22
Takedown
Death dog number two stood to the front left of the barn, waiting for us to come running out. It couldn’t see us inside the swirling, smoking gloom of the building. But out in the clear daylight, it was a sitting duck. Philippe broke out of his hiding spot and drew back his arm. He dispatched the spear in another Herculean throw. I waited for the tip to lodge firmly in the dog’s side and send it to sleep. Only, this time, the dog reacted just fast enough. All four legs folded and it dropped belly to the floor. The spear was an inch too high, skidding off the gravel driveway. The dog stood up. Philippe was out in the open. He hurled the shield towards it, drawing its fire. Enough to give him a head start around the side of the barn, drone and bullets in hot pursuit.
I had to
