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SATURDAY, JUNE 29, 1985
08:42 PM – Kennedy Residence || Fox Chapel, Allegheny County, Pennsylvania
There Flint stood with his green riot shotgun in hand, and his team lined up behind him: Duke with his Beretta, Snake Eyes with his katana, and Gung-Ho with his missile launcher.
Across from them?
The Cobra troopers, led by Cobra Commander himself.
Flint cocked his shotgun and lifted it. “Alright, men. The bad guys have the hostages–we move in, take ‘em down, and get out.”
Cobra Commander sneered. “Fools! You'll never defeat Cobra!”
Oh, yes, they would.
One, two troopers went tumbling down.
The heroes moved in.
Snake Eyes took out three troopers in rapid succession.
Gung-Ho punched Cobra Commander so hard that he went sprawling across the room.
The hostages–two civilians–were safe.
The heroes had won.
Just like always.
Leon sat back on his heels, satisfied. He adjusted Flint so he stood perfectly upright.
Heroes never lose.
He dragged himself across the rug and perched in front of the TV in his playroom. ThunderCats was playing, but he couldn't focus.
After trying really, really hard for a few seconds, he looked to the hallway. He couldn't see outside. His door was pulled-to (Mama said to never shut it all the way, because then it'd be hard for them to hear him if he needed help). But right now, he could also hear people outside of the room.
He wanted to close it–just for a little bit–but he didn't want to make Mama upset. She already sounded upset as it was.
So did Dad.
They weren't too loud, but just enough that it made it hard to focus on anything else. They weren't just angry, though. He couldn't tell what it was, but they didn't seem mad at each other this time. That made him feel a little better, but he still didn't want them upset.
He considered getting up and going to his room, since it was a bit further away, but he paused as he went to push himself up from the rug.
His hand landed on Cobra Commander. He was still lying face-down.
Now, that just wouldn't do.
Leon picked him up and set him back in place.
“You win this time, but I'll be back!” Cobra Commander waved his fist in the air.
Leon grinned. “Not a chance.”
A car engine grew from outside his window.
Leon's hands froze on his toys.
He tried to remember if Mama said someone was coming over, but nothing came to mind. Weird; he also doesn't remember anyone coming over so late without asking first.
He stood up, grabbed Flint, and walked to the window on the opposite side of the room. He peeked through the curtains.
A black sedan was idling in the driveway.
He squinted and squished his face against the glass.
The lights were on, and from here, he could hear the engine. But no drivers. Or a passenger waiting on the driver, like when Mama goes to the store but Daddy stays in the car.
Daddy said it wasn't safe to leave your car on if no one was in it. Someone could steal something from inside, or worse, steal the car! Why would someone do that? Wouldn't people in the parking lot see?
The front door slammed open.
A gasp forced its way from Leon's throat, and his hands tightened on the figure nestled against his chest.
Before he could laugh off the startle, he heard Mom and Dad run out of the room across the hall and down the stairs.
He hoped the guests didn't get hurt. A couple of years ago, when he was still a baby (he's a kid now, not a baby) and before his grandparents moved away (why don't they visit anymore?), he remembered Nana tripped and fell when walking inside. It was really bad, Dad said. He hoped it didn't happen again.
But instead of hearing Mama or Daddy run to the bathroom downstairs (it was just below the playroom; he would've heard it, surely), there was another REALLY loud sound.
It was too late, but Leon freed a hand to press it against his ear.
Something thudded on the floor.
Mama screamed.
The loud sound: it was quick, like the sound a slap makes. But so, so much louder–only a giant could make a sound that loud. But he didn't think a giant would fit in the car outside.
And then the yelling. It didn't sound like a giant’s voice. And there were two of them; no WAY two giants could fit through the door.
But he couldn't tell what they were saying. He could hear them clearly, but they weren't saying things he understood.
Like a puzzle fitting into place, he realized it was Italian. Mama wanted to teach him, but Daddy said it was a bad idea, so he never learned it. Maybe it was rude, but he wished Mama did so that he could tell what was being said.
