The Library at Mount Char Part 25

"I'm afraid that's not convenient," Steve said, struggling to sound natural. "Tell you what. I'll make it worth your while. How about a hundred bucks? We're not going far." He had no money, but there was the gun. He would apologize later. "You'll be a couple minutes late for your other call, that's all."

"Sorry sir, but I cannot-"

"I'm really in a rush. Me and the kids are meeting my in-laws. My car won't start. There'll be h.e.l.l to pay if I'm late. Tell you what-five hundred."

"Five hundred dollars?" the man asked. "Ah. Now I understand. In my village we called people like yourself the 'shepherds of the s.h.i.t mountain.' Such men were often caned. Good-b-"

"No, wait!" Steve said. "Five hundred dollars, cash! Really. Solemn promise. Plus whatever the fare costs. It won't be even a five-minute ride, I swear."

The man thought about it. "Possibly. What is the address, please?"

That was a tough one. Steve thought frantically. He limped to the kitchen window, peeked out at the mailbox. "Two-eleven Garrison Drive," he said. "In the Garrison Oaks subdivision. Do you know it?"

"Garrison Oaks..." the man said. His voice sounded distant.

"Yeah," Steve said. "Smallish neighborhood, just off Highway 78. Do you know it?"

"Oh, right," he said vaguely. "You know, I do not think I've ever been in there before."

"I'm not surprised," Steve said.

On the other side of the door the dog gave off a low, throaty bark. Another joined in, then another. Soon they were all barking.

"What is that noise?" the cabbie asked.

"Nothing, just my dog."

"He sounds like a very big dog indeed."

"Yeah," Steve said. "He's pretty big. He has separation anxiety. He hates it when I leave him alone."

"You cannot bring this dog in my cab, you understand."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve said.

"All right," the guy said. "For five hundred, I will come myself. I will be there in ten minutes."

"Look, there's one other thing. My, ah, friend is coming with me. He's sort of agoraphobic and-"

"What? He's sick? I do not want a sick man in my taxi, sir."

"No, no. He's not sick. Agoraphobic means he doesn't like being outside. When you get here, pull up as close as you can get, open the door, and honk. Can you do that?"

Long silence. "I do not think I like this, sir."

"What's not to like?" Steve said, eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed. "Five hundred dollars is a pretty good tip." He forced himself to stop talking, gripped the phone with white knuckles.

The dispatcher thought about it for a while. "I'll be there in ten minutes," he said. "Make sure you have the money."

"It's a white-brick house."

"I'm sure it is a very nice one. Make sure you have the money."

The cab pulled up eleven minutes later, a white minivan with a photograph of the Mayan pyramid at Chichen Itz on the side. The driver honked. He didn't pull around to the front door, though. Of course not, Steve thought. That would have been too easy. The dogs lounging in the yard watched all this, but they didn't bark, didn't growl.

Steve, desperate, scrabbled for an idea. Even with just six dogs on the lawn, the thirty feet or so might as well have been a thousand miles. He wouldn't have tried to run for it even if he had been able to run. Limping, carrying a half-grown lion, he would stand absolutely no chance whatsoever.

The cabdriver honked again. Dresden padded over to the front door, sniffed, rumbled. He looked at Steve.

"I'm thinking, dammit!" Seconds dragged out. He looked out the kitchen window. Maybe we could go out through the garage. There was an electric door opener, and- The cabdriver knocked at the door.

Steve and Dresden looked at each other. Steve grinned. "Coming!"

"Sir, please can you hurry? I need to return to my office quickly."

Steve hobbled to the front door and looked out the peephole. The Rottweiler was the only dog on the porch. Thane and five others stood on the lawn, watchful, under sunny blue autumn sky. Steve took the gun out of the holster, put his hand on the doork.n.o.b, did a mental count. Three, two,...

Steve, b.l.o.o.d.y and bandaged, yanked the door open with his right hand and shot the Rottweiler. The dog's head exploded in a crash of blood and thunder. Steve grabbed the cabdriver by the shirt. "Get in!"

Out on the lawn Thane barked, furious.

The cabdriver instinctively raised his hands and went into a little half crouch. "Do not shoot!" He tried to back away. Steve leaned backward with all his weight, yanking the two of them into the foyer. His ankle gave out and he fell over backward. The cabdriver almost fell with him, but recovered.

The dogs were charging the door. Thane's ice-blue eye bore down on him. When his feet touched the sidewalk, Thane leaped and- Steve kicked the door shut with his good foot, as hard as he was able. It slammed shut. A tiny fraction of a second later there was a meaty thud as Thane impacted the door.

