Say No More (25 page)

Halo? Come on, girl.

The soft rasp. The light touch. I knew whose hands and voice they were. But how ...?

I opened my eyes. Cecil was beside me. He pulled his hand back, tilted his head knowingly and winked. My heart melted at that one small gesture. Except for that time when he’d taken me to the place where humans buried their dead, he’d never said much to me. He never needed to. In each fleeting grin, pat on the head, or ‘good girl’, he’d defined our relationship. He had needed me as much as I’d needed him.

I felt several halting jerks as Tucker tapped on the brakes. Both vehicles shuddered as we eased to a full stop on the side of the highway.

Slowly, Cecil got to his feet.
You still have work to do
, he said to me.

I don’t think I can
, I told him.

Sure you can. Just get up.

Lightning cracked so close that every atom in my body popped with electricity. Whiteness blinded me.

Let’s go home, Halo.

I braved a look. Cecil peered out the back window. He was pale. Not just his face, but his shirt, his overalls, his boots. Like a faded photograph in a newspaper clipping.

Another bolt ripped through the charged air, cracking its fiery tendrils against a nearby tree. Through the small opening in back, I saw the sparks fly from a thick branch, then heard the crash as it fell to the ground. Thunder shook the world, its angry rumble dying away slowly.

I sat up, squinted into the watery darkness. A beam of headlights shone through the high window, then flashed by. My eyes adjusted. I blinked once, twice.

Cecil wasn’t there anymore.

“Goddamn sonofabitch!” Tucker slammed the door and stomped through puddles. “Hold on, Vern ... Aw shit, man. Tire’s flat as squashed dog crap. I’m
so
screwed. Of all days ...” He kicked at the tire, muttering curses in between apologies. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I called. Here’s the deal. You know this dog I was telling you about? Yeah, well, she’s available. And I gotta get rid of her quick. I can be at your place in a couple of hours. Make that three — I need to unhitch the trailer and go back to the last exit to fetch a new tire. Anyway, I’ll compromise and take nine fifty for her... What do you mean you ...? No way. No freakin’ way. I can’t wait until then ... No, I’m not bartering for her, either. What the hell would I need a ten-year old four-wheeler for? Cash only... Look, you said if my other contact backed out to let you know. Well, I’m doing that and now you’re trying to finagle some flimsy deal with me? Whatever you’re smoking right now it ain’t Marlboros. I told you to stay away from those crackheads ... Whatever, man! Crack, pot, magic toadstools, it’s all the same.”

A car raced by with a long honk. Water crashed in a thunderous wall against the trailer in its wake.

“Awww, fuck you!” Tucker slammed his fist into the side of the trailer.

The voice on the other end of the phone squawked.

“No, I wasn’t talking to you, but I might as well have been. Just forget I called. And don’t you dare
ever
ask me for any favors, you twit. You owe me about a dozen, as it is.”

His phone let out a feeble beep as he pushed the end call button. Rain was still pouring steadily. Thunder rolled in the distance. Another car horn blared. Bolts and hinges groaned as Tucker stepped up on the trailer hitch. He pushed one of the side windows all the way open, reached down and unknotted the rope attached to the metal loop. It fell to the floor with a muffled thud. I jumped away from it, as if it might bite me like a coiled snake poised to strike.

What was this supposed to mean?

Muttering, Tucker marched back to the truck cab. A few seconds later, a dog’s choker collar jingled as he walked around to the back and heaved the door open with a grunt of exasperation.

“Get the hell out of here,” he ordered.

A shadow blocked my only route of escape. It was like no dog I had ever seen — if that’s what it even was. A long legged, hulking mass of muscle stood silhouetted against a glow of headlights. Its sleek steel gray hide glistened with a sheen of rain. Massive paws anchored its bulk, dark toenails splayed in an oily puddle. Loose skin sagged from its gargantuan head, flews flapping as it ran a long tongue over jagged teeth. Bloodshot eyes disappeared into loose folds of skin. And the ears — outside of a terrier or two, they were the tiniest ears I had ever seen. Actually, they were more like nubs where his ears had once been. Made me wonder if he had lost them in a fight, because no dog could have ever been born with ears like that. And no dog could have been born
that
ugly.

