The dark-haired one reached around to the back of his jeans and pulled out something shiny and sharp looking. Whatever doubts I might have had before about motives evaporated.
Odin growled again before he took a couple steps to move himself between me and the two teen boys. I put an end to that immediately because the last thing I needed was for the dog to get knifed. I wasn’t in any shape to drive him to the vet. I cut him off with my legs, forcing his bulk behind my knees and partially into the rock garden.
“How about you give me your wallet,” the kid on the right said. “Maybe then I’ll decide not to leave you and the pooch bleeding in the street.”
I debated telling him that the street was a good hundred yards away but decided against it. The other dude snickered, and I just shook my head a little. That action caused enough vapor trails to make me stop moving immediately. Taking a step back, I almost tripped over the damn dog again.
“The dude’s fucked up,” the red-haired kid said. I couldn’t help but look at his hair and remember David Hasselhoff in Piranha 3-DD. He had played himself in the ridiculously campy horror movie Jonathan once made me watch. In the movie, he kept going off on a little red-headed kid who was too stupid to live through to the end. He kept calling him by the same nickname throughout – little ginger moron.
I heard myself snicker.
“You think this is funny?” the darker kid asked.
“Now that I think about it, yeah,” I answered. “You gonna knife me and the dog here in the park and then drag us over to the street? What exactly does that accomplish for ya?”
My vision blurred again, and the next thing I knew, there was a sharp pain in my side and I dropped to my knees on the cement as Odin let out a short bark.
There was just no way this night could get worse.
Chapter 4 – Patient Research
I landed on the ground, not because of the hit – it wasn’t that hard, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought a rib might be bruised – but because my body decided it was just the right time to get rid of the alcohol in my system.
Fortitude only goes so far, and I wasn’t able to hold it in any longer.
My mind tried to count the number of shots I must have done with Jim, the security guy, as I retched into the shrubs near the edge of the park. The commotion going on around me barely made sense as I fertilized the rock garden and reminded myself over and over again why I didn’t make a habit of drinking too much.
I hated puking.
Just hated it.
Even when I was a kid, the very notion of puking was abhorrent. The slightest feeling of nausea had been enough to nearly send me into a panic attack, and if I had an actual stomach bug, I would cry and scream between stomach heaves. I honestly thought major organs or other important bits of my insides would come out if I threw up too much. I remembered the feeling of terror and helplessness as I knelt over the grimy porcelain bowl at the convent and tried to keep my insides actually on the inside of me.
There was one nun who would smack me and tell me to stop being such a baby; I think I had been about four at that time. Needless to say, that didn’t help me get over my fear of vomiting, and though adulthood had given me a more realistic perspective on the whole thing, I still hated it with a passion.
By the time I was starting to get a bit of control back, everything seemed to have quieted down. It didn’t make any sense at all, but the commotion that had been all around me as I was sick had vanished. The scent from the ground below me was nearly enough to make me puke again, so I started pushing myself backwards and onto the walkway – trying to get away from the stench in hopes of saving myself. My knees scraped the rough asphalt, and I cringed as I finally regained enough sense to look around me.
Odin sat next to me, wagging his tail and lolling his tongue to one side.
Some guard dog.
He tried to lick my face, which was just disgusting. I pushed him away as a pair of feet came into view right in front of me. Dirty tennis shoes and bright white socks over hairy calves bounced around in my vision as my head spun in a steady circle. I knew I needed to lift my head to see who it was, but I didn’t have quite enough muscle control.
“You look like shit,” a familiar voice said.
My fingers rubbed into my eyes to try to un-blur my vision while the other hand wiped a sleeve across my mouth. It took a minute, but I was finally able to look around with some clarity only to find both the kids who had come after me were gone. In their place, Terry Kramer was grinning down at me.
“What the…” I shook my head, earning me more woozy feelings in my head and stomach. Terry blurred in and out of existence while I tried to keep myself from puking again. With herculean effort, I swallowed back bile and willed myself not to be sick as I looked up at Terry. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass,” he replied with a big grin.
I looked around, but I didn’t see the two kids anywhere. There was a little switchblade-style knife lying on the walkway next to the grass a couple of yards away, but no one around to wield it. Looking over the park, I saw no signs of anyone walking around, so they must have gone around the front of the building. It didn’t make sense – they had come from the park.
“Great timing I got, huh?” Terry said as I forced myself back onto my feet.
Wobbling slightly, I reached down to Odin’s neck and grabbed a hold of his collar. My fingers worked their way around to the edge to the leash, and I wrapped my hand around it. He wasn’t going anywhere, but I needed something to help ground me. I kind of needed him to help get me off the ground, too.
With shaking knees and Odin as leverage, I managed to stand up but continued to stare at the concrete as it spun around in my vision. I had to focus. I had to get the shit out of my system, so my body would stop revolting against me.