Good Dog

by Dan Gemeinhart

  “Up,” he answered.

  And then Brodie? Brodie howled up at that moon to call the angel down.

  There’s something you should know about calling angels. It doesn’t take long for them to show up. Because they’re never that far away.

  There was a moment, but only a moment, when Brodie thought it hadn’t worked. The moon still shone between the parted clouds, the park still stood in winter darkness around them. A small tickle of panic fluttered inside Brodie.

  But that angel? He came. Of course he did.

  He didn’t fly down on feathered wings, or slide down on a shimmering moonbeam. No. That’s not how angels arrive. They don’t really arrive at all. Because, of course, they’re already there.

  So when an angel answers your call, it’s not like someone walking in the door. Do you know what it’s like? Do you know that feeling when you first wake up … maybe in the morning, or maybe in the middle of the night, or maybe in the backseat of the car after a long drive … and you think you’re alone, just for a few sleepy blinks, but then you realize that your mom is there, and she’s looking at you, and she loves you, and you understand that you were never really alone at all? That’s what it feels like.

  The three friends were standing in the darkness by the empty fountain, and then they were standing in the darkness by the empty fountain with an angel sitting next to them. That’s it.

  “Hello, Brodie. Tuck. Patsy. Are you ready, then?”

  The angel always asked. Even when he knew the answer.

  Patsy’s tail swished and her ear went back. But she didn’t snarl or turn away. Angels aren’t the sort of things you can just turn your back on, no matter how stubborn you are.

  Tuck’s tail went down. He looked at the angel for a long moment, and then turned to Brodie.

  “That’s it, then? You’re just gonna give up?”

  Brodie stepped closer to Tuck. So close their shoulders touched, and the glowing lights of their souls mingled.

  “No,” he answered. “I’m not giving up. I didn’t call the angel for me, Tuck. I called him for you.”

  Tuck’s fur rose and he took a step back.

  “What do you mean? I can’t go without you!”

  “You have to. For me. Because, Tuck … if you stay here … if you stay for me and lose your soul and get stuck here, then I’m never leaving, either. If you don’t go now, we’ll both be stuck here forever.”

  Tuck’s eyes searched Brodie’s desperately.

  “I can’t, Brodie. I can’t fail again. I can’t fail you like I failed my girl.”

  Brodie growled.

  “Failed? You didn’t fail Emily. And you didn’t fail me.”

  “But I ran away. I just ran, and I … I …”

  “So what? You were a dog, and you wanted to run. You didn’t leave her. You didn’t fail her. You weren’t a bad dog, Tuck. You were just a dog. A dog who loved to run. And then something terrible happened. That’s all.”

  Brodie stepped forward again, closing the gap between them.

  “And you know what? You never left me, Tuck. Never. Even when those hellhounds were all around us and they were taking your soul, you didn’t leave me. You never ran.”

  Tuck’s eyes shone bright in the moonlight.

  “You did it, Tuck,” Brodie said, his voice a happy whisper. “You did what you came here to do.”

  Tuck’s tail started to wag.

  “You think I’m a good dog now, buddy?”

  “No, Tuck,” Brodie answered, and for just a breath the words hung there between them, and Tuck’s wag slowed to a stop. “I think you were always a good dog.”

  And that wag came back, strong.

  The angel didn’t say a word. He stood there and let those two friends talk, eye to eye and soul to soul.

  Because that angel? Well, he knew. He knew that sometimes just waiting and listening is the best kind of helping you can do.

  But he also knew that time is a thing that moves. Even when we wish it didn’t. And he knew there was still a lot that Brodie had to do. So the angel spoke. And when he spoke, he asked the same question again.

  “So. Are you ready, then?”

  Tuck looked from the angel to Brodie.

  “I think I am,” he said, but he said it to Brodie. “But I can’t just leave you here, buddy. I can’t just go without you.”

  “You aren’t going without me, Tuck,” Brodie told him. “You’re just going before me. I’ll be there soon.”

  Tuck blinked. He ducked his head, then looked back to his friend.

