Bump in the Night

There isn’t much that intimidates my wife. After all, her career dictates that she goes toe to toe with $2000-suit-wearing corporate lawyers, which she does rather successfully. In the many years that I’ve known her the only things that do seem to scare her happen in the dark. And I’m assuming that’s the single most important reason she married me: to defend her against things that go bump in the night. Working in high-end security (I’m not really authorized to tell you much detail beyond that) has trained me in the art of protecting lives even if it is from the dangers of my wife’s imagination. Being woken up in the middle of the night every so often is a small price to pay for the love of my life. Besides, this last incident was understandable as she had an important meeting with Omni Tech’s legal team early the next morning presumably so she could better figure out a way to decimate them in court. She would have never been able to get to sleep if I didn’t go check it out. I’d hate for her to worry.

“Baby,” she whispered. I pretended not to hear her. “Baby, are you awake?” she whispered a bit louder while shaking my shoulder gently. My eyelids hesitated to open.

“What is it, sweetie?” I already knew the answer. Sometimes all I had to do was stay awake, and wrap my arms around her for her to calm down.

“Downstairs!” she exclaimed, still not too much louder than a whisper.

“Downstairs?” I asked. At that hour of the night I was unsure if I was genuinely skeptical or too tired to be genuinely concerned of a possible break-in.

“I heard something, maybe someone, downstairs!” She gripped my hand tightly and tugged on my arm to get me to sit up. I obliged and yawned as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

“Are you sure?” I hated asking this sometimes because it made me sound like I was talking down to her but I didn’t want go all the way downstairs if I could just stick my head out of the bedroom door. Then all of a sudden there was a large BANG that came from down stairs. My head turned toward where I thought it was coming from. It sounded like the trash bins outside. Wide-eyed I opened the bedroom window and stuck my head out. The bins seemed undisturbed from where I saw them. But the motion detector light flashed one and I caught a fluttering shadow of something sneaking around the back door.

“You heard it too, right? What is it? What do you see out there?” I can hear her voice quivering as she clamored over to me by the window and grabbed me by the arm wanting to look outside and not wanting to look outside. I turned towards her and looked her in the eyes remembering to keep calm. There’s no point in escalating her already excited state.

“It might have been a raccoon,” It wasn’t a raccoon. “But I have to go downstairs to check to make sure they didn’t make a big mess in the driveway. Stay in bed and I’ll be right back up in a few minutes.” I put on my slippers and stepped outside the bedroom. My wife closed the door behind me. Click. She locked me out as she usually did when I had to leave her alone. We even had a special knock so she knew it was me who had returned. I have no shame in wanting to humor my otherwise perfect wife.

I ran downstairs, got a jacket, and put on my work boots. Industrial strength rubber and traction, the kind of boots that are issued to military personnel though when I was in the military mine didn’t look half this nice. These were designed to look like dress shoes from a far and helped me be light on my feet, which was helpful more for my wife who can’t stand the sound of our creaking floorboards in the middle of the night. “It sounds like an unwelcome guest sneaking about in the house,” she once told me. There was another rustling outside and I knew my wife heard it as I heard her fidget in bed upstairs.

The motion detector lights kept flashing on and I saw the silhouette of a rather large man just outside the kitchen window. He was whispering. I could barely hear him. Thankfully that meant my wife would likely not hear him at all. I couldn’t see who he was talking to but judging from the direction he was facing, they were planning on coming in through the back door. How cliché of them. I ran quickly out the front door and around the driveway to the back door. I hid just around the corner and stuck my head out to get an idea of who I was dealing with.

There were three of them all dressed in black hooded sweaters, wearing gloves. The one whose shadow I saw was closest to me doing a horrible job of keeping watch. While he was large, he wasn’t the largest one of the three. I can see why he was the lookout. The smallest one seemed to be in charge of picking the lock on the backdoor. It took him a little longer than he anticipated, a lock of my design made to look like a regular old doorknob. The largest man had a telescoping baton in his left hand, the kind that police officers use in England. His jacket was loose so I couldn’t tell if he had a gun, either way it looks like Omni Tech wasn’t looking to play nice.

