“Don’t worry,” I say. He looks at me like I’m insane. “Trust me.” I make my hands into a step for him and he looks at me like I’m even more insane. The dogs are getting really close though, so I drop the sweet voice. “Just trust me. Hurry.” He points at the razor wire at the top of the fence.
“I’ll be cut to shreds, Lola, you’re nuts!” he screams.
“Damn it, Adrian, you’ll make it. I promise!” I scream back at him. And then I point at the dogs a few yards away. “Would you rather be torn to shreds by those?” Adrian turns and sees how close the dogs are.
“SHIT!” he screams and puts his foot in my hands. I lever him over the fence, and I totally overcompensate with the adrenaline pumping through my veins and he goes flying WAY over the fence. I’m horrified that he’ll break his neck on the way down, so instead of being smart and jumping over myself I watch him fly through the air. He crash-lands safely into a mound of dirt and sand just as the SUV pulls up. I’m about to go over myself when one of the dogs jumps my back. The force of it sends me to the ground and it sinks its teeth into my neck. I yank away from it, tearing up my shoulder and leaving a whole layer of flesh in the dog’s mouth. I clamp one hand over the gushing wound and hear Adrian cry out, “NO!” as I try to get up. Before I can however I get hit by a second dog, and what feels like a third bites into my back. A fourth joins in and lays into my right calf; I kick that one off with my left foot and it makes a high-pitched yelp as it goes flying in the air. I can hear footsteps and voices in the distance trying to catch up with the dogs and I figure if I can just throw the dogs off and get over the fence and into the car I’ll be fine, but then I hear the tires squeal as the car drives away at an accelerated rate. I look up to see if Adrian at least is waiting for me on the other side. Of course, there’s nothing.
Nobody.
I’m alone.
I turn, roughly, throwing two of the dogs off me, and the first lunges at me again. I catch the dog by its jaws and pull in opposite directions, breaking the jaw and killing it instantly. I throw the corpse at the two running toward me, hitting one with the body and sending it shooting backward. The other jumps at me and I swing my fist at it mid-jump, connecting beautifully with the face, smashing it to pieces. The third dog that I’d hit with the corpse is heading back my way, albeit a bit more slowly, and the fourth dog has maybe given up, limping away with a broken leg. Dog number three launches itself at me just as I’m about to make a jump for the fence. I pull up short and we circle each other, the dog and I, trying to measure each other up. I lurch forward and it steps back. When my back is toward the fence the dog leaps at me and it leaps high enough that I go under it slightly and set it into the air like a massive, furry, teethy volleyball. It goes over the fence, but just barely, and when it comes down it lands in the razor wire with a howl. I plant my feet and go over the fence myself, and take off running just as the guards open fire. They chase me along the fence line, firing wildly. I keep the pace nice and light for a few seconds until one of them clips me in the arm. I yell back at them. “You need some new fucking dogs! Those other ones are dead!” And then I kick my speed into high gear and leave them in my dust.
I slow my pace a few miles away from the facility and sit down near some weeds to give my body a chance to heal. My neck wound is critical. It takes almost half an hour, but when my neck is in reasonable shape I begin running again and don’t stop until I can see the Vegas lights big and bright in the darkness.
It’s time to move on. After I kill my old crew, of course.
When I get back to our rendezvous point, the old Spanish restaurant, the car is parked in the back, as per usual. They obviously think I’m dead or they wouldn’t have come back here. I go up on the roof, as for maybe the first time ever I am slightly more curious than I am pissed. Actually that’s a lie, I’m like royally pissed, but my curiosity gets the better of my anger. There’s a skylight in the back room and so I kneel at the edge and watch and listen. There’s no talk of me. No remorse, no concern, no animated discussion as to whether we should ‘go back for Lola’ – nothing. To Adrian’s credit, he looks quite miserable, but whether that’s because he’s left his girlfriend to get eaten alive by dogs or because he’s broken his wrist I can’t be sure. Mostly they’re just dividing up the take as usual, discussing their payday.
I sit back and try to think. I’ve been discovering, much to my dismay, that I’m not a criminal mastermind or anything. I’m just brute force and my powers in no way include super-intelligence, which kind of pisses me off. I mean, I guess it’s possible I’ll get smarter with time, but at 16 I’m still clearly just muscle, to myself and to everyone else.