Kokopu Dreams Read Online Free Page B

ourselves.’
    In the gloom of a mall sports shop they could see rifles and shotguns in racks, chained by their trigger guards. It seemed to Sean that Brian moved like he was sleepwalking. They used bolt cutters from the next-door hardware shop to liberate a shotgun each, but as they picked up Rambo knives Brian came right back into the moment.
    â€˜What about these other rifles?’ he said. ‘What if some video game freak decides to blow away anyone left?’
    Sean was still thinking about what he’d said, wondering who’d smashed the supermarket doors, when Brian ducked back into the hardware store and came out with a sledgehammer, walking stooped with a low-browed glare like a Cro-Magnon warrior. Carefully he took each rifle, laid it on the floor and pounded the breech.
    â€˜That should slow them up,’ he said, tossing the sledge into a corner. ‘And now for us. Do you want to come home to my place?’
    Sean looked at him. He had dark rings round his eyes, a week of stubble, hair unkempt and clothes like he’d just butchered a sheep. Sean kept wanting to just drift away, to wake up, to be somewhere else. But Brian was sounding more self-assured, more centred, certainly more together than he had at first. Sean was starting to feel like he was losing his grip. He kept having to tell himself to focus, to concentrate, to stay with it.
    â€˜Everything’s changed,’ Brian said. ‘We have to think differently. There’s nothing left now.’
    Nothing. The word really hurt. Then Sean’s stomach rumbled, loud enough for Brian to hear.
    â€˜C’mon,’ he said. ‘We can fire up my barbecue.’
    Halfway to Brian’s place, five dogs came barrelling out of a driveway, not barking till they were nearly on the two men. Sean and Brian were both knocked over. They didn’t have time to raise their shotguns before they had snapping snarling dogs right in their faces. Sean was on his back with a rottie by the neck, losing the fight to keep the hundred-pound beast away from his throat when he remembered his new knife.
    â€˜Use your knife, mate!’ he yelled as he detached a hand and grabbed for his, hoping it wouldn’t stick in the sheath and give the rottie time to get its teeth into him. He pulled the knife free and stuck the dog under its left leg, the blade sliding between its ribs just as its teeth closed on his neck. He struggled to heave it off as it convulsed and a great gout of blood splashed on the footpath and up into his face.
    Back on his feet, shaking and unsteady, he saw Hamu had two dogs on him, one on either side, darting and tearing. He kicked one in the balls as hard as he could and left Hamu to deal to the other while he turned to Brian.
    His friend was getting bad trouble from the other two dogs, one of them hanging off his forearm while he held the throat of the other. Sean cut the first dog’s throat and stuck the second beast the same way as his rottie. He turned back to Hamu. The dog was panting and bleeding while his attacker had joined his mate who was yelping and hobbling up the road. He could see one of Hamu’s ears was badly torn. Legs gone all rubbery he sat down on the kerb, Brian beside him. Hamu stalked and growled around the three corpses lying in the road. Brian spoke first.
    â€˜I think my arm’s broken.’ Sean looked at him, clothes torn and bloody, cradling his chewed limb.
    â€˜You look like shit too.’
    It must have sounded normal, like Brian’s reply.
    â€˜Yeah, well, you’re no fucking oil painting yourself.’
    As they grinned at each other, a middle-aged woman and two teenage boys came rushing towards them down the drive, calling out ‘Are you okay?’ like they’d just had an accident or fallen off a pushbike. Sean shook his head and asked himself if the apparition was for real.
    â€˜Come up to the house, we’ll get you cleaned up,’ the woman said.