“What? What is it?” I walked over to him and put a gentle hand on his back. He’d got the scent of something. A deer?
He inhaled noisily, nose twitching, and then suddenly he bolted. I lurched forward to grab him but he was gone, moving as fast as I’d ever seen him go. “Rufus!” I yelled. “Get back here!”
But he plunged into the trees. Goddammit! What was the matter with him? He knew better than to run off after a rabbit or a squirrel. “Rufus!”
He didn’t stop. I could hear him crashing through the undergrowth, going flat out. What the hell had he smelled?
I cursed and sprinted after him.
6
Bethany
I STAGGERED into a clearing and looked around wildly as I heaved for air. Everything looked the same! I couldn’t tell if I was following a straight line or running in circles and where was I going, anyway? I was deep in the woods, far from any roads, and even if I did find one, the chances of seeing a car I could flag down was practically zero.
A noise behind me made me spin around. Flashlight beams swept and lanced between the trees. I ran for the far side of the clearing but before I reached it, my legs finally buckled from exhaustion and I stumbled and went down. I clawed at the ground, fingers sinking into soft soil, and managed to get to my knees and crawl. But then I heard someone burst out of the trees behind me and suddenly I was pinned by a flashlight beam. I gave a choking, desperate sob and turned around. Three guards were running across the clearing towards me.
I slumped, panting. It was over.
Something sprang out of the trees behind me, charged across the clearing and stopped between the guards and me. And then it gave an almighty bark.
What?!
The flashlight beam found it. I caught a glimpse of black and tan fur and a powerful body. A dog. A German Shepherd, like Rufus—
Then I saw the faint scars on its legs. That is Rufus!
The guards started toward me. Rufus lowered his head, hackles rising. I’d never seen him in guard mode before. He bared his teeth, showing off just how long they were. His muscles coiled, ready to spring, and a noise came from his throat that I wouldn’t have believed he was capable of making, a growl that was like a knife being drawn slowly over the teeth of a chainsaw.
The guards cursed and stopped moving.
How is this possible? What was Rufus doing, all the way out here?
The guards were muttering to each other, discussing what to do. “Just shoot the fucking thing,” one of them said at last. Another reached for his gun.
I lurched forward, frantic, and threw my arms around Rufus. “No! Don’t hurt him!” My mind was still spinning, trying to catch up. How could Rufus be here?
Unless…
A voice filled the clearing. A voice heavy and rough as rock and filled with such raw, protective fury that the three guards froze instantly.
“Get the hell away from her!” growled Cal as he stepped from the trees.
7
Bethany
HE MARCHED across the clearing, unafraid and unhurried, each big stride taking him closer to the guards. As he passed me, he glanced down and the concern in his eyes made me catch my breath.
Then he looked at the guards and his jaw tightened. He kept marching towards them, putting himself between them and Rufus and me.
The flashlight beam moved to Cal and I saw the guards size him up. They looked at his plaid shirt and muddy jeans and I saw them roll their eyes. A local. Sure, he was big and he had a rifle, but it was slung on his back, and it was one against three. “This is nothing to do with you,” said one of the guards. His city accent sounded out of place, here.
“Get away from her,” Cal repeated, as if the guard hadn’t spoken. His voice was low, but it had an authority the guard could only dream of. He kept walking.
“You don’t want to get involved in this,” the guard told him. He sounded nervous, now. Cal wasn’t stopping and the closer he got, the more intimidating his size was. “So just turn around and wa—”
“Get away from her,” snapped Cal, cutting him off. “That’s three times I’ve told you.” He finally stopped, no more than ten feet from the guards, and just stood there in the flashlight beam. He was outnumbered three to one and yet while the guards shifted nervously from foot to foot, he stood there like a rock.
“You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know who we work for,” the guard told him.
“Don’t especially care,” rumbled Cal.
And then the guard made a mistake: he reached towards his holster.
It was like a magic trick. One second, Cal was just standing there, hands by his sides. The next, his rifle was up to his shoulder, leveled right at the guard’s head. The blood drained from the guard’s face. I gaped. Where did he learn to do that?