[ WP ] You buy your wife a fun DNA home testing kit . The post arrives with her results , which you eagerly tear open to find she 's 37 % German , 38 % Cherokee Indian , and 35 % `` Unknown and Unidentifiable . '' Within moments , three black vans pull up outside your house , and there 's a knock at your door .

`` You always were good at surprising me.'' she looked at me and if I had a thousand years I would n't have been able to reconcile any of it - not that blood test, not the men outside my door, not what was about to happen. I could n't have reconciled any of that with the look she gave me then. 
 
 
 That same look she ’ d given me a million times. The one that always melted my heart. The one I ’ d do anything for. I ’ m stupid like that. 
 
 
 It ’ s funny how something as small as a look, or just a silly surprise birthday present you get your wife. I ’ d done it in college, she ’ d never had her bloodwork done and had been surrendered to the state anonymously as a baby. I thought it would be fun. I ’ m stupid like that too. 
 
 
 The knocking came again. 
 
 
 “ Well it ’ s time to go. ” She said matter of factly and that look hardened and her eyes narrowed. I realized she was looking over my shoulder and I turned and saw - through the kitchen and the fenced porch beyond, the back door. Heavy oak that opened inward, and wide open. Just the second, screen door between us and them. Except there was nobody standing there. I felt the taste of copper in the back of my mouth and that, I think, may have been the fateful moment. The one where I could have done it all differently. If I ’ d answered the door. If I ’ d just answered it. 
 
 
 Then, she grabbed me by the hand and both of us were bolting through the living room, as he knocking grew more urgent. My feet just hit the kitchen tiles and I was beginning to process what she ’ d meant with the quip about surprises when everything went to hell. 
 
 
 The screen door squeaked and I saw a man in black swat gear suddenly take a kneeling stance, a brown and black blur of a german shepherd snakes in past him, toward us. The gunman is pointing what I suddenly realize is a rifle at us. 
 
 
 We stop suddenly. Well, she does. My socks skid, my heels fly forward and my teeth crack together at the same instant my bony ass hits. My wife ’ s hand is still holding mine. She hasn ’ t looked down. She ’ s staring straight ahead. 
 
 
 The dog was crossing the kitchen before I had my feet under me again and I pulled my wife ’ s hand instinctively to get me between her and the dog bearing down on us. She might as well have been stone for all I could move her, and just as cold too. She was freezing. 
 
 
 The dog leapt, white teeth on dark fur so close I could see ropes of saliva trailing behind those jaws. I heard the sharp crack of rifle fire. My wife ’ s grip tightened. Then everything happened at once. 
 
 
 There was an incredibly loud crunching sound and deafening bang of the back door being slammed, so hard glasses shattered in the kitchen. All of it enveloped in the shrill howls of a beast in pain as the cutlery drawer exploded to our right. I watched my Grandma Mildred ’ s good silverware go off like a claymore mine right in front of us. 
 
 
 By the time I was on my feet again, it was over. 5 seconds, maximum. I tried to take in what happened. I was in shock, no doubt, but my mind was starting to notice things. Like a bloody severed arm and what looked like most of a head sitting several feet away from the gore soaked edge of the back door - which now was completely shit, heavy oak and all. That explained why the firing had stopped. Then to my left, I registered the half gargling, half whimpering sound of the dog drawing its last breaths. 
 
 There was blood all over the porch. All over the kitchen. I realized, numbly - all over me. I turned to my wife. Her hand still tightly gripping mine, still staring straight at the back door. Then I heard the dead-bolt shoot into place from across the room, and she turned to look at me. 
 
 
 “ What ’ s going on? ” I asked, and must have sounded so pitiful, covered in dog ’ s blood trying to grasp what the hell had just happened. 
 
 
 She raised my hand and kissed it. It was then I realized she was bleeding, right arm was dripping red under her blouse. She waved me off as I started to exclaim over her injury and I heard shouting outside the house. 
 
 
 “ Oh Simon. ” She said and looked me in the eyes again. This time they were different. They were colder. Whatever had been behind them a moment ago had vanished. “ I wish there was another way. ” 
 
 
 Before I could say anything she kissed me, hard. So hard I tasted blood. My head was spinning. I felt like I ’ d stood up out of a hot bath and my vision blurred and went black. I fell to my hands and knees. There were a few moments where I fought for consciousness. Then the terrible searing pain in my right arm began to pull things into focus. I felt cold, collapsed completely and stared blurrily into the face above me. 
 
 
 A few heartbeats and my vision focused. I looked up into my own eyes. 
 
 
 There was a huge crash as something slammed into the front door. 
 
 
 “ They ’ ll be here to take you away shortly. ” My own voice said to me. My own eyes looked down on me without the slightest bit of concern. “ They ’ ll take care of your injuries. ” 
 
 
 Half-sprawled on the floor, I saw now the blouse I wore, the ring I ’ d bought my wife from a jeweler in Constantinople - one of a kind - on my left finger. My vision blurred again and I vomited as my stomach finally lost the fight with my shock. 
 
 
 There was another loud crash and the sound of splintering wood. I heard what used to be my voice shouting with convincing confusion and terror, begging to be taken away from “ That Thing ”. 
 
 
 “ No. ” I said and heard my wife ’ s voice. “ No ” I said again and stood up awkwardly, my first time in heels after all. Dazed, I turned toward the front door in time to catch 50,000 volts in the chest. Then darkness. 
 
 

