Dead Reckoning and Other Stories

by David M. Kelly

  What kind of name was that anyway? Rafakat? Earl had asked once, but the man had just smiled. It sounded foreign, Asian or middle-eastern maybe; and certainly the man had a light, coffee-colored skin that supported that idea. Earl couldn't even remember if his old co-worker had ever used a first name -or maybe Rafakat was his first name. The memory was lost in one of the "fuzzy areas" Earl tried to ignore.

  "Dad? Are you okay?" Ellen eyed him closely.

  "What? Yeah, sure. Sorry hon, I was just thinking about old times." Earl patted Ellen's hand. "I know you're worried for me but really, I'm doing okay."

  "You're lonely, Dad. What kind of daughter would let you sit here turning to dust like everything else in this place." She waved a hand at the bric-a-brac that overflowed every shelf and drawer.

  Earl sighed. "It was your mother's, you know that. It's all I have left of her, other than memories." It was more than the remnants of Bel's life. A home isn't just something that starts and stops with things, it's like a shrine to the experiences of those who live in it. But Earl knew he couldn't explain that.

  "Well, it's your choice. But I'm not going to just let things drop, Dad."

  Earl had to smile; at times like these he knew for sure that Ellen was completely legitimate—she had exactly his kind of stubborn.

  ***

  Ellen was busy for the next few days—something Earl wasn't too unhappy about. The clinic had contacted him again; the last test was worse than anticipated. His kidneys were degenerating more rapidly than initially thought and "we're very sorry Mister Duarte to give you such bad news. If there's anything else we can do please feel free to..."

  Well, at least now I don't have to worry about the dementia, Earl thought.

  A quiet noise drew his attention to the door. "Probably just kids," Earl muttered. Then it sounded again, a scratching followed by several squeaks.

  Earl dragged himself out of the chair and shuffled to the door, cursing under his breath. His aching joints seemed worse every day and the deeper pain in his kidneys made almost every move a battle. He peered through the peephole, the ancient lens muddying the view almost to the point of uselessness. For a second he thought he saw the shadow of a man outside, then he blinked and it was gone.

  Again a light scraping noise accompanied by a sad mewl.

  Earl opened the door a few inches, but it was wrenched from his hand. A dark blur shot past his feet and he staggered backwards. He closed the door and turned. A small coffee-colored dog sat in the center of his living room, its tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth in a way that even the hardest of souls would have to describe as "cute."

  "Hey, you can't stay here puppy. Go on. Shoo!"

  Earl reached toward the door, but the dog had other ideas. He ran—or rather bounced—around the room several times, tripping over just about everything possible.

  Earl didn't stand a chance of catching the animal and sat back down. Finally, the dog stopped and looked up at him with big dark eyes and yelped. The little tail beat a frantic tattoo on the floor before it launched itself onto the old man's lap. Paws that seemed far too big for it pressed against Earl's chest as it gifted his face with licks.

  "Where are you from little fella? You can't stay here you know. I don't have anything for you."

  Earl searched the dog for a collar and tags, but there was nothing. "Come on, let me put you back outside. You need to get yourself home."

  The dog jumped down and backed into the farthest corner, front paws clamped over its ears and eyes as it squeaked tragically. Earl looked out at the fading light and could almost feel the autumnal evening chill creeping inside the house. It was the time of year to snuggle up in cozy warmth, not be exposed to the elements, especially for a puppy.

  "Okay. You can stay, but only until Ellen comes and can take you to a shelter."

  The puppy exploded in a fury of yelping, bouncing and tail wagging. The dog reminded Earl of someone, but he couldn't put his finger on who.

  ***

  "A dog?" Ellen peered around the room, chewing her lower lip. "You're not thinking of keeping it?"

  "Well, I wasn't at first." Earl smiled as the puppy rolled head-over-paws from behind the couch. "But, to be honest, he makes me feel better. You keep telling me I need some company."

  "People to look after you, not a dog to burden your life and what if..." Ellen hesitated. "I mean, if something happens don't expect me to look after it."

