Buck Fever (9 page)

“Jack! Come here quick,” Mandi screamed from the master bedroom.

“This is not going to be good,” Jack said, running toward the bedroom.

~ ~ ~

“Ooh...ooh, he...he’s foaming,” Jack stuttered, seeing a terrorized dog sitting in the bed over an antler-less deer head. He held Mandi’s shoulders, consoling her.

“I’m getting sick,” Mandi said. She leaped back through the door and down the hall. Vomiting sounds emanated from the bathroom.

“Here, boy, come on.” Jack stepped toward the dog, grabbed the deer head and tugged it from the dog’s mouth. Rusty growled, then folded his legs and lay on the bed as in the den. “What’s gotten into you? You’ve never gone through the garbage before.” Jack headed out the bedroom carrying the deer head. “I’m going to pack this mess up and take it down the street to the party store and put it into their dumpster.”

“Oh, God, what a disaster. How are we going to get this clean? How can you be calm? Oh, God...” Mandi said, holding her stomach as she walked back into the bedroom. She stepped next to the dog and sternly patted its head. “Get up, you scoundrel. Look what you’ve done to this house. Get up and get out.”

Suddenly, the dog’s legs stiffened causing it to spring forward. Its jaws snapped open and clamped onto Mandi’s sweatshirt. The dog growled and refused to let go as Mandi struggled to get away.

“Jack, he’s biting my boob. Ooh, it hurts. Get him off!” She stumbled to the floor with the dog attached.

“Jesus, what’s going on? He’s never bit anyone before.” Jack grabbed the dog’s hind legs and pulled as the dog shook its head. “He’s not budging.”

“Kick him...in the balls. Ooh, it hurts, Jack.” Mandi pounded on the floor with both fists trying to relieve the pain.

Jack spread the dog’s legs apart and lifted his foot into the dog’s groin. Its jaws popped open as it let out a moaning howl. Jack dropped the dog on the floor. It kicked helplessly, becoming motionless.

“Great, I’ve wounded Rusty,” Jack said, grabbing Mandi’s arm. The dog quivered, stood up, wobbled slightly and affectionately licked her face.

“Ooh, get him away from me. He has blood on his nose.

She sat up and rubbed her left breast. A set of red teeth marks dotted her sweatshirt. She lifted it up and pulled her bra off.

“Look, he got me good,” she said, pointing to fresh bruises. Jack took advantage of the moment and gave it a squeeze. “Stop, it hurts. You’re cut off for a month, now.”

“This sure has turned into the hunting trip from hell. It’s going to take us the rest of the day to clean up.”

“You need to call the insurance company tomorrow. Bloodstains will never come out of the carpet. Not in my lifetime.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s see how it goes. I’m more worried about the dog. I hope he’s not turning mean on us.”

~ ~ ~

“I’m going to tie the dog up outside while we clean up,” Jack said, grabbing the dog’s leash. As he put on his coat, the dog danced around him in the kitchen. “You want to go out, now? Bet you want to roll around in those deer guts out there.” The dog jumped on its hind legs, walked to the patio door, clasped the handle in its mouth and pulled the door open. “What the...Mandi, come here. You’re not going to believe this.”

“What? Don’t tell me he opened the door,” she said, entering the kitchen. Rusty remained standing on his hind legs by the open door.

“Yup, we have a smart pup. Here boy, get the leash.” The dog walked over to Jack, accepted the leash and pranced on its hind legs out the patio door with Jack in tow. “Look, he’s even smiling.”

“Until we get the house back to normal, you both are on my shit list,” Mandi said, rubbing her breast and closing the patio door behind them.

Chapter 13

P
orter, sitting on his bed, wearing boxer shorts, looking at his laptop screen, talked on the phone.

“So what do you think?”

“Reads a little sensational don’t you think?” Kottle said into the phone, sitting in her apartment bed in comfortable pajamas, reading the laptop screen on her computer.

“What do you think of this headline: Hunter Misfortune and Accidents Plague Ogemaw County?”

“Well...I guess it’s okay. Pillbock will select his own headline anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sending it in, it’s already eight o’clock. Pillbock usually doesn’t read his email after nine PM. I’ll call you back with an update.”

