Good Dog

by Dan Gemeinhart

The snow was falling harder now, fluffy white flakes tumbling all around them. The sky was dark and cloud-choked, the sun gone for good. It was nighttime, and the hellhounds were following close, and their own souls were twinkling out, light by light.

  Brodie’s mind raced as he ran, looking for a way out. Looking for a way to leave the hellhounds behind so he could find his boy, his Aiden. He searched in the darkness for an answer … and found nothing.

  But then Tuck spoke.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Oh, yippee,” Patsy said. “Does it involve bacon?”

  “Come on.”

  Tuck cut sharp into an alleyway. It was dark and shadowy. The snow, untrammeled by cars or feet, was a soft blanket on the ground.

  Halfway down the alley was a dumpster.

  Without a warning, Tuck jerked his head and tossed Patsy up into the air. She somersaulted in flight, hissing and spread-legged, before landing gracelessly on the dumpster.

  “What in the world—” she started to shout, but Tuck wasn’t listening.

  “Now you,” Tuck said, stopping beside the dumpster and looking at Brodie.

  “What?”

  “Get up there,” he said. “Jump off my back to the top.”

  “What about—”

  “Go! Now! Trust me!”

  Brodie hesitated a moment, then backed up a few steps. He ran and sprang, leaping with his feet off Tuck’s waiting back. His front paws made it on top of the dumpster and he scraped with his back claws, finally helped up and over the edge by a shove from Tuck’s stretching nose. He spun around.

  “What about you? How are you getting up?”

  “I’m not.”

  “What?”

  Tuck looked up into Brodie’s eyes. His face was serious. Grim. But calm.

  “It’s the only way, buddy. They can follow us forever as long as Darkly’s got your soul. So I’m taking it back.”

  “Tuck, you can’t! How will—”

  “Listen,” Tuck said. His voice was quiet. Firm. His words came fast, but they rang with the sure strength of a soul speaking its truth. “I’m doing this. I’m doing this for you. I’m doing this for your boy. And I’m doing it for my girl, too. I’m doing it for Emily. I’m not running away this time, Brodie.”

  “There they are!”

  Darkly’s voice roared down the alley. The four hellhounds came galloping down through the shadows toward them.

  “Time’s up,” Tuck said, turning to face them. “Listen, buddy. Just watch Darkly’s shine. When it’s gone, run.”

  “Tuck, this is crazy! How can you—”

  But Brodie was stopped by Patsy’s voice, low in his ear.

  “Shut up,” she said, quiet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The idiot’s right. It’s the only way. Let him do it.”

  Brodie snapped his head to look at her.

  “That’s easy for you to say! You hate him!”

  Patsy gave Brodie a long, unreadable look. She blinked. Then she looked away.

  “It’s the only way,” she said again. “Just be ready to run.”

  Tuck stepped forward, toward the coming danger.

  The swirling lights of what was left of his soul cast a shimmering glow on the brick walls surrounding him and the pure snow under his paws.

  He didn’t whimper. His head was high. He didn’t run. He didn’t tremble.

  Because Tuck? Tuck was Tuck. And Tuck was … well, he was really something.

  The dogs stopped several paces away, black eyes glittering suspiciously.

  “What’s your game?” Darkly asked.

  “No games,” Tuck answered, his body tight and still. “Just teeth. But they’re all yours, Darkly.”

  Darkly’s golden tail wagged. The stolen soul lights danced around him, sparkling against his yellow fur. He was down to only two.

  “You know you can’t win, right?” he asked. “We can’t die. You can’t beat us.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah,” Darkly said, edging in closer with his cronies. “We’ll see, all right.”

  Tuck stood between the demons and his friends. The hellhounds stood in a tight circle, walling him in. The alley below the dumpster was all black eyes and bared teeth and one brave, shining soul. The air crackled.

  “Don’t worry about taking turns, boys,” Darkly growled. “We can do that with the other one. This tough guy? Just dig in. Let’s shred him.”

  There was no moment of waiting. No breathless second of anticipation. At Darkly’s words, the battle began.

  It was quite a fight, that final fight when Tuck offered up his own soul to save Brodie’s. Quite a fight, from quite a dog.