  Earl knew Ellen was right. He didn't need a dog that would outlive him by years to complicate his life, but the few days since the dog had arrived had been the best he'd had in a long time.

  "Look, hon. I know it's hard to understand, but I just want him around. If it doesn't work out we can take him to the shelter. They'll look after him."

  "Dad, you're the one who needs looking after. If you'd look at the brochures, I'm sure you'd-"

  "I'm not discussing that again, Ellen. I've told you before, I'm not leaving. This is my home." Earl scratched at the spots on his hands. He'd raised his family there. Every corner overflowed with amber memories of laughing children, joyful smiles and the occasional tears. Of course the house was too big for him on his own, but what did that matter? It was like an old sweater, worn and frayed, but fashioned by the years to a perfect fit. Giving it up would be like giving up on his whole life. He wanted to die surrounded by those memories, not by people examining him and prodding him and watching him, but no way could he explain that to Ellen.

  "I understand that you're a mean, selfish old fool who doesn't know what's good for him, or when someone is trying their best to help."

  The dog yelped.

  "He must agree with you." Earl reached out and squeezed Ellen's hand, ignoring the pain it caused in his fingers. "You win. I'll look at the damn things."

  Ellen looked close to tears. "Don't keep him, Dad. If you do decide to move, it will only make things harder." She eyed the puppy suspiciously. "And we certainly couldn't take him in, if that's what you're thinking. The brochures don't show the whole story, I could arrange a visit to 'Sunset', so you could see it for yourself."

  "I said I'd look at them, Ellen. Don't push it."

  Ellen hesitated as though she was going to say something else, but changed her mind. "Well, you have to give him a name if you're keeping him. What's it going to be?"

  Earl smiled as the puppy wrestled heroically with the corner of a curtain. Then its grip loosened and it slipped backwards to tumble once more over one of his shoes. "I'll call him Kat."

  "Oh don't be silly Dad. You can't call a dog ‘Cat'."

  "Not C-A-T." Earl reached down and roughed the back of the puppy's head. "K-A-T."

  "Kat? Come on, you can think of something better."

  "What do you think boy?" Earl patted his knee and the pup hopped up, rubbing its damp black nose against his. "Kat?"

  Yrraap!

  "Well, you two seem to have settled that." Ellen stood up. "I have to make tracks."

  "I need to run to the store. I'll need some feed and bowls and a bed of some kind."

  Ellen frowned and her lips whitened. "You're not running anywhere and it's getting dark."

  "I'll cope."

  "I can be there and back in twenty minutes."

  Earl wanted to object, but didn't relish the thought of walking all that way and trying to carry such bulky items back. "Thanks, Hon."

  ***

  The next few weeks smeared from one to the next, almost without a break. Earl's usual routine had dragged with an old clock's weary ticking. The flash of days and weeks is the privilege of the young, he thought, while the elderly are forced to suffer each decline, minute by ponderous minute.

  Now Kat had changed all that. The little pup was a singular burst of energy, immune to any kind of senescent inertia, dragging Earl along for the ride.

  It wasn't just that Earl was now responsible for making sure Kat got enough exercise; he truly enjoyed taking the dog out and playing with him. Once again a walk in the par
k became an adventure and a stroll along the beach was entertainment for an entire day.

  Wrapped up so much in Kat's clowning, Earl almost forgot his stiffness and ever-present kidney pain. Even his vision seemed to be clearer, leaving him the simple pleasure of watching the little dog wringing the most out of each moment.

  Even trips to the clinic couldn't separate them. Earl insisted on keeping Kat with him, playing on the staff's weaknesses until they indulged him with soft reproachful clucking.

  "Well, we don't normally allow pets in the surgery... but in this case Mr. Duarte, I have to say that this little friend of yours seems to have had a beneficial effect on you." Dr. Makram patted Kat's head. "The tests show the degeneration in your kidneys appears to have stabilized. At least for now."

  "From having a dog?"

  "Presumably you're getting out more to exercise the little fellow and that's helping you too."

  "What about the rest of me?" Earl decided to ask, even though he knew what the answer would be.

