Mason

For a second I couldn't hear anything but ringing.

The recoil knocked the stock against my shoulder and sent pain down my arm.

I dropped the gun onto the closet floor and screamed, or I think I did, but I couldn't hear myself.

The bedroom door was still closed.

There was a hole low in it, and dust or smoke hung in the air.

The dresser was crooked but still mostly blocking it.

Through the ringing, I heard something moving fast down the hallway.

Hooves slipping, furniture crashing, a hard impact against the kitchen wall.

Then the back door slammed open so hard it hit the outside wall.

After that, the house was quiet except for the dogs.

Roscoe was barking again, frantic and hoarse.

Duke was whining.

I stayed in the closet, shaking, with the phone still connected.

The dispatcher's voice sounded far away through the ringing in my ears.

The deputies arrived maybe seven or eight minutes later.

I didn't come out until I heard men shouting my name and identifying themselves.

Even then, I made them say Carla's last name because I was scared it was doing voices again.

When I finally crawled out, my legs barely worked.

The house was a mess.

The back door was open.