I slept like a rock that night. Matt's family had prepared even better than mine had. They had enough CapriSun pouches and Vanilla Wafers to last years. After stuffing myself the night before and enjoying my best meal in a year, my spent body collapsed on one of the couches at around 10 PM. I woke up at around 11 AM. I sat up on the couch and looked out the window. It was a sunny day. The first sunny day I'd seen in a year. I yelled at Perkins. "Wake up, you lazy son of a bitch!"
Like a fourth-grader in January who wakes up the morning of the test to see two feet of snow on the ground, I ran to the window smiling. This was the world as I remembered it. I knew that there were still sunny days somewhere. I was the happiest I'd been in a long, long time.
Perkins rose from his couch and joined me. "Fucking loveseats," he said. "Tomorrow night I'm just going to sleep on the floor." He stumbled over and started beaming. "Well shit," he said. "It's beautiful." Sunlight glared off the chrome of the cars parked in the driveways across the street. Shadows were cast across the front lawn. The sky was a bolder blue than I could ever remember seeing. I heard a noise behind me and turned.
It was Phil. He managed to get himself out of bed. He smiled as well. "First time I've tried to walk in a week," he said. "It's not so bad. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would. Figured this is as good a reason as any to get out of bed, eh boys?" He patted us both on the back. We stood for a minute admiring the breathtaking view of the other side of the street, through the same sort of window we had looked through thousands of times before. "Hey, I was thinking last night...I didn't actually sleep at all. As soon as the sun rose and gave me a little light, I started writing this." He handed me a folded piece of paper. "This letter's for Matt. Would you mind getting it to him when you see him?"
I nodded. "Oh absolutely. Definitely will." I put it in my pocket.
"I just figured...see, we were never close, him and me. I mean, I loved the kid to death, and I think we knew it, but we didn't really do kid-dad stuff, you know? Father-son kind of stuff. I know it might be a while before I see him, since I should hopefully be on the island soon and all. I figured this was a good way to say some things I've been meaning to say. I wrote in there about Sarah dying. I think it's best that he hear it from me first, okay boys?" He gave us another pat on the back, this time gentler. "He's a good kid. I love him. Can't wait to see him."
We stood there for a few more minutes like we were watching a sunset. Some chrome caught our eye. This chrome was moving.
A van screeched in front of the house. A group of men with green jackets and rifles stormed out, pointed at us through the window, and busted through the door without a word. Six barrels were pointed at us. One spoke. "First six points of the Cisco Manifesto. Now. You first." He pointed at Perkins.
Perkins stammered. The man motioned, and another man in a green jacket grabbed him by the collar and led him away. "You." The man pointed at me. I couldn't speak. The air had left my lungs. "Him. Out." A man grabbed my arm and began to yank me to the side. It was Phil's turn. "You."
Phil grinned. "Wait...I know this." He stared at us, then the men. "One. Get back in your van and have a great big circle jerk, it'll make you feel a lot better." A third man walked up and decked him in the jaw. Phil fell to the floor, sputtering. The man signaled. "Let's sweep."
Three of the men ordered us on our feet and continued to hold us at gunpoint while the others retrieved large sacks from the van marked CISCO. They briskly walked back inside and got to business. One lugged out a small fireproof safe, took a saw to it, and retrieved its contents. Another raided the pantry for food. After about thirty minutes, they met back up in the living room. They were about to haul us off, when one said, "Stop...wait." He stared out the back window. Slowly, he made his way out there. "Remains." Two others briskly followed him out.
Phil realized what they were doing. "No! No, don't do that. Don't. I don't care about anything, just don't do that. God. Please don't." The men in the living room were silent as we watched the men outside open the box outside, rummage through it, grab the necklaces, and fling the rest of the box into the ground. A man went to the van and came back with a shovel.
Perkins and I sat like stones. It was too much. We couldn't react. Phil started screaming. "You sons of bitches. Don't. Don't! That's my wife! My wife!" He collapsed into hysterical sobbing. I knew what was about to come. "Phil. Don't...just--"
Phil grabbed the barrel of the rifle pointed at him. He gave the man holding it a kick, then a punch, then grabbed the rifle. The guard next to him shot and missed. Phil turned the rifle around and shot the man in the chest. The man slumped over. "Get down, boys!" Phil yelled. It was the last thing he ever said. He aimed through the back window and shot one in the head before another man came from the hallway, aimed, and fired. Two shots pierced Phil through the back. He fell to his knees, gurgled, was shot once more, and fell to the floor. The rifle was once again trained on us. "Another move and you're both dead."
We watched as the men lay their casualties flat on the living room floor, faces to the ceiling. They yanked us away as one man doused the room in gasoline and lit a match. Within minutes, the entire house was engulfed in flames. We were searched. The letter in my pocket was taken from me, crumpled up, and thrown into the inferno. We were tied up and thrown into the back of the windowless van. For a moment one of the rear doors remained ajar. The sunlight beamed through. I stared for a few seconds before it closed, and then it was dark. Tires screeched beneath us. I believe it was that point at which I fainted.