Tales of Interest!
Sunday, April 16, 2006
See Spot, Run!
It was a beautiful October day and Jason was beginning to regret being inside. It wasn't by choice. He'd been under a ton of pressure at work lately, and his employee review was on Monday. In a stunning coincidence, Jason was terribly behind on a project analysis report that was due Monday morning before the review, to one of his reviewers. He could have been doing the best job in the world with his quarterly reports, which he wasn't, but if that analysis wasn't in on Monday it would be the sole topic of discussion at his review. He couldn't afford to miss this deadline. Thank God it was a three day weekend, and he had seventy-two hours in the comfort of his own home to tie up all his loose strings. His future job security more or less depended on it. Jason tapped his pen on the legal pad three times and then turned to the window. The trees were changing color outside, the sky blazed orange in the dusk, and a gentle breeze blew through the leaves, lifting the occasional early dropper and taking it for a dizzying spin skyward, followed by a lazy float to the ground. In another month, maybe just weeks, the trees would be bare and it'd be too chilly to jog without extra layers. The swaying branches seemed to beckon him outside. Suddenly, a cold wet nose prodded him in the arm, startling him out of his daze. Scout, his four year old golden retriever, had brought him the leash. "Good boy, Scout, I think you've got the right Idea!"
The light breeze was the best, fall in the country was so oppressive without it. It seemed to Jason almost hotter than summer, the way the clouds loomed overhead but wouldn't block the sunlight. It was like a pressure cooker. Then come winter the sun dropped, the clouds would break, the air got crisp, and all that humidity hung around, making sure to penetrate your clothes with the wet cold. On an evening such as this, though, Jason had zero complaints. Scout kept pace beside him, as they made good time down the long dirt road. Jason fiddled with his portable radio / mp3 player and switched off NPR. He pressed the random button and was pleasantly surprised when the familiar into to Men Without Hats' 'Safety Dance' started playing. He turned it up as his steps fell into rhythm with the electronic drum beat. He could see the peak of the town hall up ahead, meaning he had reached the 2 mile mark. He was enjoying his outing so much, Jason decided to go the extra half mile into town proper and rest a bit in the park before making his way back to the dreaded paperwork awaiting his return. Maybe that cute barrista Aimee would be working. Aimee loved Scout, maybe they could have a coffee and chat.
When Scout's leash went taut, Jason nearly lost his balance. One foot lost traction on the gravel and slid out in front of him as his shoulder was jerked back by the arm holding the leash. Only by keeping his other foot planted, bending all the way back, and landing on his left palm in the dirt did he avoid taking a complete spill. His hand was crying foul, Jason could tell he was going to have gravel embedded in the skin, never a fun situation. His headphones had come off his ears and now hung loosely around his neck. He could hear a lot of barking in the distance. "Damnit Scout!" He turned abruptly to see what the hell Scout had been thinking. He'd never once had a problem with 'heel' since he'd been taught, and they'd taken literally hundreds of jogs together. When he saw Scout, Jason wasn't sure exactly what to think, he'd never seen him look like this before. Scout had gone into an aggressive stance, bracing all four legs against the pull of the leash. He had his head low and was shaking it back and forth, trying to slip his collar. Was he growling? "What's going on, boy?" Jason asked, and when Scout registered the sound, his hair bristled up on end. He met Jason's look, baring teeth and raising his low pitched growl to a louder snarl. "Scout?" Scout bucked once against the leash, clearly not wanting to be tethered, and Jason let go. He scrambled to get to his feet, but it was too late. As he was pushing himself off the ground with his good hand, Scout lunged, knocking him back down. The dog went for his throat and Jason countered just in time, blocking by placing his left arm in the path of Scout's open jaws. Scout didn't seem to care what was in front of him, and bit down hard. The pain was excruciating. Through it all he could feel what must have been Scout clamping down onto the bone inside his forearm and shaking. The grip was just too solid not be be on bone. He felt hard jerks on his shoulder at each tug on his arm, it felt like he might shake it right off his body. Jason grasped for purchase on the road with his right arm while Scout growled and shook his left. Jason felt a large rock come loose from the road under his fingers as he clawed in the dirt. Without thinking things through any more than necessary in survivalist fashion, he tightened his grip on the rock and swung it hard into Scout's head. The rock connected with a solid sound, like knocking two stones together. Scout's bite slacked, he went limp and fell down on the dirt. Jason got to his feet slowly, pushing up with his right arm, the one that still moved when he told it to. He was in shock and the adrenaline was washing through him in waves. He was breathing heavily, and felt a little light headed from his wound. He looked at Scout lying on the ground, so peaceful, as if sleeping. Scout opened his eyes and rolled them up at Jason making a high pitched whimper, whining, as if to ask why. "Oh, God, Scout," Jason bent down and reached out toward his long time faithful companion, as if he could console him. Scout snapped at his fingers, missing by an inch as Jason quickly retracted his hand. Scout issued a last set of violent barks then closed his eyes again, breathing slowly and rhythmically. Jason knew what he had to do. He walked calmly to the ditch and found the largest rock he could pry loose. It was so heavy he could barely lift it, he was having a hard enough time just working his left arm. He had to brace the rock against his chest in order to swing his elbows out and lift it overhead. "I'm sorry Scout, you could hurt someone." Scout opened his eyes to get one last look at him as Jason dropped the stone. He closed his eyes in time to avoid seeing the impact, but he couldn't block out the sickly wet cracking sound as the rock landed.
