It was
bright enough to dazzle him, but he'd squinted in anticipation.
So it only took him a moment to take in the tableau. There was Link, on
the ground, splayed out and face down, wearing boxer shorts and nothing
else, his face in a vegetable bed in the next door yard. There was
Krishna, standing in the doorway, face grim, holding a hammer and
advancing on Link.
He shouted, something wordless and alarmed, and Link rolled over and
climbed up to his feet and lurched a few steps deeper into the
postage-stamp-sized yard, limping badly. Krishna advanced two steps into
the yard, hammer held casually at his waist.
Alan, barefoot, ran to the dividing fence and threw himself at it going
up it like a cat, landing hard and painfully, feeling something small
and important give in his ankle. Krishna nodded cordially at him, then
hefted the hammer again.
Krishna took another step toward Alan and then Natalie, moving so fast
that she was a blur, streaked out of the back door, leaping onto
Krishna's back. She held there for a minute and he rocked on his heels,
but then he swung the hammer back, the claws first.
It took her just above her left eye with a sound like an awl punching
through leather and her cry was terrible. She let go and fell over
backward, holding her face, screaming.
But it was enough time, enough distraction, and Alan had hold of
Krishna's wrist.
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