“Opus,” the human in the white coat yelled.
Every part of his body wanted to stop, but Opus decided to ignore the command; he didn’t own this human, and he had to make sure the bad man was nowhere near any of his people. He continued down, determined to hunt down the man who’d almost hurt his woman. He knew Sarge was taking care of his Tina, and Ophelia would die in her efforts to protect Owen and his human Rick. No, the man running away was Opus’s, and this time he wouldn’t be going for the arm if the bad man tried to hurt his humans.
His rear leg ached and his hearing was distracted by the sounds of the storm raging outside, but he could hear the Doc yelling his name before following. Opus let out another bellowing bark and kept pushing through.
30
Owen & Rick
Bacon is good. Owen knew bacon was good, because it went yummy in his tummy. He tried to listen as the guy in the suit told his dad what was going on. He didn’t understand much of it, and how his dad was becoming increasingly nervous and agitated. Owen didn’t know these words, but he understood the feelings. He offered his dad a sausage, only to have it put back on the plate. Talk, talk, talk. All big people did was talk. Owen took a bite of the sausage and decided to change tactics.
“This?” Owen asked, a handful of bacon.
“Not right now, buddy,” Rick told him.
Owen wanted to pout, but bacon was so good. Ophelia wagged her tail, and Owen gave her the piece he’d tried to give his dad. She took it, wolfing it down, then came back for more. Owen was going to get another piece, but she was licking his hand, then his face. It tickled, and he laughed. A distant bark had both Owen and Ophelia look in that direction. He wasn’t sure that was what he’d heard because of all the big booming and crashing outside. He grabbed more sausage and bacon and slid off his seat. Ophelia looked at him nervously, but Owen offered her more bacon.
While she was tracking that, a man ran past the cafeteria. Owen followed the movement, not making out the features very well. That was when he heard another bark.
“Oppy!” he told Ophelia who was cleaning his hand again while he was stuffing a bite of sausage in his mouth with the other.
Ophelia whined to Owen and when he tried to move toward the bark, she got in front of him and pushed him back with her body. Thunder crashed suddenly and the hospital went dark. Owen moved forward, knowing he’d heard his Oppy, and wanting to give him the rest of his bacon. The dark didn’t bother Owen, he was fine with it, unlike his parents. He knew the direction he’d seen the man go in and heard the bark from, so he walked that way as the lights went dark. He stopped a moment, then kept going, not afraid of the dark.
The cafeteria’s glass doors had been wedged open earlier by a cleaner, and Owen walked right out of them while people worried about why the emergency lights weren’t kicking right back on. Owen heard another bark in front of him and toddled in that direction. He heard something bang, then a gust of wind almost knocked him down. The glass wall, it moved and was pushing him back. Owen put both hands on the glass and pushed with as much strength as his little arms and legs could. He wanted his Oppy to have the bacon.
I knew Owen was bored, and I felt bad ignoring him while I talked with the detective. He was telling me to stay calm and that the first patrolman who’d gone upstairs was already outside of Tina’s room. She was safe there. The hospital had been put on lock down, and there was no way to exit the hospital. Suddenly, the lights went out and thunder crashed and Ophelia barked somewhere past me, probably chasing after something Owen dropped or threw.
“Shit,” the detective said in the darkness.
Lightning flashed outside, illuminating things for a brief second. I felt for Owen and found that the seat next to me was empty.
“Ophelia?” I called loudly as lightning flashed again.
I felt her brush against my leg, her body trembling, but she was pulling at me. She emitted a low whining sound, a sense of urgency. Lightning flashed again and I saw Owen’s seat was empty.
“Owen?” I called, standing up.
“Is he under the table?”
“No,” I said, using my phone’s flashlight app, having to fight Ophelia’s urgent tugging. “Where is he?” I asked, suddenly realizing that she was trying to pull me to go find the baby.
She let go and spun in a circle, whining.
“What’s she doing?” the detective asked.
I ignored him. “Can you find Owen?” I asked Ophelia as lightning flashed, lighting up the cafeteria.
The emergency lights kicked on at that moment, washing the room in a soft glow. They weren’t as bright as the normal lights were, but I could see that the cafeteria was empty other than us. I also saw the doors we’d come in had been wedged open sometime afterward. I felt a lump in my throat and a chill ran down me, making my arms break out in gooseflesh. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. Ophelia barked loudly and I focused on her. I pulled the leash out and she sat down. I think she instinctively knew she didn’t need the leash as much as I did. She was already two steps ahead of me.
“What are you doing?”
“My dog is going to lead me to Owen,” I told him, once more looking around the cafeteria to make sure there wasn’t anywhere he could have hidden or gotten lost.
If he was still in this room, Ophelia would have herded him immediately back to me. Her behavior scared me because it showed that, somehow, he’d given everyone the slip. Still, she was a tracker of exceptional talent, and the leash was for me to be able to keep following her if the lights went out again. She probably didn’t even need her eyesight to follow Owen, and he’d only been gone maybe fifteen or twenty seconds before we’d noticed. He couldn’t have gone far. I clipped on the leash.
