The Intruders
Welcome to the adventures of Max and Lena Manus, brought to
you by The Radio Comic Book Club of America.
Episode One
Max Manus woke abruptly from a deep sleep when a fleeting dream alerted him to the possibility of imminent danger. Instantly awake, he realized at once that something was different, he felt it throughout his entire body. His nightshirt was wet with sweat, his heart racing, his hair standing on end. He was vibrating with energy. He could even see better in the darkened bedroom. He sat up on his side of the bed, noting his wife Lena stirring a little over on her side, but apparently still asleep. He remained still for a moment, listening for any unusual sounds, but detected nothing other than the familiar hum of their modest Southeast Portland bungalow.
Then he felt the urge to pee. Casting aside the covers, he
kicked his right leg onto the floor, then brought the one with the bad knee
over the edge and down to his waiting slippers.
But then, standing next to the bed, not too steadily at first, but then
better, he heard a faint and unfamiliar sound.
It came from the front of the house, down the hall, the front door. Or
was it just an echo from that dream? He tensed, listened hard with his good
ear, then heard the faint sound again, then once more, only a little louder. Then the front door opened and someone entered the living room. Then another.
The door to the hall from the living room was closed, so he was
able to rush unseen from the bedroom into the kitchen before whoever out there
had time to get their bearings. But even in his scramble he could not help but
noticed that his bad knee now seemed OK, for the first time in many years not
bothering him at all.
Standing in the kitchen at the open knife drawer, thinking
fast about his options, Max was suddenly confident that he could handle
whatever threat he would encountered; he would protect his sleeping wife,
defend his home, expel the intruders, even fight for his life if he had to,
even if it came to killing them, both of them. He was overcome with a sense of
invincibility, a feeling he had never had before. But then he paused. His
glasses were still on the dresser in the bed room. “Well, I'll just have to do
the best I can, won't I,” he thought. But on the other hand, he really didn't seem that worried.
He could see just fine, in fact, better than ever.
Quickly surveying the neat row of blades he carefully took
out his 9-inch boning knife, reflexively testing its sharp edge and narrow
point.
As he was closing the drawer, a dim wavering light streaming
under the door from the dining room and a creaking floor board informed him
that someone was treading lightly toward the kitchen and would come through the
swinging door in about three seconds. He quickly positioned himself behind the
door, his right shoulder firm against it's backside. He held the boning knife
tightly in his right hand. When the foot step sounded on the threshold he
shoved against the door with all his weight, slamming it full speed into the
intruder, knocking him back onto the edge of the dining table with a dull crack
in his lower spine. The man let out a single moan of anguish and dropped to his
knees, a mix of surprise and terror on his shadowed face. Then he collapsed to
the floor, dropping his lit flash light as he went down.
When Max sped into the room the intruder reached out with
both arms in an attempt to entangle Max's legs.
Max easily jumped aside, then flung himself forward and plunged the
knife into the man's thigh, feeling the
sharp point dig deep into the oak floor beneath. The man screamed, roiling in
pain.
But at that very same moment the grotesquely large head of
the other intruder appeared around the half-open hall door. Max looked up into
his barely visible hooded face. Then a giant of a man edged into the room
holding a pistol and advanced cautiously toward Max. The big man glanced at his
helpless partner lying half under the table, blood gathering under his quivering
leg, paused a short moment, then stepped forward aiming his gun directly at
Max's head.
To be continued.
Howard Schneider
November 15, 2013
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