504 The Flood, Ch. 18
Chapter Eighteen
The funny thing about violence is that it shows up when you least expect it.
"Go away!" I shouted, standing back from the door. The banging stopped.
Feet shuffled up the steps to the sidewalk level. I heard knocking at the house next door.
A crash.
Dozer barked, on the back porch.
"Shut up dog." A voice from the next garden over. "This way guys, there's a dog over there."
"Just fucking kill the dog," another voice.
"Fuck you dude, what did the dog do to us? We have all these houses to pick from. Nobody's here."
"Fucker is making too much noise."
Now Princess is barking too.
"That's right, come here poochie."
Should I look?
In my simulation, I can't die. I can feel pain, but the dogs can die.
The door is open to our back porch. Dozer and Princess are on the deck above me, barking into the next yard. Right by the stairs of our neighbors.
Keeping my head low, I poke out and look up.
Three guys. All masked and hooded. Carrying bags. Empty bags. No idea if they are carrying weapons, I didn't see any.
The hero move would be to step out brandishing some sort of weapon and scare these people away. Or maybe to call 911.
Instead, I ducked back inside and whistled.
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