Maybe he'd just ask once they left; if Mama didn't want him to know, she'd tell him.
He walked to the door and quietly opened it so Mama and Daddy wouldn't know he was eavesdropping.
He stuck his head out and stopped.
Daddy was lying on the stairs, like he got tired halfway down and decided to take a nap. That was silly–people don’t sleep on stairs, right?
He frowned. There was blood staining his white button-up, like that time Mama accidentally spilled wine (they said it was grape juice, but he could read now) on him at dinner a few nights ago.
If Daddy got hurt, Mama would’ve run to get the Band-Aids. She always did. But she wasn’t moving either. Why wasn’t she moving?
He couldn't see Mama, but he could hear her.
She was speaking Italian, too.
Before he could go to the bathroom and get the Band-Aids for her, since she seemed busy, that really loud sound happened again. He didn't see it, but he could hear Mama fall, too.
That's not good. He couldn't help him by himself, could he? He couldn't reach the Band-Aids without climbing onto the counter, but Mama and Daddy didn't like it when he did that.
Two adults came into view downstairs, walking away from the kitchen. They were still speaking Italian.
They both looked the same, like identical twins he went to school with. Fancy black suits. Black gloves. Black hats. Black sunglasses–at night. It was June. It was hot. Why would anyone dress like that? Why did they all look the same?
One of the men, the one closest to his dad, had a gun. Shouldn't that be in a safe place? Leon didn't even know where Dad kept his guns; he said it was so no one could reach them without his permission.
The two men looked at each other. “E ha detto di essere intoccabile,” one said. It made the other laugh. The one that made a joke raised the gun to Daddy. “ Non è più così intoccabile, vero?”
He shot the gun once, twice, thrice.
Leon couldn't move.
“Portate la puttana in cucina, portatela in macchina,” the man said. “Non hanno un figlio? Dove cazzo è?” He started up the stairs, looking back at his friend.
Leon ran for his closet as quietly but as quickly as he could. The folding doors were already open, but he had to close them once he got inside. It was really squeaky, but ThunderCats was still playing, and the men were still talking, so maybe the man didn't hear it.
He hunkered down in the far corner, where the light coming through the slats sat just above his head. He pulled his knees to his chest, Flint bear-hugged in his arms.
He heard the playroom door open. “La TV è accesa. Il ragazzo deve essere qui da qualche parte,” the man called to his friend downstairs. He laughed again, but nothing playing on ThunderCats was funny right then. “Dai, dove sei, moccioso?” He spoke like how people talk to cats or dogs. They didn't have one, though.
Leon didn't know why, but he didn't like it. He wanted them to go now. They already hurt Daddy and probably Mama, too. He hoped they would recover soon so that they could make the men leave.
He could hear another car pulling up in the driveway. The yellow lighting coming through the closet doors turned into shades of red and blue, and there was a siren from somewhere outside.
Did Mama call the cops? He hoped so.
The man just outside of the closet scoffed. “Figlio di puttana,” he hissed. Leon heard him leave the room. “Sbrigati, cazzo, andiamo!” he yelled from the hallway.
“Cosa, e andarsene?” Leon heard his friend downstairs.
“No, vattene e basta, cazzo! Vuoi rimanere bloccato qui? Perché io no di certo.”
There was running, one down the stairs and one on the first floor. Something broke, like glass.
Then silence. Just ThunderCats from the TV and the siren outside.
He wanted Mama, but he didn't want to leave his hiding place. What if the men were still inside?
Instead, he heard the door downstairs thus open again. Forceful still but less aggressive.
Someone was walking about downstairs.
And then upstairs.
Leon hugged Flint closer.
“Pittsburgh PD; if anyone's in here, call out now!” He heard someone, another man, say. It was in English now, and it didn't sound like the other two men from before. Quieter, like he was speaking to himself, “I need EMS at Eleven Woodbrook Drive; multiple victims down, shots fired.”
Leon heard the playroom door open again, bouncing gently off the wall. He also heard someone, the man, walking, but he didn't speak.