Jason looked at his left arm to assess the damage. Everything from the elbow down was a mess. There was too much blood to tell what was wound and what wasn't, and when he saw big chunks of skin that looked like they were flapping loose, Jason squatted down and began to vomit. When he had thrown up the entire contents of his stomach and was done dry heaving, he wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand and spit onto the ground. He slipped his right arm through his T-shirt and then pulled it up over his head. He pulled it down to his elbow on the left side and wrapped it as tightly as he could around the bite, cinching it down despite the horrible stinging pain of doing so. The wound was bad, Jason had to get to town. Thankfully it wasn't much farther. He didn't know if he had the strength to jog the rest of the way, so he set a fast pace walking. He could still hear dogs barking, some just off the road he was on, in people's yards. Once, he heard scratching at a fence, was it trying to get out? Further down the road a deep, bellowing bark came accompanied by the loud rattling of a chain. From the sound of the dog, Jason was betting it was a thick chain, and he was thankful. Then came the inevitable. In the distance, Jason heard screaming. It continued much longer than he was comfortable with before finally dying off.
Jason made his way into town cautiously, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of danger. He made his first sighting down West Poppy Lane, a side street. He froze dead in his tracks when he saw the dog standing in the middle of the two lane paved road. It hadn't spotted him yet. It looked like a Blue Heeler, or some mongrel variation thereof. It was calmly licking it's right hind leg, and when it got up to move, Jason saw why. The animal was moving with a pronounced limp. The wound was recent, he could see the dark stain in it's coat where it was bleeding. This dog was no threat to him. It might attack if he backed it into a corner, but Jason had no intention of getting anywhere near it. He was headed for Sackett's Drug to try to deal with his arm, which hung loosely at his side. As he turned to leave, the Heeler mutt raised it's head, sniffing the air, then turned toward him. "You've got to be kidding me," Jason spoke to himself, as the dog growled and started limping slowly in his direction. His first thought was to simply kill the dog, but with what? It's leg might be wounded, but it's jaws worked just fine, so getting close was a dangerous proposition. Jason decided to leave instead, the Heeler could never catch up to him. As he made his way down the street, the Heeler barked after him, and Jason couldn't help but wonder if dogs could communicate.
Had it been a group decision by dogs to become the Earth's apex predator? Had the canine species been plotting for years, infiltrating our homes and meeting in secret? Maybe it was a satellite signal beamed down from space that scrambled their brains, or a specialized nerve gas created by terrorists to make them hyper aggressive. Every possible scenario seemed more and more far fetched to Jason, and he had a sinking feeling that he may not survive long enough to find out the truth. About a block further up, Jason spotted an Escalade that had crashed into a main street storefront, and sat there idling. As he approached to see if anyone needed help, a Rottweiler with a head larger than his threw itself into the window, making him jump back. The Rott was barking and scratching the glass furiously, trying to get at him, its teeth and claws clacking violently and continuously against the window. Jason now noticed the smears in all the windows, dark maroon, where the dog had pawed at all the glass trying to get out. Peering inside, Jason saw there was nothing recognizable as human left of the driver except a blue and white FILA jacket and track pants. He would have been sick on the spot if there was anything left in his stomach to vomit. He decided to move along.
Jason could see Sackett's up ahead, and not a moment too soon. He was beginning to feel like he might have lost too much blood. Looking down at his makeshift dressing, he saw that the shirt was saturated, to the point of dripping off his dangling fingers. He didn't get it tied tight enough to be a proper tourniquet. How could he with only one arm? How much blood could a shirt absorb, A pint or two? Several quarts? How much blood could a person lose before they lost consciousness, or died? It didn't matter now, he had made it to the home stretch. At the very least, he could die inside Sackett's in peace, without having to worry about becoming puppy chow. He was so excited about the prospect of safety and medicine that he walked right in front of the alley next to the drug store without so much as a glance. He heard a rustle. Jason looked into the alley and saw two medium sized dogs, Lab mixes from the looks of it, sharing a meal with a monstrous grey Irish Wolfhound. The labs, one solid black and one with white points and chest, looked up at him, sniffing the air. Their snouts were stiff and bristly with dried blood, and they likely smelled his arm. Any last doubt he'd held about what the dogs might be eating in the alley was put to rest when the Wolfhound turned toward him, raising its head. It held a gnawed human arm in its mouth, unrecognizable save the hand, perfectly untouched, dangling at the end. Jason sprinted toward the door to Sackett's. When he reached the entrance, he grasped and pulled to no avail. It was locked. "What the Fuck!" He screamed, and pounded on the door with his good arm, hard enough to crack the glass. The familiar face of John, the pharmacist, peeked out from his office, and he heard at least one other voice from the back of the store shouting at John to unlock the door. Jason heard the dogs nails clacking softly on the concrete as they rounded the corner cautiously, the Wolfhound in front with the bloody arm, the Labradors trailing behind on either side, like back up. Jason reared back and kicked the door as hard as he could. John's eyes widened and he shook his head no, moving toward the entrance. Despite Jason's effort, the glass merely cracked into a spiderweb mosaic and bowed inward. Safety glass, of course.
The dogs were too close to try another kick. Both Labs had moved up past the Wolfhound, who seemed to be the alpha, and looked ready to eat. Jason desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation. John would never get to the door in time to let him in, that old bastard was moving about as swiftly as molasses. He had to buy time. One of the Labs darted forward and snapped at his leg, forcing him to hop. The other Lab looked ready to press the advantage, so Jason turned and ran, shouting back at John to get the door open. He didn't make it far. About half a block away the white pointed Lab leapt and caught Jason by his left arm, which had lost all feeling by this point anyway. Instead of allowing the dog to drag him to the ground, though, he followed through with the motion and used the dog's momentum to smash it through the window to the Laundromat on his right. Breaking the glass must have startled the animal and it let go of Jason's arm mid-swing. It smashed into the corner of an industrial dryer head first, and fell limply on the floor. Jason was turned around facing the advancing dogs now. Big grey was in the lead with solid black on its heels. The dogs stopped just short of him to face off, the Wolfhound still holding that damned arm in its mouth. Jason was filled with a sudden rage and kicked it in the side of its head as hard as he could, knocking the arm out of its jaws, which only seemed to infuriate the animal. It bared its teeth and prepared to attack when suddenly the solid black Lab leapt out and scooped the arm off the pavement. Big grey immediately turned its attention to the Lab, snarling and snapping at it. The Lab seemed reluctant to give up its prize and started backing away. It was no match for the Wolfhound, who was easily twice its weight, but it held on none the less. When the Irish Wolfhound grabbed solid black by the neck and began shaking, Jason saw his chance, and bolted back down the sidewalk toward Sackett's.
