Rachel called out, ‘Kass?’
The rabbit was walking towards Rachel and she could tell he wasn’t so much angry. He was wringing his wet, bloodied hands and was whimpering. Heartbroken. That behind that mask—
– it was a mask. She knew that now.
—he was distraught. And he dropped to his knees and curled a wet finger toward himself. Tapping on his chest with it, and then with the flat of his hand, which somehow told her that she really was here. And that he was really here as well.
‘And what about me, Rachel?’ He was weeping against rubber now. Openly, with huge, quaking shoulders. ‘What about me and the life you all sent me on? Are you girls ever going to apologise for that?’
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
A silver-looking Dobermann with a collar made of thick string dangled off Keech’s shoulder. Hanging with nothing more than the power of its jaw.
Matt raced at Keech, with the chair held high. The polite professor voice in his head said, Ermmm, Matthew, old chap. Is this wise? Mightn’t you hit the policeman?
Keech’s eyes were bulging.
Matt wound his arm back, coiled the spring and let rip, canvas and metal slashing through the air.
Crack.
His arms shook with the impact. The dog instantly yelped and opened its mouth. It dropped to the floor. He watched it scamper into a shadow and vanish. Keech slapped a hand against his shoulder, grabbing at the gap where the dog had been. The pink skin of his fingers flooded instantly red.
Keech groaned, ‘Shit, shit, shit.’
‘Get your jacket off. We can tie—’
Claws. Scraping into a run.
Matt spun and lifted the chair for another smack but the animal slammed into his legs, way sooner than he expected. He noticed the sensation of needles being plunged into his foot. He yelped and dropped the chair, falling to the floor. Something warm flooded across his ankle.
The dog was clamped on his shoe, dragging him.
Short of breath, Matt clenched his fist. He couldn’t think of anything else. He just accessed a fact logged from a documentary he’d watched about sharks. He made a fist and slammed into the dog’s eye. Sharp hair spiked into his knuckle. Then he did it again. And again. Smack. Smack.
Every punch and the vice grew tighter.
Agonised, and gasping in panic—
There’s a woman screaming, he suddenly realised. There’s a woman down here screaming, and I can hear it.
—he punched again.
He had a brainwave and pushed the wedding ring finger out a little. He punched one more time, as hard as he could manage. The golden band that Wren had given him on the best day of his life sunk into the dog’s eye. It suddenly squeaked and eased off his foot. It staggered to the side. Went to turn on him.
Matt jumped right on top of it and it rolled onto its back, paws kicking the air. He grabbed a paw in each hand. Hairy joysticks controlling the most repellent moment that now hurtled toward his life experience.
‘Snap the fucker,’ Keech said. Slumped on the floor and weeping with the pain. ‘Go on.’
His brain slipped into instant schizophrenia.
‘Snap the dog,’ Keech winced. ‘Snap him.’
Matt thought, I’m a university professor. I don’t do that. Our campus has a very strict policy on animal welfa—
Furious barking.
‘Snap him. Snap the fucking dog!’
A sudden, random image of him with his angry father in a pet shop.
But I don’t want a dog, Dad.
Furious barking.
How could you not want a dog, son? What’s wrong with you?
The hot gush of canine breath. All this in the dark.
It happened so quick that it was almost impossible to understand it. Matt gripped both paws and quickly pushed them outwards, away from each other.
Wider.
Wider.
Maybe it’ll get tired, he thought. Maybe its fight’s all gone.
He liked that option. Loved it, in fact. Threw his psyche with wild enthusiasm all over it. But the dog started snapping even louder at his face. So he pushed. Pushed as hard as he could.
‘Do it!’ Keech screamed.
Matt smelt his dad somewhere in the room, scurrying up to him on all fours in the dark—
what’s the matter with this kid, Elizabeth, what’s the matter with him? All boys want a dog, for Christ’s sake—
He leant forward with all his body weight. The dog’s paws raced away from each other, far past their normal arc. He closed his eyes, tight, and heard the sound of wet popping. A moist, loud crack in the dog’s chest.
He retched right there and spat out a globule of bile. He somehow had the presence of mind to aim it away from the dog – like such a courtesy would balance out what he’d just done to it. But by then the dog’s death nerves were twitching and Matt was climbing off.
Finished.
He pushed himself backwards. Chest heaving, hands shaking. Then he flipped into autopilot.
‘Get your jacket off,’ he hobbled to Keech, yanked the black policeman’s jacket and tied it tight around his gushing shoulder. Then he ripped off his own jacket and did the same for Bob. Only for him, he had to pick up the small chunk of flesh and muscle that hung by threads. He popped it back into place. Almost puked.
Then as he tightened the knot he heard it again. The low muffled sound coming through the walls.
Somewhere in the vaults, a woman was screaming.
He stood up and glanced back at the metal door.
‘I told you, it’s locked.’ Keech tried to hitch himself up but he didn’t have the strength to stand.
So Matt turned back to the white door, knowing it was either that or sit in here while Rachel or Kassy or whoever it was that was screaming came to a stop. He looked down at his throbbing foot. There was some blood, but not a lot. The sole had protected him, mostly. He could limp through, at least.
‘You better stay here,’ Keech said, wincing. ‘Help might come.’
Matt stared at the door.
‘You should stay here.’
Matt shook his head. ‘She’s screaming.’
The stories you hear are how people leap in, despite all
