Hide and Seek

well up. I saw her dark eyes close a split second before I hit her.

The nose broke open. The cheekbones fell away at a strange, sunken

angle The legs kicked and trembled. I looked up.

The dog heaved.

The muscles in his neck were thick and hard as rigging. The pain must

have been amazing but there was nothing in him but a crazy meanness

now. I could see Casey's grip faltering on the pitchfork. The dog

lurched toward her, sinking it deeper. He got it into him good and

solid and then he jerked it away from her as though she were a child in

a bad match of tug-of-war.

He got free of her.

And then he hauled himself toward her.

At her. A fast, drunken lunge. While she struggled for balance.

I was on my feet, trying to get to him on the other side, to the handle

of the pitchfork, to push it so far into him that it would stop him. It

quivered like a bowstring. My foot slowed me down.

Just enough.

I had my hands on the handle as he went for her again and even the

crippled arm worked somehow as she tried to fend him off, the immense

heavy bulk of him that tore up high into her neck below the chin and

ripped her apart and covered them both with ash ower of hri0ht hloorl

I screamed.

The animal pulled her down, its right front paw tearing four long

gashes from the base of her neck to her stomach.

I don't even think she felt them.

But I did.

I had the handle by then. I had it and I used it. I was screeching

with rage and pain and I pushed, screamed and pushed with all my

strength, the image of her open mouth and eyes searing into my brain.

The animal let go of her and tried to shake me, just as it had done to

her. It thrashed at me. Snapped. Pulled. But I was crazy then, and

I was using two good hands instead of one and I stayed on, riding him

on the end of a long sharp stick, pressing it deeper with a power I

never knew I had, riding him down into the night.