  "Let's see." Makram pored over the other results, not saying anything for several minutes. "Hmmm, that's a little odd—your white cell count is down and the MRI shows that the atrophy in your cortical tissues has slowed."

  Earl could guess what "odd" meant: nothing good that was for sure. "It's okay, Doc. I didn't expect anything else."

  "What?" The Doctor's thoughts were elsewhere. "No, don't misunderstand. White cell count is a general indicator of disease, so lowering means less infection and the declining atrophy means that your brain structure isn't degenerating as rapidly as we feared it might. All in all these are good signs. It's just a little surprising considering the earlier tests."

  "That can't be related to Kat?" Earl scratched at a dark patch on his skin. "Can it?"

  "Cat? Oh, your puppy. No, it's just the way of these things, Mr. Duarte. Sometimes they're active and progress quickly and then other times they can almost slip away to the point of not being there. We don't really understand why."

  Earl didn't care. It was good news and he needed that right now. It's not easy to watch yourself slowly deteriorate, your own body start to fight against you. Whatever the reason, it was good to see the downhill stretch level off, even if it was temporary.

  He could feel it too. Ever since Kat had appeared, life had changed: he felt more alert, more energetic. Whether that was purely psychosomatic, he didn't know. He felt better than he had in years, and that was all that mattered.

  ***

  Earl came out of the bedroom and looked around. Normally Kat was up and waiting for him as soon as he woke, but today there was no sign.

  "Kat? You there, boy?"

  Earl caught the faintest of sad whines from the back of the sofa and edged past the piles of dusty books to look. Kat was stretched out, panting heavily and occasionally nipping at his side with his teeth, the chewed fur matted and wet.

  "What is it Kat? What's wrong?"

  Earl knelt, his knees creaking in protest. The dog looked up at him and mewled softly. Tears formed in the old man's eyes as he stroked Kat, gently whispering words of comfort.

  "It'll be okay, boy. Hang in there. It'll be okay." Dragging himself upright, Earl picked up the phone.

  "Ellen. I need help. Now..." The words came out in a tumble. "It's Kat."

  "Dad? What's wrong?"

  "Kat's hurt. I need help." That was all that seemed to matter.

  Ellen hesitated. "Dad, sorry I'm just heading out to drop off the girls. I'm sure he'll be alright. Look, I'll come over later on, okay?"

  Earl banged the phone down and hurried to the bedroom, coming back with one of his blankets to wrap around the puppy. He needed a vet. There was one down on Lee—he remembered seeing the sign—but that was a long walk for him: nearly three miles.

  It didn't matter.

  Cradling Kat in his arms, Earl set off down the street. The sun was up and it was already getting unseasonably warm despite the morning frost. But he had no thoughts for the pleasantness of the day. Kat needed help. Half an hour later though, he was sweating with the effort. A silver flash in the road caught his peripheral vision, but he ignored it.

  "Dad!"

  Earl turned. "Ellen?"

  "I knew you'd try something stupid. Why couldn't you wait? And where's your coat?"

  "I wasn't thinking. Kat's sick. He needs help." Earl realized how feeble it sounded.

  "Get in. You'll have a stroke if you're not careful."

  ***

  Earl sat rubbing his hands together. The vet was taking his time examining Kat. It would have been better if Ellen had stayed, but she had to work and had left him with strict instructions to call a cab for the journey home, something he'd have done earlier if he hadn't panicked.

  "Mr. Duarte?" The vet emerged at long last. "I've finished my examination. He's going to be fine."

  Earl stood up. "Are you sure? What's wrong with him?"

  "Well, he has an infection and from the tests it looks like he has some problems with his kidney functioning. We've given him a shot and a few antibiotics will take care of the rest. I'm sure you'll quickly see a big improvement."

  "Kidney problems?" Earl swallowed hard.

  "Yes. Nothing serious at this stage but we'd like to monitor him if that's possible. You should schedule some regular visits if you don't mind."

  "No... that is, sure. Anything I can do for the little guy."

  "You had me confused." The vet smiled. "From what you said when you brought him in, I was expecting a much younger animal."