  There was a lunging of bodies. A baring of teeth. Throats full of snarls. And the fight was on. A swirling, swarming, surging battle that would have quickened the pulse and chilled the blood of anyone who watched, alive or dead. Even an angel might have gone pale at the ferocity of it. Believe me.

  And Tuck? Tuck was a warrior. He was all muscle, all tooth, all heart. He was every inch and ounce a fighter. Especially when he was fighting for something.

  But Tuck? Tuck was one dog. One dog, surrounded by four soul-hungry killers.

  He never stopped moving, that Tuck. He spun and he slashed and he snapped and he stood his ground.

  They flew at him, lips pulled back in ugly hunger grins. One at a time or two by two or all at once. They darted and dodged and roared and retreated and came back again, fangs first. And he fought them. With all the heart of a hero.

  But he was one. And they were many.

  Brodie saw it. The moment that Tuck first lost a piece of his soul.

  He’d fought two of them away, forced them back with yips of pain from his brave bite … but then Smoker slipped to his unguarded flank and, before he could turn, sank his teeth deep into Tuck’s black body.

  Tuck spun but Smoker held tight. He shook his head, tearing and chewing at Tuck, and as Brodie watched, one glowing light, and then another, tore free from Tuck and then circled slowly around Smoker.

  Tuck whimpered, a high desperate whine, and then raised his head to the blackness of the sky and howled. It was a howl of loss, of pain, of agony. Brodie knew that sound, knew the feeling of having your soul torn away. Watching from above, what was left of his broken heart cracked a bit more at the horrible howl of his friend. He stepped to the edge of the dumpster and readied his paws for the jump. But he felt Patsy’s claws sharp on his shoulder.

  “No, idiot,” she hissed. “Don’t. This is his to do. Let him do it.”

  Below them, Tuck ended his howl with a snarl and swung his body viciously, tearing Smoker free and tossing him tumbling into Skully and Thump. They fell in a tangled pile against the far wall. And without a breath, Tuck leapt at Darkly.

  Darkly was ready for an attack. But he wasn’t quite ready for a Tuck.

  He blocked Tuck’s first strike with his own teeth but faster than fire, Tuck struck again and then again, high and then low and then right down the middle and then turning and diving. Darkly blocked and dodged but he didn’t have Tuck’s speed or Tuck’s heart.

  Tuck got through and his teeth found yellow fur and they sank deep and held.

  The other hellhounds, back on their feet and ready to rumble, tore into Tuck’s haunches.

  The whole pack, Tuck included, held together by tooth and jaw, circled and stumbled.

  Tuck’s high whine pierced the noise as two, three, four, five of his soul lights were ripped from him. But his grip never wavered, and one of Darkly’s two lights began to tear free and drift toward Tuck. And then it was Darkly’s turn to howl.

  Darkly’s pain came as a roar and he twisted wildly, tearing free from Tuck’s teeth just in time … the soul light he’d almost lost, the one that Tuck had nearly stolen back, stayed with the horrible hellhound. Tuck rolled and spun and shook the hellhounds off.

  There was a breath, a hard-as-metal sliver of time when all the fighters stood
facing one another in the darkness, their eyes fierce and their teeth bared. But only a breath. And then with murderous growls they leapt into the final battle.

  Tuck charged for Darkly but the hellhounds got to him first, finding his shoulders, his back, his flank with their teeth. Tuck slowed but did not stop as they tore at him. Darkly stepped back as Tuck struggled forward, dragging the demon dogs with him.

  “That’s it, mutt,” Darkly growled, backing slowly away as Tuck advanced. “Let us have it all.”

  A high, tortured whine scraped from Tuck’s throat with every step. His soul lights, one by one and two by two, ripped away from him and flew to his attackers.

  He slowed with each step. That dog, that brave dog, had taken on too much. There is a limit to how much any one soul can do, no matter its courage or worth.

  With a groan and a whimper, Tuck collapsed to the ground. The hellhounds dug their teeth in deeper. Their terrible tails wagged as they feasted on his soul.

  If any angels had been watching, they surely would have nearly wept. Surely.

  Darkly stepped forward to stand over Tuck, defeated.

