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 I closed all the blinds and turned off the lights. I locked all the doors, just in case. They might try to move on. I grabbed my axe. I didn’t have a gun—turns out they were right about that one thing. On my way to the large bathroom where I could hold up the longest, I grabbed a few more supplies—maybe this beer, these knives, and pans. I made sure all the doors in the house were closed and locked, and then I walked into the back bedroom, closed and locked that door too. I grabbed a couple of pillows and blankets, went into the bathroom, and closed and locked that door. I turned the lights out, set my supplies down, and waited. They were coming—the news this evening set off a huge reaction. I should have kept my mouth shut. Why did I have to be so mouthy all the time? I heard the echo of voices bouncing off the houses outside. There was strained talking, angry talking. Thumps, car and truck doors, and loud engines. I held my axe and breathed, trying to stay calm.