Leon wanted to look, but he didn't want to move. He couldn't move.
That scared him. He's not supposed to be scared; he's a big kid now, but he was.
He could feel it coming before it happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunched up his face, held his breath, but a quiet sob escaped him anyway.
In seconds, maybe less than that, the closet door carefully opened.
Leon curled away from the door and choked out a much louder cry, a sound he'd never heard himself make. Not even when he broke his arm last year on the playground.
He held up Flint as if he could shoot any bad guy for him, but nothing happened. Not from Flint, and not from the new person.
“Hey–hey, kid. It’s okay. You’re safe now,” the voice was closer, softer. Not hurried, not loud. Just steady. Like he meant it. “Those men are gone. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
Leon couldn't find his voice. He wanted Mama.
“Can you look at me?” The man asked.
A few weeks ago, he'd dropped one of Mama's fancy plates. He was trying to unload the dishwasher for her so she didn't have to do it when she got home. He just knew he was going to get in trouble. Mama got home and found him hiding in the pantry, sobbing like a baby. She said the same thing, and even though he really, really didn't want to, he did look at her. She wasn't mad at all. She was worried he'd gotten hurt because of the broken pieces. And when he told her what he was trying to do, she thanked him.
So, Leon decided to be brave. He turned his head to look at the man.
He was an officer, clad in blue with those weird hats only police wear. He looked startled, just like how Leon felt. But instead of crying like he was, he just offered a smile.
“I need you to come with me, alright? Can you do that?” He asked, offering his hands.
Leon looked at him for a good while. Mama and Daddy told him all about the stranger-danger rule, but this was a police officer. He wasn't a stranger.
He sat up, tucked Flint under his arm, and put his free hand in the officer's. “Nice and slow,” the officer muttered, slowly helping Leon to his feet. The man didn't stand yet, still kneeling in front of him. Instead of holding onto his hand, he moved his hand to his arm. “My name's Jim. What's your name?”
Leon chewed at his lip, looking around the room. A few of his things had been turned over, but the TV was still on. He sniffled. “Leon,” he said, watching the credits roll for the ThunderCats episode that'd been playing.
“Okay, Leon,” the officer took a breath. “We have to go outside for a bit. Is that okay?”
Leon frowned. He looked back at Officer Jim once the tape ended, and the TV cut to static. “I have to ask Mama, but she's hurt.”
The officer almost frowned, but he quickly changed it back to a smile. It was a strange one, though. “I know, Leon, but I called someone to help her and your dad,” he said. “We won't leave home, so your mama will be close. We just need to go to the driveway. Alright?”
Leon considered it. He wasn't leaving home. No one was taking him away. So, he nodded.
Officer Jim stood slowly and offered his hand again. “Now, I need you to listen to me, Leon, okay?”
Leon nodded again, taking his hand carefully.
“Until I say so, I need you to keep your eyes closed. Just like playing hide-and-seek. Okay?”
Hide-and-seek was for babies, not big kids. But Leon got the point anyway. He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut.
The stairs were hard to go down when he couldn't see, but Officer Jim told him when to step each time, all the way down. At some point, though, he moved him to the other side of the stairs. Leon didn't ask why, but he guessed Daddy was still passed out on the stairs.
He also started talking to that walkie-talkie Leon saw on his shoulder.
“I've got a child survivor, approximately eight-years-old. Send EMS now.”
It wasn't until the cool summer air hit his skin and made the dried tears on his cheeks tingly that Officer Jim told him he could open his eyes.
He looked worried, looking up and down the road. But he never said why. Instead, he looked down at Leon, putting that smile back on. “Have you ever seen a police car before, Leon?”
Leon nodded, chewing at his lip again. “I saw one at school. It was Career Day. That was last month.”
Jim chuckled. “Well, you've not seen mine,” he said. “You ever been inside one?” The officer asked, tilting his head toward the flashing lights.
Leon’s eyes flicked to the car, then back to the officer. He hesitated, then shook his head.
Jim's smile was small but real. He squeezed Leon’s hand. “C’mon, kid. I’ll show you around.”