The Golden Goose of Los Angeles Extended Edition

by Travis Adams Irish

Pezzloni shouts with misdirected rage. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, DIMITRI!?” He asks with a bit of spittle dripping from the right side of his mouth.

 

  “I’M KEEPING YOU FROM GETTING YOUR ASS SHOT OFF!” Dimitri shouts back, unafraid of his psychotic boss; now that the man is disarmed.

 

  “SHIT! We need to call off the dogs.” Pezzloni says calmly, rising to his feet with authority. “Go get on the Barrett! I’ll call Vincent and tell him to hold back the dogs.”

 

  Dimitri nods sharply and tosses his pistol to Pezzloni, winking at him in a cocky manner as he rushes toward the home. Anthony catches the pistol and returns a respectful nod to his enforcer. He then reaches into his left pocket for a cell phone. After inspecting the cell phone to ensure that it’s still working, Pezzloni dials Vincent, and listens for him to answer as he makes his way up the grassy slope.

 

  “Yeah, boss.” Vincent answers in a friendly tone. “Did she get it already?”

 

  “Don’t release the dogs!” Pezzloni commands through the speaker of his cellular phone. “Repeat. Don’t release the shepherds. The goose is in the yard!”

 

  “Shit, Hefe, I’m sorry!” Vincent replies with disappointment. “I already sent two Shepherds into the pit. They should be popping up from anywhere on the grounds sometime soon. You’ll need to go out and stop them. I’ll come and help you.”

 

  “Dammit!” Pezzloni shouts to himself as he tosses the cell phone aside and checks the action on his pistol to ensure that it’s ready to fire.

 

  In the courtyard, Rory has caught up with Tina, and he urges her to climb onto his back with her legs wrapped around his stomach. After a few adjustments, Rory finds himself jogging closer to the steep driveway with a pistol in his right hand, and a badly beaten woman riding on his back.

 

  “WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO!?” Tina shouts into Rory’s ear as they begin their descent of the steep driveway.

 

  “If I see gangsters… I’ll shoot the gangsters.” Rory answers through labored breaths, watching carefully for any dogs that may be approaching. “If I see dogs… I’ll shoot the dogs.”

 

  Tina is already feeling heavy on his thighs and calves, and despite the downhill grade, Rory is having a difficult time conserving his strength. The driveway is so steep that every step threatens to topple them both over and send them sprawling down the side of the man-made mountain.

 

  Pezzloni runs after the wayward couple in desperation, making his way through the courtyard. Although he hasn’t visually confirmed their course, the tall gangster assumes that Rory is heading for the front gate. As he runs through his courtyard, Anthony cannot remember there being a more beautiful day at his home. He chuckles to himself at the thought of having a manhunt during one of the best barbecue days of the year.

 

  The fierce gangster immediately changes his thought process when he sees movement to his left. About three-hundred yards down the property, close to the gate; he glimpses one of the shepherds sprinting up the terraced hill. Unfortunately, it disappears beneath his line of sight before he can determine in which direction it is running. The man is amazed at the speed of his dogs, noticing that they traversed nearly four-hundred yards in the time it took him to run fifty.

 

  He continues to gain ground, enjoying the cool breeze as he passes beneath the shadow of the statue of Atlas. Pezzloni hopes that Dimitri has the Barrett ready, thinking to himself that the dogs may be too fast to hit with a .50 caliber rifle.

 

  Halfway down the driveway, Rory feels his thigh muscles burning from the intense strain of trying to maneuver the steep grade. The bones in his legs are stifled by the sheer impact of each step. He feels as though his body is trying to carry a moose down a two-hundred yard cement ramp.

 

  “I can’t…” Rory says quietly to the young woman on his back. “We need to stop.”

 

  “We’re halfway there.” Tina replies in a frightened tone, uncertain of their ability to survive if they slow down. “Just another football field to go. You can make it!”

  Rory starts maneuvering to the right side of the concrete driveway, slowing his pace as much as possible. The young man is shocked that slowing his momentum is much more difficult than he thought, and his legs buckle, sending him and Tina down hard onto the rough cement.

 

  “Oh God!” Tina exclaims as she feels Rory crumbling beneath her. “Ow! Ow!” Her initial cries of pain are further amplified as they both tumble onto the tiered landscaping to the right of the driveway.

