This is from Derrick's Perspective
With the makeshift bandage secured over my wound by Mr. Allen, I turned my attention to dealing with the intruders while Mr. Allen went to pack and deal with Mrs. Bitch. The bodies of the thugs lay strewn across the foyer.
In normal circumstances, it would be best to leave the bodies where they were for the police to handle. But these were far from normal circumstances. With communication down, who knew when law enforcement would be able to respond? I would handle this for now, and I trusted Mr. Allen to handle any legal repercussions later on. He had the resources to hire the best lawyers, and he's always been loyal to me when I was in trouble for him.
I fetched some large lawn trash bags from the garage and cut them open to serve as makeshift burial shrouds. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best I could do under the circumstances. At least there wouldn't be trails of blood all over the place. One by one, I lifted the bodies and carried them out of the house. The wound in my side protested with each movement, sending sharp jolts of pain through my body. But I gritted my teeth and bore it.
I chose to take the long way around the house, making sure to stay out of sight of the guest house. The last thing I wanted was for the kids to see this. They were already dealing with enough. They didn't need the image of dead bodies added to their nightmares. Every painful step I took was worth it if it meant preserving their innocence a little longer.
We didn't need more monsters in this world.
With the bodies out of sight and out of mind, I turned my attention to the mess left behind. The foyer looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie, with blood splattered across the floor and walls. I knew I had to clean it up to prevent potential health hazards.
I made my way to the kitchen. I rummaged through the cupboards until I found a large container of salt. It wasn't exactly a professional cleaning solution, but it would do the trick. I walked back to the foyer and started at one end of the room, pouring a generous amount of salt over the bloodstains. The salt turned a dark red as it absorbed the blood, but I kept pouring until the stains no longer looked wet.
Once I was done with the salt, I returned to the kitchen. If we were going to stay with Maria for a while, I didn't want to be a burden. So, I decided to pack some food. I grabbed a couple of bags and started filling them with non-perishable items - canned goods, pasta, rice, and snacks for the kids.
With the food packed, I moved on to the garage. I needed to pack my mental list of tools as well. That's what I was doing when I was interrupted. I dumped an additional box of decorations into the car's trunk and filled the box with the bags of food stock. The tools went into the bottom box, and the box of food was on top of one of the red wagons.
Looking around again, I made sure I didn't miss anything from my mental list and headed to the guest house.
The innocent chatter of the kids filled the air, a stark contrast to the grim task I had just completed. I slipped into the bedroom as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw their attention. My clothes were stained with blood. I quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, discarding the bloodied ones in a plastic bag.
The bedroom's bathroom in the guest house didn't have a window, but I did my best to clean myself up. Using a wet wipe, I scrubbed at the dried blood on my hands and face, wincing as the cloth brushed against a cut on my cheek that I hadn't noticed before. I stared at my reflection in the mirror to make sure I was as clean as I could get. Fixing my short hair from the scrubbing it just received.
Once I was as clean as I could manage, I left the bathroom and found the kids in the living room area. They looked up as I entered, their eyes wide and curious. "Alright, guys," I said, forcing a casual tone. "I need you all to use the bathroom. We're about to go on a little trip to visit Maria's house."
Emma tilted her head to the side, her gaze fixed on my arm. "Why do you have red on your arm and scratch on your face, Derrick?" she asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.
I glanced down at my arm, noticing a smear of dried blood that I had missed. Cursing myself internally, I forced a smile, trying to appear nonchalant. "I was working on some stuff and got a little dirty and got this scratch as well," I lied and redirected, "But right now, I need you guys to go to the bathroom. We'll be leaving soon, okay?"
They nodded, so I left and made my way to the main house, my heart pounding in my chest from the blood loss and straining. "Boss," I called out, my voice echoing through the empty halls. "We need to get moving. This neighborhood is too rich, too tempting for the thugs. And I have my doubts the gate is doing its job. We need to leave."
Mr. and Mrs. Allen emerged from the master bedroom. Mr. Allen looked like a man who had been through a war, his face a map of marked with a black and swelling eye, a red mark from a slap and scratches. His eyes, usually so full of life, were dull and listless. I could tell he was struggling to keep it together. He was a soft man at heart, firm in his pacifistic principles.
The exact opposite of me.
"I've packed the kids, food, and tools and taken care of the bodies," I continued, my voice steady. I pointed at Mr. Allen. "You owe me a good lawyer when this is all over." He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Are you two ready to go?"
Before Mr. Allen could respond, Mrs. Allen let out a scream. "What the fuck do you mean leave? We pay you to handle situations like this. If you're too much of a cowardly bitch, then you can leave. We'll hire someone who isn't."
My blood boiled at her words. I was about to respond when Mr. Allen turned to her, his voice a thunderous roar. "Shut your fucking mouth! Stop being a bitch to the man who just saved your pathetic life. I'm going to follow his instructions because A) that's what I pay him for, and infinitely more importantly, B) he's taken care of us time and time again! So you can do whatever you want. Stay if you want, come if you want. I'm taking the kids and leaving."
He turned to me, his voice quieter but still shaking with anger. "I'm packed and ready to go. When do we leave?"
I stuttered out a response, taken aback by his outburst. "The kids are using the bathroom, and I will finish packing the trailers. We can leave when you bring your stuff to the garage."
As we both turned to leave, Mrs. Bitch stormed off, shoving Mr. Allen into the wall, her screams echoing through the house. I couldn't make out what she said, but I didn't care.
Back in the guest house, the kids stood by the entrance, their innocent curiosity piqued by the bike trailers. They were poking at the trailers, their faces lit up with excitement. It was a sight that brought a small smile to my face.
"Did you guys use the bathroom?" I asked, my voice gentle. They nodded in unison, their eyes still glued to the trailers. "Good. The toilets aren't working right now, but that's okay. We're going to go on a little adventure, okay?"
Their eyes lit up at the mention of an adventure, their earlier curiosity replaced with excitement. "Really?" Emma asked, her eyes wide.
I nodded, walking to the kitchen counter and grabbing the dogie bag from the restaurant. "Really. Here, have some more sweets. We'll be leaving soon, so I need you guys to stay calm in the trailer, okay?"
They nodded again, their hands reaching out to take the sweets. I watched them momentarily, their innocence a breath of fresh air.
I moved to the bedroom, grabbing two belts from the closet. I will loop them through the hitch receivers of the trailers, creating makeshift handles for myself. It wasn't ideal, but it would make moving the trailers easier. I took a moment to look around the room, my eyes landing on the small bag of bloody clothes in the corner. I'd have to dispose of them later.
With everything in place, I headed back to the kids. They were still by the entrance, their hands sticky with sweets. I looked at them, their faces filled with excitement and anticipation. I pulled out wet wipes from a drawer and handed them to them, "Alright, guys," I said, my voice steady. "Let's get going."