Three
Jennifer Renee Wessner paused at Cathy’s car in a
frenzy of panic and indecision. With Dimitri crashing his way through the
kitchen, she didn’t have time to check the ignition for the keys.
Instead, she threw herself over the five-foot, chain-link fence bordering
the manicured lawns and raced down the tree-covered hill toward the main
gate below.
Her sandaled feet pounded the smooth grass. Wind
stirred her hair. For an instant, she thought that she might escape after
all, until she caught sight of gleaming black muscle bounding across lawns
lit in patches of stark moonlight.
She dropped to her knees rather than be dragged to
the ground by the Doberman snarling a liquid sound deep in its chest. She
covered her head with her arms and shrieked with despair. The Doberman
rushed up to her with lips curled back from teeth like white daggers.
Claws of black ivory dug into the grass and sent dirt
spraying in her face. The dog circled her once, dancing in agitation.
Twice. It sniffed at her. She cried out her final terror as its wet nose
pressed into her crotch. She went rigid with tension, prepared for the
drawn out agony of a horrible death.
The animal whined and dropped to its belly before
her. Its stubby tail wagged furiously, and the hot stench of its breath
panted against her face. She opened her eyes to a lolling tongue drooling
dog goo and a pair of friendly brown eyes on level with her own.
“Oh, thank God!” She held the back of her shaking
hand out to the animal and wept profusely for a frantic moment.
Dimitri’s mad cry of anger echoed through the night
from somewhere behind her, propelling her to her feet. She put her hand
absently on the dog’s head, kneading behind the ear. “Man’s best friend
like hell,” she muttered defiantly. “Nice doggy.”
Dimitri didn’t come after her on foot. Instead, he
circled the house and vanished into the garage. A car engine whooshed
quietly, warning that he was headed down to the gate to block her only
escape route.
She doubled back to Cathy’s Dodge. A second
Doberman joined the first, a female growling in displeasure at her mate’s
human companion, but no more inclined to violence than he when she went
back over the fence.
Cathy had left the keys in the
ignition. She should have guessed as much and saved herself the ten
years off her lifespan the dogs had taken. She closed and locked the
doors behind her and took a shuddering breath of air in the quiet.
She resisted the temptation to rush back into the house to help and
console Cathy. She twisted the ignition key and eased the car into
motion thinking that the police and ambulance paramedics would be far more
capable of handling the crisis, including whatever was left of herself and
Dimitri when she rammed his car at the base of drive, because one way or
another, she was getting the hell away from this place and these monsters.
