A Whisker Оf Trouble

Chapter 20

His attention had shifted. It was now or never. There was a stack of boxes, about shoulder height, to my left. I used my knee and one arm to knock them over between Ethan and me.

“Run!” I yelled to Elvis, and then I bolted for the living room.

Ethan hollered an obscenity and scrambled over the cartons after me. I pushed a floor lamp sideways and heard the glass shade smash as it hit the hardwood behind me. Ethan was only a few feet back.

“Get the hell back here!” he shouted.

I turned and shoved a worn leather club chair at him. It skidded across the floor and caught him in the legs, knocking him off his feet. Elvis had jumped up onto a stack of boxes. He leaped from there to the sideboard against the wall. I swept both hands at the boxes and sent them down on top of Ethan. They only held blankets and tablecloths, so they weren’t very heavy, but all I needed was a few extra seconds to get to the door and get out.

There was a vintage standing metal ashtray, missing one foot on the bottom, leaning against the sideboard and hutch. When I shoved the boxes, it fell on my own foot.

I stifled a scream, kicked it out of the way and ran for the door, breathing hard. My right foot skidded on the loose bit of hall carpet. I slid into the half wall, banging my knee on the corner edge. The pain almost knocked me off my feet, but somehow I managed to stay upright. I slid along the expanse of drywall and banged against the front door.

Ethan lunged for me, catching the edge of my sweatshirt and pulling me toward him. “You stupid cow,” he roared.

I tried to twist away from him and slammed into two boxes stacked on a wooden chair. At the same moment Elvis launched himself with a loud yowl from the sideboard, landing on Ethan’s back, claws digging in through the man’s shirt. Ethan yelled another obscenity and reached over his shoulder for the cat with one hand while the other slapped over my mouth and nose.

I couldn’t breathe. I fell back against the boxes, my elbow pushing down the flaps of the top one. I felt around blindly inside for something, anything to use as a weapon. My hand touched something heavy and metallic. I grabbed and swung my arm up and out as hard as I could, making very satisfying contact with the top of Ethan’s head before my left leg gave out. His eyes rolled back in his head, his hand slipped from my face and he dropped to the floor.

Elvis jumped down, shook himself and made his way over to me. He climbed onto my chest, where he sat down and looked at what I’d just used to brain Ethan Hall. It was a can of Spam.

“Merow!” he said.

I pushed my hair back out of my face. I looked over at Ethan and nodded. “Poetic justice.”