In the dining room stood a woman wearing red flannel pajamas with a candy cane print. Her hair was disheveled, and tears stained her cheeks, and the knife held against her throat had nicked her more than once. Blood seeped from the tiny cuts, and Bennett’s mouth watered. After all, it was blood.

Bennett tore her eyes away from the tasty crimson and saw that the woman was looking back at her through wide, glassy eyes. Did she know Bennett was there to rescue them, or did Bennett’s appearance add even more terror to an already terrifying situation?

A man in baggy gray sweatpants and a threadbare white T-shirt ripped at the collar stood near the kitchen door. Tall enough his hair touched the jamb, etched into his face was the pain of his anquish. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, his complexion still smooth and free from wrinkles, yet the creases filling it now would forever leave lines. Although none of the drug-crazed freaks were near him, the man didn’t dare move, for huddled behind him, clutching his legs in fright, were his children. Clothed in identical pink, one-piece pajamas decorated with reindeer and elves, the little girls’ chins quivered as tears streamed down their cheeks. Like their parents, their sole focus was Bennett now.

The second home invader stood near the upended coffee table in the middle of the living room, and on the floor around his feet were pillowcases stuffed with household items. Like the one menacing the woman, he also held a knife. Its blade was shorter and had no jagged ridges down the back, and even though the honed edge could do some damage, Bennett did not fear it. She was stronger than any in the room, and her speed would shock them all.

The last was the closest to Bennett, and his stench quickly reached her, but it wasn’t his offensive odor that grabbed her attention. It was the saber he held in his hand. Bennett’s brow knitted, her eyes darting around the room until she found her answer. Above the fireplace was a display of intersecting cavalry swords mounted in front of a Union flag, except where there were supposed to be two, there was only one.

Long and curved, the steel of the blade was polished, the gleam of its edge sending out a silent warning to take heed, and Bennett would have listened if she believed the man gripping it in his filthy hands had the aptitude to swing it. Since he was the furthest away from the family, he became the least of Bennett’s worries, so she zeroed in on the only one in the room in immediate danger.