compact, it was the perfect concealed weapon, fitting easily and unobtrusively into his pocket. There had been a couple of drug deals where it had come in handy, but primarily, Frank just enjoyed the advantage that the weapon would confer if necessary. As he ran his fingers over the barrel and trigger, he wondered whether or not he would have to use it tonight. Probably not, he reasoned. That redheaded bitch can’t help but give me what I want when she sees it, though, Frank smiled sadistically as he removed his hand from his pocket and shifted his attention to other details.
Then the nylon rope came to mind. Where had he put it? He felt for sure that it would be necessary, especially if the boyfriend was around. “Where the hell is that fucking rope?” Frank muttered as he groped through the dark vehicle. “Goddamn it, I’m sure I didn’t forget that!” he cursed as he searched further through the Corolla. “Ah, there you are, you little fucker,” he sputtered, breathing a sigh of relief as his hand brushed against the coil of rope on the floor behind the passenger seat. “Damn, you ’bout gave me a heart attack, you little bastard!” Frank glared threateningly at the rope as if it were an unwilling accomplice. “Now where’s my ski mask?” he growled, again canvasing the Toyota until he found it on the floor behind the driver’s seat, next to his small backpack. Organization and planning were not two of his strong suits, but tonight it appeared that he had what was needed. “Better put the fucking gun in the backpack along with this other stuff,” he grumbled, “or I’m likely to shoot my leg off by accident!” As he undid the pack and reached down inside, his hand felt a bottle in the bottom, which brought a grin to his face. “Forgot I brought ole Jim along for company!” he laughed as he opened the bottle and took a long swig. “Ummm…that’s more like it!” he reassured himself as he placed all of his “tools” into the backpack, where they would be safe. He finally emerged from the car, slipped the pack over his shoulder, and shut the door quietly as he turned to walk across the street toward the town house.
Avoiding the streetlight, Frank moved around the right corner of the fourth town house and stealthily to the back of the complex. The woods were pretty thick back there, and almost up to the decks of the town houses, but he shuffled as quietly as he could through the limbs and leaves. His left foot felt some resistance, and a sharp crackling sound startled him as the fallen limb beneath his boot yielded to his advance. “Shit,” Frank hissed under his breath, “why the hell didn’t I remember to bring a flashlight?” He tried to make out some sort of pathway through the woods before him, but the trees were so thick, and now with the moon behind the clouds, he could scarcely see his own hand in front of his face.
Suddenly, Frank had the uncanny feeling that he wasn’t alone back there. Almost immediately his ears detected a low menacing growl approximately twenty feet to his left. With no further warning, a large dog, apparently on the deck of the last town house, began barking ferociously and loud enough to be heard all the way to the children’s hospital.
Frank froze in his tracks. Sweat quickly beaded on his forehead, and he swallowed hard, wondering what to do next. For what seemed like an eternity, he didn’t move a muscle and tried his best to breathe shallowly, if at all. He knew any minute floodlights would come on and he had no real hope of escape. Ten, fifteen, twenty seconds went by with the dog still barking, but no lights. Then a glimmer of hope flickered through Frank’s brain. Maybe no one is at home, he thought, and I’ve only got to deal with this miserable dog. Another 10 seconds with no sound or movement from Frank and the dog finally stopped. He knew the animal sensed his presence, however, and from the sound of him, it was a big dog. Frank weighed his options. Apparently, no one home, that’s a relief, but after a couple of Frank burgers, that fucking dog’ll be gnawing on my bones in about 10 minutes. It’s so damn dark I can’t see shit, even what that goddamn dog looks like. Sounds like a Doberman to me, though. Jesus, I hate those dogs! That motherfucker would just as soon tear my ass apart if he could. Those last three words stuck in Frank’s brain. That’s it! he exclaimed to himself, he can’t! Must be tied up or something, or I would already have been dinner. Dammit, I wish I could see him!
