by A. American
“Oh yeah. Hey, I need some ice.”
“For what?”
He cocked his head to the side, “Oh. I didn’t tell you?”
I waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. How much?”
“A few big blocks would be nice.”
“I can put some into the freezer in a little while. When do you need them?”
“Tomorrow.”
I knew he was up to something. And that was always worrying when it came to Mike. “You aren’t going to do anything stupid at the wedding, are you?”
He looked shocked. “I am an asshole. But even I ain’t that big an asshole. No, this is just my little gift. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“Oaky. It’ll be ready in the morning.”
He clapped his hands together. “Perfect.” He hopped backwards and pointed at me. “You’re the man, Morgan.” Then he spun around and trotted back towards his house.
I shook my head, smiling as I headed down the road. Finally making it to the house, I started to pluck the bright pink flowers from the azalea bushes. Once the bucket was full, I headed towards home. When I came out onto the road, Meat Head and Drake came trotting up. They were panting heavily and whining. I stopped and patted Meat Head.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” I looked down the road and asked, “Where’s your sister?”
Drake looked down the road, then back at me. He trotted down the road towards the highway, then stopped and looked back at me. Meat Head licked my hand and whined again. I stood up and started towards Drake. Meat Head took off at a run towards Drake. The two dogs waited as I walked towards them, then ran off as I got closer.
I’m not one to think dogs are of superior intellect, but you certainly build a relationship with the animals over the years. You get to where you can read them, and they can read you. And it was obvious they were trying to tell me something. And the fact Little Sister wasn’t with them was very worrying. I thought she could be hurt. For an instant, the image of her being hit by a car flashed into my mind. But I dismissed it just as quickly. There’d have to be cars on the road for that to happen.
The dogs turned north, running up the center of the road. They were moving way faster than I was. But they would stop and wait for me to close the distance before taking off again. They turned west and headed into the woods. Bad memories rushed back to me of Reggie’s niece. We were headed towards Baptist lake.
I tried to avoid further memories of Reggie by thinking of the dogs. I always wondered where they went when they ran off, and they obviously roamed further than I imagined. They continued to lead me into the woods. They seemed very anxious, almost desperate for me to follow them. I was getting a little annoyed. We were far from home and no one knew I’d left. No one knew where I was.
As that thought began to form in my mind, I started to hear voices. The dogs’ attitudes changed as well. They slowed down and began moving stealthily through the woods. It was then I realized I didn’t have my rifle. All I had was my pistol. Shit, I muttered to myself as I pulled the .45. It was pure instinct when the weapon came from its holster that my fingers would run over the chamber and striker indicators. Both were positive, the pistol was ready to go.
The smell of wood smoke started to drift through the air. Then, the smell of cooking meat. My stomach started to churn as a fear crept up in me, the sudden realization of where the dogs were taking me and what I was about to see.
The dogs stopped and looked back at me. I slowly moved up to them, pausing to rub Drake’s ears. I picked my steps carefully as I closed the distance between myself and what I now knew was two men. Moving closer, they came into view. The two men were sitting on a log, their backs to me, with a fire burning in front of them. A large piece of meat was on a spit over the fire.
They looked like all the scavengers I had seen since the Event. Unlike people in town who tried to keep some semblance of appearance, the people who wandered the woods were always ratty looking. Both had long, wild hair and beards to match. Their clothes had a sheen of grime to them, and experience told me they’d smell like hot garbage.
I looked around their camp and saw a skinned carcass hanging from a tree. Below it was a pile of offal and white fur. I nearly puked and my head began to spin as the realization of that terrible thought I’d had while walking in set in. They were cooking my dog.
Restraining myself for a moment, I looked the camp over. There was a .22 rifle leaned against the tree that the carcass swung from. I didn’t see any other guns. I slipped the ASP from my vest and gripped it tight. I was about thirty feet from the men, a long distance to close. I wanted to just shoot them. And yet, I didn’t. I started to close the distance to them as fast as I could, while trying to be quiet.
But it wasn’t enough. About ten feet from them, they both turned to look over their shoulders. Both men immediately jumped to their feet. One was holding a large knife, like a big kitchen knife. The other looked at the rifle. I dropped the ASP and raised the pistol in a two-handed grip.
“Don’t even fucking think about it!” I shouted.
The one with the knife gripped it tight. I could see in his eyes he was ready to fight. “You toss that blade into the woods before I kill you,” I said as calmly as I could.
The other two dogs came running into the camp. I heard them come past me and saw when the two men noticed them as well. I could see the recognition in their eyes. The one man still had the knife, and I told him again to throw it into the woods. His friend looked at him, and as yet, neither man had said a word.
The one with the knife nodded at me. “You the Sheriff?” I nodded and he took another look at the knife before tossing it into the woods.
I motioned with the pistol. “Sit down on that log.”
The two men shared a glance, then reluctantly sat down. The dogs were sniffing around the hide of their friend piled on the ground.
One of the men with a thick shock of red hair and beard to match asked, “Them your dogs?” He spoke with a thick drawl that reminded me of Appalachia. I’d walked around in front of them, keeping their fire between us.