  “Promise?”

  It was a new word to Brodie, but he knew it the moment that Tuck said it. He knew it, and he liked it. All dogs love promises, once they understand them. Brodie wagged his tail.

  “I promise.”

  And when Brodie said that, he meant it. It wasn’t a lie.

  But it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. Because promises are funny things. They stay the same, even when everything around them changes. And when that happens, sometimes they get forgotten. And a forgotten promise isn’t exactly the same thing as a broken promise.

  Except that, really, it is.

  But that didn’t matter right then. All that mattered then was that when Brodie promised Tuck that he’d see him again, he meant it. He did.

  “Go on, Tuck.”

  “I’ll wait for you, Brodie,” Tuck said, backing up toward the waiting angel. “I’ll wait for you there. In the long grass by the river. And then we can go to Forever together.”

  “Okay.”

  Tuck circled the angel, his tail as full of wag as a tail can be. He was Tuck again, his soul brilliant and undimmed. The angel scratched Tuck’s ears, he ruffled his fur, he patted his back.

  Then Tuck stopped his dancing, but not his wide-mouthed smiling.

  “Oh, hey,” he said, suddenly turning back to Brodie. “You never told me what your most favorite thing is, Brodie. What is it?”

  Brodie looked away for a moment, into the darkness, then back to his friend.

  “I’ll tell you later, buddy,” he said.

  Tuck’s tail wagged even harder.

  “All right. I’m outta here. Hey, Patsy!” he hollered to the cat still sulking in the shadows. “You should come, too! Don’t you think?”

  Patsy looked away.

  “No,” she answered, her voice final and cold. “I don’t think.”

  Tuck’s wag didn’t slow.

  “Okay. Someday, though, right?”

  Patsy didn’t answer.

  “Someday,” Tuck said again. Then he looked up at the angel. “Now?” he asked.

  “Yes, Tuck,” the angel answered. “Now.”

  Tuck’s wagging slowed. He sat down beside the angel. He looked up into the moonlight, pure white and waiting.

  Because Tuck? That good dog was ready.

  But then Patsy broke the moment.

  “Hey, idiot!” she shouted.

  Tuck turned his head to look at her. He turned it reluctantly, though. Even Patsy could see that.

  Because Tuck? That good dog was ready.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  Patsy looked at him for a moment. Her tail whipped from side to side like she was fighting something. Then she yawned and looked away.

  “Nothing. Get out of this dump while you can.”

  Tuck’s only answer was a few happy thumps of his tail on the ground. Then he turned his eyes back up to the moonlight.

  Because Tuck? That good dog was ready.

  And then it happened.

  Brodie didn’t look away. Even when he wanted to. Even when watching his friend leave made him so purely sad and so truly happy at the same time that he thought he was dying all over again, Brodie didn’t look away.

  The moonlight began to sparkle. It became a beam of glowing, pulling lights. Tuck’s own soul swirled and shimmered and rose to meet it.

  There was lifting. And wagging. And fading. And then leaving. Away.

  And Tuck
was gone.

  And the park was dark.

  And Brodie’s head dropped.

  And Patsy sat in silence and stillness.

  And the angel, who had never left (and never would), spoke to Brodie.

  “You should come, too,” he said. “You should come while you can.” And the angel? He meant it. He really did. Because the angel knew what was at stake. And Brodie really was such a good, good dog. And the angel knew exactly how it was probably gonna play out. But there is a limit to what even angels can do.

  Brodie lifted his head and walked over to the angel. He’d seen the way the angel had rubbed and scratched Tuck. And Brodie, right then, just wanted to be touched. He was a soul and he was a fighter and he was a friend but he was also just a dog, and he wanted to be petted.

  The angel scratched Brodie in all the ways and places that he liked to be scratched. And you know what? That angel enjoyed it as much as Brodie did. He did.

  “Are you ready?” the angel asked for the third time, even though he knew the answer.

  “I can’t go,” Brodie said. “Not until I find him.”

  “I know.”

