--continued from below--
Laurel barked once, not altering his stare. Lisa bent down, holding her posture very erect. Her eyes scanned the ivy, repeatedly as she felt the ground for the shovel. Something drove her to fear. There was an unnatural air about now; a weight was hanging over the sky, urging her to go back. She was unsure what she was truly afraid of, was it the fact of the dog missing? On the other hand, what exactly was the gleaming substance on the ivy? Instincts told her to retreat, logic dictate she advance. She was torn. She sighed, as she stood up tall, gripping the small garden shovel as if it were a weapon.
She started to take a step forward, Laurel whimpered. She stopped again, looking down at the large dog. He simply looked at her and then looked at the wall. She rolled her eyes. “Sorry,” she said, “you’re just a dog and it’s just a plant.”
She huffed, turned, and marched to the wall. She was being ridiculous, what, was this some kind of mutated flesh eating ivy? She laughed at herself for even contemplating it for a moment. She reached the wall and stared down the ivy as if she was standing in the old west facing off to a gunslinger. She gripped the shovel tighter in her right hand. Okay, take the plunge, she thought.
She grabbed the leafy evergreen plant near the top of the fence and gave it a good tug, using all the weight she could muster. It seemed almost to fight her, pull her back toward the fence. She backed up a step, letting go of the vine. Lifting the shovel, she was going to use it as an axe; she nodded to Laurel and gave the ivy a “Fuck You”.
As she pulled out on the ivy with her left hand, she paused. Her green and white gloved now stained a dark crimson. She rubbed her fingers together, moving the still fresh blood. Yes, she knew it was blood, but it was not hers. Slowly she lifted her eyes up to where her hand had grasped the vicious vine. Blood covered the green leaves giving them a purplish hue. Hesitantly she reached in moving the leaves and vines apart; working her way to the fence, she did not make it.
Her gloved hand got hold of something firm, she yanked, and it gave a snap in return. Lisa slowly pulled it out; she noticed she was beginning to shake uncontrollably, not a lot, just enough to frighten her. She was getting nervous, but she had to know. The ivy gave her resistance, as if it did not wish to relinquish its prize. She felt a tickle on her arm as the plant touched her bare skin above the clove. The hole she made to get the bloody object was closing by itself, trying to grip her arm and hold her fast.
Concern mounting, she chose concern over fear in her mind; she yanked backward with all her weight while using the spade in her other hand to chop at the ivy, hoping not to put a gash into her own arm or hand. Finally, she won the dug of war, nearly falling to the grassy lawn when she did. After regaining her balance, her eyes slowly fell to the item in her hand. She let out a cry as she looked upon the bloody stump of an animal’s leg. The paw was intact, but he flesh stripped away from the femur itself. She quickly let it go; her right hand instantly covered her mouth. She backed off the fence, tears in her eyes. She knew it was Hardy, the coloring matched. She dropped to her knees. She wanted to scream, but she could not, she could only cry.
Before she could stop herself, another feeling swept over her. Anger swelled up taking control and in an instant she was up and charging the ivy wall once more. She heard herself scream out, cursing in vain at the plant, uncaring if it understood or not. She reached it, grabbed at the ivy vines, pulling, tugging, and slashing with the shovel. It seemed to retreat from her, it also hissed, or sounded as if it had.
Something tightened around her ankle, then wrenched her, knocking her backward to the ground. It was dragging her up the wall; blood was running from her lower leg. The pain was unreal, unlike any she had endured. More vines of ivy were crawling from the wall through the yard toward her. She knew then that it was the end; all she could do was scream loudly and try to pull away.
Something zipped past her vision, it was large, and it was Laurel. The dog tore into the vine that held her fast. It chewed and tugged at the vile unnatural entity. Dark ooze shot everywhere, coating both in a black thick sticky substance. The dog continued his ferocious attack, and with a renewed sense of hope and vigor, she sat up, grabbed the weed killer, and started spraying. More vines reached out, others shied away from the spray.
Another vine was tearing up her leg, shredding her jeans easily, and then drinking the flesh from her calf. She screamed as she chopped with the useless shovel and sprayed the chemicals everywhere she could. Laurel was now being entangled, vines wrapped around his neck and chest. He did not give up the fight; he chewed and chomped his way to her tangled foot.
The roar of the weed-whacker did not sink in until she saw Kevin madly waving the whirling blade over her head and then carve into the advancing ivy. Again, vile black ooze flew everywhere, covering her, Kevin, and Laurel. A shrill like whine vibrated from the attacking vines as it began to retreat from the madman wielding a gas-powered yard tool.
Once free, she pulled herself back from the fence as far as she could, Laurel followed, limping. Kevin hacked at the vines, forcing them to retreat halfway up the six-foot fence. As he was screaming insanely at the animated vegetation, she examined her wounds. Her left leg torn up, containing several deep lacerations nearly to the bone. Blood quickly covered her sweet green grass where she sat. It was all she could do to keep herself from passing out from both pain and the sight of it. Lisa propped herself up with her arms behind her.
Kevin ran back to her, tossing the trimmer to the ground. He nearly gagged as he looked at her legs, then his big brown eyes looked into hers. “Oh my God, we need to get you to a hospital,” he screamed.
“We need to go to the garden center,” she said, she was dizzy and in a daze, she watched the ivy recede up the wooden barrier.
“What?”
“We need a stronger weed-killer.”