"More than a meter-maybe four feet, five. A table won't do it."
"It will get you to that closet-thing."
I glanced back at a tall mahogany wardrobe.
"Shove the table against it. I'll knock it away once you're up."
"Once you're up," I corrected him.
"Just get there," he said between gritted teeth.
There wasn't time to argue. I shoved the table against the wardrobe, hoping the more massive piece of furniture was as sturdy as it looked. The dog's head followed the sound of the table's feet screeching against the concrete floor. Sam hissed to draw the animal's attention, and I scrambled onto the table.
"Are you up?" Sam asked, his back toward me, still keeping the dog at a distance with the shaft of the lamp.
"No."
The wood of the wardrobe was smooth and slippery. Each time I tried to pull myself onto the top, my hands slid over the edge. I licked them to make them sticky and jumped from the table to give myself a better angle. Getting partway on top, I pulled with all my strength. My arms ached. I scraped my ribs, slowly dragging the rest of my body onto the high, flat surface.
"Your turn," I called to Sam.
He backed toward the table, half step by half step, slowly, steadily. The dog moved with him. There was a heavy rope coiled on top of the wardrobe. I seized it like a weapon.
"Almost there," I told him.
His left hand reached back and felt the table, his right kept the pole between him and the dog. He slid onto the table, then carefully pulled up. his feet.
The dog's growl deepened.
"When you're ready, hand me the pole," I said.
"I can manage it."
"You'll have to turn your back to the dog. Give me the pole. I'll fend him off."
"You might fall," he argued.
"I'm not that clumsy."
"Kate, just stay still."
"Give… me… the… pole!"
But Sam, crouching on the table, rose to his feet and quickly spun around, letting the lamp shaft go, so he could hoist himself onto the wardrobe. The dog charged. Sam cursed.
"Kick! Kick!" I cried, then lashed out with the rope, using it like a whip on the dog. I brought the rope down hard again and again, trying to back off the furious animal. Hearing the rip of clothing, I pulled on Sam's arm.
He suddenly propelled himself to the top of the wardrobe, so suddenly, I was unprepared for the shift in weight and direction. I fell backward. Sam yanked me toward him, back onto the top of the furniture.
The dog leaped against the solid wardrobe, charging it repeatedly, as if he had gone mad. Sam and I held on to each other and stared down at the animal.
A scream, a man's shout that pitched into terror, quickly drew our eyes upward. Joseph was in the loft, shouting to Adrian, "Call the dog off. Call it off!"
"You had your chance, several chances."
I could see Joseph backing toward the balcony railing. The dog matched him step for step, then began to close the gap.
"Call the dog off," Sam hollered. I shouted with him.
Joseph took a step up onto the flat metal railing. He climbed to the top, standing on a surface half the width of his foot. There was nothing for him to grab on to there-no pole, no wires-the ceiling high above him, the ground floor far below. The dog snapped at his feet. Joseph teetered.
I saw what followed as if played in slow motion. Joseph realized his fate, closed his eyes, began to fall. Sam jerked my head toward his shoulder, then buried his face with mine. We didn't see Joseph hit, just heard a sound like a pumpkin smashing against the concrete floor.
"Tonya, Marcus, come!" Adrian commanded the dogs.
Sam and I held on to each other on top of the wardrobe. We couldn't see Joseph from our perch, but one of the dogs was nosing the area where he had fallen.
"Marcus, get out of there!" Adrian shouted at the dog. "I don't want to have to clean you up."
I sank against Sam, feeling sick to my stomach.
"I'm sure he's dead, Kate," Sam said quietly, "but as soon as the dogs are kenneled, I'll check him out."
I can look for myself."
"Don't argue-not this one, okay? If it were someone I had thought was my friend, I would ask you to look for me."
I nodded mutely.
"Sam, Kate, we must talk," Adrian said, as if we, too, were obedient to him.
I ignored him. "How is your leg, Sam?"
"Marcus got a mouthful of pants."
"Did he? So, it's your pants that are bleeding like that."
"There is no need to stay up there," Adrian called to us.
Sam grunted under his breath, then said aloud, "When the dogs are inside, the door is closed, and you are farther from the door than we are, we'll come down."
"Of course, I understand," Adrian replied, sounding almost amused by our caution. "But don't leave. There are a few things we all need to understand."
As soon as he had secured the dogs behind the door, Sam jumped down from the wardrobe and rushed toward Joseph. He stopped suddenly. The way he gripped the back of a chair told me all I needed to know. Sam turned to me, his body bent slightly, his face distorted, sickened by what he had seen, then he buried his chin in his chest and walked swiftly back to me.
I slid off the wardrobe. "Let's get out of here."