I knew they would have the lookout stay outside to warn those inside should something thwart their plans to do whatever it is they hope to accomplish. I’m somewhat insulted that they think it would be so easy to break into my house and bring harm to my wife. I mean their lookout fell asleep as soon as the others were inside. It made it easier for me to get started. Quickly, I grabbed their lookout with a chokehold, not exactly legal but it gets the job done. I knew just when to let go so he doesn’t get any permanent damage and dragged his unconscious body to the garage where I took off his large hooded sweater and threw it on myself before tying and gagging him.

The little one seemed to be some sort bookish type. Amateur would think he was the brains of the group but he went straight for the computer possibly looking for files pertaining to whatever case my wife was working on. The leader of the group hardly goes around destroying evidence. With his size, it would be easy to just hit him over the head and carry him to the garage with the other one.

“Hey!” he said to me in a whisper that you could tell was supposed to be yelling. “You idiot! You’re supposed to be keeping watch!”

I didn’t respond. He had a short temper. I knew I could use it so I just shrugged at him hoping he couldn’t see my face under the hood. He stomped his way towards me, creaking the floorboards the entire way. Inconsiderate jerk, my wife was asleep. Couldn’t he keep it down?

“Shh!” said the biggest one. He didn’t say anything, just gestured for me to get back to my post and the small guy to get back to work. I saw him head upstairs and as soon as he was out of sight the little guy shoved me. I swung a right hook square on his jaw. The little one got knocked out faster than I thought he would. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting me to throw a punch his way. The other one was headed to the bedroom. No time to tie up this guy.

***

There isn’t much that intimidates my wife. She has made quite a career out of demolishing $2000-suit-wearing corporate lawyers and she’s quite good at it. Her most recent job is a real David and Goliath case involving Omni Tech, a company known for its less than savory business methods. But fortunately for “David” my wife makes an excellent slingshot. The only things that seem to scare my wife, however, are things that go bump in the night. Every few nights or so she’ll wake me up at one or two in the morning to check out some noise that usually turns out to be the house settling or some stray animal looking through the trash bins. But I don’t mind. There were much worse cases of paranoia in my experience working in high end security. Besides, I would hate for her to worry.

“Baby?” she whispered. “Baby, are you awake?” Just barely, but if it was really bothering her she’d keep trying to wake me. She grabbed my shoulder and shook me gently. I turned towards her and my lids reluctantly opened.

“What is it, sweetie? Are you okay?” I knew what she was going to ask me but every second I don’t have to get up is more than welcome.

“I think I heard something outside,” she said. “Didn’t you hear it?” She shook me again as I drifted back to sleep.

“Hear what?” I asked with my eyes closed again. All of a sudden there was a BANG! The ruckus widened my eyes as my wife’s grip on my arm tightened. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

“That!” she exclaimed in her yell that was somehow still a whisper.

It sounded like it was the trash bins again. I opened the bedroom window overlooking the backyard and stuck my head out. The bins seemed undisturbed lit by the motion detector lights in that corner of the house. I saw a shadow fluttering in the corner where the driveway ended just past the car port.

“Baby, what is it?” she asked. Her voice was wavering.

“It’s probably just a raccoon or something.” It wasn’t a raccoon. “I’ll go check it out. You stay here.” I went into the bedroom closet and put on shoes and my jacket that I wear for work. I patted the inside pocket and took out my telescoping baton. For reasons I won’t go into right now, I don’t carry firearms unless I’m on a job that warrants it. And this particular job didn’t seem to.

“Oh, honey, don’t kill it!” she implored, still yelling in whispers.

“I’m just going to scare it, sweetie.” I went downstairs and took my cell phone that I left on the coffee table and texted a friend of mine in the police department.