John was standing on the sidewalk, propping the door open and holding a revolver in his hands. Jason shouted "NO!" as John raised it to fire, and looked back to see the dogs still fighting over the arm. He ducked inside the door as John fired toward the two animals, missing by a mile but drawing their attention. The two dogs forgot their quarrel and began a slow advance toward Sackett's. John shot off another round and then a third, both missing easily before Jason snatched the pistol from him. "Get inside, John!" he said sternly, and the old man did, looking disappointed. Jason carefully aimed the revolver at the advancing dogs and squeezed the trigger. The Lab yelped as it was knocked backward by the force of the shot. It kicked its legs twice, then was still. The Wolfhound glanced at the Lab then continued to press. Jason had been aiming for big grey, but was still satisfied. His second shot missed. Trying desperately to make this one count, Jason let the Wolfhound stalk as close as he dared, then fired. He saw the bullet strike the dogs head, spraying blood and knocking it to the ground. He pulled the trigger again, but the hammer clicked down on a hollow chamber, all six shots spent. Jason closed the door and turned toward John. "Thank God, I made it," He forced, sounding quite weak. John was pointing outside with a look of disbelief. Jason turned to see big grey stand up, shake his head, spraying a bit of blood on the sidewalk, and make his way back to the severed arm. The Wolfhound picked it up and carried it back toward Sackett's, lying down outside the door to gnaw on his favorite treat and wait. Jason looked closer to discover he had merely grazed the animal's head, shot off one of it's ears. There was a sick, bloody ear canal exposed on one side of his head, but big grey didn't seem to mind. Jason sat down and shook his head, then threw the pistol at the dog. It bounced undramatically off the broken safety glass and skidded back across the floor. Big grey hardly noticed. Jason was a bit dizzy from the effort and had to lie down. He would have cried if he had the energy, but instead he decided to take a nap.
When he awoke, Jason was in John's pharmacist's office, on the floor. Looking around he saw John, Tracy Simms from his office, Aimee the cute barrista, Jim Tyler the town deputy, and some teenage boy dressed in black, wearing eyeliner. Jason's arm had been cleaned and dressed properly, and everyone looked appropriately concerned for him. He tried to sit up, and when John noticed him moving he rushed over to try to keep him stationary. "I've got you on an IV, so try not to move around until I've at least pulled the needle," John spoke.
"An IV?"
"You lost a lot of blood. Right nasty wound you got there, might have died without fluids. This is a full service drug store, see, you'd be surprised what kind of stuff we keep locked up around here."
"You were amazing, Jason. Fighting three of them off like that, all while you were wounded," Tracy bent down and swept his hair off his forehead. Jason turned away, not wanting Aimee to get any funny ideas about him and Tracy. He'd been working on her for far too long to have it ruined now. Tracy pulled back, visibly upset. Aimee hadn't even looked at him.
"How long was I out?" Jason asked.
"Two days," John answered.
"Two Days! Christ, and we're still stuck in here?"
"Well, there's a little problem," John said, as Jason got up against his urgings, to look outside. The park outside in the center of town was filled with dogs. Hundreds of them, no, thousands. They were all milling about in loose packs, fighting here and there over bodies they had dragged out into the open.
"Where'd they all come from? I didn't know there were this many dogs in the whole county!"
"Likely not," John answered, "couldn't figure out why the hell they'd all be drawn here for. Pondered it over for the longest time. Turns out I was ignoring the elephant in the room." He pointed out to the big brick building on the hill, overlooking town.
"The processing plant? Jesus, you're right, they pack dog food there, it must smell for miles!" John nodded. "Here would you take this out of me?" Jason inquired, Pointing at the IV. "We've got to get out of this town."
"How the hell are we going to do that?" The kid in black inquired.
"Guns. We need guns," Jason replied, "Do you have an extension ladder in back, John?"
It turned out there was an extension ladder, a long Fiberglas thirty footer John used for cleaning the gutters. John and Jason carried it up through the roof access in the storage room. Everyone was curious what they were up to, and soon the whole lot of them were out on the roof, watching the men extend the ladder to close the gap across main street. They now had a bridge between Sackett's and the True Value across the way. "Well, since this is my bright idea, I guess I'll be the one to see if it holds." Jason said. There were no objections. He had a bit of a hard time, not being able to properly grasp with his left hand, but he made it in one piece and the ladder supported his weight. "John, you wait till last to hold the ladder and make sure everyone makes it over all right." Jason's real reasoning was that John was the only one heavier than him, and by quite a bit. He wanted to make sure everyone else made it across before seeing if the ladder would hold an extra hundred pounds. In either case, John seemed to understand, and held the ladder as first the goth boy, then Tracy bridged the gap. It was Aimee's turn now, and it was clear she was petrified. Jason did his best to coax her across, but when she got halfway she started shaking quite badly. One of her flip-flops slipped off her foot, and fell all the way to the street below. A German Shepard saw the sandal fall and looked up. The dog's curiosity was piqued and it began barking furiously at the out of reach food. Soon, other dogs were drawn to the noise and joined in. Aimee was visibly upset. There were at least a dozen dogs below her jumping up and down, barking and snapping. "Aimee, just keep coming, hun. You're halfway here, don't let them psyche you out now," Jason pleaded, but it was no use. Aimee was scrambling, turning herself around on the ladder. John was holding his arms out to grab hold of Aimee as soon as she was in reach, but without his grip on the ladder, her panicked thrusts forward retracted the ladder, pulling it off Sackett's ledge. Both Aimee and John realized what had happened a second too late. She held out her hands for John, as John grabbed desperately for the ladder, but it was just out of his reach, already falling. Aimee screamed as the ladder fell ten feet on her end to the awning above the Sackett's entrance. Aimee's end of the ladder struck the awning hard, and she lost her grip, falling off the side. She had hold of the ladder with one hand for just a moment, but wasn't strong enough, and slipped off, landing with a thud. She had just enough time to scream for help before the Shepard lunged. Her screams of agony lasted only seconds, but seemed like an eternity from above, as they watched the dogs swarm her, fighting over bits and pieces.
