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It's Dolly's Birthday
Chapter 6.
Drummond boots it...
Drummond tossed aside everything he'd ever learned about going through an opening into a potentially deadly situation. He simply burst through the door with no thought for what might wait on the other side, rifle at the ready, and ran down the front steps to the circular drive in front of his house.
The house was situated on The Lane, just where it curved around a promontory and climbed at about a 10% slope up the face of the bluff overlooking the Ohio River valley.
At that time of day, during the week, few of the residents were around. Those that did not have offices to go to were at restaurants and tea rooms down around Hyde Park Square or in the city, three miles downriver. The only inmates of the neighborhood just then were tradesmen; constructions crews, gardeners, and, as in the case of Drummond's furnace, repairmen. But of course the crew that had responded to his call for repairs was not the one he'd summoned.
Parked at the uphill end of his driveway was a van that was, at first glance, painted in the livery of the heating and cooling contractor. A second look, even from a distance, revealed that it was only a crude approximation and looked as though the paint were hand copied from a poor original with no proper understanding of what the graphics represented on the part of the painter.
The van's engine was running. Drummond could not see clearly, but got the impression that there was someone in the driver's seat. The last of the Mequillar, (the leader?), had Dolly in his grasp and was attempting to drag her across the bricks to the waiting van.
The little redhead was displaying both her fiery temper and her deadly fighting skills. Anyone else in her situation would have been out of it almost from the start. But the Doll was trained to absorb incredible punishment and keep coming. Plus, her natural tenacity would never let her surrender without a fight. She twisted in the alien's grasp, kicking backward with her heels, swinging her elbows in vicious arcs despite the Mequillar's attempts to capture and restrain her arms. All the while, she kept up a running commentary: "You slimy bastard! You crapulous excretion of a bottom-feeding slug! Just wait till I get my hands on you. I'm going to rip your head off and then your arm and then I'm gonna feed you your arm down the hole in your neck!"
In turn, the Mequillar had one arm wrapped around the doll's upper chest and held her off the ground, denying her feet purchase, without which most of her struggles were just so much meaningless motion. He was attempting to control her unaided and making a poor job of it. Her movements were too violent and kept him off-balance too well for him to gain any purchase. They were at a kind of a standoff in that he could not get a better grip on her and she could not really hurt him significantly. But the struggle would end inevitably when they reached the van.
That, Drummond concluded, he must prevent at all costs. He stepped into clear view in the middle of the driveway and threw the rifle to his shoulder. "Stop!" he shouted, more to have something to say than because he had any hope of the command's being obeyed.
"Or what? You'll shoot me?" the alien taunted him. "What if you miss,"
Dolly caught Drummond's eye. He didn't like the expression of fear he saw there at all. But he didn't feel at all confident of his ability to hit the alien and not hit her. She was the deadeye in the family, not he.
He drew a bead on the van's tail light and fired a single shot. The red lens exploded in a spray of plastic. The Mequillar jumped and Dolly almost got free of him then. As the echoes from the shot died away, Drummond lowered the rifle from his shoulder and worked the action.
"Care to gamble with me as to whether I can kill you without even getting any blood on the young lady?" He held his breath, praying to all the gods his bluff would work.
The alien met his gaze and held it, a measuring expression on his face. Dolly continued her struggles until the alien, without looking away from Drummond, slammed the side of her head with the heel of his hand and she went limp. The alien was prepared for that and hitched her up to cover himself. He produced a knife from nowhere and held its edge against Dolly's throat. The message was clear; attempts on the Eetee would be met with reprisal on the doll. Drummond couldn't take the risk and the alien knew it.
"We'll be leaving now," the Mequillar said. "And, if you want to ever see this one alive again, you won't follow us."
"How do I know you'll leave her alive? The last time..."
"You know, I really don't give a rat's ass what you think," the alien kept retreating backward toward the van. Now that Dolly's struggles weren't slowing his progress, he was able to make better time. He dragged the doll across the tessellated brick pavement to the rear passenger door of the van, which slid open at his approach.
Drummond raised the rifle, but lowered it again. As the door slid shut and the van pulled into The Lane, he briefly considered shooting at the tires. But his imagination conjured up a picture of the van crashing and burning and Dolly's flaming corpse tumbling out onto the pavement. He slapped the butt stock with the palm of his hand in frustration as he watched the van accelerate up The Lane.
"Well," came Callisto's voice, dripping with sarcasm, "That was a fine performance. You gonna just let them take her away?"
Drummond whirled on her. She was standing on the porch holstering her gun under the waistband of her pants in the small of her back and watching him with a narrow-eyed glare. "Well, why didn't you take the fucking shot, Ms. Annie Oakley?" he demanded.
"'Cause I'm not the one carrying the freaking rifle. That's why! I don't believe what I just saw. You just stood there and let them take her away!"
Drummond hung his head. "You're right," he said bitterly. "I... I didn't have confidence in my ability to shoot without hitting her."
"Oh, come on! That was an easy shot! Less than twenty-five yards! You've done better on the range!"
"Yeah. But on the range, Dolly's not in front of the target. I'm sorry, Cally. I know I just choked, but I couldn't take the chance."
"Fine. You have to live with that. I hope Gabrielle can. Don't' apologize to me, apologize to her."
"I intend to."
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