“Alert 5. No B&W’s. 7 min.” That was all it said on the text. Quietly, I scanned the house to make sure it was empty. I saw the silhouette of a rather large individual being cast on the drapes on the kitchen window.

The front door creaked as I slowly opened it and quickly made my way to the driveway. I saw an unfamiliar car on the street. Windows were tinted and there were no plates but the permit hanging on the rearview mirror bore the Omni Tech logo. I made my way towards the trash bins which, it seems, this would-be prowler must have tripped over. There was clicking and scraping just around the other corner that leads to the back door. He was trying to pick to the lock. Not surprised since I installed a non conspicuous camera near the front to deter would-be burglars.

With each step I hoped he wouldn’t turn around. The baton was above my head and I was about bring it down when AH-CHOO! My wife sneezed and startled the Omni Tech goon. I froze in place until he turned around and saw me. He didn’t make a sound as he lunged towards me. His hands grabbed my collar and he pushed me, trying to get my on the ground. I stepped aside guiding his momentum away from me and stuck out my foot. The intruder tripped as I stuck out my leg. There was a large crash as he fell into the trash bins. The only thing he got from me was a piece of my shirt as he fell.

I picked him up and tried to restrain him but he was stronger than he looked. This guy was strong, sure, but he was most definitely not a fighter of any kind. He wasn’t so much fighting as he was flailing his fists at me hoping to connect. I let him take a swing at me, then another and another and with the final swing I reached out and grabbed his wrist. Twisting his arm, I forced this intruder against the wall. While I was there I peeked into the kitchen to look at the clock mounted on the wall. My friend would arrive in 2 minutes if all went to plan.

His preferred method of fighting was to violently throw around brute force punches and shoulder lunges. It’s possible he was a defensive tackle at one point in his life the way he moved. Perhaps he was hired more to intimidate my wife rather than hurt her. Either way, I wasn’t letting him anywhere near her. This thug, pinned up against my wall, grunted in frustration. I felt him kick his foot up against the wall and push hard flinging the two of us to the ground. I swung the baton at his lower back. It wouldn’t hurt him but it would anger him. And I needed him angry. He’s too strong for me to takedown if he’s got a level head. One thing I didn’t anticipate was how fast he was.

This guy was on his feet before I knew what was going on and he drove his shoulder into my gut and knocked me back down. Wind was knocked out of me but I was going to be fine. Definitely a former defensive tackle. I spat in his face, and he snarled and growled as he charged. Just before he hit me I quickly stepped aside and ducked, swinging down at his left knee with all my might. I planted my right foot into the ground concentrated all the force into my left foot kicking him in his hip knocking him off balance, guiding his charging head into one of the columns holding up the roof of the car port. And just like that he was out cold.

A car pulled up in front of the house. It was my friend who arrived just in time (exactly seven minutes after I texted him). We used to work security together but he decided to go back to the police force. And we do little favors like this for each other all the time. Alert 5 was our code for backup that was needed but not horribly urgent, a code we came up with when we did security consultation some years back. I knew I’d need to get rid of this guy and his car but didn’t see the point in alerting the entire neighborhood (much less my wife) to something that would be easily handled anyway. So I asked for no B&W’s, that is, no black and white squad cars. He’s a good guy and took care of everything as I went back into the house and back to the bedroom.

“Oh, my God! Sweetie, what happened to your shirt?” my wife asked as I put my jacket and shoes back in the bedroom closet.

“The guy was bigger than I thought,” I responded. “He put up more of a fight than I thought he would.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked looking to see if I was injured. “What did you find out there?”

“I’m not hurt. I’m okay. Can’t say the same for my shirt though,” I said as I climbed back in bed. “And it was just a raccoon messing around the trash again.”

She had a big meeting the next morning concerning the Omni Tech case and she could use all the sleep she could get. Besides, I would hate for her to worry.