As they were cramming everything into the vehicles, a screen door slammed across the street.
Ben looked out from behind the Jeep and saw that two men had come out of the house. He didn’t recognize them and the look on Matt’s face confirmed what he was thinking–these ragamuffins were not the neighbors from across the street. The rag-tag pair were heading in their direction.
Ben let the rifle slide off his shoulder and drop into his hands.
“Don’t step onto this property.” he yelled.
The shorter of the two, was carrying a shotgun by his side, and was walking with purpose. His buddy, a big guy, sauntered along beside him, with an aluminum baseball bat resting on his shoulder. Both were encumbered by the weight of the duffels they were lugging–and an overabundance of attitude.
The little one stopped right on the edge of the lawn, dropped his bag…
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