The Chancellor Sisters invaded Finn's home. They beat him up and stole his money, but the insult to his dignity was the hardest thing to take. Now, he's looking for some payback.
Length: 8,759 words
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after the shit hits the fan …
Finn Wakley’s day started out like most days. He did his morning routine and went to the office. It was a typical beginning, but he had no idea how weird the day was going to get. A person can never see these things coming, like those old jokes that start out, “You know you’re having a bad day when …” and then go on to say something like, “… you see your wife and your mistress having lunch together.” Neither those days or those jokes are ever very funny.
Finn pounded his keyboard for nine straight hours. He was so wrapped up in the details of work that he’d forgotten to eat lunch, and then his phone started making a weird sound that he couldn’t remember hearing before. Finn’s brain started to disengage from the model of the problem that he’d built up in his head, and the little details he hadn’t yet captured in the code started falling, inevitably, through the cracks. He’d have to fish them out again later, but the older he got, the harder that became and the longer it took, so Finn really hated interruptions. He picked up the phone, and it continued to make that two-tone sound, almost like a European emergency vehicle siren, high … low … high … low. Then it sunk in. It’s the house alarm system calling! Finn thought.
Being the tech-wizard that he was, Finn had rolled the alarm system himself. Most of his ringtones were music that he liked. He deliberately picked something different for the house alarm so it would stand out.
Home security systems are of two basic types. The idea of the first type is to create such a ruckus that the perpetrator will flee the scene, the neighbors will call the police, or maybe the system will do that for itself. But cops have no sense of humor when they get false alarm calls, and they’d started slapping the home owners with some pretty heavy response fees for those, so Finn opted for the second type. This second type is silent as death and as invisible as air: detect the intrusion, record movement and video in the house, and call the owner. He could then log into the system and see for himself if there was reason to summon the authorities. The intention was that, when it got to court, the prosecutor could say:
“Take a look at this high resolution video taken inside your home, Mr. Wakley. Do you see the person shown there in the courtroom today?”
And Finn could say, “Yes. That’s him,” and point at the defendant, and nobody could question that he was correct. Then the video would go on to show in minute detail what was taken, broken, or otherwise violated. The basic intent of such systems was You’re busted, fucker!
Of course, in order for that glorious day to come about, the stupid system had to actually work!
Finn tapped the custom written app on his phone. It showed a single perimeter alarm and a massive stack of motion events in the backyard and inside the house. When he called up the video feeds, though, the app crashed and locked up the phone to boot. It would take several minutes to restart, but the app would probably take the phone down again anyway. It’s the definition of insanity to try the same thing over and over and expect a different result, Finn thought. This was a pretty common saying in the software biz. Finn was tempted to try anyway. Software guys are all a little bit crazy, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take the time right then.
Finn remembered last month’s panic. Another fucking squirrel? he thought. The drought brought the plague infested rat bags down out of the hills. One had gotten into the house, and the motion events looked a lot like the ones he’d just seen. Without the video, there was only one way to be sure. Finn grabbed his keys and ran for the car.
Holly’s sister, Ava, was three years older than she was. Ava always said that when Holly turned twenty-one, she’d take her clubbing with her. Holly stood in line for her brand new, legal age license that morning, and she was really looking forward to tonight. It was too early to go out when Ava got home from work that afternoon, so they smoked a joint to start the celebration. Holly must have had more than her share, because she was completely toasted. When Ava said, “Let’s go,” Holly said “Okay,” and didn’t even ask where.
Ava drove to a liquor store. Holly wanted to flash her new license and make the purchase, but Ava made her wait in the car. Probably because she thought her sister was too stoned to act straight. The next thing Holly knew, they were in the house. Somebody else’s house. They came in through a small window from the back yard into a short hall that connected the kitchen to the garage. Holly didn’t know if Ava jimmied it, or if it was just open. It was a nice house, big, with beautiful wood floors, high ceilings, and expensive furniture.
“Keep your gloves on. We’re looking for small valuable stuff, Holly,” Ava said. “Cash, jewels, or coins.” They’d found the master bedroom. The bed was unmade and the bigger of the two walk-in closets was empty. “His wife left him,” Ava said, without explaining how she knew and as if that somehow made him fair game. “You check here. I’ll go check the freezer. People always hide shit in there.”
Holly’s head had just started to clear and she was really worried. She wanted to get done and get out of there before they got caught. The first place she looked was under the mattress and she found an envelope with a thick stack of twenties in it, maybe five hundred dollars in all. Holly stuffed that in her back pocket, moved to the bedside table, and pulled open the little cabinet in the base. Inside was a mass of black and red things she couldn’t make sense of until she started pulling them out. The first thing she picked up was a whip. She didn’t know what it was until she picked it up by the leather wrapped handle and let the long tails hang down. There were also a couple of bundles of rope — one black and one red — a big fat dildo, a tube of lube, a box of condoms, and a pair of silver nipple clamps. This guy is kinky! Holly thought. She suspected that of Ava, too. She’d snooped through Ava’s stuff one day when she was out and found her vibrator and her porno magazines. Some of the stuff that women were doing to men in those was … well …Wow! and, also, Oww!
“Don’t move,” a man’s voice said from the bedroom doorway. Holly’s heart tried to beat its way out of her chest. She turned and stood there looking at him stupidly with the whip in one hand and the dildo in the other. He was average height and weight, well-built for an older guy, with iron gray hair cropped close to his skull. It wasn’t a buzz cut, but close. He had a light beard and mustache coming in like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His coat looked like real sheepskin and probably cost as much as Ava’s car. The rest looked like it was selected for comfort rather than style, running shoes, cargo pants, and a black t-shirt that said No, I will not fix your computer! Holly pegged him as some kind of technical type rather than an executive. The overall effect was cute for somebody more than twice her age. He began to punch a call into his phone and began to repeat, “Don’t mo —”
Just then Ava appeared behind him and clubbed him over the head with the yellow pages. He collapsed to his knees and then toppled toward Holly onto his face. “Find something to tie him up with,” Ava said, as she dragged him away.