  “All that foolish fighting,” he sneered down into Tuck’s desperate, begging eyes. “It only makes your soul all the sweeter.”

  The other hellhounds still tore at Tuck, tearing away his shine drop by drop.

  He had only five lights left. Then four.

  Brodie bunched his shoulders to jump.

  “Don’t,” Patsy whispered to Brodie. She’d seen him, ready to leap down, ready to lose his soul by Tuck’s side.

  Three lights left.

  “Look at his legs,” Patsy hissed.

  Brodie squinted and saw.

  As Darkly gloated over him and the hellhounds tore his soul away bite by bite, Tuck gathered his legs slowly up underneath himself. His hind legs were springs, taut and ready. His front claws dug for footing in the alley gravel. And his eyes, if you knew how to look, were not begging. They were waiting.

  But his shine was down to almost nothing. He was almost dark.

  But almost? Almost doesn’t mean a thing for a soul like Tuck’s. He was almost dark, but believe me … he was nowhere near surrender.

  Two left. Then one of them broke free and circled around Smoker’s greedy, chewing jaws.

  Tuck had one light left. One glowing shine.

  “Slow down, boys,” Darkly said, licking his hungry teeth. “I get the last bite.” He took one last step closer so that he was only inches away. “Are you ready to lose your soul, dog?”

  Tuck answered, but not with a word. He answered with a roar and a lunge.

  His legs rocketed him forward, tearing him free of the hellhounds and hurtling him teeth first into Darkly’s throat. His jaws closed and held.

  Darkly choked out a strangled cry of fury, of surprise, of pain. And then of loss.

  One soul light—stolen from Brodie, and now stolen back—broke free and flew to the pit bull at his throat. Then, as Tuck dug his teeth in deeper and yanked with all his heroic rippling strength, the other light followed, leaving Darkly to swirl around Tuck.

  Darkly howled like all the light, all the joy, all the hope, had been ripped away from him. Because it had been. Believe me, it was a terrible sound. It was the kind of sound that made you wish you could close your ears like you can close your eyes. It was a sound that raised all the fur on Brodie’s back.

  The other hellhounds stepped back uncertainly.

  “Go!” Tuck shouted without letting go. “Go, Brodie!”

  Brodie whined atop the dumpster, his eyes on his fearless friend.

  “Now, idiot,” Patsy hissed. “If you don’t go, it was all for nothing.”

  She sprang down to the ground and sprinted away up the alley.

  Brodie hesitated for another breath.

  Tuck rolled his eyes to look at Brodie, his grip still strong on Darkly’s throat.

  “Now!” he shouted.

  Thump finally came to his senses and charged at Tuck. His teeth were sharp and bared, flashing toward Tuck’s last, lonely soul lights.

  And Brodie? Brodie was done hesitating.

  He jumped down from the dumpster and slammed into Thump before he got to Tuck. He buried his teeth in Thump’s back and pinned him to the asphalt. He looked up into Tuck’s eyes.

  “Not without you,” he said. And believe me, there was hard, unbending truth in his eyes when he said it. A truth that Tuck could feel, even more real and unshakable than the demon in his jaws.

  Tuck blinked, once. Then he twisted his body ferociously, lifting Darkly’s paws from the ground. He swung him by his neck and then let go, sending the soulless brute tumbling into the other hellhounds. The moment he let the demon go his feet were already running toward Brodie. Brodie gave one last growl to Thump and then released him and leapt away, running shoulder to shoulder with his friend.

  “You shoulda ran,” Tuck said.

  Brodie looked at him.

  “Go for a run without you, Tuck?” he asked. “Never.”

  Tuck flashed him a toothy grin.

  But Brodie? Even at a run, even with hellhounds somewhere behind him, Brodie saw something in Tuck’s eyes. Not something more. Something less. There was something less in Tuck’s eyes, just like there was less shine circling his body. And what was missing from Tuck’s eyes was … Tuck. Brodie could feel it, somehow. Believe me. There was less Tuck in Tuck now, and it made all of Brodie’s heart and soul want to whine and growl at the same time.

  His friend was fading.