Just then, almost as if by command, the clouds momentarily parted and Frank’s wish was granted. To his left, on the deck of the last town house, about fifteen feet away, was the biggest, blackest Doberman Frank had ever seen. His teeth were bared, visible in stark relief against a canopy of black. Two steely black eyes, reflecting the moon in each pupil, likewise pierced the black veil and were menacingly fixed on his position. In the moonlight, the dog saw Frank as well, and once again began a low, threatening growl. Frank glanced quickly in the distance and could make out the nurse’s deck about 30 feet down and to his left. The trees were pretty heavy up to about two feet from the deck steps, and he knew there was no way to approach it silently. The growling intensified on his left flank, bringing his attention immediately back to that area. Then, as quickly as it had come, the moon was gone, but not before he saw, or thought he saw, a glimmer of something metallic behind the dog. God, is that a chain? Frank questioned his brief vision—something had caught his eye, but he couldn’t say for sure. As best as he could under the circumstances, he struggled for logic, although in the panic of the moment he seemed to have completely forgotten about the Beretta in his backpack. If the dog is free, he reasoned, he’ll get me whether I go forward or back. If he’s not, I may as well go for it, ’cause he can’t hurt me, and so far, at least, it doesn’t look like anyone’s home at either place. Besides, if I don’t do it now, that sweet little cunt may never taste ol’ Frank’s hot, creamy cocktail. Oh yeah…the very thought of her struggling to protect her feminine delights from his rapacious advances excited Frank all the more, and he began to notice a familiar bulge between his legs.
A twig snapping under the weight of his left foot, however, quickly extinguished that fantasy, as all hell quickly broke loose once again. The dog’s front feet were on the rail, his body arching in a struggle to clear it. His growl and barking had intensified from ferocious to just plain terrifying, leaving no doubt of his intentions. “Fuck it,” Frank swore as he broke into a dead run. “If he gets me, he’s gonna have to catch me first!”
Luckily, the clouds broke again for a few seconds, giving him a quick fix on the nurse’s back deck. The lunging, barking, and growling continued unabated as he zigzagged through the woods, avoiding limbs and briar thickets, honing in on his destination. As Frank glanced back over his shoulder, the dog again lunged toward him, then halted almost in midair. It was then that he got a clear view of the chain stretched taut, glimmering in the few brief seconds of moonlight and preventing the dog’s exit from the porch. Frank lunged for the steps, cleared all three of them, and collapsed on the deck, gasping for air, silently cursing all the while. Decades of abuse had rendered his body largely incapable of this sort of activity, or almost any activity, for that matter. Wheezing and dragging himself to a sitting position, he heard a clicking sound and was almost immediately illuminated by two blinding white orbs strategically placed above the back door. “Oh god, I’m done this time,” he moaned as he dropped quickly to a prone position, face-first into the deck boards, amid escalating barks, growls, and now what seemed like the light of a thousand suns shining directly on his back. Not really willing or able to move at this point, he just lay there, hoping he had been right about no one being home.
The next sixty seconds seemed like several years to Frank as his mind raced, trying to come up with some plausible explanation for his presence there on the deck. Let’s see, how about, ‘Hey, I’m Fred, the painting contractor hired by your homeowner’s association. Working late tonight, but just got off and stopped by to see what I needed to do to prep the decks here for staining. I am so damn clumsy…tripped on your top step and fell flat on my face! Sorry to alarm you!’ Hmmm…that probably won’t fly, he thought to himself. How about, ‘Hey, I’m your neighbor Tom from across the ravine here. I was just cutting through the woods on my way home when I saw a flash of light coming from your bedroom here. Thought it might be an electrical short or something, so I came over to check it out. Clumsy me, though…tripped on your top step, and well, here I lie, flat on my face!’ Much better, Frank thought, at least until he realized that the nurse had seen him several times before and would no doubt recognize him this time as well. Plus, he didn’t exactly look as if he belonged in the neighborhood at all!
A sharp click interrupted his parade of excuses, and just as quickly as the midnight suns had risen, they set.