of us are holding a weapon. We still have to defend ourselves, if you’re not reasonable.”
“Fuck you, put them on the floor.”
“No.”
“You want him dead? Fuck you, put them on the floor.”
...”No, I don’t. And no, I won’t.”
...
Darryl’s head jolted at the push of her barrel. To her captive, “I can tell what that means, faggot. I’m not stupid.”
Hunter needed to talk her down. “I didn’t see him signal. If he did, he shouldn’t have.”
...
The woman barked, “Who are you? Fuck that, ‘Why are you in my house?’”
“We couldn’t have known that. The place was empty, and so are most basements. Now, though, we know, and he’s been punished for it. I think that’s enough for you to let him go, run back downstairs, and we’ll never come back. It took him an hour to open that even with his lock-pick, so keep it. We have vests, but no explosives. We’ve lived a long time out here, but if you just block your hatch, there’s not much we can do. Whatever you have, we don’t want. I know when to leave someone alone. You’re in the right. All’s fair.”
“Prove it.”
...”How would you like me to?”
There wasn’t a way. Of course they could come back.
“I keep your big guns, you keep the small ones.”
“Or, you keep half the ammo in those magazines. You’ll notice they’re not full.” Her requirement was ridiculous.
...
... The woman backed down. “You three: don’t move. You, Get on your knees. I don’t give a fuck if it hurts, just do it.” Darryl’s legs, left in particular, trembled, teeth grit as her arm-lock loosened, and the tiger showed herself slightly more, barrel pressed not so hard on his skull.
It didn’t flick, the posture of her grip just changed, and he couldn’t change that.
Hunter was shot in the neck. He was dead.
Ben and Warren forced themselves away, on their holsters, drawing, diving with their shoulders anywhere that kept them from her weapon’s line. The explosion blew out their ears, Darryl collapsed and clamping his probably burst ear, another shot to both men running away, neither hitting as far as Ben knew.
A second passed where they couldn’t see her, himself lobbed into the garage, and Darryl had been shot in the head. She retreated into the hall, rapid-fired at their rifles to make them useless, sprinted away, and she was gone into the early morning. She’d taken Darryl’s long gun.
Two of them were alive. Their ears were ringing. They had two handguns ... and two more on backup, only one of which was full. Which direction she’d maneuvered, they couldn’t tell. The least entrances were in the garage, where–
She burst-fired through a front window, and didn’t hit them. The fire continued, they ducked, and split to opposite sides of the room, speckles of glass, wood, and drawn shutters dusting the room while their hearing and bodies were assaulted. Strafing, she shot in controlled numbers, never the same, and never with the same time between them.
The volley – it must have been a full magazine – missed. Interior walls had holes straight through them, only the home’s concrete exterior stopping bullets. Insufferable screeching in his head made it impossible to know where she was.
From the opposite side, more shots. They had different needs to dodge, and different ideas how to avoid her ... so they’d split further, Ben on his back in the kitchen, and Warren ducking into the hall somewhere.
About fifteen, sixteen, seventeen ... eighteen nineteen twenty, twenty-one. It stopped. It stopped for longer. That was how loaded Darryl’s rifle was. The woman had more ammunition for her own rifle, though he didn’t know how much. Since she had multiple they were probably full.
More shooting. He couldn’t hear it, but she was running – running in circles around the building, firing wildly into their windows, hoping for a ricochet or lucky hit. As long as she didn’t aim down from right next to the window, she probably wouldn’t hit him. If he did fire ... she’d light him up in moments.
That shot had to count.
Ended. She was reloading ... somewhere.
More shooting, starting from right over him.
One, two, three four, five, six seven eight, nine...
Thirty.
A full magazine empty.
She was over him again.
Ben rose, pointed down, and swept the outside in an arc.
Past the ringing, the dog knew he KNEW what broke it was the pathetic squeal of that cunt yelping. He was right. She was defenseless.
The door broke down, full force slamming through it, keeping his pounding blood concussed thronging head and feet in. fucking. line.
One-eighty as he fell to the ground, prowling for a shape to fill with lead.
And there it was.
The woman, sucked to the wall, hip shattered and bleeding, was staring ... was staring at him, and so was her handgun.
The stranger on the floor was shot, then again and again and again and again and again until his figure was a broken, shouting pile of holes and draining life. He fought, so she stepped on his wrist.
The tiger asked, “Where is he.”
“Rot in hell, bitch–”
And his brains painted the grass.
In her home was another man, so she entered, lugging an almost useless leg, checking corners, watching her back, waiting for something to move.
...
...
Who she found was still...
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