Free Under the Gun by Hannah Jayne

currently lived
     somewhere underneath my hibernation flab. In actuality I was laying spread eagle on
     a park bench with my mouth partly open and my hand dangling in the grass. ChaCha must
     have seen the opportunity in my dozing because halfway through my fictitious daiquiri,
     she gave the leash a yank, slipping the loop off my wrist, then took off yipping and
     yapping across the lolling green hills of the park, her little dog eyes glued to the
     jaunty butt of a brindle terrier. The little jerk on my wrist sent me sputtering and
     coughing and sitting up, feeling lost, confused, and blinking into the sunlight.
    “Oh, crap!” I saw ChaCha’s pink leash slithering through the grass and I launched
     myself off the bench, running after her. “ChaCha! ChaCha, stop!”
    The little dog didn’t abide and seemed to just get faster, and within seconds she
     had zigzagged through a tight congregation of boxwood bushes, barking as though she
     were a Doberman or a wooly mammoth. I was sucking in my stomach, following her, getting
     angrier by the second.
    “ChaCha! You better stop this right now or Mama is going to be—”
    It was nothing overt. Call it a feeling, a whisper on the wind, but something rushed
     by me and made my blood run cold. I stopped short, my hackles up. I felt the hot prickle
     of someone’s laser gaze on me and gooseflesh bubbled on my arms. “ChaCha?”
    I heard the crush of tanbark, the crinkle of leaves.
    Low, ragged breath.
    The air suddenly smelled salty with a weird mix of earth and sweat. I whirled all
     around me, seeing dogs running with wide, toothy dog-smiles, tongues wagging, their
     owners chanting, clapping. The noise of the park and the animals blurred into one
     solid cacophony and I couldn’t make out another sound.
    The footsteps crushing the tanbark; the low breath—had I imagined them?
    “ChaCha?” My heart slammed against my rib cage. My saliva went sour, my voice starting
     to quiver. “Come here, girl.”
    I felt it before I heard it, and then I was on the ground. My forehead thunked against
     the tanbark, my teeth smacked together. All the breath left my body and I opened my
     mouth and sucked uselessly at the air, trying to get something into my failed lungs.
     My ribs screamed. My wrists ached. There was a burning swath across the back of my
     calves where something—or someone—had swept my legs out from under me.
    I dug my palms into the tanbark, ignoring the bits of wood that embedded themselves
     into my skin. I tried to push myself up, but then I felt hands on my shoulders grabbing
     fistfuls of my shirt and yanking me up. I kicked uselessly at the air. I tried to
     squirm to see my attacker, but he must have seen me first because he dropped me, fast,
     another rib-crushing belly-flop to the earth. I heard his footsteps as he stumbled
     backward.
    I knew I should move. I knew I should get up, should run, should find help. But everything
     ached and my whole body felt as if it was made of lead. I heard footsteps and everything
     tightened, waiting for another blow. But none came. The footsteps disappeared and
     the raucous crunching of leaves and twigs and tanbark was gone, replaced by a breezy
     silence, punctuated by the occasional dog bark, the occasional belch of a Muni bus.
    “ChaCha,” I was finally able to croak, feeling the sting of tears at the edges of
     my eyes.
    I pressed myself up onto my haunches and my little pup came barreling toward me, yipping
     as though someone had just released her. I curled her into my chest and stood, holding
     what little breath I had and listening to the silence. I felt at the bandage on my
     forehead, then glanced back at the tiny tears and splinters on my palms, an unabashed
     fear washing over me. First the Sutro Point murders and the person watching me there.
     Now I’m manhandled by—what? I looked around me, my stomach going sour. I wasn’t sure
     I wanted to know what had knocked me down.
    There was definitely