The Sleepy Samaritan

“Let me in, they’re gonna kill me!” These are the screams that awakened me at 3 a.m. Sunday morning. I lay there muddled and semi conscious. Sleep and fear immobilized me. The two black labs barked hysterically as they pounced off my bed and ran down the hall with their nails clicking on the tile. My stomach seized in panic, my breath was lost and I had to pee. I could not move. She shouted again and pounded on the door. I sat straight up and flung back the covers. My back was rigid and my legs thrust forward and stubbornly refused to bend. The dogs continued to growl and yip while someone was banging the shit out of the front door. It was a woman’s voice and I did not recognize it. “Please! Let me in! If they find me they’ll kill me!” Shit, I thought, where’s the god damn phone? I looked around and finally saw it across the room on top of the bureau. I commanded myself to unfreeze so I could get to the phone and punch out 911. OK. Do it. Do it! Move! Scoozey, one of the labs came in to see what was taking me so long. She jumped on the bed in a state of utter excitement and alarm. She was slobbering with animal anticipation. Her right paw battered my leg to get my attention and move me into action. She looked at me with bulging eyes and spittle dripping from her jowls. Finally my legs cooperated and I was able to swing them around and place my feet on the floor. Every organ inside my body was quivering and my head shook so badly I felt like a damn toy on the dashboard of a Chevy. I was terrified and knew that I would pee or vomit as I made my way to the telephone. By that time Chas, the second dog had come in to see what was taking so damn long. Had I not heard the screaming and pounding distressed woman at the front door? Did I not feel compelled to do something? What the hell was wrong with me? “Ok, Chas, calm down. Shhhhh...” I tried to quiet him as I grabbed the phone and forced my index finger to find the 9 and then the 1 and again the 1. “Help, please, someone is at my front door screaming that someone is going to kill her….oh, … yes, it’s 532 Penrose Place…please send someone fast…. I’m alone…. Please….yes, I’ll keep the door closed and locked. Ok. I’ll wait right here. Ok. They’re on their way? You sure? Someone will be here soon? OK.” I hung up, faced the bedroom doorway and listened for more yells for help. The noise was incredible. Two 80 pound labs howled and growled as they pawed at the door while on the other side a woman wept and hollered and pounded her fists hard enough to make the front door shake. Her pitch got higher and I could tell her fear was escalating. Was something else happening that I couldn’t see or hear? My bedroom was on the back side of the house so I couldn’t see anything going on in front or in the driveway. Gradually, I crept across the hall to the other bedroom and looked out the window. It was black out. I had forgotten to turn on the god damn driveway light. Shit. I tiptoed down the hall in the dark and stuck my head around the corner to look at the chaotic scene at the front door. The dogs had left deep gouges in the wood. The entry tile was wet with their piss and slobber. And that fucking woman was still screaming and pounding. It sounded like she was throwing her body against the door. As lightly as I could I slowly inched my way to the door and placed my right eye over the peep hole. Thank God I had left on the front porch light. She was positively tiny! And bleeding! She looked like she’d been through a hay baler. Her frizzy hair was all over the place and her blue polka dot blouse was torn and hanging on her lopsided. She was missing a shoe and only had on one white high heel. It was on her left foot and it had a weird bow on it and what appeared to be blood splotches on the toe. She’d worn herself out and was slumped against the door. The temporary silence calmed me and I sighed. Before I had an opportunity to inhale she pitched her head toward the driveway and bawled, “Here they are, let me in!!” Oh, shit, I thought as I hit a new level of panic. Had she seen or heard something? I couldn’t tell if her reality was authentic. I couldn’t just let someone hurt her or kill her on my front porch while I stood safely on the other side of the peep hole and watched. I had to take her word for it and believe that someone was at that minute headed toward her ready to kill. I shouted at her to shut up as I opened the door with my right hand, grabbed her arm and hauled her in with my left arm. My right hand stayed on the door knob as I slammed the door and turned the lock. We stared at each other and she started to sob and choke while she piled herself on to the floor. My hands were on my hips trying to control my shaking body. The dogs had gone berserk and were running up and down the entry steps spreading the news that there was a strange, bleeding, wounded, woman with boozy breath strewn on the floor. There was so much noise and the smell of her made me sick. The odor was booze and something else I couldn’t identify. It was disgusting. Then I heard the siren. Finally. Sherriff Cooper was pulling in the driveway. I looked up and said a quickly grateful prayer and heard his car crunch up the gravel driveway. I heard his door slam and his boots hit the concrete walk as he ran up to the front door. Bam bam bam! “Police! Open up!”