Gossamer

Part 15: Madman

"Run!" Emily shouted to Dora, ahead of her on the trail.

Curses rattled the air as the ruffian came thundering up the forested hillside behind her.

Dora dawdled until Emily caught up with her. She grabbed her little dog from Emily's grasp, tucked it under one arm, and with the other took Emily's elbow to tug her along.

Emily's breath came in gasps. Her miraculous second chance at life didn't include new sprinting abilities. "I'm slowing you! Run on ahead! Get help! Scream, knock on doors!"

"Can't leave you to that foul-mouthed--" Dora broke off, hauling Emily even faster.

"Look!" Emily pointed. "The street, houses. Go!"

"Not yet." Dora dragged her on until they broke out onto asphalt. "Hide behind this car." She let go and raced toward the nearest house.

"Not that one!" Emily crouched behind an old Pontiac. "Vacant!"

Dora glanced at boarded up windows and peeling paint, and dashed on to the next yard. "Help!" she screamed. "Madman! Murderer! Call the police! "

A German shepherd barked from behind a fence.

At the window next door, small dogs yapped.

Further up the street, a woman stood up from her gardening and stared at Dora, pounding on a door, still yelling.

Emily peeked around the car's fender just as the thug burst out of the woods, just a stone's throw away. She gulped as his raging gaze met hers.

The ruffian bared teeth and stalked toward the Pontiac like a lion toward prey. His knife glinted in the sun, tinged with a dribble of red.

Emily squeaked, leaped up, circled the car to keep it between. As the villain hurtled around the far end, she dashed to the next parked car.

A garbage can stood at the curb near the rear fender. She grabbed the lid.

Screams and yells and barking clamored in the background. The thug's curses stabbed at Emily as he closed in. Her pulse screeched in her ears. She hoisted her shield just in time for the first strike.

Metal clanged on metal so hard it bruised her fingers, and the garbage can lid flew from her grasp.

Just then, along came a silent, knee-high rescuer. It streaked out of nowhere and clamped onto the thug's leg, biting, raking with hind claws, digging right through the heavy fabric of the pants.

The notch-eared alley cat who claimed Emily's porch railing for a throne.

Curses turned to shrieks as the criminal danced around, trying to shake the cat off his leg. He struck once with his knife, but got himself in the thigh. He hopped twice, tripped, and hit the road flat.

Notch detached, vanished under the Pontiac, reappeared atop a fence, leaped to a tree branch, settled -- and calmly licked blood from his claws.

A crowd of onlookers closed in. Dora put an arm around Emily and drew her back.

The ruffian got to his feet, still cursing up a storm, and hobbled into the woods.

Dora's little dog ran up, sniffed at the blood on the street, then took to barking at Notch, up his tree.

"He'snot the villain, Muffin," Emily said. "He's the hero!"

.

prompt: "paint"