Here, have it back, I say, and toss the foil on the ground between us. It tumbles off his shoe. He looks at it and shakes his head, and though I expect him to pick it up, he gently kicks it under the car. His attention never really leaves me.

Suddenly I realize he is serious. I stiffen, not sure if I should threaten with the tire iron or drop it and throw up my hands. I want to toss it and run, but there is no way to get around him to the alleyway.

I hope he might simply be scaring me and will put the knife down. Then he lifts it and starts towards me. I swing the rod backwards but the end seems to catch on something—it hits the car, I think—and my elbow folds awkwardly. He sees this and leaps forward, one arm extending the knife and the other reaching to pin my wrist that holds the iron. My eyes catch the blade flash, then vanish, and I curl back, hiding my face and shoving my shoulder in his direction. I wait to feel the clean stab that will break my skin and stop against my cartilage or bone. It could tear and rip and slice muscle. I stare at the side of the car—not daring to look—but catch a second flash in the side of my vision and the blue sky behind the descending Samoan. For a second I worry he will scar my face, and my eyes shut as if this could stop it.

But then I feel Greta scramble over the Jeep’s front hood, and hear her growling fevered barks as she leaps towards him fangs first, eyes bulging, and then the open mouth aimed like a snake fang at his knife arm. His eyes widen—surprised—and he tries to back off and point the knife at her. She catches his forearm and elbow and the weight of her slams him against the neighboring car.

As I stare at him I wonder why he is not screaming or calling for her to stop, and then I realize he cannot. There is a clicking sound, like a coin in a drier, and I realize it is his metal buttons clanking against the car.

I notice his knife lying on the ground and pick it up. I call in German for Greta to stop and she lets his arm go and backs off. She eyes him, growling low and deep, her black lips drawn away from her fangs. One of her eyes is milky with a cataract, which makes her look rabid and evil. Eddy, who has collapsed into sitting, stares at her and hardly notices his mangled arm.