Leviathan

by Jared Sandman

Watching the girls occupied by their latest presents delighted him in a way he realized his own parents must’ve felt those many years ago. James checked his watch and saw it was after eight-thirty. Audrey and Julie should’ve been in bed half an hour ago, but he’d let them stay up longer to play around. The second graders were so fueled by holiday cheer and an overindulgence of sweets they probably couldn’t get to sleep anyway.

  “Okay kiddos, time to clean up.”

  The living room was still in disarray from that morning. They’d had time enough to open their gifts and get showered before traveling to Moorhead to spend the day with his in-laws.

  “Dad,” Audrey started.

  “But we’re not done,” Julie finished. The two always came to each other’s defense.

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” James told them. “Put away your toys so Mom and I don’t trip over them. Then brush your teeth and off to bed.”

  A murmur of grumbling came from the girls.

  “Your toys will be here in the morning,” he said. “You have all next week to play with them before going back to school.”

  “Will you read to us?” Julie asked.

  “You hafta finish the book tonight.”

  “There’s a few pages left,” James said. Each evening for the past week he’d regaled them with the exploits of Ebenezer Scrooge, Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim, one chapter every night leading up to Christmas. Yesterday had been intense for the girls: Scrooge begging at his own tombstone, imploring the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come to spare his life so he may change the course of his destiny. While Julie was more prone to nightmares than her sister, her thoughts were so dominated by Santa’s arrival that the spirit of Jacob Marley and other spectres never crossed her mind.

  Karen entered the living room with an empty garbage bag they used to collect torn wrappings, discarded bows and used gift tags (To: Audrey — From: Santa). Within fifteen minutes the house was tidy and the girls were ready for bed. By the time they actually got hunkered under the covers, it was after nine o’clock.

  The devoted father read his girls the rest of A Christmas Carol. Julie liked the ending, Scrooge’s generous reformation. Audrey thought the conclusion was a cheat, preferred the parts with phantoms better. Karen joined them afterward to say goodnight.

  “Do you think Santa liked our cookies?” Julie asked her mother. The twins had “helped” Karen bake a batch of treats for Santa. They’d left him a dish of chocolate chip cookies — which by pure coincidence happened to be James’ favorite as well — along with a glass of milk. By morning all that remained was a lone, half-eaten cookie.

  “I’m sure he thought they were delicious,” James pointed out and shared a knowing look with Karen.

  She tucked in the girls tightly. “Saint Nick brought you some presents, but many more came from your uncles and aunts, grandmas and grandpas. Tomorrow we’ll sit down and I’ll show you how to write thank-you notes to all of them.” James shut off the light, told them to sleep well and closed the door behind his wife.

  The parents later decompressed in the living room over a cup of hot cocoa. “Another Christmas behind us,” the mother said with no small measure of relief.

  “Don’t say it like that. They’ll be in college before you know it. There are only so many of these days we get with them. What, two more weeks’ worth of Christmases ‘til they’re living on their own?”

  “I suppose you’re right.” She snuggled next to her husband, and they stared at the tinseled evergreen next to the TV. Even though it was aluminum, the tree looked real and didn’t shed dry needles.

  James tuned the television to a channel that aired holiday music. They sat together as Dean Martin crooned softly. While the weather outside was frightful, in here it was warm and peaceful. After ten minutes Karen stood and asked if he was headed to bed too. No, he planned to stay up another half hour with a book. She went upstairs to the master bedroom as he lay on the couch with a paperback.

  Halfway through the third chapter, he dozed off and stayed asleep until jerking awake some time later. Karen stood over him in a bathrobe. “It’s three in the morning. I rolled over and you weren’t in bed.”

  “Oh, thanks for waking me. I would’ve spent all night here.” He nearly fell over when he stood up. His left foot was numb and tingling, so he wriggled his toes until blood circulation resumed. He hobbled around the living room for a minute then followed his wife up the steps.

  In the bedroom he discovered they weren’t alone. Julie and Audrey sat cross-legged on the mattress. “Where were you?” Julie asked.

  “The better question is why are you here?” Karen said. “Both of you should be in bed. You’re too old to sleep with us every time you have a bad dream. That’s why Daddy bought you that nightlight.”

  “But I heard something,” Audrey said. Julie nodded in agreement.

  James tried to calm his spooked daughters. “We went over this before. There’s nothing hiding under your bed. No ghosties or ghoulies or long-legged beasties or things that go bump in the night.” He took Julie’s hand as she climbed off the bed. Audrey grabbed his other one. “You girls need to get back to sleep. There’s nothing here that can harm you.”

