dk.intensity-第59部分

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　The　manufacturer　remended　rinsing　contaminated　eyes　with　plenty　of　water　for　fifteen　minutes。　The　dog　had　no　water；　unless　it　instinctively　made　its　way　to　a　stream　or　pond；　so　it　would　not　be　a　problem　to　her　for　at　least　a　quarter　of　an　hour；　most　likely　far　longer。
　The　Doberman　sprang　to　its　feet　and　chased　its　tail；　snapping　its　teeth。　It　stumbled　and　fell　again；　scrambled　erect；　and　streaked　away　into　the　night；　temporarily　blinded；　in　considerable　pain。
　Incredibly；　listening　to　the　poor　thing's　screams　as　she　hurried　toward　the　motor　home；　Chyna　winced　with　remorse。　It　would　have　torn　her　apart　without　hesitation　if　it　could　have　gotten　at　her；　but　it　was　a　mindless　killer　only　by　training；　not　by　nature。　In　a　way；　the　dogs　were　just　other　victims　of　Edgler　Vess；　their　lives　bent　to　his　purpose。　She　would　have　spared　them　suffering　if　she　had　been　able　to　rely　solely　on　the　protective　clothing。
　How　many　more　dogs？　Vess　had　implied　there　was　a　pack。　Hadn't　he　saidfour？　Of　course；　he　might　be　lying。　There　might　be　only　two。
　Move；　move；　move。
　At　the　passenger…side　cockpit　door　of　the　motor　home；　she　tried　the　handle。　Locked。
　No　more　dogs；　justfive　seconds　witbout　dogs；　please。　She　dropped　the　spray　bottle　from　her　right　hand；　so　she　could　pinch　the　bow　of　the　key　between　her　thumb　and　finger。　She　was　barely　able　to　feel　it　through　the　thick　gloves。
　Her　hand　was　shaking。　The　key　missed　the　keyhole　and　chattered　against　the　chrome　face　of　the　lock　cylinder。　She　would　have　dropped　it　if　it　hadn't　been　sewn　to　the　glove。
　From　behind　this　time；　just　as　she　was　about　to　slip　the　key　into　the　door　on　her　second　try；　a　Doberman　hit　her；　leaping　onto　her　back；　biting　at　the　nape　of　her　neck。
　She　was　slammed　forward　against　the　vehicle。　The　face　shield　on　her　helmet　smacked　hard　against　the　dpor。
　The　dog's　teeth　were　sunk　into　the　thick　rolled　collar　of　the　trainer's　jacket；　no　doubt　also　into　the　padding　on　the　segmented　plastic　collar　that　she　wore　under　the　jacket　to　protect　her　neck。　It　was　holding　on　to　her　by　its　teeth；　tearing　at　her　ineffectively　with　its　claws；　like　a　demon　lover　in　a　nightmare。
　As　the　dog's　impact　had　pitched　her　forward　against　the　motor　home；　now　the　weight　of　it　and　its　furious　squirming　dragged　her　away　from　the　vehicle。　She　almost　toppled　backward；　but　she　knew　that　the　advantage　would　go　to　the　dog　if　it　managed　to　drag　her　to　the　ground。
　Stay　up。　Stay　tall。　Lurching　around　a　hundred　eighty　degrees　as　she　struggled　to　keep　her　balance；　she　saw　that　the　first　Doberman　was　no　longer　on　the　porch。　Astonishingly；　the　creature　hanging　1from　her　neck　must　be　the　small　one　that　she　had　squirted　on　the　muzzle。　Now　it　was　able　to　get　its　breath　again；　back　in　service；　undaunted　by　her　chemical　arsenal；　giving　its　all　for　Edgler　Vess。
　On　the　plus　side；　maybe　there　were　only　two　dogs。
　She　still　had　the　spray　bottle　in　her　left　hand。　She　squeezed　the　trigger；　aiming　several　squirts　over　her　shoulder。　But　the　heavy　padding　in　the　jacket　sleeves　didn't　allow　her　to　bend　her　arms　much；　and　she　wasn't　able　to　fire　at　an　angle　that　could　splash　the　ammonia　in　the　dog's　eyes。
　She　threw　herself　backward　against　the　side　of　the　motor　home；　much　as　she　had　hurtled　into　the　fireplace　earlier。　The　Doberman　was　trapped　between　her　and　the　vehicle　as　the　chair　had　been　between　her　and　the　river…rock　wall；　and　it　took　the　brunt　of　the　impact。