John managed to fish the ladder back up using a rope tied to a crutch, and crossed without incident. They retracted the ladder and used it in similar fashion to cross to the next roof, which was considerably closer, as they didn't have a street to bridge. Now they were on the roof of Alain & Son Gun Smithing and Watch Works, the only place in town that dealt in firearms. The disturbing thing was that since Aimee had alerted the dogs to their location, they had been following them, looking up at the rooftops and licking their chops, waiting, it seemed. Most disturbing of all, to Jason, was spotting big grey the one eared Wolfhound, sticking out like a sore thumb. The dog still had the damned arm in its mouth, and cocked its head to the side when Jason met its glare as if to ask, what now? They were extremely lucky that the shop's roof access was unlocked, because it was barred, and they had no tools. The goth kid wanted to go down first to try to find a light, probably looking to prove himself. Jason allowed it. What could be the harm, unless... There was a low growl downstairs and a series of loud barks followed by a scream. Christ, how stupid could he be, Jason knew Scott Alain had a dog, a huge one. "Stay here!" he shouted and jumped down the hole.
It was too late for the kid, Alain's saint Bernard had seen to that. The fur from his paws up to his nose was thick with blood. Jason didn't have to wonder where Scott and his son Gabe were. Jason wondered what he was going to do, but the dog didn't give him time to formulate a plan, it bounded over and knocked him to the floor, keeping him pinned with its massive body. Jason did his best to keep the dog's jaws away from him, he grabbed a hold of the shaggy, blood soaked fur on it's neck with his right hand, and locked his elbow, keeping its head at arm's length as it thrashed back and forth with it's mouth open, trying to find something to lock its jaws on. Not being able to bite him, the dog began pawing at his chest with its massive feet. Jason still had no shirt on, and the claws were cutting deep into his flesh. Despite the pain, he held firm with his right hand, and started punching the dog in the throat with his left. After a few punches, the dog started coughing, momentarily unable to fight as its body convulsed with the hacking. Jason rolled over on top of the dog, and even as it managed to get in a few slashing kicks with its hind legs, he began slamming its head into the cement floor. Over and over he picked the dog up by the neck and slammed its head into the concrete until it finally ceased to struggle. He let go of the dog and sat back against the wall. "I think it's safe," He called up to John and Tracy. The dogs outside had begun to howl and paw at the door.
There weren't as many guns in Alain's as Jason had hoped. A pair of revolvers with half a box of ammo to split, an antique flintlock rifle that did them no good, a shotgun with no ammunition, and a Winchester rifle with a single box of shells. He loaded the two pistols and the rifle, handing the rifle to Tracy. He kept the two pistols for himself, having seen John's shooting ability. "All that trouble for this. Well, we'd better pack it up and get going."
"About that..." John trailed off.
"What?" Jason asked. Tracy looked away from the two men.
"Well, it's about the ladder." John started.
"What about the ladder, John?" Jason was beginning to get irate.
"Tracy was trying to be helpful and pull it back across the gap in case we wanted to go a different way from here. I wasn't watching, and I guess it got out of hand for her."
"What are you rying to tell me, John? Tracy? What happened to the ladder?"
"I'm sorry Jason. I'm so sorry. It fell." She started to sob. Jason was trying not to despair. He reasoned out loud.
"It's okay. Maybe Scott has a ladder too, we'll just have to check around-" Jason was interrupted by a loud crash, as the largest dog he'd ever seen in his life jumped through the storefront window. It landed a bit rough, but got right back to it's feet looking none the worse for wear. It was a Great Dane, at least five foot tall. It had a length of chain attached to its collar and a giant corkscrew at the end, which still had fresh earth clinging to it from wherever it had been anchored. The dog looked right at Jason and began to growl. He raised the pistol and placed two bullets in its head. The problem was, now that the window had been broken, dogs started pouring into the store, climbing over each other to get to them inside. Jason shot three more times, killing shots every one, but it wasn't enough. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and looked down to see a bloody poodle shredding his calf. He pistolwhipped the poodle in the head as hard as he could and it let go. He threw the gun at another dog and looked over to see that John was climbing back up to the roof, and Tracy had dropped the rifle in fear and was screaming as six growling dogs surrounded her. John drew the second revolver and shot three of the dogs closing in on Tracy before the others attacked. He placed his fourth shot in her chest, and her screaming stopped. He was about to turn the gun on himself when something grabbed a hold of his gun arm and shook until he dropped the revolver. Looking down, Jason wasn't the least bit surprised to see that it was a familiar earless Irish Wolfhound who had disarmed him. "Finally gave up your favorite treat huh?" But he had an idea that big grey had merely decided to trade up. "All right, then, you bastard. You're coming with me!" And with that, Jason threw himself on top of the Wolfhound, allowing the dogs to overcome him as he sank his teeth into it's neck. ¶ 6:18 PM 0 comments
“Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the Dogs of War”
- Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'
- Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'
It was a beautiful October day and Jason was beginning to regret being inside. It wasn't by choice. He'd been under a ton of pressure at work lately, and his employee review was on Monday. In a stunning coincidence, Jason was terribly behind on a project analysis report that was due Monday morning before the review, to one of his reviewers. He could have been doing the best job in the world with his quarterly reports, which he wasn't, but if that analysis wasn't in on Monday it would be the sole topic of discussion at his review. He couldn't afford to miss this deadline. Thank God it was a three day weekend, and he had seventy-two hours in the comfort of his own home to tie up all his loose strings. His future job security more or less depended on it. Jason tapped his pen on the legal pad three times and then turned to the window. The trees were changing color outside, the sky blazed orange in the dusk, and a gentle breeze blew through the leaves, lifting the occasional early dropper and taking it for a dizzying spin skyward, followed by a lazy float to the ground. In another month, maybe just weeks, the trees would be bare and it'd be too chilly to jog without extra layers. The swaying branches seemed to beckon him outside. Suddenly, a cold wet nose prodded him in the arm, startling him out of his daze. Scout, his four year old golden retriever, had brought him the leash. "Good boy, Scout, I think you've got the right Idea!"
