them.
She was failing, and Kelly was somewhere, suffering because of it.
Lost in her thoughts, it took a few seconds for her to realize something wasn’t right, that she was being followed. There was no sound, just a sensation. An eerie knowledge that something was behind her and getting closer. With an uncharacteristic calmness, perhaps brought on by the whiskey or the numbness from losing Kelly, she slipped a hand inside her coat and removed the can of Mace her sister always kept tucked in the inside pocket.
Kelly with her “I can take on the world” outlook wouldn’t be afraid — neither would Kara. She slipped her thumb under the safety cap.
Despite her resolve, the combination of alcohol, pain and adrenaline made her almost giddy. Why didn’t the bastard just jump her and get it over with?
She didn’t have to wait much longer. Within seconds, the heat of his breath crawled over the back of her neck. She spun, the can hissing as it released a steady stream of Mace.
Instantly, she realized her error. Too soon. Her would-be attacker was still fifteen feet away, and…she took a steadying breath…wasn’t human.
A shaggy-looking dog stared back at her.
“Go home, puppy,” she called, suppressing the sudden surge of panic that threatened to drive her to her knees. Dogs; she hated dogs. Had since… Refusing to let her mind slip back in time, she gripped the Mace can, the feel of the cool metal against her palm reassuring.
Stay calm, she recited mentally. That was what the trainer she’d talked with afterward had told her. Don’t panic. Don’t run. It is very rare that a dog attacks for no reason. Don’t give him one. Filling her lungs with air, she forced herself to stand still. “No food on me,” she murmured.
The ginger-colored dog tilted his head as if studying her, then lifting his nose, took a long whiff of the frigid air.
Nothing to be afraid of. Just a lost dog, a stray. She wasn’t in his yard, his territory. Nothing about her was threatening. It would wander off now. She willed the thought to be true.
Kara waited, her breath puffing white in front of her.
The dog lowered its head then lifted it one more time to study her.
Kara froze. “Go home, puppy,” she whispered.
The dog glanced over its shoulder, then turned to face her. Taking two steps forward, it glanced up.
Kara’s next breath caught in her chest.
Its eyes…were red.
Kara blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing. The dog moved forward a step, then two. His head held low, his tail stiff behind him, he glanced at her, an almost human intelligence in his eyes. The cold determination she saw there sent a shiver dancing up her spine.
This was no ordinary dog.
No, she corrected herself. It was. It had to be. Her mind was just playing tricks on her — too many sleepless nights worrying about Kelly causing old phobias to come back and haunt her.
Now firmly in the circle of light, the dog stood facing Kara, its jaws gaping, drool streaming from its mouth, red eyes flickering like windows in a burning building.
Ordinary? Not quite. What was wrong with the thing?
Her hand tense around the Mace, Kara kept her gaze steady. When you looked away, that was when they attacked. Or at least that was what had happened with Jessie. The dog had been there one second, staring her and her friend down, then Kara had looked away, just to search for an escape, and the dog had sprung. Not on Kara, no, on Jessie. Just on Jessie. Kara didn’t remember much after that, except the screams — always the screams. She still didn’t know if they were hers or her friend’s.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. This wasn’t helping. Forget the past.
Blinking hard, she edged backward, making what she hoped were soothing sounds. “Nice dog. Nothing to eat here.” Be strong. Think like Kelly. Kelly who had saved her that day, and had kept her sane every day since.
Cell phone. She had her cell phone. Tugging it from the pocket in her backpack with her free hand, she continued talking. “How would you like to meet some new friends?”
Friends with shock collars and nice strong steel cages.
The dog raised his lip in a snarl, revealing three-inch-long canines.
Maybe a friend with a nice.38 would be better. Kara used her thumb to flip open the phone, and began punching. She would survive this.
She had to survive this.
The squeal of a wrong number answered her. Damn. She glanced down to redial…and instantly realized her mistake.
The dog backed up, bracing itself on its hind legs as it prepared to leap. With nowhere to run, Kara pointed the can in the creature’s direction and steeled herself for the impending attack.
For the second time that night, the can hissed, but the dog didn’t waver. With a chilling growl, it shot off the ground soaring directly toward Kara.
The world slowed around her. She should run now. She knew it, but somehow she couldn’t. All she could do was wait, knowing there was no way she would survive this attack.
As the parking lot swirled around her, the dog close enough she could smell the stench of his breath, a blur of silver shot forward from the shadows, knocking her assailant to the asphalt.
Elation swept over her. A second dog, a silver one, stood poised above the first. Kara used a shaking hand to brush hair from her face. He’d saved her.
The new arrival glanced up. Red eyes glowed back at her.
Her own rounded in horror.
The second dog barely had time to give her a snarl before the first began thrashing beneath him. Dropping his head, he attempted to grip the first dog’s neck in his jaws. The ginger-haired dog bucked beneath him, placing its hind feet on the larger dog’s stomach for leverage. The two grappled for control, ginger hair mixing with silver until they looked like one throbbing mass.
Her palms damp with sweat, Kara took advantage of their distraction by quickly pressing 9-1-1 on her phone and then Talk.
The dogs rolled across the ground toward her, their teeth flashing as each tried to lay claim to the other’s throat. The ginger dog twisted to the side, latching onto the larger dog’s neck. His teeth embedded in fur and flesh, he grappled for a stronger hold. Blood seeped through silver fur, staining both animals.
Kara stood frozen, waiting for the scream of pain, the crunch of breaking bones, the smell of the blood. How could she be going through this again?
His eyes burning, the silver dog fell onto his back, pulling the ginger dog with him.
This was it. The first dog would kill the second then come for Kara. In her mind she saw Jessie lying on the ground beneath the mutt they’d stumbled on while exploring. They hadn’t realized anything was in the yard when they’d crawled under the fence. Hadn’t even seen the dog until it had been too late. Until it had jumped on Jessie, and thrown her on the ground like a discarded rag doll. Then, not satisfied with simply disabling her friend, the beast had scissored its massive jaws against her throat, crushing tissue and bone all in one vicious bite. And Kara had done nothing. Nothing.
She’d just stood there staring as the dog had lifted its head, its eyes darting wildly around the yard, its feet immersed in her dead friend’s blood. When it had finally focused on her, she’d known it was her turn. Soon she’d be lying on the ground just like Jessie, blood mixing with the dry dirt beneath her. Then there had been screaming — it had to have been her — and Kelly had come charging from nowhere, a metal pole in her hand. Kara had tried to yell out, to tell Kelly to go back, but her voice had failed her. Pole in front of her, Kelly had grabbed Kara and stepped between her and the dog. That was all Kara remembered; they’d told her later she’d passed out. Kelly had scared off the dog and dragged Kara back under the fence.
No one knew what had happened to the dog or why it had run from Kelly rather than just adding her to its list of victims. But Kara knew one thing. Her sister had saved her while Kara had been too frozen by fear to even warn Kelly away.