A rumble of warning rose from deep within the beast’s throat. On open ground, I could have outsprinted him in just a few strides. With a little more room perhaps, I could have evaded him with my agility. A dodge, a duck, a leap to the side, he would have barely touched me. But here, as weak as I was, closed in on three sides, no more than a few feet in either direction ... my chances were looking slim. Dismal, actually.

I had been charged by rams red with fury, and attacked by a bull bent on reaching his heifers in another pasture. Those animals had horns, but they didn’t have jaws meant for crushing smaller animals.

I backed up as far as I could. Dipped my head to show I didn’t want a fight. But deep in my belly, I knew that that was what this monster had been bred for: to maim, to kill.

Frozen to death, cooked in a metal trailer, starved, kicked in the ribs. I’d survived all that only to meet my death this way. My flesh shredded, bones crushed, blood spurting and gushing in a gory display of machismo by this hellhound.

The headlights of a car coming in the other direction illuminated Tucker. He looked defeated. Like a drowned rat clawing his way out of the gutter, lying limply next to the curb.

The dog’s lip lifted in a snarl, another growl vibrating his chest. I waited for him to lunge, to sink his giant teeth into my skin. Tucker yanked back on the leather handle of his chain leash. The dog obeyed, backing away just enough to give me an opening if I were brave enough — or stupid enough — to take it.

“I said get out,” Tucker repeated.

The dog-monster growled again. Louder.

“Shut up, Cerberus.” Tucker yanked him to his side.

I stayed where I was. They were only a few feet away. I didn’t trust either of them.

Tucker pulled a full beer can from his jacket pocket and flailed it into the trailer. It ricocheted off the back wall and slammed me in the loin. A yelp split my throat.

Fueled by fear, I bolted. Ran without thinking or looking.

Ran for my life.

—o00o—

I took off without direction, the rope trailing behind me. My only thought was the need to get as far from them as fast as I could — and that meant in a straight line.

Rain fell heavily, smearing the world in streaks of white and red lights as cars and trucks zipped by. Two blazing orbs of light appeared in front of me, boring into the lenses of my eyes like lasers. I pulled up, almost stopped, unsure of which way to go. A horn blasted, piercing my eardrums. I dashed across the road and bounded into a grassy ditch. A few more strides and my feet sank in deep muck. I stumbled, rolled in a puddle underlain with sharp rocks, righted myself and ran on. Up a short incline. Onto another road.

A car swerved by me, its tires squealing on the slick pavement. I looked back to see it careen onto the shoulder, scud over packed gravel, then jerk back onto the highway. Just as I turned to go again, a wall of air shoved me backward as a double long semi roared by. Panicked, I stopped again, my front and back feet spanning a broken white line. Shivers of fright rattled me from skull to tailbone, even though the rain was warm.

I gulped in air, felt my heart hammering up high in my throat. I was just as afraid to turn back as I was to go forward. And then I saw another car barreling toward me.

Forward I leapt, into the darkness, unaware of how close the car was or whether there was another one coming. I saw a broad grassy strip, a line of woods ahead. A few strides more and I was across the road. The car whooshed by.

I didn’t stop to look behind me. The danger was not past. For all I knew, Tucker and his dog could have dodged the cars, picked up my trail, and were bearing down.

So I ran. Crashed through the bramble, branches lashing at my face, thorns pricking my paws, the heavy rope banging against my legs, tripping me. Still, I ran. Through the night. Ran until my lungs threatened to explode. Across streams. Through woods thick with old growth. Through meadows of tall grass and across boggy ground. Ran until the rain stopped and the sun rose pink above a field dense with soybeans.

Until my muscles wouldn’t allow me to go any further.

—o00o—

South. I kept heading south. Toward home.

Although for all I knew, home was hundreds, maybe even thousands, of miles away.

After a rest, I went on. More slowly this time, but still spurred by the fear that Tucker and his hellhound were on my trail. The knotted end of the rope caught on a forked branch on the ground, jerking me back. I got up, threw my weight forward as I tried to dislodge the branch, but it was solidly buried. One look told me the rope was too thick to chew through.