The light breeze was the best, fall in the country was so oppressive without it. It seemed to Jason almost hotter than summer, the way the clouds loomed overhead but wouldn't block the sunlight. It was like a pressure cooker. Then come winter the sun dropped, the clouds would break, the air got crisp, and all that humidity hung around, making sure to penetrate your clothes with the wet cold. On an evening such as this, though, Jason had zero complaints. Scout kept pace beside him, as they made good time down the long dirt road. Jason fiddled with his portable radio / mp3 player and switched off NPR. He pressed the random button and was pleasantly surprised when the familiar into to Men Without Hats' 'Safety Dance' started playing. He turned it up as his steps fell into rhythm with the electronic drum beat. He could see the peak of the town hall up ahead, meaning he had reached the 2 mile mark. He was enjoying his outing so much, Jason decided to go the extra half mile into town proper and rest a bit in the park before making his way back to the dreaded paperwork awaiting his return. Maybe that cute barrista Aimee would be working. Aimee loved Scout, maybe they could have a coffee and chat.
When Scout's leash went taut, Jason nearly lost his balance. One foot lost traction on the gravel and slid out in front of him as his shoulder was jerked back by the arm holding the leash. Only by keeping his other foot planted, bending all the way back, and landing on his left palm in the dirt did he avoid taking a complete spill. His hand was crying foul, Jason could tell he was going to have gravel embedded in the skin, never a fun situation. His headphones had come off his ears and now hung loosely around his neck. He could hear a lot of barking in the distance. "Damnit Scout!" He turned abruptly to see what the hell Scout had been thinking. He'd never once had a problem with 'heel' since he'd been taught, and they'd taken literally hundreds of jogs together. When he saw Scout, Jason wasn't sure exactly what to think, he'd never seen him look like this before. Scout had gone into an aggressive stance, bracing all four legs against the pull of the leash. He had his head low and was shaking it back and forth, trying to slip his collar. Was he growling? "What's going on, boy?" Jason asked, and when Scout registered the sound, his hair bristled up on end. He met Jason's look, baring teeth and raising his low pitched growl to a louder snarl. "Scout?" Scout bucked once against the leash, clearly not wanting to be tethered, and Jason let go. He scrambled to get to his feet, but it was too late. As he was pushing himself off the ground with his good hand, Scout lunged, knocking him back down. The dog went for his throat and Jason countered just in time, blocking by placing his left arm in the path of Scout's open jaws. Scout didn't seem to care what was in front of him, and bit down hard. The pain was excruciating. Through it all he could feel what must have been Scout clamping down onto the bone inside his forearm and shaking. The grip was just too solid not be be on bone. He felt hard jerks on his shoulder at each tug on his arm, it felt like he might shake it right off his body. Jason grasped for purchase on the road with his right arm while Scout growled and shook his left. Jason felt a large rock come loose from the road under his fingers as he clawed in the dirt. Without thinking things through any more than necessary in survivalist fashion, he tightened his grip on the rock and swung it hard into Scout's head. The rock connected with a solid sound, like knocking two stones together. Scout's bite slacked, he went limp and fell down on the dirt. Jason got to his feet slowly, pushing up with his right arm, the one that still moved when he told it to. He was in shock and the adrenaline was washing through him in waves. He was breathing heavily, and felt a little light headed from his wound. He looked at Scout lying on the ground, so peaceful, as if sleeping. Scout opened his eyes and rolled them up at Jason making a high pitched whimper, whining, as if to ask why. "Oh, God, Scout," Jason bent down and reached out toward his long time faithful companion, as if he could console him. Scout snapped at his fingers, missing by an inch as Jason quickly retracted his hand. Scout issued a last set of violent barks then closed his eyes again, breathing slowly and rhythmically. Jason knew what he had to do. He walked calmly to the ditch and found the largest rock he could pry loose. It was so heavy he could barely lift it, he was having a hard enough time just working his left arm. He had to brace the rock against his chest in order to swing his elbows out and lift it overhead. "I'm sorry Scout, you could hurt someone." Scout opened his eyes to get one last look at him as Jason dropped the stone. He closed his eyes in time to avoid seeing the impact, but he couldn't block out the sickly wet cracking sound as the rock landed.
