dk.intensity-第58部分

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y　or　a　stream；　and　both　were　set　at　STREAM。
　In　the　armchair；　Ariel　continued　to　hug　herself　and　to　rock　back　and　forth　in　silence；　gazing　down　at　the　carpet。
　Although　it　was　unlikely　that　the　catatonic　girl　would　get　up　from　the　chair　and　go　anywhere　on　her　own；　Chyna　said；　〃Now；　you　stay　right　where　you　are；　honey。　Don't　move；　okay？　I'll　be　back　for　you　soon。〃
　Ariel　didn't　reply。
　〃Don't　move。〃
　Chyna's　layers　of　protective　clothing　were　beginning　to　weigh　painfully　on　her　bruised　muscles　and　sore　joints。　Minute　by　minute；　the　disfort　was　going　to　make　her　slower　mentally　and　physically。　She　had　to　act　while　she　was　still　reasonably　sharp。
　She　put　on　the　visored　helmet。　She　had　lined　the　interior　with　a　folded　towel　so　it　wouldn't　sit　loosely　on　her　head；　and　the　chin　strap　helped　to　keep　it　secure。　The　curved　shield　of　Plexiglas　came　two　inches　below　her　chin；　but　the　underside　was　open　to　allow　air　to　flow　in　freely　and　there　were　six　small　holes　across　the　center　of　the　pane　for　additional　ventilation。
　She　stepped　to　one　front　window　and　then　to　the　other；　looking　onto　the　porch；　which　was　visible　in　the　light　that　spilled　out　from　the　living…room　lamps。　There　were　no　Dobermans　in　sight。
　The　yard　beyond　the　porch　was　dark；　and　the　meadow　beyond　the　yard　seemed　as　black　as　the　far　side　of　the　moon。　The　dogs　might　be　standing　out　there；　watching　her　silhouette　in　the　lighted　windows。
　In　fact；　they　might　be　waiting　just　beyond　the　porch　balustrade；　crouched　and　ready　to　spring。
　She　glanced　at　the　clock。　Ten　thirty…eight。
　〃Oh；　God；　1　don't　want　to　do　this；〃　she　murmured。
　Curiously；　she　remembered　a　cocoon　that　she'd　found　when　she　and　her　mother　had　been　staying　with　some　people　in　Pennsylvania　fourteen　or　fifteen　years　before。　The　chrysalis　had　been　hanging　from　a　twig　on　a　birch　tree；　semitransparent　and　backlit　by　a　beam　of　sunlight；　so　she　had　been　able　to　see　the　insect　within。　It　was　a　butterfly　that　had　passed　all　the　way　through　the　pupa　stage；　a　fully　mature　imago。　Its　metamorphosis　plete；　it　had　been　quivering　frantically　within　the　cocoon；　its　wirelike　legs　twitching　ceaselessly；　as　if　it　was　eager　to　be　free　but　frightened　of　the　hostile　world　into　which　it　would　be　bom。　Now；　in　her　padding　and　hard…plastic　armor；　Chyna　quivered　like　that　butterfly；　although　she　was　not　eager　to　burst　free　into　the　night　world　that　awaited　her　but　wanted　to　withdraw　even　deeper　into　her　chrysalis。
　She　went　to　the　front　door。　She　pulled　on　the　stained　leather　gloves；　which　were　heavy　but　surprisingly　flexible。　They　were　too　large　but　had　adjustable　Velcro　bands　at　the　wrists　to　hold　them　in　place。
　She　had　sewn　a　brass　key　to　the　thumb　of　the　right…hand　glove；　running　the　thread　through　the　hole　in　the　key　bow。　The　entire　blade；　with　all　its　tumbler…activating　serrations；　extended　beyond　the　tip　of　the　thumb；　so　it　could　be　inserted　easily　into　the　keyway　on　the　door　of　the　motor　home。　She　didn't　want　to　have　to　fumble　the　key　from　a　pocket　with　the　dogs　attacking　from　all　sides…and　she　sure　as　hell　didn't　want　to　risk　dropping　it。
　Of　course；　the　vehicle　might　not　be　locked。　But　she　wasn't　taking　any　chances。
　From　the　floor；　she　picked　up　the　spray　bottles。　One　in　each　hand。　Again；　she　checked　to　be　sure　that　they　were　set　on　STREAM。
