“Don’t worry,” the man wearing the Ronald Reagan mask said. “The bullet was over your head. If I wanted you dead, you’d be that way. That shot was just to let you know the gun is loaded and that I know how to use it. If you’re smart about this, you’ll be just fine.”
Both the girls were crying. June looked up, still shielding her nieces while trying to comfort them. “Why are you in my home?” June shouted.
“Get up,” one of the men demanded. The largest of the three, he wore a Bill Clinton mask.
“Leave us alone!”
The large man leveled his pistol at her. Still lying on top of her nieces, she had no idea of what to do. With three pistols aimed at her, she decided laying still was best. She kissed the backs of the girls’ heads and whispered soothing words.
“Get up,” Clinton insisted.
“Leave them alone.” Her voice changed to a quiet, steadier tone when she looked up at him. “I’m warning you…if you hurt them there would be no end to the world of pain I’d lay on you.”
Clinton took a step and stood at her head. He reached his gun hand down to her, June lowering her face as the gun got close. Laying her face on one of the girl’s shoulders, she felt the muzzle of the pistol press against the back of her head. “Try me,” he said.
“They’ll be just fine,” Reagan told her. “It’s you that we’re concerned about.”
Unable to watch what was going on, June heard steps around her.
One of them began talking slowly. “Tell the brats to park it on the couch. If the three of you do exactly as you’re told, everything will be just fine. Try to get clever and problems will start. Understand?”
June kept her eyes down, listening to her nieces whimper. In the calmest voice she could muster, she spoke quietly to the girls.
“Girls, we’re going to play a game with our new friends. Number One rule, be very good girls. Understand?”
They nodded in unison, sniffling tears.
“Number Two rule, only talk to me, okay?”
They nodded.
“Last rule, only listen to me, and not them. Don’t do anything unless I tell you, okay?”
“Auntie…”
“Shh.” June hushed her voice to a whisper. “Be quiet, baby. I want both of you to sit on the couch and be very quiet. In a few minutes you can watch TV while you eat your lunch.”
When she felt the muzzle retreat from the back of her head, June pushed up from the patio floor and shooed the girls in the direction of the couch. They got there at a gallop, crowding together at one end, their sobs turning to soft whimpers and sniffles.
Once they settled, June was led into the house, a gun pressed up against the back of her head by Clinton.
Through years of self-defense training, something she still trained at every Sunday afternoon, she knew a way to disarm and disable a man holding a gun to her back. But the method didn’t include two other armed men. The likelihood she could disarm all three without a shot being fired was nil. And she just wasn’t going to put the kids at risk while attempting something with such low odds of success. She gave up on the idea, at least for the moment.
“Stop,” the large man behind her commanded.
She had to comply, but she would also ask questions. The more information she had, the better she would be able to defuse the situation. Standing directly in front of the kids in the middle of the living room, she tried to offer a reassuring smile to them.
“What is going…”
“Shut up.” Ronald Reagan stood a few feet away and aimed his gun at her chest. “Georgie, do your thing.”
It was obvious to June that Reagan was the boss.
Clinton kept his gun at the back of June’s head, pressing hard to make the point it was there. Off to the side, George Bush pocketed his pistol. He moved carefully toward June, one step at a time. From his back pocket, he pulled several loops of heavy plastic zip ties.
The sight of the plastic ties forced up stomach acid, washing the back of her mouth. June had felt the pinch of ties against her skin before, a time that ended in horror. She forced her mind away from the ties, and tried her best to settle her nerves.
Standing erect, she had more options to choose from than prone on the floor. Long her favorite weapon, she balled one hand into a fist, slightly hidden behind her hip, the side away from the man with the ties. She knew exactly what she could do, having trained for something like this a few times in the past. However, that was only training, not real life, and not with four year old nieces only a few feet away. Or so many guns aimed at her. Frustrated she could do nothing, it took all her strength just to stand still.