I awoke this morning to the sound of gunfire.

 

Alan Schreier had gone to Miami to spend Father’s Day with his dad, who has been doing very poorly as of late and I stayed in Tampa.  Last Sunday we had adopted two adorable Great Dane puppies, Zorro and Zoe under the auspices of acquiring protection, but fully knowing that we were succumbing to that instinctive need to raise a family with your mate of choice.  They were nine weeks old then and already weighed 25 pounds and were gangly and difficult to move from house to house.

 

I have moved all of my things to the island but Alan Schreier is trying to sell his condo and things often show better when furnished, so he still resides in Carrollwood.  I spend my days dragging the puppies between Easy Street and Riverwood and then at night take them “home” to Alan Schreier’s.  With him out of town there was no reason to load them up in the overcrowded cab of my truck and drive across town again.  I had paved the walkway from the carport to the house with 3500 pounds of huge stones and was too tired to care that I was sleeping alone.  I went to bed around 10:30 and slept soundly until I awoke at midnight from the rush of adrenaline that was produced by being awakened by the sound of gunfire cutting through the night.

 

I awoke from what I thought at first must have been a dream.  I dreamed that I had been awakened by the sound of a rifle exploding and that I heard the bullet go whizzing by the house, under the west porch which would be right behind the headboard of my bed.  My heart was racing and I was short of breath as consciousness took hold.  As I opened my eyes I thought to myself that it must have been just a bad dream.  My overworked imagination had gotten the better of me and I was a victim of my own creativity.

 

Then I heard the second shot.  In a motion that later amazed even me, I swept off the bed, to the floor, scooping up my handgun along the way.  I was aware of the fish tank light that illuminated my form to anyone looking through the west porch door (which still had no curtain) and I dropped out of sight to the floor using the bed to disguise  my form.  The shot had come from the south side of the house and there were wooden shutters over all of the other windows in the room, including that one.

 

My only vulnerable position was behind me so staying low against the floor and  in the shadows I quickly made my way to the south window.   I wanted to open the shutters and look out, but knew the light behind me would reveal my presence at the window.  If it were Don or Crazy Gary aiming at me, they would have a clear shot.  I decided instead to barely crack the slats in a corner of the window and see if I could see anyone in the yard.

 

As I peered desperately into the darkness, heart pounding out of my chest, I saw the flash of light and heard the blast of the third shot being fired.  It was directly across from me on the other side of the creek.  I ducked, but even as I did, chided myself for thinking I could dodge a bullet.  It’s funny how things happen in slow motion when you think you are going to die.

 

I wondered if God would give me the speed to dodge certain death?  I wondered if He didn’t, why He had ever protected me so fiercely for so long, just to let me die alone here?  I wondered if it was Don, would he then kill my daughter or had he already?  I wondered if He would forgive me for the sin I live in, or if this was just a warning to me that you never know when you will meet your maker and I may not have the opportunity to make things right with Him?  The first bullet could have killed me in my sleep if the person had been brave enough to step up onto the porch.  I wondered now if the first impression I had, of a bullet whizzing by, had actually happened and if so, was it on the porch or through the room?  I wondered if I would be able to kill my attacker and revenge my own death?

 

I remembered that Jamie had told me earlier that Crazy Gary did