~ ~ ~

“Porter, have you lost your mind? Does this sound like something the Detroit Times would publish? ‘Are deer becoming smarter? West Branch local authorities are investigating a series of seemingly unrelated, but bizarre incidents. In each case, a deer, mimicking human characteristics was involved.’ I don’t think so. If we publish that a deer is acting human without any scientific basis, we’ll have the animal-rights activists up in arms, and we’ll have the religious right pissed off. If you want to report how a scared animal appears to defend itself, okay. As for Lickshill being gored by a buck, I’d stick with the idea it was probably a murder; people understand murder. They can’t understand a buck getting so damn angry he kills a guy and bites off his penis. Leave it out. If we published every grizzly fact of every murder, we’d have people throwing up while they sipped their morning coffee.
Capish?
Also, the guy who gets sucked into a grinder with a deer standing by—come on—do you think people would ever believe a deer pushed him into the machine? I think we just report these as separate, but unfortunate incidents. As for the doe taking the baby into the woods—damn bizarre, but I think we should report that the child ran into the woods and just happened upon a scared deer trying to protect itself. People will believe it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make some changes and tone it down. I thought you wanted an investigative piece. Something worth reading,” Porter said into his cellphone. His watch read: 10:30 PM.

“I do, but it’s got to be solving a mystery. What’s at the heart of these incidents, smarter deer? If true, then why and how? What’s causing it? Some disease? West Nile, maybe? Is something affecting the deer’s brains? Give it a name.”

“Like
Buck Fever
?” Porter said, jokingly.

“
Buck Fever
? Good double entendre.”

“If true, wouldn’t that bring out every crank group in Michigan? Look what Mad Cow disease did to the Canadian meat industry.”

“Regardless, if it is true or can be true, we’ve done our job by reporting it. That way, the groups aren’t coming at us. They’re battling each other, and that’s news, my boy—yes, sir—more news for us.”

“Look and learn,” Porter said.

“What? Oh...yeah, look and learn. You got it,” Pillbock said, sounding positive. “Hook up with Dingman. He called earlier and said he has more info on Lickshill. You and Dingman can chase this down from now on. Kottle can cover the Detroit council meeting next week.”

“Dingman? I’d rather have Kottle following me around than Dingman. Besides, Kottle needs the experience.”

“Then you three cover this. Just get me something by Christmas.”

“Christmas? I was thinking by late next week.”

“It’s going to take longer than you think to patch all the facts together. I have a hunch you’ll need access to the scientific crowd. I want Dingman to be part of this. He knows some prominent physicians and college professors plus experts in the crime lab downtown. You’ll need access to the best minds and equipment to solve this.”

“Okay,” Porter weakly agreed and hung up the phone.
Crap
, he thought
, this is getting to be more like a senior term paper. I hate that shit.

~ ~ ~

“He didn’t like it. No truth to it,” Porter explained to Kottle on the phone.

“Okay. Tone it down; send it in; and we’re done. I’ve had enough of this. I don’t care much for hunting or hunting-related stories anyway.”

“We’ve only just begun. Pillbock wants the truth of the story. What’s the mystery behind the events? You know that shit that Sanguini was talking about. He’s willing to give us until Christmas to get the story.”

“Christmas?”

“Yes, we’ll need a three-pager with pictures, research, facts...argh.”

“We’ll need help. This is too much work.”

“Trust me, we’re going to get all the help we need.”

“Oh no, you’re not going to tell me Dingman is part of this.”

“Yup. Pillbock says he has the contacts we need to succeed. Hey, I fought to keep you on the team. You’ll still get your name on this.”

“Thanks for nothing. I’d rather cover the Detroit council meetings.”

“Pillbock would rather you do that too. It’s up to you.”

“He does? I’m not good enough for the big crime story? Screw him. I’ll be waiting by your desk early Monday morning. Goodbye!”

“Okay. That’s my
girl
,” Porter said, laughing, and hung up the phone.

Chapter 14

J
ack Hermanski sat up in bed. “Did you hear that? Sounds like something rustling in the kitchen.”

“Huh? What? What time is it?” Mandi Hermanski said, rolling over in bed to look at the clock on the bed stand. “It’s six AM. Rusty probably has to go. Get up and let him out. Damn dog, he never lets us sleep in. Yesterday was the worst day of my life. I need more sleep.”

Click. Whoosh.

“What the hell, sounded like he opened the door and went out.”