　Letting　go　of　her；　falling　away；　the　dog　squealed；　a　pitiful　sound　that　sickened　her；　but　also　a　good　sound…oh；　yes…a　good　sound　as　sweet　as　any　music。
　Buckles　jangling；　padded　chaps　slapping　together；　Chyna　scuttled　sideways；　trying　to　get　out　of　the　animal's　reach；　worried　about　her　ankles；　her　vulnerable　ankles。
　But　suddenly　the　Doberman　no　longer　seemed　to　be　in　a　fighting　mood。　It　slunk　away　from　her；　tail　tucked　between　its　legs；　rolling　its　eyes　to　keep　a　watch　on　her　peripherally；　shaking　and　wheezing　as　though　it　had　damaged　a　lung；　and　favoring　its　hind　leg　on　the　right　side。
　She　squeezed　the　trigger　on　the　spray　bottle。　The　creature　was　out　of　range；　and　the　stream　of　ammonia　arced　into　the　grass。
　Two　dogs　down。　Move；　move。
　Chyna　turned　to　the　motor　home　again…and　cried　out　as　a　third　dog；　weighing　more　than　she　did；　leaped　at　her　throat；　bit　through　the　jacket；　and　staggered　her　backward。
　Going　down。　Shit。　And　as　she　went；　the　dog　was　on　top　of　her；　chewing　frenziedly　at　the　collar　of　the　jacket。
　When　Chyna　hit　the　ground；　her　breath　was　knocked　from　her　in　spite　of　all　the　padding；　and　the　spray　bottle　popped　out　of　her　left　hand；　spun　into　the　air。　She　grabbed　at　it　as　it　tumbled　away；　but　she　missed。
　The　dog　ripped　loose　a　strip　of　padding　from　around　the　jacket　collar　and　shook　its　head；　casting　the　scrap　aside；　spraying　her　face　shield　with　gobs　of　foamy　saliva。　It　bore　in　at　her　again；　tearing　more　fiercely　at　the　same　spot；　burrowing　deeper；　seeking　meat；　blood；　triumph。
　She　pounded　its　sleek　head　with　both　fists；　trying　to　smash　its　ears；　hoping　that　they　would　be　sensitive；　vulnerable。　〃Get　off；　damn　it；　off！　Off！〃
　The　Doberman　snapped　at　her　right　hand；　missed；　teeth　clashing　audibly；　snapped　again；　and　connected。　Its　incisors　didn't　instantly　penetrate　the　tough　leather　glove；　but　it　shook　her　hand　viciously；　as　though　it　had　hold　of　a　rat　and　meant　to　snap　its　spine。　Though　her　skin　hadn't　been　broken；　the　grinding　pressure　of　the　bite　was　so　painful　that　Chyna　screamed。
　In　an　instant；　the　dog　released　her　hand　and　was　at　her　throat　again。　Past　the　torn　jacket。　Teeth　slashing　at　the　Kevlar　vest。
　Howling　in　pain；　Chyna　stretched　her　throbbing　right　hand　toward　the　spray　bottle　lying　in　the　grass。　The　weapon　was　a　foot　beyond　her　reach。
　When　turning　her　head　to　look　at　the　bottle；　she　inadvertently　caused　the　bottom　of　her　face　shield　to　lift；　giving　the　Doberman　better　access　to　her　throat；　and　it　thrust　its　muzzle　under　the　curve　of　Plexiglas；　above　the　Kevlar　vest；　biting　into　the　thick　padding　on　the　exterior　of　the　segmented　hard…plastic　collar；　which　was　her　last　defense。　Intent　on　tearing　this　band　of　body　armor　away；　the　dog　jerked　back　so　hard　that　Chyna's　head　was　lifted　off　the　ground；　and　pain　flared　across　the　nape　of　her　neck。
　She　tried　to　heave　the　Doberman　off　her。　It　was　heavy；　bearing　down　stubbornly；　paws　digging　frantically　at　her。
　As　the　dog　wrenched　at　Chyna's　protective　collar；　she　could　feel　its　hot　breath　against　the　underside　of　her　chin。　If　it　could　get　its　snout　under　the　shield　at　a　slightly　better　angle；　it　might　be　able　to　bite　her　chin；　would　be　able　to　bite　her　chin；　and　at　any　moment　it　was　going　to　realize　this。
　She　heaved　with　all　her　strength；　and　the　dog　clung；　but　she　was　able　to　hitch　a　few　inches　closer　to　the　spray　bottle。　She　heaved　again；　and　now　the　bottle　was　just　six　inches　beyond　her　grasping　fingertips。
