Fight or Flight by Natalie J. Damschroder

because the sky hadn’t started to lighten. At least, not what she could see of it through the tiny windows in the shed. After a while there was a sound like a screen door opening, then slapping shut. Scuffing footsteps, maybe in bedroom slippers, scraped across the sidewalk. Then she heard a man’s voice.
    “What’s going on, officers?”
    A car door opened but didn’t close again. There was clinking, and Kelsey imagined the male cop hitching up his pants, making his belt rattle the handcuffs and stuff hanging from it. But the voice was the woman’s.
    They must have been on the lawn, closer to the shed, because Kelsey could hear them talking clearly now.
    “Do you recognize this car, sir?”
    “No. I don’t think so. Why?”
    “Did you happen to notice when it appeared?”
    “Um…” Kelsey imagined him scratching his head. “Nah. Don’t think it was there when I let the dog out. ’Bout ten last night. Someone call you about it?”
    “You’re up early.”
    “Yeah, I leave for work at five. Early shift. Look, am I in some kind of trouble?”
    “No, sir. Thank you for your time.” Shoes scratched against concrete.
    “Is the car stolen?” the guy from the house asked.
    “Best get to work now, sir. Thank you.”
    “Hey!” The man didn’t sound pleased at being given the brush-off. Kelsey smirked.
    The police radio squawked again, something about a burglary in progress. The man cop shouted to his partner and started the engine. A moment later the door slammed and the car moved off, fast.
    Van started to get up. Kelsey caught and held her until they heard the screen door open and close again. They rose to their feet and edged to the door, cracking it just a little and squinting through.
    “Dog,” Van whispered, and they closed it quickly again, listening to the animal snuffling around. Praying it didn’t sense them in the shed.
    It did. First it gave an excited little yip, then a sharper bark. Kelsey wedged her fingers into the trim around the edge of the door to hold it closed. She jumped as the dog started to scratch at the siding, and clung tighter. Van stared at her, eyes wide, lips pressed together. Her chin trembled when they heard the screen open yet again.
    “Kinky! What are you doing? Get over here.”
    Kelsey let out a snort. Kinky? Luckily, the dog’s bark covered the sound. His feet rustled against the dry grass.
    “Kinky! Come!”
    The dog gave one last bark and ran off, receiving praise from his owner. Kelsey covered her mouth to hold in her laughter, but Van started coughing with her effort. Kelsey shushed her, which made the laughter worse for both of them.
    Until the shed door opened.
    Sheer nerve kept Kelsey from screaming as the door jerked out of her hand, ripping two fingernails. She barely felt it, clenching her hand in a fist and swinging. Van let out a stifled yelp and fell back into the shed, away from their attacker.
    “Whoa!” The man in front of her caught Kelsey’s right fist in his hand, but his instinct to dodge threw him off balance. She followed with a left uppercut before she realized it was Tom. She pulled the punch, but it clipped the underside of his chin and he sprawled onto his back.
    Kelsey leaped out next to him and crouched at his side. “Tom!” she whispered urgently. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
    He groaned and worked his jaw with his fingers. “I think I bit my tongue.”
    “God, I’m sorry. I thought you were—”
    “I know.” He let her help him sit up. “You’ve got to stop doing that to me.”
    Van, who’d followed Kelsey out of the shed and closed the door, wrinkled her nose. “Hon, I hope you didn’t land in what I’m smellin’.”
    Kelsey leaned to look at Tom’s back. “Ew.” He’d definitely landed in Kinky’s fresh poo. “Van, see if there’s anything in the shed to clean him off. At least it’s your jacket,” she tried. “Could have been your shirt.”
    Tom grimaced. “You know how hard it is to clean