I was walking down the main street. I didn't care if anyone saw me. I hoped they did. I didn't have to worry about the watch on the roof this time. I had just thrown him off it a minute ago.
Beyond me the dogs, led by Woof, came up fast at a trot. One of them, the biggest Rottweiler, had the arm, well one of the Escorts arms, I couldn't tell if was the one I had removed, locked in his mouth. He looked rather pleased with himself too.
I stopped for a couple beats to let them catch up while I listened to their claws scratch the asphalt and their breath being expelled from their lungs in deep rhythmic pants. I told Woof when he caught up "Damn. People call me a fast eater. What did you do? Woof it down." He wagged his tail, and I laughed. I was really starting to like Woof.
The house down from the main house had a garage. The doors were open and the hood of a truck stuck out maybe a half a foot. It looked like it was a pretty decent size one. Hopefully it ran. I had 30 miles to go and I didn't want to walk it unless I had too. I was about halfway to it when someone took a shot at me from the open window of the house next to it. They missed.
I had the 30-30 in a sling but I didn't even think of it. I was beginning to wonder why I carried it. I filled my hand with Ruger at the same I burst into a run and snapped off two quick shots. I ran straight at the house. As I did a couple of the dogs barked. In joy or because of the noise I didn't know. I did know they were loud. I was just as loud as I yelled "Freya!" and tried to do a 360 scan as I ran.