back pain

There was no warning. None at all. The door to Butters’s bedroom exploded outward, sending splinters of cheap plywood sailing everywhere. A missile of living muscle hit me in the back at almost the same instant, shoving my chest forward and whiplashing my head back. My spine lit up like a casino, and I felt myself driven hard to the ground.
Something powerful and snarling and terribly strong came down on top of me, and I felt claws and fangs begin to rake at me.
Guess I used up all my evening’s luck on the front door guy.

Cold Days Chapter 9, Page 83-84


Claws shredded my tux, raking over my back, my buttocks, and the backs of my legs. Jaws would have bitten into my neck if I hadn’t gotten my hands in the way, clamping them over the back of my neck and squeezing them as tight as I could, hoping that a finger wouldn’t come up and be nipped off. Pain came in, hot and high, but the claws didn’t dig as deep as they would have if this had been a malk or a ghoul, and I had to hope the damage wouldn’t be too serious—unless the fight went on long enough for blood loss to weaken me.
Some analytical part of my head was going over those facts in a detached and rational fashion.

Cold Days Chapter 10, Page 85


When I turned back to Andi, she looked horrified. “Oh, God, Harry. Your back.”
I grunted, twisted a bit, and got a look at myself in the reflection in the window. My jacket was in tatters and stained with blots of blood. It hurt, but not horribly, maybe as much as a bad sunburn.
“I’m sorry,” Andi said.
“I’ll live,” I said. I walked over to her, leaned down, and kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry about your ribs. And the computers. I’ll make up the damages to you guys.”

Cold Days Chapter 10, Page 89-90