Schmidtke and Svetlana Dombrowski were watching television in their living room when they started hearing loud noises from outside. There was the sound of people running. People were screaming. Somewhere in the distance there was a siren. The closest sound was some screeching tires and the next thing they knew, a car came crashing through the living room wall.
Svetlana was knocked off the couch by the motion of the car smashing into it. Schmidtke jumped out of his seat and rushed to his wife's aid. She was momentarily disoriented, but not physically damaged. The person in the car opened his door and was immediately set upon by a deranged attacker. Schmidtke shielded his wife's eyes as he witnessed in horror the bloody barrage of biting and clawing. Within seconds, the unfortunate driver was reduced to a quivering mass of gore and torn flesh.
Schmidtke grabbed a coffee table book full of photographs of nebulae and used it as a baseball bat to the head of the silent attacker. This stunned him for a moment and he fell to the floor groggily. Schmidtke used this temporary upper hand to find a better weapon in the kitchen. The carving knife was an excellent choice. Just then, he heard a scuffle in the living room.
He went back out there. The attacker had regained full mobility and was attacking his wife. Schmidtke went in for the kill, slashing at the attacker's exposed back. One well-placed thrust sunk the blade between the ribs and into the heart. Instant kill. The attacker fell to the floor motionless. Svetlana had her hands clenching her throat. Even applying pressure, jettisons of blood were shooting out between her fingers. Schmidtke grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He got a busy signal.
Meanwhile, the bleeding was slowing. This was not a good thing. It was not an indication that the wound was clotting, it was a sign that her heart was failing. The large puddles of darkening liquid stood in silent testimony to his dying wife. Schmidtke never got through to the police. Whatever was going on out there was bigger than he knew. In his den was a glass display containing a shotgun and several cases of shells. He grabbed those and loaded up. If the police weren't going to help him, it was time to take matters into his own hands.
Svetlana was knocked off the couch by the motion of the car smashing into it. Schmidtke jumped out of his seat and rushed to his wife's aid. She was momentarily disoriented, but not physically damaged. The person in the car opened his door and was immediately set upon by a deranged attacker. Schmidtke shielded his wife's eyes as he witnessed in horror the bloody barrage of biting and clawing. Within seconds, the unfortunate driver was reduced to a quivering mass of gore and torn flesh.
Schmidtke grabbed a coffee table book full of photographs of nebulae and used it as a baseball bat to the head of the silent attacker. This stunned him for a moment and he fell to the floor groggily. Schmidtke used this temporary upper hand to find a better weapon in the kitchen. The carving knife was an excellent choice. Just then, he heard a scuffle in the living room.
He went back out there. The attacker had regained full mobility and was attacking his wife. Schmidtke went in for the kill, slashing at the attacker's exposed back. One well-placed thrust sunk the blade between the ribs and into the heart. Instant kill. The attacker fell to the floor motionless. Svetlana had her hands clenching her throat. Even applying pressure, jettisons of blood were shooting out between her fingers. Schmidtke grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He got a busy signal.
Meanwhile, the bleeding was slowing. This was not a good thing. It was not an indication that the wound was clotting, it was a sign that her heart was failing. The large puddles of darkening liquid stood in silent testimony to his dying wife. Schmidtke never got through to the police. Whatever was going on out there was bigger than he knew. In his den was a glass display containing a shotgun and several cases of shells. He grabbed those and loaded up. If the police weren't going to help him, it was time to take matters into his own hands.
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