“Yes, they are.”
“Shit,” he muttered and shook his head.
“It’s just a dog,” his partner practically spat.
“No, it’s not. It’s my dog. And my little girl is going to be very sad you fuckers killed her.”
“We gotta eat too. You shouldn’t let your dogs run around like that. You’re lucky we didn’t kill the other ones.”
“Lucky? I’m lucky you didn’t kill my other dogs?” I asked.
He shrugged and spat into the fire. “It ain’t a crime to kill a dog.” His red-headed partner glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything and turned his gaze back to the fire.
“I guess that depends on who you ask. Didn’t see the collar on the dogs?”
The man shrugged. “That don’t mean shit.”
I wasn’t sure what to do. Yes, they killed my dog. But they were obviously starving as well. Would it be right to kill a man that simply needed to eat? These thoughts were roiling in my head when the man reached out to what I now knew was a hind quarter from my dog roasting over the fire. He ripped a piece from it and stuck it in his mouth, then looked up, glaring at me as he chewed.
It wasn’t a conscious decision to pull the trigger, and I jumped when the Springfield barked fire. He fell backwards, landing on the ground with his mouth open and his tongue pushing the half-chewed meat around. The bullet hit him high in his chest, nearly dead center. From the sound of it, the round hit his trachea. He was gurgling and clutching his neck.
His partner rolled to the side, curling into a ball on the ground. I looked down at the pistol in my hand, then back at the stricken man. He was still struggling as blood pooled in his mouth and he coughed it out onto his chin. It mixed with the chewed meat, m
aking for a disturbing scene. Then he looked at me and reached a hand out towards me.
I shook my head and said, “You shouldn’t have killed my dog. And you damn sure shouldn’t have started eating her in front of me.” I raised the Springfield, the front sight between his wide, wild eyes; and this time, I consciously pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck him in the corner of his left eye. His head fell back and blood bubbled in his mouth with his final exhale. The red head, hearing the release of his friend’s final breath rolled over and looked at him, then at me.
“Look, I’m really sorry. We were hungry. I didn’t want to kill your dog. I really didn’t. But what else were we supposed to do?” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “An, and you’re the Sheriff! You can’t just kill me!”
I looked down at the star pinned to my chest. I plucked it off and stuck it in my pocket. “Right now, I’m not the Sheriff. To you, it’s just a dog. But she was more than that to my family and you took her from us.”
“But, it’s just a fucking dog!”
“Not to me,” I replied as I raised the pistol and fired two quick rounds into his head.
I sat down on the log beside the dead men. The leg was still roasting over the fire and I kicked it off. Holstering the pistol, I looked around. Drake and Meat Head were gone. They never did like gunfire. I imagined they were probably already back at the house. Standing up, I walked over to examine Little Sister’s hanging carcass. I shook my head and looked down at the .22. I snatched it up and gripped the barrel like a bat and smashed the rifle against the tree. The stock splintered into pieces. I looked at the barrel and action and swung it two more times until the barrel was bent nearly ninety degrees before throwing it to the ground.
Going back to the two men, I found a grubby backpack and dumped it out onto the ground. An old blanket was in the pile of filthy clothes and other crap. I took the blanket over to where the dog hung and laid it out on the ground. I piled her entrails, hide and head into the blanket. It was then I saw she’d been shot between the eyes at what was obviously point-blank range. I could see the powder burn in her fur.
The scene was clear. The dogs, being friendly, probably came up to these guys. When they saw the rifle, I imagined Drake and Meat Head ran. But Little Sister was always more tolerant of guns and wouldn’t have been scared. And the bastard pointed it at her head and shot her. I looked back at the two dead men and suddenly didn’t feel as conflicted as I had. I cut down the rest of her carcass, dropping it onto the blanket. Then I picked up the quarter the bastards were cooking and placed it into the blanket before folding the corners up.
I picked her up and slung her over my shoulder and started back towards the road, pausing to kick the fire out. It was a long walk home with the weight of the dog over my shoulder. The longer I walked, the worse I felt about it. Sure, I always said the dogs were lazy and useless, but they were part of my family. A part I would now have to tell the rest of my family was gone. This hurt more than anything.
Little Bit and the kids often played with the dogs. On really hot days, the dogs would go to Danny’s and get into the pond to cool off. The kids would often be there with them as they splashed around. Her loss would certainly be missed by everyone.
As I came to our road, Sarge’s Hummer skidded to a stop. Ted was in the turret with a SAW. Sarge was behind the wheel and looked as though he was ready to kill me.
“Where the fuckin hell have you been!” He screamed as he climbed out of the truck.
I swung the blanket off my shoulder and laid it on the ground. “Getting my dog back.”
Sarge looked at the blanket, then at me. “Come again?”
“The other two dogs came home; and obviously upset, they led me back to where two assholes were cooking her,” I said, pointing at the blanket.
He looked at the blanket again, then back at me. “Shit, Morgan. I’m sorry.” He looked down, shaking his head and asked, “Where are they?”
