by Sal Conte
Harry peered over at his wife, his mouth dropping open. “Kill her?”
“She was left on the charger too long. To her logical computer mind, someone was trying to take her out.”
“Pam—”
“Don’t say anything. I know it sounds ridiculous, but let me finish. Queenie is a learning computer, just like Skynet in the Terminator movies. Humankind built Skynet to help them, and the artificial intelligence wound up taking over.”
A burst of laughter exploded into the air. “Are you saying Queenie is planning on taking over and enslaving the human race, starting with us?”
“I know it’s a crazy theory, Harry, but don’t make light of it.”
“Sorry. It’s just that…” His words trailed off. What could he say? It was a crazy theory, but not too far from what he’d thought the day his brakes went out. Of course, he couldn’t allow the idea of Queenie being a malicious monster to linger. That would mean he was going crazy.
“You have to admit, she’s been acting strange lately,” Pam said, keeping her voice low.
“She had been acting strange, but she’s back now. She’s back to her old self. You can see that, can’t you?” Pam nodded grudgingly. “I know you think we should get rid of her. I know you’re not a dog person, and I don’t want to fight you on it. But just observe how good she is with the kids while we’re up here the next few days, and if you still want to send her packing when we get back, I’ll do it. And I’ll tell the kids it was my idea.”
Pam smiled. “Thank you.” It was the first genuine smile Harry had seen from her since before they’d left home.
He glanced around and breathed in deeply. “It’s so beautiful up here. We need to spend more time here in the mountains,” he said and put his arm around her.
“That would be nice,” Pam replied.
“You know…” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I have all this extra energy from our lumberjack breakfast this morning.”
“Stop it!” Pam said and punched him in the arm. “You’re so bad,” she said, but she was still smiling.
Things seemed to be getting back on track until Ariel screamed.
Chapter Ten
Harry’s gaze bounced up the road. He didn’t see the children. Somehow he’d let them get out of his sight.
“Ar?” he hollered as blood pounded into his head, stinging his ears. He sprinted away. “Ariel!” he cried out as he ran. She screamed again, and his heart lurched in his chest. “Daddy’s coming,” he called back.
He said a quick prayer as he ran that if God had a mind to take any one of them, it should be him.
Around the bend and off into a clearing he saw them. He raced downslope into the clearing, nearly stumbling on an exposed tree root as he ran. The children didn’t seem hurt. They were standing over something. It appeared to be the remains of a small animal.
Queenie! His dog’s name fired into his mind, and the anguish he was experiencing in that moment was almost as bad as if one of his children had been lying there.
As Harry got closer, the rotting remains of what had once been a very large rabbit came into view. The animal’s carcass had been ravaged by something wild. A severed leg, an ear, and the rabbit’s entrails were all that remained.
“Are you guys okay?” Harry asked as he arrived. Relief, like adrenaline, flooded through his body and mind. It wasn’t his children, and it wasn’t Queenie lying on the ground. He was suddenly very tired.
Ariel and Jackson remained silent, their eyes screwed to the sack of gore on the ground before them. Fat, lazy flies buzzed over the remains. The children both seemed dazed, as if in a hypnotic trance, and incapable of looking away.
Pam arrived in the clearing on Harry’s heels. She placed a hand over each of her children’s eyes, shielding them from the horror, and pulled them away. “Come on,” she said softly as she led them out of the clearing.
They never made it to the swimming hole that day. The afternoon was spent explaining away the death of the rabbit while plying the children with homemade chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate. Harry and Pam knew sugar was just a diversion. Death could not be explained away so easily. There would be nightmares over the next several nights.
“This is why we don’t want Queenie going outside,” Harry said to the children, and Pam shot him a searing gaze.
He didn’t care. The dead rabbit was a good teaching tool. The rabbit had been attacked by a wild animal—probably a wolf—and the children needed to know that the same thing could happen to their dog.
Queenie still hadn’t returned. Harry was getting worried.