　She　quietly　disengaged　the　deadbolt　lock；　listened　for　the　hollow　thump　of　paws　on　the　board　floor；　and　finally　cracked　the　door。
　The　porch　looked　clear。　Chyna　crossed　the　threshold　and　quickly　pulled　the　door　shut　behind　her；　fumbling　at　the　knob　because　she　was　hampered　by　the　plastic　bottles　in　her　hands。
　She　hooked　her　fingers　around　the　levers　on　the　bottles。　The　effectiveness　of　these　weapons　would　depend　on　how　fast　the　dogs　came　at　her　and　whether　she　could　aim　well　in　the　brief　window　of　opportunity　that　they　would　give　her。
　In　a　night　as　windless　as　it　was　deep；　the　seashell　mobile　hung　motionless。　Not　even　a　single　leaf　stirred　on　the　tree　at　the　north　end　of　the　porch。
　The　night　seemed　to　be　soundless。　With　her　ears　under　the　padded　helmet；　however；　she　wasn't　able　to　hear　small　noises。
　She　had　the　weird　feeling　that　the　entire　world　was　but　a　highly　detailed　diorama　sealed　inside　a　glass　paperweight。
　Without　even　the　faintest　breeze　to　carry　her　scent　to　the　dogs；　maybe　they　would　not　be　aware　that　she　had　e　outside。
　Yeah；　and　maybe　pigs　can　fly　butjust　don't　want　us　to　know。　The　fieldstone　steps　were　at　the　south　end　of　the　porch。　The　motor　home　stood　in　the　driveway；　twenty　feet　from　the　bottom　of　the　steps。
　Keeping　her　back　to　the　wall　of　the　house；　she　edged　to　her　right。　As　she　moved；　she　glanced　repeatedly　to　her　left　at　the　railed　north　side　of　the　porch；　and　out　past　the　balustrade　into　the　front　yard　directly　ahead　of　her。　No　dogs。
　The　night　was　so　chilly　that　her　breath　formed　a　faint　fog　on　the　inside　of　her　visor。　Each　flare　of　condensation　faded　quickly　but　each　seemed　to　fan　out　across　the　Plexiglas　farther　than　the　one　before　it。　In　spite　of　the　ventilation　from　under　her　chin　and　through　the　six　penny…size　holes　across　the　center　of　the　pane；　she　began　to　worry　that　her　own　hot　exhalations　were　gradually　going　to　leave　her　effectively　blind。　She　was　breathing　hard　and　fast；　and　she　was　hardly　more　able　to　slow　her　rate　of　respiration　than　quiet　the　rapid　pounding　of　her　heart。
　If　she　blew　each　breath　out；　angling　it　toward　the　open　bottom　of　the　face　shield；　she　would　be　able　to　minimize　the　problem。　This　resulted　in　a　faint；　hollow　whistling　characterized　by　a　vibrato　that　revealed　the　depth　of　her　fear。
　Two　small　sliding　steps；　three；　four：　She　eased　sideways　past　the　living…room　window。　She　was　unfortably　aware　of　the　light　at　her　back。　Silhouetted　again。
　She　should　have　turned　all　the　lights　out；　but　she　hadn't　wanted　Ariel　to　be　alone　in　the　dark。　In　her　current　condition；　perhaps　the　girl　would　not　have　known　if　the　lights　were　on　or　off；　but　it　had　felt　wrong　to　leave　her　in　blackness。
　Having　crossed　half　the　distance　from　the　door　to　the　south　end　of　the　porch　without　incident；　Chyna　grew　bolder。　Instead　of　edging　sideways；　she　turned　directly　toward　the　steps　and　shuffled　forward　as　fast　as　the　hampering　gear　would　allow。
　As　black　as　the　night　out　of　which　it　came；　as　silent　as　the　high　patchy　clouds　sailing　slowly　across　fields　of　stars；　the　first　Doberman　sprinted　toward　her　from　the　front　of　the　motor　home。　It　didn't　bark　or　growl。
　She　almost　failed　to　see　it　in　time。　Because　she　forgot　to　exhale　with　calculation；　a　wave　of　condensation　spread　across　the　inside　of　the　…　visor。　At　once；　the　pale　film　of　moisture　retreated　like　an　ebbing　surf；　but　the　dog　was　already　there；　leaping　toward　the　steps；　ears　flattened　against　its　tapered　skull；　lips　skinned　back　from　its　teeth。