 

  The cobblestones feel oddly cool and comforting under Rory’s bare chest, and he pushes himself upward with his forearms in an effort to locate Tina. As droplets of sweat pour down from his face in the mid-morning sun, Rory looks fondly at his companion who landed safely on the grass just one terrace below where he had fallen. She is a mere three feet from his face, laying on her right side, and gripping her left rib cage with her right hand.

 

  “I’m sorry-“ Rory begins softly, but is immediately cutoff by the sound of a snarling German Shepherd.

 

  The young man is horrified as he watches the large dog stampede over Tina’s neck and chest to grapple her left arm with its powerful jaws.

 

  A shriek of tortuous pain is heard from Tina as the dog bites down on her already wounded forearm. The dog snarls in response to her scream, digging into the grass with its hind legs, and pulling at her flesh with all of its strength.

 

  Just four feet above the dog, Rory pushes himself up with his forearms to a standing position, and begins to search for the pistol that he stole from Pezzloni. Every second that passes is defeating as he hears the dog tearing into his friend with its unforgiving jaws.

 

  “RORY, HELP ME!” Tina screams in vain, using her right arm to cover her throat as the dog does more damage to her left arm. “PLEASE, GOD, MAKE IT STOP!”

 

  The young man is now in a full panic as he watches the dog release its grip from Tina’s left arm, and moves closer to her face. His stomach turns at the sight of the dog snarling just above Tina’s vulnerable soft, white skin. Rory looks around again for the pistol, but it is nowhere in sight. The dog darts its head inward at Tina’s neck and bites around her elbow, as if to prevent the arm from protecting her throat. Rory clenches his hands into fists and looks at the large cobblestones beneath his feet. He lifts one up that is twice the size of a baseball, and heaves it at the dog.

 

  The stone glances off the dog’s left hind leg, forcing it to stop and assess the situation for a moment, but it is unhindered, and resumes its attack on Tina.

 

  Rory reaches down for a smaller stone, and hurls it down with more precision at the shepherd. This stone hits the dog between the shoulder blades, and it reacts violently, exploding up from the woman’s body to where Rory is standing on the rocks. The weight of the dog’s body knocks the young man over, and he finds himself almost pinned beneath the German Shepherd with it vying for a bite into his windpipe. Rory is stunned by the strength of the animal as its paws push down onto his exposed chest.

 

  As the dog gets closer to his throat, Rory can see the murderous rage in its eyes; a once loving animal forced to do her master’s bidding. Rory straightens his left arm into the dog’s throat, using it like a pole to separate the jaws from his face. He then grips a heavy stone that is barely small enough for his entire hand, and uses it to batter the beast on the left side of its head. The two are deadlocked in a battle of wills as Rory coordinates the movements of his left arm against the dog’s throat so that his right arm
will find a better target.

 

  During this ferocious defense, Rory feels himself smash one or two of the fingers of his left hand with the stone when they get trapped between it and the dog’s stout body. The dog is forcing herself closer to Rory’s throat by digging her hind legs into his body and the cobblestones, and he knows that subduing her will only be an option for a short time. After more than eight strikes from the heavy stone, Rory hears the crack of a rock smacking into skull bone. The shepherd whimpers immediately, and the young man feels a few drops of blood on his chest. Without hesitation, he follows through in the same swinging motion, and hears the report of another vicious strike to the hound’s head.

 

  This time the dog leaps off of his body in a frenzy, terrified at the damage being done to her head. She vaults across the cobblestones, and sprints past the pine trees, fleeing back to the shelter of the compound.

 

  Rory sits upright on the uncomfortable rocks, feeling several scratched areas of his abdomen that will no doubt be bruised where the dog stomped on him. He looks down at Tina in the grass, badly wounded, and although breathing in panicked gasps, she manages to smile at him. The young man gets to his feet, still clutching the stone like a victorious caveman. For the first time in months, he feels independent and in control; a man who can take care of himself and others.

  “Rory!” A raucous voice calls out from the cement just twenty feet above his position. “Let’s stop this so that we can get everything back under control.” Pezzloni suggests as he steps down the steep cement with a pistol pointed at his