It was a dark and stormy night. I checked the alarm time on the bedside clock hoped I could get a few hours of sleep despite the noise of rain sleeting against the bedroom windows.
After an hour or so of tossing and turning, my consciousness was just on the verge of falling into the chasm of restful sleep when I heard a muffled noise coming from the first floor. At first I thought I imagined it. Then, a few seconds later, I heard it again. This time it sounded louder—or closer.
I slid open the nightstand drawer and retrieved my Beretta PX4 pistol. It was already loaded with jacketed hollow point ammo. It’s always loaded. I flipped the safety lever to the “fire” position and tested the double-action trigger pull with my right index finger.
As quietly as I could, I got out of bed and slowly opened the bedroom door a few inches. I saw nothing in the hallway leading to the staircase, so I slipped through the door and eased to the edge of the stairway to peer around the corner. A dim light was moving randomly over the downstairs walls occasionally displaying a shadow as it moved. I figured it was a hand-held flashlight, but I couldn’t tell how many people were with it—at least one, maybe two or three. And what was worse, I couldn’t tell if they were armed. One thing was for sure: they were in my house without an invitation.
I wondered what I should do. In my guts I was outraged that someone had the audacity to burglarize my home. I wanted to sneak down the steps and confront them. I could feel the adrenaline beginning to build and my heart rate increase. But rationale soon took over, and I knew I should call the police while I had the chance. I crept back into my bedroom and picked up the phone. No dial tone. The bastards cut the line! I thought of my cell phone, but it was downstairs in the kitchen. Now I was not only angry; I was scared.
I returned to the stairway and looked down again. The light was closer now. Whoever was down there was getting closer to the stairs. It was then that I saw a long thin shadow protruding up from a person’s shadow. What else could it be but a gun barrel?
There was no where to go and no way to contact anyone outside. One or more people down there were armed and coming upstairs. I didn’t know what they had in mind, but I resolved at that moment that I wasn’t going to give up without a fight. I lay down on my right side and held the Beretta out in front of me with my right hand, pointing it down the stairs. Only my head and arm were exposed. I was feeling even more scared now. The close the light got, the harder my heart pounded.
The light beam hit the first step and quickly flashed half way up the steps, then returned to the first step. The light illuminated the bottom of the stairway enough that I could see the outline of two people. The person behind the light stepped up and the light moved to the second step. Then it paused. I heard a muffled whisper. The light holder was whispering to the second person. The light holder appeared to have a pistol in the other hand and the other person held what could only be a shotgun. The blued barrel glinted in the dark from the light as it moved.
I waited as long as my nerves and stomach could stand it. As the pair reached the half-way point of the stairs I could see their bodies clearly outlined by the small light. They appeared to be masked and moved almost two-abreast, even though one was a step in front of the other.
I suddenly yelled out, “FREEZE! Stop or I’ll….” I never finished the sentence. The person in front swung the light up to find the source of my voice. My gun’s Trijicon night sights were already lined up on the middle of the second person’s face. I immediately pulled the trigger and heard a muffled grunt and the heavy thud and rattle of the shotgun hitting the steps. The light zoomed up above my head to where it would have been had I been standing. That’s when I readjusted aim to where the first person’s chest should be and pulled the trigger again. The man yelled out and started firing his pistol in my direction. Bullets slammed into the wall above me. I fired again, aiming just above the light. Another yell, and this time the man fell backwards over his partner’s body, dropping the light before the fall. He rolled down the steps.
I quickly regained my feet and lurched for the fallen light. The man at the bottom was moving in slow motion, trying to stand up. I cradled the light under my gun and pointed both at his face just as his gun hand was rising in my direction. I pulled the trigger and watched as the side of his head splattered onto the wall behind him. He dropped to the floor in a heap. I then scanned the room with the light, looking for a third person, but there was no one else.
I flashed the light at his partner on the step below me. A bullet’s entry hole was so close to the base of his nose that it looked like some grotesque nostril.
I left the burglars and their weapons where they fell and went into the kitchen to find my cell phone and call the police.