Surprise attack

“Who’s there?” Reva repeated sharply.

“It’s me,” a voice said finally. A boy’s voice. Hank’s voice.

She made a disgusted face and reluctantly pulled open the door. A cold rush of air blew into the room as Hank, smiling, walked past her into the entryway.

“Hank, what do you want?” Reva asked coldly.

He wore a bulky, fifties-style overcoat, unbuttoned, revealing a gray sweatshirt underneath. His spiky, blond hair caught the light from above.

He continued to smile warmly at her, as if nothing had happened between them, as if she hadn’t broken up with him so cruelly. “Can we talk for a few minutes?” he asked almost shyly.

“What for?” Reva asked, blocking his way into the living room.

“I-I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, his expression serious. “I left messages on your machine. You didn’t call me back.”

“I know,” Reva said, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you should’ve taken the hint.”

She walked past him to the front door, pushed open the storm door, and held it for him. “Good night, Hank.”

He brushed past her and went out onto the front porch. “I just want to ask you something,” he said quietly, avoiding her eyes. “A favor. Not about us. Okay?”

Warily she followed him out onto the porch but didn’t say anything. Another blast of cold air made his heavy overcoat flap noisily. He pulled it tighter.

“What’s the favor? Hurry up. It’s freezing,” Reva said impatiently.

“I’m sorry, Reva. This isn’t easy for me.”

“What do you want?” Reva asked, unwilling to soften her tone. What was he doing here anyway? She was finished with him. Finished.

“I—uh—heard you were giving out jobs. I—uh—wondered if there are any left,” Hank said, blushing. “You know. At your father’s store.”

Reva laughed cruelly. “For you?”

“I could really use a job, Reva. This was hard for me—to come here tonight. You know? Okay, so you don’t want to go out with me anymore. All right. But if there are jobs available, I thought...” His voice trailed off. Reva’s cold glare wasn’t making it any easier for him.

“I don’t think so, Hank,” she said quietly.

“Huh?” He stared at her, not believing her casual cruelty.

“I don’t think so,” she repeated, not bothering to hide her amusement.

With an angry cry he grabbed her arm. “What is your problem?” he screamed.

“Let go of me,” Reva ordered.

But he gripped her arm even tighter. Seething with anger, he glared at her. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Let go!” she cried, more angry than frightened. And then suddenly she put her teeth together and whistled, a piercing, high-pitched, steady tone.

Hank’s eyes opened wide in surprise, in confusion, and he dropped her arm.

A second later the shrubs beside the house began to rustle.

Then they both heard a low growl, a frightening sound that rapidly became louder, closer.

And roaring out of the darkness came King, the Dalby’s guard dog, their well-trained Doberman, obeying his attack signal, Reva’s whistle.

The dog had ignored Hank earlier because Hank was a familiar guest at the Dalby house. But now this was the signal. Time to attack.

The dog’s eyes flared red. Then, snarling with automatic rage, the enormous Doberman raised its powerful front paws and leapt against Hank’s chest.

Hank cried out, stumbling two steps backward. “Reva—stop him!”

Ignoring Hank’s cries, Reva moved away, her eyes wide with excitement.

The snarling dog snapped its jaws against the sleeve of Hank’s overcoat.

Hank jerked his arm away, gained his balance, and took off across the lawn. The dog followed, furiously leaping at Hank’s back, biting at Hank’s legs.

Reva watched from the porch, waiting until Hank was all the way to the street before she gave a second whistle, signaling the dog to cease its attack.

Hearing the whistle, the Doberman stopped in its tracks as if its Power switch had been turned off. Panting loudly, it turned and stared expectantly up the lawn at Reva.

Hank pulled open his car door and started to climb inside. But realizing his attacker had been called off, he stopped and, holding on to the car door, stared back at Reva.

She could see the anger on his face illuminated by the light from inside the car.

“I’ll pay you back!” he yelled. “Reva—do you hear me?”

Reva laughed scornfully. “Don’t you like to play with King?” she called. She tilted her head back and whistled loudly again.

Instantly the Doberman sprang to life, deep growls signaling its violent intent.

Reva watched as Hank dove behind the wheel and slammed the car door. A few seconds later he peeled away, leaving the howling, disappointed attack dog at the curb.

Reva hurried back into the house, closed and locked the door behind her. She shivered.

Hank was so ridiculous, she thought. The look on his face when he realized the dog was after him!

What a laugh! Reva thought. What a laugh!

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20