Hell's Gate

into the robot, and went rolling across the lawn in a tangle of claws and teeth.
        Lynda screamed behind Salsbury, then was at his side.
        “Get the vibratube!” he shouted. “Hurry!”
        She was gone then, the porch door slamming behind her.
        He watched the dogs fight, the long-toothed, battery-powered demon and his own noble mongrel. Judging from the manner in which he attacked the mechanical beast, Intrepid seemed to think he was a super dog himself. He rode its back, snarling and digging into its neck with his teeth, raking its sides with his claws. The robot staggered under his weight, nipped at him over its shoulder but could not get in any good rips with its long teeth in such close-quarters combat.
        “Stay with it, boy!” Victor shouted, his voice a long, wheezing croak.
        The mechanical beast rolled, twisted, got away from Intrepid, then launched itself back at him, got its teeth into his shoulder and ripped with a fury only a machine could have contained; such violent aggressiveness would have burned out an organic brain. Even from where Salsbury sat, he could see the rich gleam of blood against the tan fur of Intrepid's shoulder. The mutt yelped a painful series of noises, but he did not give up the battle. He got his own teeth into the robot dog's neck, right where the jugular should be, and tore. He came away with a mouthful of fur and pink plastic jell that exposed wires and tubes beneath a clear plexiglass casing.
        But he drew no blood.
        It was hopeless. Intrepid must have sensed that too. But he went for the throat again, gnashing teeth on that transparent casing.
        Lynda seemed to be taking a damnably long time. He wondered if she remembered where the tube was; if she had to hunt, she might not find it in time. “Lynda!” Salsbury shouted, frantic now that his dog was losing. “Lynda, damnit!”
        The robot had torn Intrepid's shoulder into a raggedy mess. Now it changed its tactics, satisfied it had accomplished all that it could with the shoulder. It went for the base of the dog's throat, bit there. Intrepid squealed, pulled away, losing some fur and dribbling blood from his throat now. He staggered and went down on his hind legs, as if he were very weary, too tired to much care any longer.
        The robot circled him, bit him in the haunch.
        “You son-of-a-bitch!” Salsbury screamed. “Leave him alone!”
        The robot bit Intrepid on the haunch again, worried the flesh a moment before letting go.
        Intrepid made a half-hearted muttering growl deep in his throat, seemed as angry at his own weakness as he was at the enemy.
        “Lynda!” Where was she?
        Intrepid gagged sickeningly and made a few meaningless passes at his adversary, never once getting a score. The robot came around the front of him, again, went in for his shoulder. Intrepid managed to bite the robot's nose, a nip that would have stopped an ordinary dog. But this beast was not ordinary.
        Suddenly Lynda was next to him with the vibratube.
        “Can you see which one?” he asked.
        She nodded and aimed.
        The weapon hummed. The beam caught the mechanical in the rear, made its fur stand on end all over its body, as if each hair were an individual wire. The thing let go of Intrepid and looked around, turned toward them and began a rapid hobble on its three good legs. It had been sidetracked by the necessity to put Intrepid out of the action; it was now returning to its original mission: to kill Salsbury… and Lynda too, no doubt.
        Halfway to them, it shuddered-the beam still played on it-and tried to turn around, instead, dropped to the ground again, its neck casing shattered. It was still. Dead and finished.
        But Intrepid was also still.
        Salsbury's head felt like a cracked egg with things leaking out of it, and there was a small though bearable fire in his calf where the robot had sunk its teeth. Ignoring both of these pains, he made his way to Intrepid and knelt beside him. The dog looked up at him with huge brown eyes, slightly dulled now, licked his lips with a pink and swollen tongue. He didn't even whine. Salsbury thought there was a point where stoic courage became foolishness.
        “Is there a veterinarian in town?” he asked Lynda.
        “Dr. Debert.”
        “Get the car started. We're taking him in as fast as you can drive the damn thing.”
        She ran