  "Younger? But he's only..."

  "I understand. They grow up so fast." The vet offered Earl a box of pills. "Give him one of these twice a day and things will be okay. I suggest bringing him back in three months for a check; if you don't see any change in two weeks bring him back anyway."

  The door into the examination room opened and a young girl led out a rather sad looking Kat.

  "Let's get you home, Kat." Earl smiled at the girl. "Would you call a cab for me please?"

  He didn't mention that Kat looked almost twice as old as the last time Earl had looked at him closely. And that was just the previous night.

  Back home, Earl wrapped Kat in the blanket and watched as the dog rested, listening to Kat's soft panting.

  "What the hell is going on here, Kat?"

  Earl's voice was soft, but Kat still flicked up one floppy ear and whimpered at the sound of his name, his dark eyes never leaving Earl.

  "Whatever it is, I don't think I like it."

  ***

  Kat improved considerably with the help of the antibiotics and in a few days Earl felt happy to resume their earlier routine of walks in the park and along the beach. Kat seemed happy and had returned almost to his former self. Despite his appearance, the dog still enjoyed clowning around like a puppy.

  The truth was though, Kat no longer resembled a puppy. His coat had gotten wiry and he'd lost much of the juvenile pudginess that had been obvious just a few weeks ago. In fact, Earl thought he could see a touch of white around the dog's muzzle, and that definitely hadn't been there earlier.

  "Here you go boy." Kat hopped onto Earl's lap, eager to devour the offered treat before settling down across the man's knees. "I wish you could tell me what's happening."

  "Did I tell you that Ellen's coming?" Earl's hand moved across the dog's back in gentle strokes. "She's bringing the children too; haven't seen them in way too long."

  Earl opened up the letter from the clinic, only glancing at the note inside. He wasn't interested in what they had to say anymore. He was doing okay and feeling fine. What did they know about things anyway, with all their tests and theories? He felt healthy. Who could argue with that?

  Earl rubbed the back of the dog's ears, eliciting contented growls. "All that matters is how we feel, isn't it?"

  Yrrrapp!

  "They'll be here soon. We can have some lunch; I got some cake in especially for the girls. And after that we can take them for a walk in the park. You'd li
ke that wouldn't–" Earl stopped stroking, eyes transfixed on the back of his hand. It couldn't be. That was impossible.

  The skin on his hands was a smooth and even pink—not a trace of a spot anywhere.

  Earl slid Kat onto the floor, hurried to the large mirror over the bathroom sink and peered into its misty reflection. Moving in slow motion, he lifted the cloth to the glass and wiped away the dust, mesmerized by the sight that greeted him.

  The reflection was his, but it was a reflection he hadn't seen in over twenty-five years.

  The puffiness was gone from under his eyes, the wrinkles and spots had faded away and his hair was showing dark with just a few hints of gray at the temples. What was more, he realized with a shock, he could actually see himself clearly. He'd stopped wiping the mirror years before, partly because he didn't like to watch the seemingly daily deterioration, but also because his failing eyesight made it a pointless exercise.

  This was... Earl found he didn't have any words for it; instead he rushed back into the living room and grabbed the paper. Not stopping to put on his glasses, he turned to the back pages and read aloud. "Sports car champion, Henry Yong, made an impressive debut in the Champ Car World Series with a top-six finish at the Grand Prix of America in his first race..."

  It had been ten years since Earl had been able to read anything other than the large print headlines without his glasses. He flicked to check another page in disbelief, but at that moment the creak of the door announced Ellen's arrival.

  "Hi Dad. Sorry, we're a little–"

  "Hi Hon. Hi girls." Earl opened his arms wide. "How about a hug for your old gramps?"

  Neither Ellen nor the girls moved.

  "Dad?" Ellen edged forward, her hand close to her mouth. "What's happened?"

  "Happened? Well, nothing. I mean, well I don't know. It's like a miracle or something."

  "What is that? Make-up?" Ellen gazed at him, still keeping her distance. "Did you dye your hair?"

  Earl laughed. "I didn't do anything. It's me. Just me."

  "But Dad..."