　She　squeezed　the　lever　of　the　spray　bottle　that　she　clutched　in　her　right　hand。　Ammonia　shot　six　or　seven　feet　in　the　still　air。
　The　dog　wasn't　within　range　when　the　first　stream　spattered　onto　the　porch　floor；　but　it　was　closing　fast。
　She　felt　stupid；　like　a　kid　with　a　water　pistol。　This　wasn't　going　to　work。　Wasn't　going　to　work。　But　oh；　Jesus；　it　had　to　work　or　she　was　dog　chow。
　Immediately　she　pumped　the　lever　again；　and　the　dog　was　on　the　steps；　where　the　stream　fell　short　of　it；　and　she　wished　that　she　had　a　sprayer　with　more　pressure；　one　with　at　least　a　twenty…foot　range；　so　she　could　stop　the　beast　before　it　got　near　her；　but　she　squeezed　the　trigger　again　even　as　the　previous　stream　was　still　falling；　and　this　one　got　the　dog　as　it　came　up　onto　the　porch。　She　was　aiming　for　its　eyes；　but　the　ammonia　splashed　its　muzzle；　spattering　its　nose　and　its　bared　teeth。
　The　effect　was　instantaneous。　The　Doberman　lost　its　footing　and　tumbled　toward　Chyna；　squealing；　and　would　have　crashed　into　her　if　she　hadn't　jumped　aside。
　With　caustic　ammonia　slathering　its　tongue　and　fumes　filling　its　lungs；　unable　to　draw　a　breath　of　clean　air；　the　dog　rolled　onto　its　back；　pawing　frantically　at　its　snout。　It　wheezed　and　hacked　and　made　shrill　sounds　of　distress。
　Chyna　turned　from　it。　She　kept　moving。　She　was　surprised　to　hear　herself　speaking　aloud：　〃Shit；　shit；　shit。　。　。〃
　Onward；　then；　to　the　head　of　the　porch　steps；　where　she　glanced　back　warily　and　saw　that　the　big　dog　was　on　its　feet；　wobbling　in　circles；　shaking　its　head。　Between　sharp　squeals　of　pain；　it　was　sneezing　violently。
　The　second　dog　virtually　flew　out　of　the　darkness；　attacking　as　Chyna　descended　the　bottom　step。　From　the　corner　of　her　eye；　she　detected　movement　to　her　left；　turned　her　head；　and　saw　an　airborne　Doberman…ob；　God…like　an　ining　mortar　round。　Though　she　raised　her　left　arm　and　started　to　swing　toward　the　dog；　she　wasn't　quick　enough；　and　before　she　could　loose　a　stream　of　ammonia；　she　was　hit　so　hard　that　she　was　nearly　bowled　off　her　feet。　She　stumbled　sideways　but　somehow　maintained　her　balance。
　The　Doberman's　teeth　were　sunk　into　the　thick　sleeve　on　her　left　arm。　It　wasn't　merely　holding　her　as　a　police　dog　would　have　done　but　was　working　at　the　padding　as　if　chewing　on　meat；　trying　to　rip　off　a　chunk　and　severely　disable　her；　tear　open　an　artery　so　she　would　bleed　to　death；　but　fortunately　its　teeth　hadn't　penetrated　to　her　flesh。
　After　ing　at　her　in　disciplined　silence；　the　dog　still　wasn't　snarling。　But　from　low　in　its　throat　issued　a　sound　halfway　between　a　growl　and　a　hungry　keening；　an　eerie　and　needful　cry　that　Chyna　heard　too　clearly　in　spite　of　her　padded　helmet。
　Point…blank；　reaching　across　her　body　with　her　right　hand；　she　squirted　a　stream　of　ammonia　into　the　Doberman's　fierce　black　eyes。
　The　dog's　jaws　flew　open　as　if　they　were　part　of　a　mechanical　device　that　had　popped　a　tension　spring；　and　it　spun　away　from　her；　silvery　strings　of　saliva　trailing　from　its　black　lips；　howling　in　agony。
　She　remembered　the　words　of　warning　on　the　ammonia　label：　Causes　substantial　but　temporary　eye　injury。
　Squealing　like　an　injured　child；　the　dog　rolled　in　the　grass；　pawing　at　its　eyes　as　the　first　animal　had　pawed　at　its　snout；　but　with　even　greater　urgency。
　The　manufacturer　remended　rinsing　contaminated　eyes　with　plenty　of　water　for　fifteen　minutes。　The　dog　had　no　water；　unless　it　instinctively　made　its　wa