my scar,” he said, nodding. “I
get this from one of the animals who come to our country. He was
not Italian. He clawed me. But I got him first.” A note of triumph
rang in his voice. “He is dead now, and I live.”
“Not all foreigners are out to hurt you,”
Harry observed and fell silent when the man waved off his
objection.
“He tried very hard to hurt me,” the man
responded angrily and pointed once more to his disfigurement.
“Foreigners, it is foreigners who come here to spoil our country.
We are the people of this country. We will rid this place of your
pestilence.”
Struggling up to one knee and then to his
feet, Overton announced, “I should tell you, I’m with the FBI.
You’re all under arrest.”
That had to be the stupidest line of all
time, thought Harry, and the tattooed leader seemed to agree with
his thought as he let out a gale of laughter. “You have no
jurisdiction here. If you are with them, then you are also
dead.”
So much for discussion, and they seem so
proud of what they’ve done. These men were nothing but
murderous thugs. However, they were armed and he wasn’t. Hand to
hand he could take them, but he wasn’t bulletproof. “We’re not here
to fight,” Harry said. “We’re here to find a friend and take him
back to America.”
God that sounded like the lamest line he’d
ever uttered. We need our friend. We will leave here. We come in
peace. All the clichés from the books and movies whirled in his
mind, and why couldn’t he think of anything original?
It didn’t seem to matter too much to the man.
With a sneer, he glanced at his companions and they nodded. He then
swiveled his head around, the sneer still in place. “Yes, you will
lead us to your friends. We will wipe them out, too. Italy is for
Italians, not for freaks and monsters.”
With a quick movement, he reached over to
snatch the bag from Harry’s shoulder. Examining the contents, he
nodded. “You are foreigners, but you have quality merchandise. We
can use this.”
“ Scusi.”
That came from Leo, and in a surprise move,
he walked out in front with his paws up, speaking softly in his
native language. Even in the dim light, the man’s face looked
surprised, and after a moment’s hesitation he answered in an almost
civil tone.
Seconds later, he signaled for his men to put
down their weapons. “What are you doing?” whispered Harry, confused
by the sudden turn of events.
“I am taking them to see our friends,” Leo
replied, his face devoid of all expression. “They want all of us,
not just you.”
This was madness, but the group started off
in the direction of the van. Overton muttered something about
walking to his grave, but one of the thugs clubbed him over the
head with the butt of his machine gun. “Be quiet!”
Overton staggered, but managed to remain
upright, and they continued on. Halfway there, though, another
smell, not of blood but of fur, entered Harry’s nostrils. He took a
careful sniff and took greater care to hide his reaction. Yes, it
was animal fur, not human skin. Leo was far smarter than he let
on.
Anastasia gave a wink. She’d also smelled the
same thing. The smell grew more intense, and just as they reached
the van, three figures burst from the darkness and leaped on the
posse, smashing them into the ground. They never even got off one
shot. The difference here, though, was that the new crew didn’t
bother killing them. They simply beat them up—hard.
Once they stopped, though, they stood up,
panting, and nodded at Leo. The leader, a tall mix of man and bear
with an ursine face and bearlike body, uttered something in
guttural Italian. Leo answered and gestured to Harry and Anastasia.
“He say his name is Paulo. He is countryside leader.”
He pointed at the other two beings, both of
them short and squat, mixes of what looked to be pit bulls and men,
with stocky, muscular bodies and canine faces accompanied by
piggish eyes. A few more words passed between them.
get this from one of the animals who come to our country. He was
not Italian. He clawed me. But I got him first.” A note of triumph
rang in his voice. “He is dead now, and I live.”
“Not all foreigners are out to hurt you,”
Harry observed and fell silent when the man waved off his
objection.
“He tried very hard to hurt me,” the man
responded angrily and pointed once more to his disfigurement.
“Foreigners, it is foreigners who come here to spoil our country.
We are the people of this country. We will rid this place of your
pestilence.”
Struggling up to one knee and then to his
feet, Overton announced, “I should tell you, I’m with the FBI.
You’re all under arrest.”
That had to be the stupidest line of all
time, thought Harry, and the tattooed leader seemed to agree with
his thought as he let out a gale of laughter. “You have no
jurisdiction here. If you are with them, then you are also
dead.”
So much for discussion, and they seem so
proud of what they’ve done. These men were nothing but
murderous thugs. However, they were armed and he wasn’t. Hand to
hand he could take them, but he wasn’t bulletproof. “We’re not here
to fight,” Harry said. “We’re here to find a friend and take him
back to America.”
God that sounded like the lamest line he’d
ever uttered. We need our friend. We will leave here. We come in
peace. All the clichés from the books and movies whirled in his
mind, and why couldn’t he think of anything original?
It didn’t seem to matter too much to the man.
With a sneer, he glanced at his companions and they nodded. He then
swiveled his head around, the sneer still in place. “Yes, you will
lead us to your friends. We will wipe them out, too. Italy is for
Italians, not for freaks and monsters.”
With a quick movement, he reached over to
snatch the bag from Harry’s shoulder. Examining the contents, he
nodded. “You are foreigners, but you have quality merchandise. We
can use this.”
“ Scusi.”
That came from Leo, and in a surprise move,
he walked out in front with his paws up, speaking softly in his
native language. Even in the dim light, the man’s face looked
surprised, and after a moment’s hesitation he answered in an almost
civil tone.
Seconds later, he signaled for his men to put
down their weapons. “What are you doing?” whispered Harry, confused
by the sudden turn of events.
“I am taking them to see our friends,” Leo
replied, his face devoid of all expression. “They want all of us,
not just you.”
This was madness, but the group started off
in the direction of the van. Overton muttered something about
walking to his grave, but one of the thugs clubbed him over the
head with the butt of his machine gun. “Be quiet!”
Overton staggered, but managed to remain
upright, and they continued on. Halfway there, though, another
smell, not of blood but of fur, entered Harry’s nostrils. He took a
careful sniff and took greater care to hide his reaction. Yes, it
was animal fur, not human skin. Leo was far smarter than he let
on.
Anastasia gave a wink. She’d also smelled the
same thing. The smell grew more intense, and just as they reached
the van, three figures burst from the darkness and leaped on the
posse, smashing them into the ground. They never even got off one
shot. The difference here, though, was that the new crew didn’t
bother killing them. They simply beat them up—hard.
Once they stopped, though, they stood up,
panting, and nodded at Leo. The leader, a tall mix of man and bear
with an ursine face and bearlike body, uttered something in
guttural Italian. Leo answered and gestured to Harry and Anastasia.
“He say his name is Paulo. He is countryside leader.”
He pointed at the other two beings, both of
them short and squat, mixes of what looked to be pit bulls and men,
with stocky, muscular bodies and canine faces accompanied by
piggish eyes. A few more words passed between them.
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