The Plantation - By Chris Kuzneski Page 0,74

sturdy. Crouching as low as he could, he tucked his head between his legs like a passenger anticipating an airplane crash. As he did, he felt the creature’s saliva coating the back of his neck with drop after drop of slobber.

“Close your mouth, you drooling bitch!”

With his heart pounding furiously, Payne twisted his neck, hoping to identify the animal without getting in harm’s way. He wasn’t sure if it was a wolf or a dog, but it was, without question, the sleekest animal he had ever seen. Covered in a sheer white coat, the level back and lean muscular frame of the creature glistened in the bright sun as it frantically clawed at the Devil’s Box, trying to rip Payne into tender, bite-sized morsels. Its face, thin and angular, revealed a full set of spiked teeth, each quite capable of inflicting serious damage, and a pink nose, one of the few instances of color on the entire beast. The most prominent of its features, besides its ferocity and propensity for drool, were its ears. Long and light pink, they stood at attention like an antenna on an old TV.

As the attack continued, Payne gained confidence in the cube’s sturdiness, which allowed him to take a relaxing breath. If the animal had somehow entered the box, Payne realized he would’ve been screwed. Since his hands were bolted to the floor and his legs were severely restricted, he wouldn’t have had a chance to defend himself.

“Bad doggie!” Payne yelled, cowering from the lid. “Go home! Return to Satan!”

Surprisingly, the command worked. Just as quickly as the attack had started, it stopped. The animal suddenly leapt from the box and scurried away.

Payne’s eyes grew wide from the surprising turn of events. He had never expected his request to work. In fact, he’d said it simply in jest. “Wow! Is my breath that bad?”

Before he could answer his own question, a voice interrupted him.

“Hello, Mr. Payne. How are you doing today?” The words were English, but they were tinted with an African accent.

Payne looked above but couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from. He strained his neck in all directions but was unable to see who approached. “God? Is that you?”

“Master Greene told me you were somewhat of a jokester. I guess he was right.”

Payne grimaced. “Actually, I’m not somewhat of a jokester. I am a jokester! There’s a big difference, my African friend.”

Hakeem Ndjai leaned his face over the top of his box and smiled, revealing a set of decaying teeth that had been neglected for some time. “Yes, I guess you are a jokester. Quite comical, especially for someone in your predicament.”

“By the way, I meant to talk to you about that. You know, you have to do something about this box of yours. Your wooden-mesh roof is seriously messing up my sunlight. If I’m not careful, it’s going to look like I tanned my face in a waffle iron.”

Ndjai grinned. “All you have to do is write down your request and put it in the suggestion box at the main house. Oh, I forgot! You are unable to get to the house. Too bad! I guess you will just have to deal with it.”

Payne sighed. “I guess so.”

“Now, if we are done with the fun and games, I would like to ask you a question. How did you enjoy your introduction to my pet?”

“Your pet? You mean the albino pit bull? Oh, yeah, it was swell. I bet it’s great around kids. Just make sure you get a head count beforehand.”

Ndjai sat on the edge of the black device and chuckled. “Surprisingly, he is wonderful around children. He is only hostile when I want him to be. That is why he backed away from the box when I called him. He is very obedient.”

“You called him? Damn! I was hoping it obeyed my commands. That would make my escape so much easier.”

“Yes”—he laughed—“I guess it would. Unfortunately for you, Tornado only listens to me.”

“Tornado? That’s a pretty stupid name for a dog. How the hell did you come up with that?”

Ndjai sneered. “If you did not notice, Tornado circles his prey again and again until he is ready to attack. It is how he whips himself into a frenzy.”

“Boy, that’s kinda weird, don’t you think? Why not call him Dizzy? That’s a good name for a dog. Or how about Re tardo? That seems to fit. I mean, let’s be honest, how smart can the dog be if it has

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