*
“Anyone see my phone?”
It was nearly nightfall, and Harry hadn’t heard from Catherine all day. It was just after six p.m. when he realized his phone was missing. He couldn’t remember when or where he’d last seen it. He recalled being on the cell phone early in the morning when Beth from the K9-233 company had called.
He searched down in the folds of the old sofa where he’d sat when he talked with her, and upstairs in their bedroom under the bed. He looked in the children’s room. He went outside and searched the car. He hadn’t been in the car all day, but he was running out of places to look for the damn thing.
While exiting the car, about to head back into the cabin, he heard a soft whine in the distance. He stopped, standing erect like a meerkat in the open plains, and gazed around, not knowing what to make of it. It sounded like the cry of a small, wounded animal.
He heard it again, louder this time, and went inside. “Hear that?” Harry asked Pam, leaving to door hanging open.
“What?” Pam asked.
“Listen.”
The family sat in silence for several moments, and then… yip, yip, yeee!
“I think I hear it,” Ariel said.
“It’s Queenie,” Harry said. “She’s in trouble.” He moved to get his parka off the coat rack.
“Harry, we don’t know that,” Pam called after him.
“I do,” Harry said shrugging into his parka.
“It’s getting cold and dark,” Pam said, attempting to reason with him. “And she’s a computer dog.”
“She’s our dog,” Harry corrected, the words firing off like a missile.
“Okay, she’s our dog,” Pam said in an even tone. “But she’s also a machine, and machines don’t cry out in pain.”
Harry wasn’t listening. As far as he was concerned, he’d done too much listening already. Pam had done all she could to separate him from his dog. He was on his way out the door.
He started up the trail toward the woods.
“Daddy,” Ariel called. Harry turned. Ariel was standing in the doorway, backlit by the light of the great chandelier. She looked so serious. “It is Queenie you hear, Daddy,” she said in a loud whisper. “But don’t go. She’s pretending.” Ariel put a finger to her lips in a shushing motion as if what she was saying was secret, and no one else should hear, especially Queenie.
“Don’t worry, Princess. I’m just going up the road a bit. I’ll be right back.” He smiled to ease her concern. She did not smile back.
Moments later, Harry was jogging up the road. Night was falling more rapidly now, and it would soon be dark. Harry remembered someone once saying night didn’t fall, it came crashing down.
Yip, yip, yeee!
There it was again, louder this time. He was getting closer. Perhaps she’d fallen into a hole as he thought earlier, and couldn’t get out. His heart sped up as he quickened his pace. The cries were coming from upslope along the right hand side of the road, deeper into the woods.
“Queenie!” Harry called, and there it was again. She was calling to him. Rescue me, she was saying. He began moving up the slope, pushing aside the brush as he moved.
Harry knew what Pam had said was true. Mechanical dogs don’t cry out in pain. Yet his mind had been so mired in half-truths, out-and-out lies, and fear, that he’d lost all clarity of thought.
T
he fear was the worst of it. Harry felt he was dangling dangerously close to the precipice of having to tell Pam he’d failed her—he’d failed them all. He’d had the secret feeling that if he had to tell her they were moving to the mountains because he’d screwed up supporting them, their marriage might not withstand the blow. He’d had this feeling for some time, but he’d kept it buried so deeply under the muck in his mind, he was only now allowing it to surface.
He knew of a kid growing up, an angry kid, who kicked his dog for the tiniest infraction. Don’t eat that crap off the ground—kick. You’re walking too close to me—kick. No matter how many times the boy kicked his dog, the dog returned to him with nothing but love. Harry had thought of kidnapping the dog and giving it the love it needed, but he knew if the kid ever found out it was Harry who’d stolen his dog, he’d kick his ass—kick!
Harry had convinced himself that no matter what else happened in his life—a life that was quickly turning to shit—his dog would love him unconditionally, just like that kid’s dog loved him. Harry’s dog would not look down her nose at him because they had to move to the mountains.
