Slowly, stealthily, she crept upstairs again. The bodies were gone. The attic steps were drawn up. They couldn't do anything about the blood stained carpet. At least that would help Daddy believe her.
The bed clothes were back in the bedroom. She picked up the bat. It would appear all of them were in the attic. That was where she wanted them to stay.
She opened the bathroom door. She needed to fix her hand. It hurt like hell but she found the pain was not that important. Her father was coming any minute and she had to do something about this mess before he got there. She bandaged her hand as best she could, ever listening for any movement in the attic.
They had not chewed a hole in the bathroom ceiling, there was no need to chew a hole in there, it was right next to the attic steps. In fact, if the bathroom door was open, you could not open the attic steps. Hmmmm? Well then?
Quietly, carefully, she opened the bathroom door and braced it with her bedroom chair. Then she stuffed towels in the space between the top of the door and the ceiling so the attic ladder could not come down at all. That was not enough for her. She duct taped the attic door shut.
Now. If they were going to call her crazy, she might as well do it up right.
She looked at the cans of flea bomb under the sink. Eight flea bombs. When they had moved into the house, it had been infested with fleas.
Oh. Now she knew why it had had fleas.
The can said only use one can per room and make sure everyone was out of the house when you did it. Be careful using it around pets blah, blah, blah . . .
She tiptoed into her bedroom and quietly cleared away the clothes and blankets that were thrown all over the bedroom floor. She put a pillow over each can as she pulled the tab, hoping to muffle the sound.
How smart were these raccoons? Did they realize her car had not left the yard? Did they wonder what had happened to potato chip raccoon?
An acrid smell was collecting in her room. She shoved the box of smoking flea bombs into the closet and locked the door.
Ordinarily she would have asked Jake or her Dad to move her dresser but she somehow found the strength to shove it against the closet door. The door rattled and it almost sounded like cussing coming from the other side but the lock held.
Screams came from the attic but the duct tape stayed in place.
Louise ran outside with a flash light and her bat. She knew where Jake had found the dead raccoon. Surely that was their way outside. She parked a lawn chair in that spot and waited.
Her father showed up an hour later. She was too tired to be mad at him.