  “Will I find him?”

  “I don’t know, Brodie. There are lots of things I can see. But the future isn’t one of them.”

  The angel’s fingers rubbed into Brodie’s muscles, scratched at his skin. It didn’t matter that the angel didn’t really have fingers, or that Brodie didn’t really have muscles. It felt good, just the same.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” the angel said, his head low, murmuring just into Brodie’s ears. “The world goes on, with or without you. Your boy will have his life, with or without you. He has moved on. You should, too.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Your boy?”

  “Yes. Is he okay? Can you promise me he’s okay? Can you promise me he’ll be okay?”

  There was a shake to Brodie’s voice. A shiver to his body.

  The angel lowered his head farther, and pressed his lips to the top of Brodie’s head. If he’d had eyes, he would have closed them.

  “No. That’s not how it works. I’m not allowed to make any promises, Brodie. But I can tell you this: Losing your soul to darkness won’t make his road any lighter, whatever his road is. Come with me now, Brodie. Before it’s too late.”

  Brodie pulled back. He shook free of the angel and stepped away.

  “No,” he said. “I’m going to find my boy. No matter what.”

  The angel stood. His face, if he’d had one, would have been almost mad.

  Now, angels? They aren’t supposed to get mad. But the angel was. Love can do that.

  “You don’t know what you’re risking.” He looked away in the way that only angels can, through the trees and down the streets and into an alley, and what the angel saw there was dark-eyed dogs rising up and sniffing the air.

  “Those demons? They’re coming, you know,” he said. “They’re already on their way. And they’ll find you. And there is nothing I’ll be able to do to help you.”

  Brodie looked out, too. Out toward the humming darkness of the town beyond the park. A town full of houses and cars and light and shadows and demons and lost boys.

  “Okay,” Brodie said. “I guess I better get going, then.”

  And then the angel? He was gone. And the moon was covered in clouds.

  Brodie almost choked for a moment on his sadness, and his loneliness, and his fear. But souls like his don’t get dimmer because of sadness, or loneliness, or fear. They shine harder.

  He looked at Patsy.

  “You still with me?” he asked her.

  The cat yawned, her eyes on the cloud-cloaked moon and her ear swiveling, following the sounds of the night.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  And then without another word they trotted away together into the night.

  The monster sat breathing in the darkness.

  The couch creaked under him from time to time as he shifted or stretched.

  The blue light of the TV flickered on his face, casting a head-shaped shadow on the wall behind him. The can of beer moved back and forth from his mouth to the coffee table at his knee. The TV was blaringly loud, filling the room with shouts and bangs and music and fake laughter.

  Brodie sat watching him. As he looked at Aiden’s dad, his fur never unbristled. His lip never unsnarled.

  It didn’t matter that Brodie knew that the monster could never hurt him again. It didn’t matter that the monster couldn’t even see him, let alone kick him or punch him. It didn’t matter. The man on the couch still felt dangerous, still felt deadly, and he still shivered Brodie with fear. New words bloomed in his mind, and he knew them: Sinister. Menacing. Evil.

  It was the last place that Brodie wanted to be. But it was the only place that he could go. His boy wasn’t there, he knew. But there was nowhere else to look.

  The room felt almost empty without Tuck by his side. Brodie tried not to think about Tuck. He was working hard to hold on to his hope, and thinking about Tuck being gone didn’t help. He was glad that Tuck had gone, that he was safe and happy. He really was. But, truthfully? Brodie missed him. He really, really did.

  Patsy sat beside him. Her soul lights swam around her. She’d lost one more on their car-hopping trip from the park back to the house, just in the running and the jumping and landing, even though Brodie had carried her in his teeth when he could. Just like Tuck had. She had only a small handful left now. Three or four lonely lights were all that remained of her soul. Brodie had caught her watching her lights from time to time as they had made their way through the town. She was quieter now. Her dark eyes almost never looked his way.

  Brodie’s lights were fewer now, too. He could tell. Not just by their lessened brightness … he could feel that he was fading. The angel had warned him. He could be lost. Forever.