I sat awhile, pondering what to do, every sound in the woods setting off alarms in my head. Finally, I went to the end of the rope, faced the branch, and backed away. The collar, which had once been snug, slid over my head easily.

I was free.

I
hadn’t been able to see the world blur by as Tucker had driven to meet Clancy, but I was aware on which side the sun rose and set each day and I knew enough to go the other way. I stayed within sight of a busy highway, even though I wasn’t sure it was the same one we had gone north on. All the while, I searched for hills that looked like those around the farm and kept my nose to the air, hoping to catch some familiar scent. I saw cows and more rarely sheep, but the land here was more flat than hilly. There were great swaths of woodland and even bigger spreads of land that the humans had built their cities on. There were no deep valleys and broad grassy hills, one after the other.

This wasn’t home. It wasn’t even close.

But I had to keep going.

The first few days were the hardest. I was bone tired. Being deprived of food and water the few days that Tucker kept me in the hot trailer had drained my body almost to the point of collapse. At first I was too afraid to go anywhere near a human dwelling, but I knew if I didn’t then I would not survive. I
had
to survive, so I could go home and take care of the sheep. Without me, the senseless creatures were probably wandering around in the open every night, unprotected, afraid, being stalked by coyotes, their numbers dwindling day by day.

Water was easier to come by than food. The recent rain had left puddles everywhere. When those dried up, I drank from ditches. And so I never thirsted, even though the water was seldom clean. I stayed hidden and only approached the human dwellings when either there was no sign of their presence or it was well after nightfall. I couldn’t take the chance that someone would abuse or neglect me again — or even confine me to the safety of their enclosed yard and keep me from ever getting home.

The humans kept their extra food in tall plastic or metal containers with lids, sometimes neatly wrapped in plastic bags. When the smell of food was evident, I easily toppled the containers, although sometimes the lids were tricky, and tore the bags open to gorge myself on chicken bones, buns, bits of hamburger, potato skins, paper cups with a milky substance in the bottom, and limp, cold French fries. Some days were a feast better than any I had ever had before. Other days, when I had to pick through the rancid offerings, it was barely sustenance. I learned early on to trust my nose and if something smelled bad my stomach would revolt.

The days were still warm, but the nights were becoming cooler. Usually, I slept in the woods, away from the houses and roads, but the woods held their own dangers. One night, I burrowed myself a nest at the base of a tree where I slept soundly, only to awaken to two dogs staring at me, their hackles raised. One was lanky, with short black hair and droopy ears, while the other was small, but muscular, mostly white in color with a brindle patch over one eye and a stub like mine for a tail. The smaller one snarled and snapped her jaws, while the bigger one just stood and growled. They could have jumped me then, torn me to bits, but all they really wanted was for me to get out of their territory and move on.

Many days into my ordeal, I saw an old metal barrel at the end of a short path into the woods. The path looked like it had been formed by tire tracks, but no vehicle had come this way in a long time. There were other objects lying about, mostly tires, but also rusted bicycles, the metal framework of an old mattress, bits of cardboard, a very old TV with the front glass smashed out, and plastic jugs filled with nasty smelling liquids.

It had rained all day and the barrel was a dry place in which I could rest. I had no sooner poked my nose into the opening than a skunk whipped her rear end around and sprayed me with her foul scent. My eyes burned. I had killed a groundhog or two in my time, but I knew not to mess with a skunk. So I ran — the smell clinging to me like a billboard announcing my arrival a mile ahead of me. Wherever I went, it shouted, ‘Here I am!’ I rolled in dirt, waded in every pond I could find, but still the smell surrounded me. And just as I thought the stink was fading, a little rain, a roll in dewy grass, even the dampness in the air would stir it up from the roots of my hair.

On another occasion, I was lured by the smell of food coming from one of the metal containers behind a barn. I waited and watched for a long time to make sure there were no people around, even though there were no vehicles to indicate they might be there. I slunk around the corner of the barn, padded up to the container, and sniffed all around it. This one had no lid, but there were good things inside. I placed my front paws on its rim and, standing on my back two feet, I pulled it toward me. As it began to tip, I leapt aside. It wasn’t trash that spilled out first, but a barn cat.