Jason looked at his left arm to assess the damage. Everything from the elbow down was a mess. There was too much blood to tell what was wound and what wasn't, and when he saw big chunks of skin that looked like they were flapping loose, Jason squatted down and began to vomit. When he had thrown up the entire contents of his stomach and was done dry heaving, he wiped his mouth with the back of his right hand and spit onto the ground. He slipped his right arm through his T-shirt and then pulled it up over his head. He pulled it down to his elbow on the left side and wrapped it as tightly as he could around the bite, cinching it down despite the horrible stinging pain of doing so. The wound was bad, Jason had to get to town. Thankfully it wasn't much farther. He didn't know if he had the strength to jog the rest of the way, so he set a fast pace walking. He could still hear dogs barking, some just off the road he was on, in people's yards. Once, he heard scratching at a fence, was it trying to get out? Further down the road a deep, bellowing bark came accompanied by the loud rattling of a chain. From the sound of the dog, Jason was betting it was a thick chain, and he was thankful. Then came the inevitable. In the distance, Jason heard screaming. It continued much longer than he was comfortable with before finally dying off.
Jason made his way into town cautiously, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of danger. He made his first sighting down West Poppy Lane, a side street. He froze dead in his tracks when he saw the dog standing in the middle of the two lane paved road. It hadn't spotted him yet. It looked like a Blue Heeler, or some mongrel variation thereof. It was calmly licking it's right hind leg, and when it got up to move, Jason saw why. The animal was moving with a pronounced limp. The wound was recent, he could see the dark stain in it's coat where it was bleeding. This dog was no threat to him. It might attack if he backed it into a corner, but Jason had no intention of getting anywhere near it. He was headed for Sackett's Drug to try to deal with his arm, which hung loosely at his side. As he turned to leave, the Heeler mutt raised it's head, sniffing the air, then turned toward him. "You've got to be kidding me," Jason spoke to himself, as the dog growled and started limping slowly in his direction. His first thought was to simply kill the dog, but with what? It's leg might be wounded, but it's jaws worked just fine, so getting close was a dangerous proposition. Jason decided to leave instead, the Heeler could never catch up to him. As he made his way down the street, the Heeler barked after him, and Jason couldn't help but wonder if dogs could communicate.
Had it been a group decision by dogs to become the Earth's apex predator? Had the canine species been plotting for years, infiltrating our homes and meeting in secret? Maybe it was a satellite signal beamed down from space that scrambled their brains, or a specialized nerve gas created by terrorists to make them hyper aggressive. Every possible scenario seemed more and more far fetched to Jason, and he had a sinking feeling that he may not survive long enough to find out the truth. About a block further up, Jason spotted an Escalade that had crashed into a main street storefront, and sat there idling. As he approached to see if anyone needed help, a Rottweiler with a head larger than his threw itself into the window, making him jump back. The Rott was barking and scratching the glass furiously, trying to get at him, its teeth and claws clacking violently and continuously against the window. Jason now noticed the smears in all the windows, dark maroon, where the dog had pawed at all the glass trying to get out. Peering inside, Jason saw there was nothing recognizable as human left of the driver except a blue and white FILA jacket and track pants. He would have been sick on the spot if there was anything left in his stomach to vomit. He decided to move along.
Jason could see Sackett's up ahead, and not a moment too soon. He was beginning to feel like he might have lost too much blood. Looking down at his makeshift dressing, he saw that the shirt was saturated, to the point of dripping off his dangling fingers. He didn't get it tied tight enough to be a proper tourniquet. How could he with only one arm? How much blood could a shirt absorb, A pint or two? Several quarts? How much blood could a person lose before they lost consciousness, or died? It didn't matter now, he had made it to the home stretch. At the very least, he could die inside Sackett's in peace, without having to worry about becoming puppy chow. He was so excited about the prospect of safety and medicine that he walked right in front of the alley next to the drug store without so much as a glance. He heard a rustle. Jason looked into the alley and saw two medium sized dogs, Lab mixes from the looks of it, sharing a meal with a monstrous grey Irish Wolfhound. The labs, one solid black and one with white points and chest, looked up at him, sniffing the air. Their snouts were stiff and bristly with dried blood, and they likely smelled his arm. Any last doubt he'd held about what the dogs might be eating in the alley was put to rest when the Wolfhound turned toward him, raising its head. It held a gnawed human arm in its mouth, unrecognizable save the hand, perfectly untouched, dangling at the end. Jason sprinted toward the door to Sackett's. When he reached the entrance, he grasped and pulled to no avail. It was locked. "What the Fuck!" He screamed, and pounded on the door with his good arm, hard enough to crack the glass. The familiar face of John, the pharmacist, peeked out from his office, and he heard at least one other voice from the back of the store shouting at John to unlock the door. Jason heard the dogs nails clacking softly on the concrete as they rounded the corner cautiously, the Wolfhound in front with the bloody arm, the Labradors trailing behind on either side, like back up. Jason reared back and kicked the door as hard as he could. John's eyes widened and he shook his head no, moving toward the entrance. Despite Jason's effort, the glass merely cracked into a spiderweb mosaic and bowed inward. Safety glass, of course.
The dogs were too close to try another kick. Both Labs had moved up past the Wolfhound, who seemed to be the alpha, and looked ready to eat. Jason desperately tried to think of a way out of this situation. John would never get to the door in time to let him in, that old bastard was moving about as swiftly as molasses. He had to buy time. One of the Labs darted forward and snapped at his leg, forcing him to hop. The other Lab looked ready to press the advantage, so Jason turned and ran, shouting back at John to get the door open. He didn't make it far. About half a block away the white pointed Lab leapt and caught Jason by his left arm, which had lost all feeling by this point anyway. Instead of allowing the dog to drag him to the ground, though, he followed through with the motion and used the dog's momentum to smash it through the window to the Laundromat on his right. Breaking the glass must have startled the animal and it let go of Jason's arm mid-swing. It smashed into the corner of an industrial dryer head first, and fell limply on the floor. Jason was turned around facing the advancing dogs now. Big grey was in the lead with solid black on its heels. The dogs stopped just short of him to face off, the Wolfhound still holding that damned arm in its mouth. Jason was filled with a sudden rage and kicked it in the side of its head as hard as he could, knocking the arm out of its jaws, which only seemed to infuriate the animal. It bared its teeth and prepared to attack when suddenly the solid black Lab leapt out and scooped the arm off the pavement. Big grey immediately turned its attention to the Lab, snarling and snapping at it. The Lab seemed reluctant to give up its prize and started backing away. It was no match for the Wolfhound, who was easily twice its weight, but it held on none the less. When the Irish Wolfhound grabbed solid black by the neck and began shaking, Jason saw his chance, and bolted back down the sidewalk toward Sackett's.
