Lissy.
Marlene heard her coming. The bitch. She picked up the rifle and propped it on her shoulder. The wind drowned the sound of the little bell, and the crackling of the firewood did not help.
Should she aim right or left?
A squat, shadowy figure behind the flames, straight ahead of her. Marlene pulled the trigger. The rifle came to life. There was an explosion and, at the same time, a pain in her shoulder.
The Mauser recoiled, hitting her chin. Stunned, Marlene slipped backwards and fell. She shook her head, got to her feet and checked.
No sow, only the flames.
She picked up the rifle again. She had to reload it, but how?
There was a lever on one side, and Marlene remembered the gangster films Wegener liked so much. Pull and push. Or push and pull. One of the two. She pushed and pulled. Then pulled and pushed. There was a metallic clang. Just like in the films.
The rifle was cocked. At least she hoped so.
She wedged the butt of the Mauser in the hollow of her shoulder, which was throbbing like an abscessed tooth. She put a hand on the breech, thinking about the way the rifle had bounced out of her hands and trying to calculate the recoil as best she could.
“Okay.”
One step. Head tilted, muscles tense, finger on the trigger. She jumped over a strip of fire where the flames had burned away the fuel, creating a gap. The fire lapped at her hair but nothing happened except that there was a slight smell of burning. Otherwise, there was only the wind and the cold.
And the little bell, somewhere close by, to her left.
Marlene turned and fired. The bullet vanished in the dark. Her shoulder protested. But at least the rifle stayed where it was. Pull and push. The clang. Rifle cocked. How many bullets were left? She had no way of knowing. Shit.
The little bell. Lissy. Behind her. Damn her, she was fast.
Marlene turned and fired. The shot faded in the darkness.
Pull and push. Pray there was still something to shoot with.
Where are you? Where are you?
A particularly strong gust of wind moved the fire in her direction. This time, Marlene did not just smell burning, she also felt the heat. She let go of the rifle and threw herself in the snow with a sob. She looked up and there she was.
The bitch.
Lissy.
Black against a blue background. With the fire behind her. Wagging her little tail. Four hundred kilos of black.
Her crest moved twice, left and right, as if she were denying something.
No way, sweetie. You’re not getting out of here. No way.
The white stripes under her eyelids were glowing like exclamation marks charged with menace. Her fangs were dripping with saliva. Because Lissy was hungry, Marlene thought.
She was always hungry.
The sow emitted a couple of snorts through her nostrils, which then turned into clouds of condensation. She took a couple of steps forward, holding Marlene transfixed with her eyes. You’re food, those nasty little eyes said. Food for Lissy.
Marlene reached out for the rifle.
Lissy froze. Legs quivering, head turned to the side to get a better look at her.
Slowly, Marlene brought the Mauser closer. Slowly, she got up on one knee. Slowly, she put the rifle to her shoulder. Slowly, she closed one eye and aimed.
Slowly, she put her index finger on the trigger.
Lissy lowered her head, bending it towards the snow, baring her fangs at her.
Lissy screamed, and charged.
The little bell rang wildly.
Lissy advanced, head down, sending up snow and ice with her trotters, her powerful muscles rippling like demons under her black coat, steam billowing from her nostrils, her sharp, curved fangs ready to rip Marlene open.
Don’t shoot.
She didn’t.
Let her come closer.
Fifteen metres.
Without slowing down, Lissy raised her snout to the stars and screamed again.
The barrel of the Mauser shook.
Ten metres.
Fangs like the blades of a plough.
Nine metres. Eight.
Getting closer and closer.
Marlene felt the ground being battered by Lissy as she ran. She felt the vibrations of this black, evil mass coming towards her.
Now!
The firing pin clicked on empty. She had run out of ammunition. She closed her eyes and dropped the rifle, prepared to feel the full weight of Lissy. The impact. Her bones groaning and breaking beneath Lissy’s fury. Fangs sinking into her flesh. The pain. The suffering. And death.
She apologised to Klaus.
She could feel the sow’s breath, but there was no impact, no pain, no blood. Nothing but the sound of the little bell. Marlene opened her eyes.
Blue flames. The dark. The wind.
No Lissy.
Just the prints of her trotters in the snow, coming to within a metre of her, then changing course and vanishing behind the curtain of fire. Marlene put her hand on her heart. She thought she could feel it beating through the fabric of her jacket and the pages from the Bible. She was still alive.
Why?