Man’s best friend, he thought. “I’m coming, Queenie,” he called softly.
*
Mommy was fixing hot dogs and beans again. An animated movie was playing on the laptop computer that sat on the kitchen table as Mommy moved around the kitchen making dinner.
When a song came on that Mommy knew, she would hum along, and sometimes she’d laugh at something one of the characters said. Ariel knew Mommy was pretending. Mommy was pretending she wasn’t worried about Daddy, but with every little sound her head jerked up toward the door.
Ariel wanted to comfort Mommy, but what could she say? She didn’t want to lie to her. She knew adults were too grown up to believe in some of the strange mysteries of the world. She was almost too grown up to believe them herself.
Ariel believed that Queenie could talk. She believed that Queenie could let herself out of the house whenever she wanted to. She believed that Queenie had let the air out of Daddy’s tires, and that Queenie was pretending to be hurt knowing that Daddy would come to rescue her. Ariel believed that Queenie was a lot smarter than her parents believed she was. She believed that Queenie had become a bad dog.
Ariel also believed she could share none of this with her mother. Her Mommy was too grownup to believe any of it, and would laugh and say Stop being silly.
She got up from where she was sitting next to Jackson at the table, moved to her mother and hugged her around the waist. “It’s going to be all right, Mommy,” she said.
Mommy looked down at her, and shot her a smile that was filled with worry. “I know,” she replied.
Chapter Eleven
It was full dark now, the moon creating a patchwork of light as it punched through the canopy of tree branches. Even though Harry was wearing the parka, he was starting to get cold.
He hadn’t heard a cry from Queenie for several minutes, and wondered if a wolf had gotten her. He’d decided to continue upslope to the clearing above, where he could get a better view of the woods below, when he heard his name being called.
“Haa-reee.”
A chill fired along the back of Harry’s neck and danced across his shoulders. He gave an involuntary shiver. He recognized the voice. It was the same scratchy voice he’d imagined calling him at night in his sleep.
I’m not going crazy, Harry thought. It’s the wind. The way it’s singing through the trees sounds as if…
“Haa-reee.”
The whispered call was coming from below. He peered back downslope into the brush, but the moon provided very little light for him to see beneath the canopy of trees.
“Hello?” Harry called out into the night. He pushed aside some of the thick underbrush. “Is someone there?”
“Haa-reee.”
I’m not going crazy, he thought as he pushed into the thick brush. Someone was there in need of his help.
Harry traversed down and entered a sloped clearing. A small animal was maybe ten feet in front of him, staring at him, eyes shining in the night. The animal stepped forward out of the shadows. It was Queenie.
“Queenie? Is someone down here with you?”
Queenie took another step forward. Dappled moonlight shimmered off of her coat. “Haa-ree kill Queee-nie. Queee-nie kill Haa-ree.”
I’m not going crazy, I’m not going crazy, I’m not going crazy.
“You can… talk?”
Movement from above snagged Harry’s attention. A large, gray wolf was now upslope where he’d stood just moments earlier. Harry turned back and Queenie was gone.
Pam’s crazy theory rang out in his mind, only now it wasn’t a crazy theory; it had become his full blown reality. “I didn’t try to kill you,” Harry called out. “It was an accident,” he said, his voice growing urgent. “I love you Queenie,” he cried, his words echoing in the night.
It was starting to snow. A light dusting of fine powder drifted to earth. He heard movement to his left.
“Queenie?”
The shining yellow eyes of a second wolf peered up at him through the vegetation. A low, throaty rumble rose into the air, rippling the hairs along the back of his neck.
Harry realized Queenie had somehow summoned the wolves and led him into a trap.
“Get away from me,” he called, stomping his foot at the nearest wolf. The wolf did not move. The creature was so close he could smell the damn thing, rank like a dead animal.
Another deep rumble arose somewhere nearby, and Harry realized there were at least three of them. He began looking around for an escape route. His eyes bounced upslope and he saw that the first wolf had moved, was moving, inching downhill, inching closer.