  And Brodie? He trembled when he thought about it. About losing his soul, about going dark and being lost forever. But Brodie sat there. He sat there and he kept his eyes on that monster. He knew he might lose his soul. But he was gonna lose it fighting for his boy.

  The monster sniffed. He cleared his throat. Brodie looked at him closer.

  The monster’s eyes were red. Puffy. And they weren’t looking at the TV. They were looking at his own hands. And his eyes were full. Full of things held back. Just like that girl’s in the cafeteria. Patsy’s girl.

  Brodie cocked his head. He looked at those eyes, at what was inside them, and what was being held back. The monster, in that one lonely moment, didn’t look so monstrous.

  Darkness? It’s a funny thing. Funny how it can twist, and tear, and torture. Funny how it can take a soul over. Funny how it can’t take a soul over. Not all of it. Not all of it.

  “So … how long do we wait?” Patsy asked, breaking the moment.

  “I don’t know, Patsy. As long as it takes, I guess.”

  “And what are we waiting for, again?”

  And then, at that very moment, there was a knock at the door.

  Loud. Sharp. The kind of knock that didn’t want to wait.

  The monster’s head snapped up. He swallowed the beer in his mouth and put the can down. He shook his head, wiped at his eyes with a grubby hand.

  Brodie rose to his feet, his eyes on the door.

  “Who is it?” the monster hollered.

  “Open up, sir.” The voice that answered through the door was a serious one. Commanding.

  The monster’s eyes narrowed. He cleared his throat and stood up. Brodie followed him to the door, and peered around his legs as he opened it.

  The front porch was crowded.

  There were three people squeezed onto its cluttered darkness.

  Two of them were wearing blue uniforms with lumpy belts and shiny badges. One man, one woman. Police. The word sprang into Brodie’s understanding.

  The other was a thin man wearing glasses, holding a box under one arm and some papers in his other hand. His eyes narrowed when
he looked at Aiden’s dad, and his mouth tightened to a line.

  “Mr. Bondwick?” one of the officers asked.

  “You bringing my boy back?” the monster asked. Brodie took a quick step forward and his tail went to wagging all on its own, but fell still at the officer’s next words.

  “No, sir. You know that. This is Mr. Loftus with Child Protective Services. We’re just here for some of Aiden’s things.”

  The monster bristled.

  “You can’t take nothing.”

  “We can, sir. We’re just here for some clothes and his school things. You need to show us to his room. Now, sir.”

  That officer’s voice didn’t leave any room for argument. Even the monster could tell. And that monster? He was a lot less tough when he was facing someone his own size.

  Aiden’s dad sniffed and snorted, but he stepped back to let them in.

  “Fine. It’s back at the end of the hall.”

  They turned on lights as they went, flicking the switches and sending the shadows away. Brodie followed them back toward Aiden’s room. His heart was a jumbled mess of confused anxiety. He knew most of the words that had been said, but he didn’t understand their meaning.

  One officer stood in the hall, his eyes on the monster.

  The other one went into Aiden’s room with the skinny man.

  They started going through Aiden’s dresser drawers, taking out clothes and putting them in the box, talking to each other in low voices.

  Brodie watched them, desperate to understand what was going on. He didn’t like them doing this, didn’t like them going through Aiden’s stuff, being in his room. Aiden didn’t let anyone in his room. Anyone except Brodie. He wanted to growl, wanted to bark, wanted to back them down with his teeth.

  “I can’t believe it,” Patsy said, a step behind him.

  “What?”

  “This is it. You can actually find him. I didn’t think you had a shot.” Her voice was strange when she said that. Surprised, yeah. But not like it was a good surprise.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Think about it, dummy. They’re taking your kid’s stuff. They gotta be taking it to him, right? All you gotta do is follow ’em, and there he’ll be.”

  Brodie’s head snapped to Patsy. Then back to the people, going through his boy’s stuff. To the box full of his clothes. They’d found Aiden’s backpack and put that in the box, too.