“Out in the woods,” I replied as I reached down and picked up the blanket again. “Buzzards got to eat too.”
“They shouldn’t have shot your dog,” Sarge replied.
“That’s what I said.”
The old man opened the rear door of the truck, “Lay her in here and I’ll take you home.”
In the truck, Sarge looked over at me. “Don’t ever do that shit again, Morgan. We’ve got plenty of people and enough firepower to take care of any problems we encounter like this. But you wandering off into the woods alone,” he looked around the truck, “and without a damn rifle, will not happen again.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I realized that once I saw them. I was just following the dogs to start with. I thought maybe she was hurt, snake bit, or something. But when I saw her hanging there like that, I lost it.” We were coming up on my bucket of flowers that still sat in the road. I pointed at it and said, “Stop here and let me get that.” Sarge rolled to a stop, and I opened my door, leaned out and grabbed the bucket.
“What the hell is that for?” Sarge asked.
I shrugged, “Something Mel is doing for the wedding.”
He reached over and grabbed my shoulder, “Really sorry about the pup, Morgan.”
I nodded. “Thanks. I need to get her home and get her buried before anyone sees her.”
“We’ll help you,” Ted said from the back seat.
Over my shoulder, I replied, “Thanks, Ted.”
We made it to the house and I told Sarge to pull around to the back, behind the shed. There was a large oak tree back there, on the edge of the woods I wanted to put her under.
“You got shovels?” Ted asked as he stripped his plate carrier off.
I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
I walked back to the shed and grabbed a couple of shovels and headed back. Ted took one immediately and asked for me to point out a spot. I did, and he set to work immediately. I was surprised when I went to set my spade into the dirt by Sarge snatching it from my hands.
“We got this, Morg,” he said.
It didn’t take the two men long to dig a hole large enough to hold her. Ted stepped out of the hole and Sarge asked, “You going to leave her in the blanket?”
As I picked it up, I replied, “Yeah. She’s whole in here and I don’t want to see her again.”
The old man patted my back, saying, “Good call.”
I laid her in the hole and they began shoveling the dirt back in. It didn’t take long before the spot was nothing more than a place of disturbed earth. I studied it for a minute before remarking, “You know, I’m getting kind of tired of digging these holes.”
Sarge took a noisy deep breath and blew it out. “I know what you mean. But we’ll all end up in one.” He looked up at me and said, “None of us gets out of this alive.”
I nodded and looked back at the house. “I need to go in and tell Mel what happened.” I thought for a minute and added, “but I think I’m going to lie to the girls.”
“I was hoping you would,” Sarge replied. “They don’t need to know what happened.”
“Especially Little Bit,” Ted added.
“Agreed,” I said with a nod.
“We’ll leave it to you then, Morg. Holler if you need anything,” Sarge said. As I turned to walk to the house, he grabbed my arm and said, “Don’t ever do any dumb shit like that again or we’ll be digging your hole. And I don’t want to do that.”
When I got into the house, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Mel what happened. When she saw me, she asked, “Did you get them?” Fred was in Mel’s wedding dress, standing on a chair so Mel could pin it up to make some alterations.
“Sure did. Bucket full.”
Fred had her arms up in the air, holding the position Mel needed. “Bucket of what?”
Mel stuck a p
in in her teeth and replied, “Don’t you worry about it.”
“Where are the girls?” I asked.
“They’re over at Bobbie’s,” Mel replied without thinking. I saw her flinch when she said it. But she carried on.
“I’ll go check on them in a little bit.” But before I left, I filled several large plastic containers with water and put them in the freezer.
“What’s that for?” Mel asked as she pinned another piece of the dress back.
“No idea. Mikey needs it.”
Once the water was in the freezer, I left the house. Meat Head and Drake were lying on the front porch. They weren’t panting now, but they looked listless and unenthused. I sat down on the bench and both their tails thumped the porch. Rubbing Meat Head’s ears, I said, “I’m sorry old, buddy. I did my best. But she’s home now.” As I spoke, his tail thumped a little faster. There was no way in hell he understood what I was saying. But I suppose in some way, he knew that I was talking about his little sister.
I left them lounging on the porch and headed for Danny’s. The kids were out back playing. It looked like bows and arrows were back in. Palmetto stem arrows flew back and forth across the yard. I smiled at them as I climbed up onto the porch. Perez was sitting in a rocker watching them. A pile of trimmed palmetto fronds were at his feet.
“You the official arrow maker?” I asked.
He looked down at his feet and replied, “Someone needs to keep ‘em in ammo.”
I looked out at the yard. It was cluttered with arrows and squealing and wheeling kids. It made me smile. Fortunately, they weren’t shooting at one another. They were shooting at several palmetto fronds stuck in the ground. I patted Perez on the shoulder and said, “Don’t let ‘em kill one another.”
“It’s under control,” he replied as I walked into the house. The house was busy. Mary was in her dress, just as Fred was next door. Jess was trying to follow Kay’s instructions on how to pin the dress for modification. All the while, Kate was busy on a cake.