Wolf Hunt Read Online Free PDF Page A

a
loud yip and violently shook its body, shaking off gasoline as if
it had just jumped out of an unwanted bath.
    George kicked the snarling rat terrier
out of the way.
    Even more barking. Another frickin' Doberman
was running toward him. And behind it, some large brown-and-white
dog of a breed that George couldn't identify. What the hell was
going on?
    He kicked the rat terrier again. It
latched onto his leg, biting but not breaking through the fabric of
his pants. He didn't want to douse a dog with gasoline unless
absolutely necessary, so he swung his leg as hard as he could,
hurling the dog into the air. It landed on its side, yipped, got
back up, and rushed at him again, so he sprayed it.
    There wasn't time to get back inside
the van before the other two dogs reached him, so he held the fuel
pump like a pistol. He had a real one in a holster under his shirt,
and this was one of those moments where he wasn't particularly
concerned about the locals knowing he had a gun, but shooting
around spilled gasoline was never a good idea, even if the
resulting explosion would most likely take care of his psycho dog
problem.
    He heard Lou's door open. "Stay in there!"
George shouted.
    He sprayed the second Doberman, getting the
unfortunate canine right in the eyes. Its wail of pain hurt
George's ears and his conscience, but the dog didn't veer from its
prey. It leapt into the air, striking George in the chest and
knocking him down onto the cement.
    He threw his arm over his eyes to protect
them, blinking away tears as the gasoline fumes hit him hard. The
dog's head jerked around as if it were having an epileptic fit, but
it got a good solid bite on George's chest. He punched the dog in
the face with his left fist, then bashed it on the side of the head
with the fuel pump.
    Had it broken the skin? Did
he now have rabies? Did they still treat that with
several painful shots in the stomach?
    The woman screamed, though George couldn't
see what happened to her.
    He could see, however, that Lou was
standing a few feet away, holding his own pistol.
    George tried to wave him away, but the
Doberman's jaws clamped onto his wrist. "Don't shoot! Gas!"
    Lou, thank God, behaved intelligently and did
not shoot. He grabbed the dog by its leather collar and strained to
drag it off of George. The Doberman let go of George's wrist but
its nails raked across his chest as his partner slowly pulled the
thrashing animal away. Then Lou slammed it against the van. Once,
twice, three times, four times, five times, and then the Doberman
stopped struggling.
    George had to kick the rat terrier
again.
    The brunette's car door was open and she was
halfway inside, but the brown-and-white dog was inside with her,
tearing at her flesh as she shrieked in terror.
    George quickly got up, forcing himself not to
look at his wrist. Another small dog, some kind of mutt, came at
him. George's tendencies toward being pro-animal-rights were not as
passionate now as they'd been sixty seconds ago, and he blasted the
little bastard with enough gas that it ran off-course and smacked
into the van's back tire instead of him.
    The woman flailed and kicked at the dog, but
she couldn't get it out of her car. George's moral code allowed for
breaking an old man's fingers, and for driving an accused werewolf
across the state in a cage, and for use of gasoline as a blinding
agent against dogs when necessary, but it did not allow for
watching an innocent woman get savaged by an out-of-control
animal.
    "You get in the car," said Lou, waving him
back as he hurried toward the woman. "I've got this."
    "What the hell is going on?" a square-faced,
middle-aged man demanded, voice filled with panic. He'd come out of
the convenience store and held a rifle.
    "Get back inside!" George shouted.
    But the man's moral code, much like
George's, apparently did not include a clause about hiding in a
store when somebody was being attacked. He took a few steps toward
the woman's car, then stopped and took aim at