The field was planted with potatoes. Running across it was like running on oversized cobblestones which want to throw your foot to the side, and the leaves were knee high, as good as thick whips which slapped against our legs and threatened to tangle our ankles, and snap them for intruding.
Stephi, she had long, thin legs; they always looked delicate and fragile, but, like a deer’s, they were perfectly suited to the bounding style needed to cut through the sea of stems and leaves, and she had no problem leading the way.
Jojo was to the side of me, shouting “Bradley—save me! Help! She’s chasing me!” in a high pitched, little girl voice. He thought he was funny until his foot must have caught, or the tilt of the furrows threw him off balance, because with a “Fuck!” and a thump, he was gone from my side.
I slowed down, twisting round to see if he was all right, but there was no sign of him.
“No turning back,” Stephi said. “Keep running.”
Hell, yeah, this was Jojo. He’d be waiting for us when we finished the circuit; waiting to helped back home, and then he’d have his ankle strapped up for months, and telling tales of how he escaped Cassie’s hold.
It was then he exploded from the leaves, and sprinted to catch up, screaming a perversely screechy, “B-r-a-d-l-e-y!” and he was all laughs, again.
I picked up my pace to keep up with Stephi, and the field turned to flat land as we neared the barn. Running was easier not having to shift our weight between the sides of the furrows, and we scooted along the side of the barn, three shadows flitting through the night, maybe going too fast for the poor light conditions. A discarded metal watering can was hidden in the dark—and it would have stayed that way if Jojo’s foot hadn’t found it and sent it rolling and clattering across the concrete yard. For a moment, I expected him to shout, ‘G-o-o-o-o-a-l!” but even Jojo wasn’t that dumb, not now we were closing in on the farmhouse—he just limped and hopped, cursing and wincing.
But the clatter of the watering can hadn’t gone unheard. A dog barked inside the house, and we all froze and hit the crouched low. This wasn’t a yap, or a yelp.
It was real bark.
A deep, snarling bark.
The bark of a hefty sized dog.
“Shit,” Stephi said.
“Dog?” Jojo crouched lower. “Nobody mentioned a dog.”
Stephi looked back the way we’d come, and sighed. “That’s because there’s never been one before,” she said.
Jojo grunted and assessed the situation in a flash. “We’re fucked,” he said.
17 Jan 2008
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