CECILE GODING<br >The Big Dog<br > "Take them off，" he said.<br > "I don t do that，" she said. "Just one leg."<br > Sue liked to know at all times where her pants were.<br > His face was scabby， his scurvied gums bleeding. Naughty<br >boy， he d forgotten to take his vitamins. Broken teeth flashed<br >as he grimaced and tried to force in.<br > "Cold bitch. Fucking dry hump."<br > He had set the can， her pay， on a flat rock jiast out of her<br >reach. While he cursed and burrowed with ferocity， Sue looked<br >at the label. !i<br > Van Camp s hickory-smoked meat n beans.<br > She knew what smoke meant. At ~me time she must have<br > known hickory， but she couldn t remember.<br > Sue had a can opener. She kept it in her pants， with<br >her razor.<br > She looked at the label for a while. A man in a tall white<br >hat and a clean apron stood over smoking meat. The woman<br >behind him was blond and thin. A good runner. Like Annie.<br > Sue had made a deal with the man， but he might just as<br > soon kill her. Maybe he needed a can opener. She had a can<br > opener. She had the means. So it figured， then， that the can<br > was hers. By rights. Hell， she could almost reach it.<br > "Oh， baby， harder，" she teased.<br > And he pushed harder， sliding her across the pine straw.<br > Almost there. One more push.<br > The can was heavy and felt good. She caressed the man s<br ><br >