“It was an accident!” Harry screamed. He couldn’t help but notice the despair in his voice as he cried out. The wolves noticed it, too, and smelled his fear. Their rumblings grew louder.
Keeping his eyes on the nearest wolf, Harry began backing into the thick brush to his rear.
Chapter Twelve
As Harry backed into the bush, he tripped on something and nearly went spilling to the ground, his arms pin-wheeling out, grasping at the branches around him. The nearest wolf lurched forward.
It didn’t attack. It stopped short, muscles tensed. While the wolf didn’t attack this time, Harry knew the attack would be coming soon.
He gazed down at the ground and saw that he had stumbled on a large, twisted branch, now lying at his feet. He stooped and quickly picked it up. It had some weight to it, and a knot at one end. It might make a formidable weapon. It was all he had.
Harry clutched the shillelagh at the narrow end and waved the weapon at the nearest wolf as if it were a club. “Come on you fucker!” he growled.
There was movement in the undergrowth to his left, but Harry knew it was just a diversion. The attack would be coming from the wolf directly in front of him.
“What are you waiting for?” he screamed. He stomped his foot and the wolf sprang.
Harry swung the shillelagh. He hadn’t swung a bat since high school, but his eye was still good and he connected with the wolf’s skull.
Craaack!
The thick branch reverberated in his hands on contact, stinging his palms. The wolf let out an anguished cry, the likes of which he’d never heard. The wounded animal bounced into the brush and scampered away.
“Come on, you fuckers! Come on!” Harry cried out.
The wolf upslope was gone. Harry knew they were regrouping and another attack would be coming soon. He needed to get back to the safety of the cabin.
He began his descent back downslope toward the road below. Bushes rustled all around him, and each time one did, Harry gripped the shillelagh like a Louisville slugger, his muscles tense and ready. No attack came, and before long he could see the road. He knew once he was on the road and out in the open, the wolves would be less likely to attack, especially since he’d wounded one of them.
As he steppe
d out of the brush and onto the road, he heard what sounded like the distant cry of a rooster. He again tensed, holding his weapon ready to swing away, but nothing came. After a while, he allowed himself to relax, and started jogging back toward the cabin.
Queenie had tried to kill him. Queenie thought he tried to kill her and was returning the favor. He wasn’t going crazy. He was living a nightmare. Queenie had taught herself how to communicate with wolves. Clever computer. He didn’t know what she had planned for Pam and the kids, but he knew he needed to get back to the cabin as quickly as possible to protect them. He wasn’t going to fail them again.
The snow was falling lightly as Harry moved along the road towards the cabin, taking inventory of himself. He hadn’t twisted an ankle when he stumbled, and nothing was broken. Aside from being shaken up, and practically scared to death, he’d come out of the wolf attack amazingly unscathed.
As he continued on, a loud humming arose in the air, shattering the night silence. It seemed to be coming from up ahead. It wasn’t the wind. It sounded like a swarm of bees, and Harry wondered if there was a beehive in the trees that lined the road up ahead.
Is Queenie planning to throw a beehive on me? Not too long ago that would have been a crazy idea.
Yet, despite what had just occurred, Harry still hadn’t given up on Queenie. He remembered what Beth had said on the phone that morning—Queenie just needs to be reprogrammed. If he could catch her and disconnect her battery, she could be fixed. She could once again be his dog, his Queenie.
He peered down the road and realized that the cloud of darkness up ahead was moving toward him at a rapid rate of speed, and with it came the humming he’d been hearing. The humming was growing in intensity.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled as the fast moving swarm of bats descended upon him. In moments he was immersed in a fog of screaming bats nipping at his hands, his face, his eyes.
“Aiii!” Harry cried out as he began swinging the club wildly. He could feel himself connecting, hear their shrill cries as he did. The attack lasted only a few minutes, yet once it was over, Harry felt blood trickling from bites on his forehead, hands, and face.