  The girls’ room was at the end of the hallway, decorated with rainbows and Barbies. Both of them got situated under the covers, twin beds for the twins. “Do you want me to check the closet?” he asked.

  “No,” Audrey said. “What we heard came from outside.”

  “Someone was staring at us through the window.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Karen said. “You got to see Grandpa and Grandma, and Santa left you so many presents. Don’t ruin such a lovely day by lying.”

  Audrey shot rigid in bed and hugged her sheets. “It’s true. Julie saw him too, the man with the beard.”

  James walked across the room to peer out the window. At ground level, twenty feet down, there was nothing to see.

  “Can anybody get inside the house?” Julie asked. The tone in which she asked the question, so solemn and direct, was very adult; in that moment James caught a glimpse of the woman she’d grow to become.

  “No, honey. All the doors are locked.”

  “What about the windows?”

  “Those too,” Karen added.

  Audrey wasn’t placated. “How ‘bout Santa Claus? He can slip into any house, doesn’t matter whether the doors are locked. If he can do it — ”

  “Except Santa doesn’t wanna hurt anyone,” Julie noted.

  “That’s enough talk,” Karen said. “Go to bed.”

  “Your mother’s right.” James kissed both girls and left the door open a crack as he left.

  The adults returned to the master suite where Karen said, “I don’t understand what would make the girls lie like that.”

  “Lemme take a quick look around just to make sure. If they did see someone — ”

  “On the second floor?”

  “I’ll double-check the back door, make sure I locked it. Sometimes I forget.”

  “Hurry back.”

  James went downstairs to the kitchen to ensure the rear sliding door to the patio was secure. It was. Then he went to the front foyer to do the same. Halfway up the stairs, his daughters’ words niggled at his thoughts like a batch of writhing nightcrawlers. Someone was staring at us through the window.

  Better to be certain.

  He went back to the door, unlocked it and grabbed a nine iron from the bag of golf clubs stored in the coat closet. He slipped on a pair of oversized snow boots and peeked outside. A quick jaunt outdoors to circle the house would put both his mind at ease and the matter to rest.

  James stepped onto the porch. The world was pure, untainted white. The snow had stopped for now. No doubt it would recommence before the sun rose. Both sides of the house were clear. He walked down the brick footpath leading to the porch. No footprints in the snow or anything that gave him cause for —

  His gaze stopped on the evergreen plants that lined the
yard’s perimeter, healthy boxwood hedges. Hidden underneath the thick leaves was a pair of red dots that shined in the darkness like two brake lights. A dark form was concealed beneath the shrubs, and it took James a second to realize what they were.

  Eyes.

  Eyes that were locked on him.

  Something large growled from the hedge. James turned and headed back to the porch, neither running nor wasting time.

  He checked the bushes for any movement. His concentration was so preoccupied he didn’t notice the second figure until it was almost too late.

  The large canine waiting under the porch rushed toward James. He spotted it in time to throw the golf club up to his face as the creature attacked. Rearing on hind legs, the massive animal toppled James Dalton. Its jagged teeth gnawed at the titanium shaft shoved between its jaws.

  James fought the beast, kicked free from being crushed under its sizeable weight. He jerked the club clear and swung it to connect solid with the dog’s skull. Its head cracked from the impact, and still it charged after him.

  In the corner of his vision, James saw the first dog appear from the hedges. It regarded him a moment, planning its assault. Two sets of glowing coal eyes watched him. There was intelligence behind them; worse than that, there was pure malevolence.

  James sprinted to the front door, and the creatures ran in pursuit. He threw himself at the wooden panel, twisting the doorknob as he fell inside the foyer. He shoved it closed with his back at the same moment the beasts reached the entrance.

  Their snarling and clawing at the frame attracted the other family members. Karen and the girls stood at the top of the staircase. James got to his feet and secured the deadbolt. He saw the frightened girls peeking from around either side of their mother. “Stay up there,” he shouted.

  “What’s going on?” Karen asked.

  “I-I think it’s a pack of feral dogs.”

  The furious scratching at the door continued unabated. James’ racing heartbeat subsided now that he was safely inside. In the kitchen he found a phone book, looked up the number for Taggart County Animal Control.

  “Who are you calling?” Karen said as she joined him.

  He dialed the number and held the phone to his ear. “The game warden. I don’t know if they’re rabid or what, but they need to be captured and carted away. Hopefully euthanized.”

  “Were you bitten?”

  “One of ‘em almost got me. If I’d been any slower — ”

  A recorded message played on the other end of the line. “THANK YOU FOR CALLING ANIMAL CONTROL. OUR BUSINESS HOURS ARE MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY, EIGHT A.M. TO — ”

  James slammed the receiver on the cradle. “Why the hell do I pay taxes if nobody’s gonna come when they’re needed?”

