The Armorer

I didn't have a lot of time; I could hear people descending the stairs and there seemed to be two flashlights. I hid behind the staircase, crouched down, grateful for the hood on my navy wool coat. My pack was on my back with all the paper and my flashlight. As the footsteps descended, I made my plan. Up the stairs, carefully, grab the surveillance camera out of the tree on the way back to the house, run like hell, call the authorities, burn the paper in the fireplace. I squeezed my eyes shut and stayed motionless as the two stepped off the staircase and moved into the room. I waited until they were headed toward the manager's area and slowly and carefully crept up the stairs. I made it to the top without anyone following me, then I saw how they'd gained access; they'd cut through the door with an acetylene torch. I accidentally stumbled as I stepped through the opening, and fearing that they might have heard me, put my plan into action. It was almost sundown, making everything scarier, but I only tripped once on my way back home. I fumbled the key but got it in, not bothering to turn off the alarm system, locking the door behind me and racing for the fireplace. I opened the backpack as the alarm went off, and dumped everything onto the grate, shaking it out to remove the smallest fragments of paper before fishing out the flashlight and hitting the on switch for the gas insert. The flames leapt over the paper, brittle with age. I saw the swastika on a notebook cover curl up and fall off; underneath it was the red HYDRA symbol. What was up with that? I wondered dully as I urged everything to burn faster. A hydra was supposed to have a lot of heads; they'd used an octopus for the symbol. Cut off a hydra's head, more would take its place. Cut off an octopus's leg, and you've just maimed a sea creature.

It didn't take long for the papers to become crumbling ash. I turned off the gas and built a wood fire with tinder and kindling to disguise the other ashes, then called the police as I lit it. I was freezing with fear. I gave the police an edited version of my afternoon: I'd seen a door in rock on my new property when I'd been checking the fence line and decided to do some exploring today. While I was in there, two men I'd encountered before entered behind me. I'd gotten out and came home to call. As I was talking, the alarm and the lights cut off. The policeman asked if I'd done it, and I said no. He told me to stay inside, make sure everything was locked, they were on their way. I grabbed the flashlight and went to stand by the door, grateful for its thickness and solidity, trying to control my reactions and think things through, not reacting from fear although I was pretty scared. Just as I put my back to it, somebody pounded on it and yelled for me to open up. I stood motionless after the initial jerk of surprise. I could hear them as they moved around the house, pulling on the ironwork over the windows, trying to find weak points.

They finally found one. The kitchen window yielded slightly, and they pried the ironwork off. The glass shattered. I could hear someone climbing over the counter and sink that were in front of the window, and I threw the lock and opened the door. Out on the porch, someone grabbed my arm and backhanded me; I tripped and staggered back. The oncoming headlights caught my attacker--one of the men who'd wanted to look around-- as he raised his hand to hit me again. The cars stopped and doors flew open, and the police commanded that he step away from me. One of them--there were two cars, with two officers each--came up to me, but I said there was one in the house, and they went in. It wasn't long before they came back; he would have left when he heard cars. I saw them handcuff the man who had hit me and stick him in the back of one of the patrol cars. We all went inside and they questioned me in more detail about what had happened. They asked about the fire; I said that I'd wanted to warm up, and stirred the ashes with the poker. The tinder and kindling had burned out since I hadn't put logs on, and I shivered. It wasn't for show; the night air was cold, cooling off the house, and events were taking their toll. Two of the officers asked if I'd show them the SNL (they didn't call it that, though), and while the other two stayed behind, I grabbed my flashlight and up we went. At the door, I saw the torch setup I'd stumbled over and shook my head, grabbing for the wheel, quickly unfreezing the mechanism, and after a few tugs and a screech of metal, showed that the door could open in order to support my story. We went inside and I said I didn't want to go down. The two police went down the stairs quickly for a look around. They came up, puzzled; nobody had reported this site to the authorities, it had been lost since the war. One man stayed behind while the other came back to the house with me. The other two police officers had found a piece of plywood in my shed while I was gone and boarded up the broken window. The policewoman came inside with me after suggesting that I spend the night elsewhere. That sounded good and I went to pack. She asked if she could take a look around, and I agreed. I hadn't written anything down and there was nothing incriminating.

It didn't take long to pack for an overnight stay, and I locked up behind us. The policewoman drove down to the first hotel on the way with me; one of the police cars followed us to bring her back. She told me to check in at the police station the next morning before I went home so they could get my statement. I registered at the hotel, ate some dinner in the dining room, then went up to my room.

I had a terrible night. I kept waking up at the littlest noise. I had a some breakfast before going to the police station, where I went over my story a few times with them before writing out my statement and signing. They told me that they'd called an electrician to fix the mess they'd made of my power box, that the second man hadn't come back, and that national authorities were already up looking at my bunker.

I went home. The authorities were leaving, having finished a preliminary look around, and I said they were welcome to go up any time they wanted. The electrical had been repaired and a bill left under my door, so I called the company and paid over the phone with a credit card, then made an appointment to have my window fixed. They'd be over the next day. Then, finally alone and needing to relax, I ran a bath, adding a generous amount of bubble bath and pulled up my 80's playlist. The water was hot, and I slid down to my chin, eventually nodding off as my muscles loosened and the lack of sleep caught up with me.

I woke up abruptly when somebody tapped on the window.