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magnetized alarm started blaring.
        Being so terribly startled I began to shake as a wave of cold fear ran across my body. Wrestling with my mind was a battle all of its own. I remembered what Harvey had asked earlier, we had to get past our fear if we were going to survive. Breaking free of my frozen panic, I did the only thing I could think of—I grabbed my machete and rolled onto the floor.
        My door had been left open in a futile attempt to get more fresh air. I could see the silhouette of a thin man in full camouflage step over our front door, which was now in halves on the floor. He carried a large shotgun and looked around for the alarm. When he saw the tiny white box making the ear piercing wails, he promptly smashed it with the butt of his weapon. He muttered something to himself and then yelled out to the idling truck. “Keep her running; I’ll be out in no time.”
        I scurried to my bedroom window and peeked out. What sat in our yard was a large black truck with spotlights mounted in the back. I could only see one other person at the wheel and what looked like a full haul of supplies in the back. I’d rather take my chances with zombies than raiders. My nerves were shot and I held the machete with both hands and pressed the handle against my forehead. I secretly hoped that my trusty sword would impart to me a great plan of attack. It didn’t.
        I was at such a disadvantage. I couldn’t rush him and I couldn’t just hide. If I hid and he took all our food, well then he pretty much just killed us. This was one of those moments I realized that I had to fight … to the death. The only advantage I had was that I knew the house. My room was right next to the kitchen cupboard, which I prayed he would go to first. If I were him I would remove all threats first, I just had to hope he was more reckless than me.
        “Hey now, I don’t want any trouble,” the man called out after flicking on a light taped to the end of his shotgun. “My group is starvin’ and I need to take half of yer supplies. If you just show yourself now we can work this out peacefully.”
        I thought to myself, bullshit. I’ve watched this scene in too many movies to fall for that. With Harvey being on the other side of the trailer, I kept thinking I had a 50% chance that this wouldn’t be my fight. The man waved his flashlight beam towards me and I ducked behind the door frame. The light started moving closer and I could practically feel his boot steps through the faded carpet. Well Harvey, this looks like my fight.
        Focus, Jim, focus. The light wavered between the bedroom and the rest of the kitchen. I could hear the loud almost sticky peeling sound of his footsteps on the fake tile as he entered the kitchen. I tried to play out each scenario in my mind. I was mentally preparing for a fight I was afraid I would lose. For some reason, my brain just kept reminding me the half useless fact; machetes are not for stabbing. I wasn’t sure how that helped me, but my mind kept repeating it like a mantra.
        I ran the scenario of tackling him blade first as he approached, but again the mantra repeated in my head. I needed enough distance to swing the machete in a way that he couldn’t respond by filling me full of buckshot. I began to play out a second scenario and then I heard the cupboard opening. I was two feet from the home invader, separated by a peach colored panel of drywall. Sweat began to pool in my hands. Was this my only chance? Where do I aim my strike and what do I do next? I was almost breathless and my mind went blank. At that moment, remembering my own name would have been a struggle.
        The flashlight beam filled the kitchen with a motionless light. The fact that it was taped to his weapon led me to hope it was propped up against the wall. I was filled with a rush of sickening adrenaline. This was my moment. I came around the door frame and there he was, filling a