dk.intensity-第53章

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etamorphosis　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　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　th