  Patsy was waiting for them on the sidewalk at the end of the alley. Brodie looked back over his shoulder before skidding to a stop beside her. Darkly and his gang were out of sight, still back in the shadows of the alley.

  Patsy gave Tuck and his dwindling shine a long, unblinking look.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said after a moment. Her voice was quiet. She turned away, back toward the cars driving by on the main street. “Come on. Let’s hop.”

  Their next ride was a red SUV with dark tinted windows. It slowed down when the car in front of it pulled over to park, and the three lost souls jumped inside just as it sped away.

  “I don’t see ’em,” Brodie reported, looking back at the alley’s dark entrance through the car’s back window.

  “They’re not coming after us yet,” Patsy said, licking at a paw.

  “How do you know?”

  Patsy glared at him, then looked out the window.

  “Darkly just lost his last shine. It knocks you down, losing that last sparkle. Even if it wasn’t his to begin with. He’ll come after us, and harder than ever. But not for a while.”

  It was fully night outside now. The street was lit only by streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars.

  “Great,” Brodie said. “That’ll give us a chance to get away. They didn’t see which way we went. We’ll be able to shake ’em now.”

  “No. We won’t,” said Tuck.

  Brodie looked at him.

  “Why?”

  Tuck looked away. He was only dimly lit by the three soul lights he had left—one of his own, and two of Brodie’s. They looked very small, and very fragile.

  “Oh,” Brodie said. “Of course.”

  Tuck had fought like a lion, and he’d taken Brodie’s soul back from a blackhearted demon. But he’d paid for it with some of his own. They had his soul now, those hellhounds—or most of it, at least.

  “We can’t shake ’em,” Tuck said. “But you can. They can’t follow you now.”

  “No, Tuck. I’m not leaving you, I’m not …”

  “Of course you are. Those dogs can follow me. In a little bit, once they start moving, I’ll split off from you two. Take ’em in the other direction. Run till my shine runs out. And while I’m doing that, you’ll be finding your boy. It’s the way it’s gotta be, buddy. Ain’t no use fighting it.”

  “You can’t, Tuck. You can’t take that risk. What if you lose it a
ll? What if …”

  “It’s what I want to do,” Tuck interrupted. “I want you to help your boy. It’s what I came here for. This is my second chance, Brodie, and I’m not gonna let anyone down this time.”

  “But, Tuck, I …”

  “Oh, just let it go already,” Patsy spat, her ear back and her eyes flashing at Brodie. “Why do you keep fighting when you know you’ve lost? He’s right. And you know it. So leave him be.”

  Brodie’s hackles rose. He wanted to growl, wanted to lift his lip and spit his anger at Patsy.

  But Brodie? He didn’t. Because she was right. He did know. He knew that everything that Tuck had said was true.

  Brodie looked from Patsy to Tuck. He looked out at the night, speckled with falling snow.

  He knew what he had to do.

  “Okay,” he said. He looked out the window. They were driving past a park, full of trees and bushes and even a big fountain, waterless in the winter cold.

  “Are they following yet?” he asked.

  Tuck closed his eyes, then opened them.

  “No.”

  “Good. Come on.”

  Brodie jumped without waiting for an answer. He leapt far enough that he cleared the street and landed in the snow of the park.

  A moment later, Tuck and Patsy flew through the side of the door, the cat dangling in Tuck’s jaws. Tuck stumbled when he landed but caught himself, then set the cat down.

  Brodie walked over to the cement fountain, which was dry and cracked, littered with papery black leaves. He looked up at the winter sky, which was crowded with gray clouds that blocked the light of the stars.

  “What are we doing?” Tuck asked.

  Brodie looked him in the eyes. He licked his lips.

  “You sure about splitting up?” he asked.

  Tuck swallowed.

  “Yeah, buddy. We got to.”

  Brodie sighed.

  “I know.”

  He looked again at the sky, then back to his friend.

  “You ready to say good-bye, then?”

  Tuck let out a low, sad whine.

  “As ready as I’m gonna be, buddy.” He looked around the park, and back toward the lights of the street. “Which way should I go?”

  Brodie raised his eyes to the clouds. And just like that angel had told him they would, they parted for him.