John was standing on the sidewalk, propping the door open and holding a revolver in his hands. Jason shouted "NO!" as John raised it to fire, and looked back to see the dogs still fighting over the arm. He ducked inside the door as John fired toward the two animals, missing by a mile but drawing their attention. The two dogs forgot their quarrel and began a slow advance toward Sackett's. John shot off another round and then a third, both missing easily before Jason snatched the pistol from him. "Get inside, John!" he said sternly, and the old man did, looking disappointed. Jason carefully aimed the revolver at the advancing dogs and squeezed the trigger. The Lab yelped as it was knocked backward by the force of the shot. It kicked its legs twice, then was still. The Wolfhound glanced at the Lab then continued to press. Jason had been aiming for big grey, but was still satisfied. His second shot missed. Trying desperately to make this one count, Jason let the Wolfhound stalk as close as he dared, then fired. He saw the bullet strike the dogs head, spraying blood and knocking it to the ground. He pulled the trigger again, but the hammer clicked down on a hollow chamber, all six shots spent. Jason closed the door and turned toward John. "Thank God, I made it," He forced, sounding quite weak. John was pointing outside with a look of disbelief. Jason turned to see big grey stand up, shake his head, spraying a bit of blood on the sidewalk, and make his way back to the severed arm. The Wolfhound picked it up and carried it back toward Sackett's, lying down outside the door to gnaw on his favorite treat and wait. Jason looked closer to discover he had merely grazed the animal's head, shot off one of it's ears. There was a sick, bloody ear canal exposed on one side of his head, but big grey didn't seem to mind. Jason sat down and shook his head, then threw the pistol at the dog. It bounced undramatically off the broken safety glass and skidded back across the floor. Big grey hardly noticed. Jason was a bit dizzy from the effort and had to lie down. He would have cried if he had the energy, but instead he decided to take a nap.
When he awoke, Jason was in John's pharmacist's office, on the floor. Looking around he saw John, Tracy Simms from his office, Aimee the cute barrista, Jim Tyler the town deputy, and some teenage boy dressed in black, wearing eyeliner. Jason's arm had been cleaned and dressed properly, and everyone looked appropriately concerned for him. He tried to sit up, and when John noticed him moving he rushed over to try to keep him stationary. "I've got you on an IV, so try not to move around until I've at least pulled the needle," John spoke.
"An IV?"
"You lost a lot of blood. Right nasty wound you got there, might have died without fluids. This is a full service drug store, see, you'd be surprised what kind of stuff we keep locked up around here."
"You were amazing, Jason. Fighting three of them off like that, all while you were wounded," Tracy bent down and swept his hair off his forehead. Jason turned away, not wanting Aimee to get any funny ideas about him and Tracy. He'd been working on her for far too long to have it ruined now. Tracy pulled back, visibly upset. Aimee hadn't even looked at him.
"How long was I out?" Jason asked.
"Two days," John answered.
"Two Days! Christ, and we're still stuck in here?"
"Well, there's a little problem," John said, as Jason got up against his urgings, to look outside. The park outside in the center of town was filled with dogs. Hundreds of them, no, thousands. They were all milling about in loose packs, fighting here and there over bodies they had dragged out into the open.
"Where'd they all come from? I didn't know there were this many dogs in the whole county!"
"Likely not," John answered, "couldn't figure out why the hell they'd all be drawn here for. Pondered it over for the longest time. Turns out I was ignoring the elephant in the room." He pointed out to the big brick building on the hill, overlooking town.
"The processing plant? Jesus, you're right, they pack dog food there, it must smell for miles!" John nodded. "Here would you take this out of me?" Jason inquired, Pointing at the IV. "We've got to get out of this town."
"How the hell are we going to do that?" The kid in black inquired.
"Guns. We need guns," Jason replied, "Do you have an extension ladder in back, John?"
It turned out there was an extension ladder, a long Fiberglas thirty footer John used for cleaning the gutters. John and Jason carried it up through the roof access in the storage room. Everyone was curious what they were up to, and soon the whole lot of them were out on the roof, watching the men extend the ladder to close the gap across main street. They now had a bridge between Sackett's and the True Value across the way. "Well, since this is my bright idea, I guess I'll be the one to see if it holds." Jason said. There were no objections. He had a bit of a hard time, not being able to properly grasp with his left hand, but he made it in one piece and the ladder supported his weight. "John, you wait till last to hold the ladder and make sure everyone makes it over all right." Jason's real reasoning was that John was the only one heavier than him, and by quite a bit. He wanted to make sure everyone else made it across before seeing if the ladder would hold an extra hundred pounds. In either case, John seemed to understand, and held the ladder as first the goth boy, then Tracy bridged the gap. It was Aimee's turn now, and it was clear she was petrified. Jason did his best to coax her across, but when she got halfway she started shaking quite badly. One of her flip-flops slipped off her foot, and fell all the way to the street below. A German Shepard saw the sandal fall and looked up. The dog's curiosity was piqued and it began barking furiously at the out of reach food. Soon, other dogs were drawn to the noise and joined in. Aimee was visibly upset. There were at least a dozen dogs below her jumping up and down, barking and snapping. "Aimee, just keep coming, hun. You're halfway here, don't let them psyche you out now," Jason pleaded, but it was no use. Aimee was scrambling, turning herself around on the ladder. John was holding his arms out to grab hold of Aimee as soon as she was in reach, but without his grip on the ladder, her panicked thrusts forward retracted the ladder, pulling it off Sackett's ledge. Both Aimee and John realized what had happened a second too late. She held out her hands for John, as John grabbed desperately for the ladder, but it was just out of his reach, already falling. Aimee screamed as the ladder fell ten feet on her end to the awning above the Sackett's entrance. Aimee's end of the ladder struck the awning hard, and she lost her grip, falling off the side. She had hold of the ladder with one hand for just a moment, but wasn't strong enough, and slipped off, landing with a thud. She had just enough time to scream for help before the Shepard lunged. Her screams of agony lasted only seconds, but seemed like an eternity from above, as they watched the dogs swarm her, fighting over bits and pieces.