Still on his back, Steve spun around on the linoleum to deal with the driver. "Don't move!"

But the man wasn't moving. Dresden, all four hundred pounds of him, stood inches away. The cabdriver was a short, slight Indian man with caramel-colored skin. His eyes stretched wide in terror. His hands hovered near his face in a gesture of surrender, or perhaps self-defense. He was trembling.

"Don't worry," Steve said, striving for a comforting tone. "He doesn't bite."

The cabdriver looked at Steve. "That is a lion."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"You have a gun."

"That's true too."

"Well," the cabdriver said, speaking as if to a very dull child, "why don't you shoot the lion?"

Steve laughed. "Are you kidding? Dresden's my buddy." Then it came to him. YouTube. Christian the lion. "Don't you watch the Internet?"

"What?"

"Never mind. I need your keys."

"What?"

"The keys. To your cab. Give them to me." Steve waggled the gun.

The driver's face fell. "What about my five hundred dollars?"

"Yeah, it turns out I was lying about that. Sorry." He thought for a moment. "Look, I actually am kind of sorry." He gestured at Naga with the gun. "If I don't get her out of here soon, then-never mind. Long story. But supposedly there's a duffel bag full of cash waiting for me back at the other place. How about I mail it to you? I'll make it a thousand."

"I think that you are lying again."

"No, I will. Soon as I can, promise." He would, too. "But right now, I'm going to need your keys. Sorry."

"You will not shoot me?"

"Absolutely not."

The driver glanced down at Dresden. "What about him?"

"He's coming with me. Both of them are."

"Oh. Then, by all f.u.c.king means..." The cabdriver fished around in his pocket for his keys and handed them over. They jingled like the bells of heaven in Steve's hand.

"Thanks, man," Steve said. "Really sorry about all this." Something else occurred to him. "You got a cell phone?" He didn't want the guy to call 911.

"In the cab."

The key was the old-fashioned kind, just a metal key, no Lock or Unlock b.u.t.tons. "Is the cab locked?"

"No."

Steve gestured with the gun. "You better not be lying to me."

"Why would I lock it? I was just going to the front door."

"Yeah, OK." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, thought for a moment. "OK, there's a bathroom right around that corner there. Go inside and shut the door." He saw that the guy's knees were literally trembling. "Look, man...for what it's worth, I'm really sorry about all this. I'm in sort of a situation, and-"

"Yes, I am quite sure. Please go f.u.c.k yourself." The guy backed up a single cautious step. Dresden rumbled a warning.

"No, it's OK, big guy," Steve said. The lion looked at him, confused. Steve put his arm around the smaller man's shoulders, gave him a little man-hug. "It's OK. He's a friend, see?" Then, to the cabdriver. "Go on. Shoo."

The cabbie took one cautious step away, then another, his eyes never leaving Dresden. When he was close enough, he jumped inside the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Steve heard it lock.

Naga was conscious, but she didn't look like she could stand. Steve checked her capillary response again-it was just OK. She had lost some ground. He checked the magazine on the gun-eight rounds, plus one in the chamber. There were seven dogs left. He went back into the living room and sat on the floor next to Naga. He slipped his hands under her, testing her weight. She was very heavy, two hundred pounds or so, but Steve thought he could probably lift her.

"OK," he said to Dresden, "you ready?"

Dresden looked at him quizzically.

Steve jingled the keys, the way he had done when he was going to take Petey for a ride in the car. For a moment his heart ached. He wondered if he would ever see his dog again.

Dresden looked at the keys, still confused.

Steve holstered the gun. He turned to look Dresden in the face. He took a handful of the big lion's mane in his right hand and patted Naga's side with his left. "I. Am. Going. To. Get. Her"-here he patted Naga again-"Out. Of. Here." He pointed at the front door.

Dresden's brow unfurrowed. He roared a little bit, scaring the s.h.i.t out of Steve. Then he stretched out and licked Steve's cheek.

Good enough, Steve thought. He got his arms under Naga. She seemed confused, only semiconscious. I hope she doesn't forget that we're buddies, he thought, and lifted her. She squirmed a bit, then half stood, lifting her forequarters off the living-room floor. Steve ducked under her, lifting at the same time, and managed to get her over his left shoulder in a half-a.s.sed, crouched version of a fireman's carry. Lift with your legs, not your back, he thought, and t.i.ttered hysterically. He strained against her weight, pushing with his good leg and his bad. The pain was exquisite, blinding. He flashed on Carolyn's face and thought, I f.u.c.king hate that b.i.t.c.h! The adrenaline burst from this was just enough to get the lion up.