　She　saw　the　other　Doberman　limping　toward　her；　ready　to　rejoin　the　fray。　She　hadn't　damaged　its　lungs；　after　all；　when　she　slammed　it　between　her　and　the　motor　home。
　Two　of　them。　She　couldn't　handle　two　of　them　at　once；　both　on　top　of　her。
　She　heaved；　desperately　hitching　sideways　on　her　back；　dragging　the　clinging　Doberman　with　her。
　Its　hot　tongue　licked　the　underside　of　her　chin；　licked；　tasting　her　sweat。　It　was　making　that　horrible；　needful　sound　deep　in　its　throat。
　Heave。　Spotting　her　point　of　greatest　vulnerability；　the　limping　dog　scuttered　toward　her　right　foot。　She　kicked　at　it；　and　the　dog　dodged　back；　but　then　it　darted　in　again。　She　kicked；　and　the　Doberman　bit　the　heel　of　her　Rockport。
　Her　frantic　breathing　fogged　the　inside　of　the　visor。　In　fact；　the　breath　of　the　clinging　Doberman　fogged　it　too；　because　its　muzzle　was　under　the　Plexiglas。　She　was　effectively　blind。
　Kicking　with　both　feet　to　ward　off　the　limping　dog。　Kicking；　heaving　sideways。
　The　other's　hot　tongue　slathered　her　chin。　Its　sour　breath。　Teeth　gnashing　an　inch　short　of　her　flesh。　The　tongue　again。
　Chyna　touched　the　spray　bottle。　Closed　her　fingers　around　it。　Though　the　bite　hadn't　penetrated　the　glove；　her　hand　was　still　throbbing　with　such　crippling　pain　that　she　was　afraid　she　wouldn't　be　able　to　hold　on　to　the　bottle　or　find　the　right　grip；　wouldn't　be　able　to　work　the　lever…action　trigger；　but　then　she　blindly　squeezed　off　a　stream　of　ammonia。　Unthinking；　she　had　used　her　swollen　trigger　finger；　and　the　flash　of　pain　made　her　dizzy。　She　shifted　her　middle　finger　onto　the　lever　and　squeezed　off　another　blast。
　In　spite　of　her　kicking；　the　injured　dog　bit　through　her　shoe。　Teeth　pierced　her　right　foot。
　Chyna　triggered　another　thick　stream　of　ammonia　toward　her　feet；　yet　another；　and　abruptly　that　Doberman　let　go　of　her。　Both　she　and　the　dog　were　shrieking；　blind　and　shaking　and　living　now　in　the　same　monwealth　of　pain。
　Snapping　teeth。　The　remaining　dog。　Pressing　toward　her　chin；　under　the　visor。　Shap…snap…map。　And　the　eager　hungry　whine。
　She　jammed　the　bottle　in　its　face；　pulled　the　trigger；　pulled；　and　the　dog　scrambled　off　her；　screaming。
　A　few　drops　of　ammonia　penetrated　the　visor　through　the　series　of　small　holes　across　the　center　of　the　pane。　She　wasn't　able　to　see　through　the　fogged　Plexiglas；　and　the　acrid　fumes　made　breathing　difficult。
　Gasping；　eyes　watering；　she　dropped　the　spray　bottle　and　crawled　on　her　hands　and　knees　toward　where　she　thought　the　motor　home　stood。　She　bumped　into　the　side　of　it　and　pulled　herself　to　her　feet。　Her　bitten　foot　felt　hot；　perhaps　because　it　was　soaking　in　the　bathh　of　blood　contained　in　her　shoe；　but　she　could　put　her　weight　on　it。
　Three　dogs　so　far。　If　three；　then　surely　four。　The　fourth　would　be　ing。
　As　the　ammonia　evaporated　from　the　face　shield　and　less　rapidly　from　the　front　of　her　torn　jacket；　the　quantity　of　fumes　decreased　but　not　quickly　enough。　She　was　eager　to　remove　the　helmet　and　draw　an　unobstructed　breath。　She　didn't　dare　take　it　off；　however；　not　until　she　was　inside　the　motor　home。
　Choking　on　ammonia　fumes；　trying　to　remember　to　exhale　downward　under　the　Plexiglas　visor　but　half　blinded　because　her　eyes　wouldn't　stop　watering；　Chyna　felt　along　the　side　of　the　motor　home　until　she　found　the　cockpit　door　again。　She　was　surprised　that　she　could　walk　o