John managed to fish the ladder back up using a rope tied to a crutch, and crossed without incident. They retracted the ladder and used it in similar fashion to cross to the next roof, which was considerably closer, as they didn't have a street to bridge. Now they were on the roof of Alain & Son Gun Smithing and Watch Works, the only place in town that dealt in firearms. The disturbing thing was that since Aimee had alerted the dogs to their location, they had been following them, looking up at the rooftops and licking their chops, waiting, it seemed. Most disturbing of all, to Jason, was spotting big grey the one eared Wolfhound, sticking out like a sore thumb. The dog still had the damned arm in its mouth, and cocked its head to the side when Jason met its glare as if to ask, what now? They were extremely lucky that the shop's roof access was unlocked, because it was barred, and they had no tools. The goth kid wanted to go down first to try to find a light, probably looking to prove himself. Jason allowed it. What could be the harm, unless... There was a low growl downstairs and a series of loud barks followed by a scream. Christ, how stupid could he be, Jason knew Scott Alain had a dog, a huge one. "Stay here!" he shouted and jumped down the hole.
It was too late for the kid, Alain's saint Bernard had seen to that. The fur from his paws up to his nose was thick with blood. Jason didn't have to wonder where Scott and his son Gabe were. Jason wondered what he was going to do, but the dog didn't give him time to formulate a plan, it bounded over and knocked him to the floor, keeping him pinned with its massive body. Jason did his best to keep the dog's jaws away from him, he grabbed a hold of the shaggy, blood soaked fur on it's neck with his right hand, and locked his elbow, keeping its head at arm's length as it thrashed back and forth with it's mouth open, trying to find something to lock its jaws on. Not being able to bite him, the dog began pawing at his chest with its massive feet. Jason still had no shirt on, and the claws were cutting deep into his flesh. Despite the pain, he held firm with his right hand, and started punching the dog in the throat with his left. After a few punches, the dog started coughing, momentarily unable to fight as its body convulsed with the hacking. Jason rolled over on top of the dog, and even as it managed to get in a few slashing kicks with its hind legs, he began slamming its head into the cement floor. Over and over he picked the dog up by the neck and slammed its head into the concrete until it finally ceased to struggle. He let go of the dog and sat back against the wall. "I think it's safe," He called up to John and Tracy. The dogs outside had begun to howl and paw at the door.
There weren't as many guns in Alain's as Jason had hoped. A pair of revolvers with half a box of ammo to split, an antique flintlock rifle that did them no good, a shotgun with no ammunition, and a Winchester rifle with a single box of shells. He loaded the two pistols and the rifle, handing the rifle to Tracy. He kept the two pistols for himself, having seen John's shooting ability. "All that trouble for this. Well, we'd better pack it up and get going."
"About that..." John trailed off.
"What?" Jason asked. Tracy looked away from the two men.
"Well, it's about the ladder." John started.
"What about the ladder, John?" Jason was beginning to get irate.
"Tracy was trying to be helpful and pull it back across the gap in case we wanted to go a different way from here. I wasn't watching, and I guess it got out of hand for her."
"What are you rying to tell me, John? Tracy? What happened to the ladder?"
"I'm sorry Jason. I'm so sorry. It fell." She started to sob. Jason was trying not to despair. He reasoned out loud.
"It's okay. Maybe Scott has a ladder too, we'll just have to check around-" Jason was interrupted by a loud crash, as the largest dog he'd ever seen in his life jumped through the storefront window. It landed a bit rough, but got right back to it's feet looking none the worse for wear. It was a Great Dane, at least five foot tall. It had a length of chain attached to its collar and a giant corkscrew at the end, which still had fresh earth clinging to it from wherever it had been anchored. The dog looked right at Jason and began to growl. He raised the pistol and placed two bullets in its head. The problem was, now that the window had been broken, dogs started pouring into the store, climbing over each other to get to them inside. Jason shot three more times, killing shots every one, but it wasn't enough. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and looked down to see a bloody poodle shredding his calf. He pistolwhipped the poodle in the head as hard as he could and it let go. He threw the gun at another dog and looked over to see that John was climbing back up to the roof, and Tracy had dropped the rifle in fear and was screaming as six growling dogs surrounded her. John drew the second revolver and shot three of the dogs closing in on Tracy before the others attacked. He placed his fourth shot in her chest, and her screaming stopped. He was about to turn the gun on himself when something grabbed a hold of his gun arm and shook until he dropped the revolver. Looking down, Jason wasn't the least bit surprised to see that it was a familiar earless Irish Wolfhound who had disarmed him. "Finally gave up your favorite treat huh?" But he had an idea that big grey had merely decided to trade up. "All right, then, you bastard. You're coming with me!" And with that, Jason threw himself on top of the Wolfhound, allowing the dogs to overcome him as he sank his teeth into it's neck. ¶ 6:18 PM 0 comments