  “Forget about it,” Karen told him. “They’ll eventually get bored and wander off. And the door can be replaced. I’m only glad you weren’t hurt.”

  Atop the upper balcony, Julie and Audrey were scared by the intense barking. Karen started up the steps as James put his ear to the door. Then he hit it with his fist and yelled, “Knock it off, ya mangy curs.”

  The clamor ceased at once.

  He knocked again, this time more out of victory than anger. “Y’see? I said everything would be — ”

  Another blow pounded the door. It didn’t come from James.

  The Dalton family gawked at the frame, four sets of eyes staring as the handle slowly turned.

  “Dogs can’t open doors,” Julie said.

  James silenced his daughter. “Who’s out there?” he asked through the wood panel.

  The answer was a powerful thud that rocked the entire frame. Whoever was outside, the deadbolt kept them out. For now.

  “Go away,” James said. “I’ve already called the police.”

  A barrage of strikes pummeled the door, resounding through the house. Audrey whimpered and started to cry.

  James heard a sound like matchsticks being snapped in half. The wooden panel cracked in places, hairline fractures at first. “Leave my family alone.” He stepped backward until the stair risers stopped him.

  The Dandy Dogs outside were the least of James Dalton’s problems, which had just worsened considerably.

  Wood splintered under extreme pressure as an axe head appeared through the wood frame. The force required to chop through the paneling with a single blow was enormous.

  Julie joined her sister in weeping. Karen too was near tears.

  James was afraid as well but couldn’t manifest that fear. Not in front of his family. He had to be strong for them. “Get the girls to safety. Lock yourselves in the bathroom,” he told his wife.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll find another way. Go.”

  The door broke off its hinges, kicked free by the imposing figure who stood on the other side.

  The Lord of the Hunt had come to claim his stake.

  The heavy door dropped to the floor, narrowly missing James. Karen screamed from the stairway.

  The Lord took up the whole entryway, flanked by the faithful hellhounds that sat obediently at his feet.

  James shouted, “Call 911.” He rushed halfway up the steps before the Lord’s firm grip took hold of his leg. He tripped and hit his chin on the top riser, the hard fall dazing him for a second.

  “James.” Karen grabbed her husband’s arm and pulled at him. The two locked eyes for a moment.

  The Lord of the Hunt saw the woman and two girls cowering behind her. He wasn’t here for them. They held no interest to him. Only the man.

  James’ voice echoed in the corridor. “Karen.”

  The Lord dragged him down the stairs, across the threshold and off the porch. James curled into a ball to protect himself from injury. The Lord hauled him to the middle of the lawn.

  Dalton’s family was nowhere to save him, no neighbors coming to his rescue. There was no one around out here in the country. “What do you want from me?”

  When the Lord released him, James shot to his feet and sprinted toward a thatch of trees. He didn’t care about the answer. His life was more important.

  The Dandy Dogs tore after him. The moving target was a game for them, like a ball to catch or a stick to fetch. One sank its gnarled teeth into his right calf muscle. James pushed on, limping. Pink snow dotted a trail behind him as blood dribbled down his pajama leg.

  The second canine pounced, and James fell to the ground. The beast ripped into his back and latched onto his shoulder with a ferocious bite. James twisted around to punch the animal. So focused on the dogs, he failed to notice the Lord of the Hunt looming over him.

  James kicked wildly until the Lord punctured his thigh with a skinning knife. The blade sank deep into the muscle, severed a major nerve. The Lord cruelly twisted the dagger.

  Pain blossomed like a white-hot starburst. “Go to hell,” James spat.

  The Lord of the Hunt wasn’t quite ready to go there yet.

  James clobbered the dogs without reservation. They closed in, first shredding his clothes and later his flesh. His strength waned as they began tearing him apart. A pool of blood, black as ink against the snow, puddled around him.

  The Lord used the blade to pry open James’ jaw. He overpowered the wounded man, probing Dalton’s mouth. Grabbing hold of the tongue, the Lord carved the hunk of meat from between James’ lips. The injured victim cried out, his words a bloody gurgle. Before slipping from consciousness, James saw the butcher slide the meat inside his own yawning maw.

  The Lord leaned close and spoke clearly, now able to articulate his thoughts with another man’s tongue. “Your debt . . . is repaid.” Then he turned and walked away. There was much work to be done.

  In the end the Lord of the Hunt didn’t kill James Dalton. The hellhounds took care of that.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jared Sandman lives on Florida’s Gulf Coast, where he’s working on his next book. Visit his website at JAREDSANDMAN.COM for free stories, updates and discounts.

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