“How could he? It’s locked. Rusty? Come here boy. Rusty?” Mandi shouted.

“Woof, weef, warf,” Rusty barked, as he entered the bedroom.

“He’s making those strange barking sounds again. Come here boy. What’s wrong?” Jack said, sitting up in bed, looking at the shadow of an approaching dog.

Whoomp.

“Huh? I just heard the patio door close. Jack, we have a real burglar this time. Do something.” Mandi sat up and held the covers tightly to her chest.

Rusty turned, headed for the kitchen and continued to whine unfamiliar sounds.

“Call the police. I’m going out to investigate. You’d think Rusty would jump around and bark up a storm, but all he does is whimper.” Jack leaned over and grabbed a large metal flashlight from under the bed, stood up and slowly walked out of the hall, swinging the flashlight forward as protection.

~ ~ ~

Rusty stood quietly in the kitchen hovering over an unrecognizable lump on the tile floor. He whined softly, staring at the patio door.

Jack turned the flashlight toward Rusty, then through the patio door glass. Two glowing eyes stared back at him set in the outline of a large black dog. He shined the light around the dog, revealing another large dog sitting behind it.

“What the...oh, shit,” he said, pointing the light down on the floor in front of Rusty. “Mandi, you’re not going to believe this. The damn deer head is back.” He switched on the kitchen light to survey the bloody lump.

The two dogs outside suddenly jumped up on their hind legs and threw themselves against the patio door.

“Jesus!” Jack said, hopping backward.

“The police are coming. By the way, your phone in the den was off the hook and lying next to the cradle. What’s...oh, my God! They’ve gone mad. They’re going to break the glass,” Mandi said, walking into the kitchen and holding her hands up for protection. “I’m going back to the bedroom.”

Bang. Bang. Bang. The two outside dogs continued to pounce against the glass door, growling and showing teeth.

Rusty, whining uncontrollably, lunged toward them, stood up on his hind legs, grasped the door handle with both paws, shoving the door open.

“Shit, no. God, don’t let those dogs in.” Jack stepped forward, grabbed Rusty’s collar and pulled him away. The two dogs forced the door open and entered the kitchen. “God damn, this isn’t going be good,” he said, holding on to Rusty’s collar while swinging the flashlight.

The two black dogs jaw-grabbed the deer head, pulled it through the patio door and ran into the darkness.

Flashing red and blue lights entered the driveway.

Jack stepped frantically toward the open patio door, shoved it closed and waited.

~ ~ ~

“You two okay? Anyone hurt?” a Troy police officer said, walking through the patio door, waving a flashlight. “We got a report of a possible break in. Did they take anything valuable? Ah...did someone...what is this, blood?” He bent over to look.

“We’re okay, officer. Just had a run in with some neighborhood dogs and a deer head. I don’t know if someone got in and put the deer head in here or our dog did it.” Jack explained, dressed in a black T-shirt and black-and-white-striped pajama bottoms. Mandi held onto his arm, wearing a white bathrobe covering floor-length pink silk pajamas.

“What deer head?” the police officer said, looking around the kitchen floor for evidence. “Where is it? Your dog doesn’t bite does he?”

“No, he just gets a little rambunctious at times. Here, boy, go into the laundry room. Good boy. Now sit. See he’s a good dog...and, very smart.”

“Okay, so we have a smart dog and blood on the floor from a deer head. Do you have some quirky friends? Maybe someone is playing a prank on you.”

“Do you think George would do something like this? He pulls practical jokes on you now and then.” Mandi said to Jack.

“Montagno? Hell no. This would be way over his head.”

“Are you referring to George Montagno over on Lincoln Street a couple of blocks away?” the officer asked.

“Yes. How’d you know?”

“He reported an attempted forcible entry several hours ago. When I got there, he said he saw a couple of black dogs carrying a dead animal out of his yard. I decided it was just an animal problem.”

“We saw two dogs too. Right, Mandi?” Jack said. “They were at the door and our dog let them in, and they carried a deer head out with them.”

“Your dog let them in? How?”

“He can reach the door latch and pull it open.”

“How did the deer head get in here originally?”

“I hunted up north with some friends and we got a deer and processed it in the basement. Our dog found it in the garbage yesterday and dragged it into the house. I took it out again and disposed of it.”