Second Nature

Chapter 53

53 

Lana's universe contracted to a single, diamond-hard focus: her niece's life. She leapt from the car and ran to where she'd watched Haven sprawl headlong into the grass. Lana's soul had stopped dead in suspense. She ran ahead as an empty body, waiting to learn the truth. If Haven was alive, the world might go on; if Haven was dead, the world was already lost. 

She found the girl crawling through the tall grass. Haven looked up at her like Lana was crazy. "Get down, Aunt Lana. Like they do in the movies. He's shooting at us." 

Lana's soul started up again. She became aware of her heart hammering in her chest. She flung herself down on all fours over top of Haven, shielding the girl with her body while they scurried downhill toward the pond. 

A plume of grass and dirt erupted into the air in front of them. 

"Hold it right there," the man yelled down from the hilltop. "I can shoot you both from here. Or you can get back up here and we can talk." 

Another geyser of debris exploded only a couple feet from their heads. 

"I'm not fooling around. Get back up here. Now." 

Lana could see the whites around Haven's terrified eyes, and she fought down her own panic for the child's sake. Another bullet tore into the grass, a foot away. The dirt stung her face. 

"We better do what he says," Lana said, making her voice seem calm. "I'll find a way out of this." She willed her hands to stop shaking. Then she took Haven's hand and led her back, keeping the girl partly behind her.  

When they reached the hilltop, the big man limped toward them, dragging his fractured right foot. Blood streaked his boxy face beneath his broken nose.  

"Been faking people out all these years about your legs, huh?" Pain thickened his voice. "What'd you do, rip off an insurance company, get a ton of money? I'd love to hear how you pulled off that scam. Jeez, must've been some brain-dead people on that case." 

Lana said nothing, studying everything about the guy. He was in pain. He was tired. He was embarrassed and furious that she'd almost beat him. Where was the chink in his armor? 

"Into the house," he said, and nodded with his head, instead of pointing with his gun. So he was not stupid. His heavily muscled build was turning to fat, but he'd moved incredibly fast when he rolled out of the way of the car. 

"Who are you?" she said. 

"The Grim Reaper, lady, that's all you need to know. Now get inside. Move it." He winced as he followed them up the porch steps, pulling himself up with his left hand on the railing. His right foot flopped and he sucked in his breath several times and groaned. 

Before he entered the front door, he scoped the foyer out quickly, like a trained policeman or soldier, then moved inside right behind them. He made the same surveillance of the living room, then ordered the two of them to shove the cartons onto the floor and sit on the sofa.  

Lana still held Haven's hand. She glanced around for a weapon, a shield, a rabbit hole to duck down-anything. Stacked boxes formed towers and canyons, spilling into the hall. The Steuban glass stallion that Cade had left unpacked stood on a lamp table beside her.  

Cade had placed Snapper's birdcage in the living room while they boxed up items in the screened porch off the kitchen. Now the macaw was beating his wings frenziedly and squawking his green-and-yellow head off.  

"Fucking bird," the man said. "That's why I hate parrots, never shut up." 

He kept an eye on Lana and Haven while he shuffled painfully to the birdcage. He glared through the bars. "Shut the fuck up." Snapper kept up an ear-shattering racket. "I once saw a guy at a carnival bite a pigeon's head clean off. You want me bite your head off?"  

Snapper had learned to bark by imitating Newpod, and now his cacophony ranged between squawking, screeching and barking. 

"How 'bout I just wring your friggin' neck?" The man tried to unlatch the cage door with his free hand, but couldn't manage. 

It takes two hands, Lana thought. Two hands. Put the gun down.  

The man stuffed the gun in his pocket and pried the stiff door until it popped open.  

Get him, Snapper. Nail him. 

Snapper rocketed into the man's face, slashing with his talons, pecking and crushing with his beak. The man staggered back, clawing at the feathered blur of fury that shredded his face. He banged into a stack of boxes, lost his balance, sprawled backward and thudded into the wall, slid sideways into the doorway, still trying to fling the parrot away. Snapper gouged at his eyes and hung on. 

Lana yanked Haven off the couch, ready to flee, but the man's body blocked the exit to the hallway. He dug into his pocket for his gun. 

At that moment, Newpod came charging through the kitchen door with a fierce snarl, fangs bared. The golden retriever leapt over a row of boxes like Rin Tin-Tin and tore into the man's legs. The man kicked Newpod hard with his left foot, knocking the dog away. Newpod yelped, but lunged right back into the battle, sinking his fangs into the man's ankle, which had swollen like a water balloon. The man howled in agony and tried to force the dog's jaws apart, but Newpod clamped tighter and whipped his head back and forth like he was going nuts with a chew toy. 

Lana grabbed the heavy glass stallion and charged the man like a banshee, smashing the artwork down on his head once, twice, again, again, until it shattered and the man quit thrashing and lay still. 

Snapper flapped up to the ceiling, circled in a panic, then flew out into the hallway. One of the man's eyeballs lay halfway out on his cheek, like a torn turtle egg, leaking eggwhite. 

"Newpod," Lana said. "Heel." But the snarling dog wouldn't obey. He ripped at the fractured ankle, splayed open to the white bone. Lana grabbed the dog by the collar and dragged him back. "It's okay, boy. It's okay. You did good. You're a good boy. Good boy. Now let go. Let go, Newpod. Good boy." 

The dog finally calmed down enough to let go. Lana dropped to her knees and hugged his blood-soaked fur and bawled. "Good boy. Good boy." Newpod whimpered and yawned with fear. Haven stepped past them and Lana grabbed the girl's arm. "What are you doing? Stay back." 

"I'm getting his gun. In his pocket." 

"No you're not. We're going right out the front door. Come on." She took Haven's hand. "Run." 

They raced out of the house and down the porch steps, then stopped abruptly on the path leading to the marina. 

In the gathering darkness the crowd surging up the hill from the beach looked like a column of army ants.