Never Forget: A Novella in the Echo Platoon Series by Marliss Melton Page B

thoughts filled his head.
    She did have something to be grateful for—at least Curtis wasn’t home by himself anymore. Thank goodness for Rusty Kuzinsky.
    *
    “ W HATCHA GOT THERE, dog?”
    Curtis transferred his gaze from the sparkling water of the creek to the muddy shore where Draco barked at something he’d come across. In the still silence of the great outdoors, the only other sound was the rustling of marsh grass and the keening cry of the osprey circling overhead.
    Heaving himself off the dock, Curtis went to investigate. He’d put Draco on the thirty-foot lead, winding most of it around one of the pier’s pilings while leaving just enough slack for the dog to entertain himself.
    Apparently, Draco had found something of interest. His hackles bristled and his tail arched over his back the same way it did when Curtis showed him the ball. The dog bowed low, stretching out his front legs, barked, and then pounced, only to back away and bow again.
    Coming up behind him, Curtis caught sight of a large Virginia blue crab cornered against a rotting log. It stood its ground, defending itself with outstretched pincers. Curtis knew from experience how painful those pincers could be.
    “ Foei! ” he said to the dog, telling him no.
    But Draco ignored him, continuing to lunge toward the crab and then dodge out of its reach, teasing the crab into going on the offensive.
    Picturing the crab grabbing hold of Draco’s sensitive nose, Curtis took up the leash and pulled the dog away from the threat. “ Foei ,” he said again. “ Los ,” he added, using the words Rusty had taught him, though the dog couldn’t release something he hadn’t grabbed yet.
    As he pulled Draco back, he kicked his sneakered foot at the crab, intending to punt it over the log and into the marsh where it could hide.
    What happened next occurred so fast he hardly saw it, just the dog’s head moving forward at the same time as his foot. Shock kept him from crying out as he snatched his leg back and looked down. There was no denying what had happened. Blood welled from three visible puncture wounds just above his sock.
    The flipping dog had bitten him!
    Unconcerned with the damage he’d wrought, Draco lunged for his prize a second time. Without Curtis’s leg in the way, he seized the crab with one bite. Crunch . The crab was dead before it could pinch him. Draco looked up at him expectantly, the crustacean dangling from his mouth.
    “You bit me, you sonofabitch!” Curtis shouted.
    The dog flinched from him, clearly startled by the outburst.
    The numbness that accompanied Curtis’s shock gave way to sudden pain. “Shit!” he added. Lifting his head to look back at the house, he hunted for Mr. Kuzinsky, who’d gone inside citing the need to make phone calls.
    No one was coming to his rescue. He’d have to get to the house by himself.
    Hopping on one foot, he started up the bank before remembering the dog. He’d been told not to leave the dog alone with the lead or Draco would chew through it. Fine.
    Unfurling the length of nylon off the piling, Curtis started to limp toward the house with the dog following behind, dead crab still in his mouth.
    Halfway to his destination, it occurred to him that Mr. Kuzinsky had told him not to take anything away from the dog unless he was around to monitor the situation. He hadn’t thought of kicking the crab as taking it away, but it really was one and the same. So, theoretically, it was his fault the dog had bitten him.
    Glancing back at Draco as he limped the rest of the way to the house, Curtis also realized the dog had been in little danger of getting pinched by the blue crab. Those formidable pincers now dangled limply out of either side of the dog’s mouth.
    The dog’s earnest gaze locked on him. Was it his imagination or did Draco’s chocolaty eyes hold a hint of remorse?
    Curtis led him straight to his crate. “In,” he said, not knowing the Dutch command. Draco padded resolutely inside, laid