Once he was standing, it was easier. He took a single cautious step. He held his balance, but only just. He took a second, smaller step, almost hopping with his good leg, dragging the bad one behind him. That was better, if not exactly graceful. Naga, dangling over his back, made some cranky-sounding lion noises. Steve told her to shut the f.u.c.k up.

He inched his way to the door, Dresden following at his flank. The lion's eyes were fixed on the door, and what lay beyond. Yeah, he knows, Steve thought. He understands what we're going to do.

Still weighted down by Naga, he turned and squinted out the peephole. They were now down to six dogs on the lawn, including Thane. Even so. Six is a lot of dogs. This is so going to suck, Steve thought. He looked down at Dresden. "You ready?"

The big lion swished his tail. He did not look at Steve. His face was like something cast in stone. Balancing Naga on his shoulder with his left hand, Steve slipped the pistol out of the holster and held it with his teeth. He tasted gun oil, metallic and alien. He put his hand on the doork.n.o.b, squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. "Showtime," he grunted, throwing the door open.

Thane stood first, barked. Steve took the gun out of his mouth, aimed carefully, and shot him right between the blue and brown eye.

Dresden charged out, roaring. Seeing him, one of the dogs turned and ran the other way. Steve limped across the porch. Dresden launched himself at a big Doberman and landed on it. A second later Steve heard the dog scream. The other three dogs, all big, tore into Dresden wherever they could find a spot-his shoulder, his front leg, his back.

Steve, clutching the iron railing, limped down first one step, then two. Now he was on the sidewalk. On his shoulder, Naga stirred. "Easy girl," he said. The cab was perhaps thirty feet away.

When the Doberman was dead, Dresden turned his attention to the dog biting his right foreleg, a big German shepherd. He lifted his paw, exposing the dog's flank, and tried biting her. He missed the first time, but with his second bite he clamped down on the dog's hind leg. Steve heard a crack. The shepherd screamed.

Three down! Steve thought. We're doing this! He inched his way down the front walk, past one rose bush, then a second. He was twenty feet away from the cab.

Dresden was having trouble reaching the dog on his back. Steve considered shooting it, then decided that, based on his record, he was just as likely to hit the lion as the dog. After a moment, Dresden retargeted. He bent to his right and snapped at the dog on his hindquarters. The dog let go and backed off, circling. It noticed Steve and gave its "Alert!" bark.

The sound of it-rowrowrowrowrowrowrow-echoed down the street. A second later Steve heard toenails clicking on asphalt, first one set, then two, then a stampede. Oh, s.h.i.t. He was fifteen feet away from the cab.

Dresden pounced on the dog who had given the alert. Steve was past them now, so he couldn't see what was happening, but two steps later he heard another scream. Dresden's answering roar burbled through something wet.

Ten feet left.

Steve risked a glance over his shoulder. There was one dog still on Dresden, hanging from his back...but behind him, on the hill, dozens-hundreds-more of them streamed in to take his place. Where could they all be coming from? Steve wondered. There were far too many. Even Dresden could not stand long against such a horde.

"Come on, big guy! Time to get out of here!" Only two feet remained between him and the cab. The cab's door was blessedly, wonderfully unlocked. Steve turned.

Dresden only looked at him. He was surrounded by corpses. The final dog, a Doberman, hung from his mane, scrabbling and growling. The lion made no move.

"Come on!" Steve screamed again. He took another step and b.u.mped into the cab, almost losing his balance. Muscles trembling against Naga's weight, he slid the minivan's door back. "Come on!"

Steve looked over his shoulder to see what was keeping the lion. "What the h.e.l.l are you doing? Come on!"

Dresden shrugged off the Doberman. Victorious now, he watched as Steve lay his daughter down in the backseat with a whoosh of deflating vinyl upholstery, watched as Steve slid the door shut. She is safe now. His yellow eyes met Steve's. Dresden, who was a king as of the old age, swished his tail-just once. Then, deliberately, he turned to face the coming dogs. Every muscle stood out in stark relief. He roared. The sound echoed down the street, bouncing off the neat suburban houses and well-manicured hedges with the force of dynamite. The dogs flowed at him like a tide, bottomless and unstoppable.

Dresden charged them.

Steve froze for a moment, feeling small, unable to look away from the forces at work before him. Carolyn's words came to him. They will protect you as if you were their own cub. Dresden smashed into the wave of dogs, a cannon shot of fury and blood. He's stalling them. He's delaying them for Naga...and for me. Then, channeling Celia's voice: Don't waste it, a.s.shole.

Steve shook his head, forced himself to look away, opened the door, took his place in the driver's seat.