Guns and Roses

I rolled out of bed and nearly landed on all fours. Our bed consisted of a mattress and box spring on the floor and being 7 months pregnant makes it a cumbersome dismount at the best of times. Exhausted from the nights activities I took in the room around me. The heavy 70s style dresser was dislodged after a feeble attempt of moving it in front of our bedroom door, which was currently blocked by the handmade wood chest that usually sat at the foot of the bed. I picked the shotgun up off the floor and secured it back in the gun locker in our closet. I was thankful I hadn't needed to use it but still felt some adrenaline after frantically clawing through our firearms to find it. Its my "go-to" piece. The one we've done drills with. The one I was confident in using to defend myself and our family if I needed. We had low recoil buck shot set aside especially for me making it easier to handle with a wide spread. That way when in a frantic situation I could still do some damage but if I missed I wouldn't be sending a slug out and into our neighbours place.

The house seemed eerily calm after our stormy night and as I padded down the tile floor hall in my bare feet I heard the couch creak. Duke was quietly climbing down from his favourite place to sleep when he thought noone was looking. Tail wagging he came over to greet me. After checking the yard I disarmed the house and let him outside. Everything looked clear and there was hardly any hint of activity around the house. A typical sleepy Saturday morning.

John Rambo still wasn't home. He was 3 hours late and I expected as much. The worst was the waiting and also not being able to tell anyone what was going on.

7am.

I skipped an early morning business training call to keep the line free in case JR needed anything. The information had come in bits and pieces so far in the few phone calls we had throughout the night.

Serious call, I'll be home late.
Thanks, I thought to myself, I was sleeping. I don't care you aren't home. I was sleeping.

There's been a murder.
Say what? I shot up in bed. Are you okay? I could hear the adrenaline pumping in his voice. I told him to be safe. I settled into a dozing sleep...the kind where you are sleeping with one ear open waiting for the phone to ring again. I didn't have to wait long.

Are you okay? Are you safe?
Yes. What's going on?
Are the doors locked? The alarm on? Is Duke in the house? What's he doing? Can you check our yard and the neighbour's yard? Do you see anything?
I answered his questions as I waddled down the hall from our bedroom to the main living space to peer out our windows while the sun started to creep through the pines. It was barely light outside but all I could make out was a vehicle coming towards our place. Everything else was clear.
What colour is it?
Police truck.
Okay, can you go back to our bedroom, maybe ah, push your dressser in front of the door and ah...cell interruption...maybe take the shotgun out just in case. And ah...yah, you should be fine. Just go back to sleep.

That was the last thing I'd heard from JR.

(I've posted about this before but JR pulled it because I'd put in too many details. I wasn't as stealthy as I thought I was blogging about the night I earned my stripes as an officer's wife. So here is my edited repost with the rest of the story to come...)