Chapter 10 - The Shattered Glass
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
The storm seemed to intensify, rattling the roof tiles above our heads. Rex suddenly lifted his head from Lena’s lap, his ears swiveling toward the front parking lot. His black lips curled, a guttural warning vibrating in his throat.
*VROOOOM.*
The sound came from outside—a deep, modified diesel engine roaring to life, drowning out the gale.
“Everyone get down!” I shouted, throwing my body across Lena and pulling Martha down behind the counter with my free arm.
*CRASH!*
The entire glass facade of the diner exploded inward in a shower of deadly, crystalline shards!
The rusted front bumper of Marcus’s heavy four-wheel-drive pickup truck smashed through the entrance, tearing through the wooden framing, shattering tables, and spraying debris across the dining room like a bomb blast!
The front end of the truck came to a halt halfway inside the diner, its engine revving like a wounded beast, headlights blindingly bright in the dust-filled darkness.
Through the shattered windshield, Marcus’s bloodied face was twisted into a mask of pure, homicidal mania. He put the truck in reverse, tires spinning against the linoleum, rubber burning with a nauseating stench, preparing to ram the structure a second time to bring the roof down.
“Rex, *FASS!*” I roared the German attack command.
Rex launched forward like a missile, clearing the shattered counter in a single, magnificent leap!
He bounded onto the hood of the truck, his claws tearing through the dented metal, and hurled himself straight through the broken driver-side window!
A blood-curdling scream tore through the diner as seventy-five pounds of trained combat dog slammed into Marcus inside the cab. Rex locked his jaws around Marcus’s right shoulder, tearing him away from the steering wheel. The truck stalled out with a violent shudder, the engine dying in a hiss of steam and antifreeze.
I didn't hesitate. I vaulted over the debris, drawing my SIG Sauer, moving swiftly toward the driver-side door.
Marcus was fighting for his life, trying to pry Rex’s jaws off his arm, screaming curses.
I reached through the shattered window, grabbed Marcus by his hair, and slammed his head against the steering column once, hard. His eyes rolled back into his head, his arms went limp, and he slumped forward against the horn, which let out a continuous, mournful blare.
“Rex, *Aus!*” I commanded.
May you like
Rex released his hold instantly, stepping back onto the passenger seat, his chest heaving, blood staining his white chest fur—none of it his own. He looked at me, gave a low snort, and waited for my next order.
Behind me, Lena was coughing through the dust, but she was unharmed. Martha and the truckers were scrambling out from behind the counter, staring in absolute disbelief at the carnage.