“Take me to my son,” I told her.
I wasn’t pulled so much as dragged. Ophelia was the quieter and gentler of the three dogs, more of a lover than a fighter. Opus, in all his goofy glory, had no problem flipping the switch from family dog to a terribly aggressive furry missile, while Sarge was still finding his groove, but definitely more on the aggressive side than either of his parents. That was why it surprised me when she nearly pulled me off my feet, choking herself.
The lights blinked again and went out. I nearly ran into Ophelia who’d stopped as well, but I was hit from behind. I’d forgotten about Detective Hanson. I hit the ground hard, losing the leash. We tried to untangle ourselves and, as I was pushing myself to my hands and knees, the lights flickered again. Ophelia was on the far side of the hallway, near the courtyard, barking loudly from our side of the glass doors before going silent.
“Sorry, I did a double check of the cafeteria and then started running this way as soon as—”
“She isn’t the one barking,” I said quietly, scrambling to my feet as I had already started running, hearing the deeper booming bark.
I heard Hanson behind me, but was focused on the door. Twenty fast steps. I heard snarling now, and somebody screaming on the other side of the glass, despite the raging wind and rain that had all but drowned out all other sound. I almost went through the glass when I didn’t stop my momentum in time. Ophelia was off like a shot as soon as I hit the door latch, spilling us both into a torrential downpour. I could barely see. The wind was blowing water and all sorts of things into my eyes, and I was immediately soaked. Instead, I took half a breath and listened, ignoring my stinging eyes.
I heard Ophelia let out a hunting bark, then a louder, deeper growl straight ahead of me. I put an arm over my eyes and lowered myself and pushed against the wind. The lights inside suddenly got brighter, all around the hospital, as the main power came back on, and somewhere behind me I heard the door slam shut, with Hanson’s cursing alerting me I had backup.
“…No! I won’t let you!!” I heard an accented voice screaming.
“Ophelia?” I called.
She hadn’t been the barking I’d originally heard. Was there another dog in this part of the hospital? Then it hit me; I recognized the tone
of the growling and snarls. Ophelia gave a loud, high-pitched bark. I kept pushing on in their direction until I could make out two furry forms, both rigid and, despite being soaked, their fur standing straight up.
“…Just let me get the kid inside,” somebody pleaded, but they weren’t talking to me.
Opus must have heard me, because he looked back in my direction and then straight ahead. I wiped my eyes and got in line with the dogs. The man who had attacked my wife was standing there, his clothing plastered to his body, holding Owen against his chest, one arm shielding his head.
“Give me my son,” I said, my growl on par with Opus’s.
“Those dogs, man… the boy followed us out and I scooped him up; the damn dog won’t let me get him back inside. I’ll put him down as soon as—”
“Give me my son,” I told him. “Sit,” I said in English and noted that both came to rigid attention as I walked forward.
“They won’t attack me?” he asked, then he must have recognized me.
“No, unlike what you were going to do to my wife,” I said, my voice going low.
“I just want out of here man,” he said, holding Owen out.
“You!” Hanson said as I took Owen.
He babbled something, wiping his eyes. His blond hair was plastered to his face and somehow he’d gotten smudged with enough dirt that the downpour hadn’t washed a streak off his face.
“I’m sorry, I panicked and—”
“You’re under arrest again, you have the right—”
“Hold on, Detective,” I said, holding Owen tight, then turned.
“Mr. Rick?” he asked, confused as I gently pushed Owen into his arms.
I turned and sucker punched Javier in the gut as hard as I could. He instinctively doubled over as the wind left him. It was convenient because my other fist was coming up from below my own belt. The uppercut hit him off center, but it was enough to knock him off his feet. I heard Hanson curse. I turned, shaking my aching hand, as he handed Owen back to me and pulled out the cuffs. Both Opus and Ophelia whined from about five feet behind me. I turned, cradling Owen’s head to my shoulder.
“You did great,” I told them both.
Opus’ chuff was audible over the sounds of the storm. Ophelia’s tail was wagging in the water and filth that the hurricane was throwing, but she was visibly happy.
“Come here, you goofballs,” I told them.
“My Oppy and Ooofie,” Owen said, surprisingly upbeat and nonchalant about it all, despite the way the storm seemed to push rain in all directions.
“Yes, your Opus and Ophelia,” I told him.
“Bacon?” he asked, dropping a handful of smashed meat that the wind carried away.
Opus watched as the greasy crumbles were lost in the semi darkness with something like longing, but when I looked up again I saw he had his tongue hanging out.
“You did it again, buddy,” I told him, hearing retching behind me.
I reached a hand out to pet Opus and Ophelia who were suddenly all about getting pet. My hand was sore and I could see it swelling already. I ignored the commotion behind me, but a second later Hanson and Javier fell into step with me and the dogs as I walked in the direction I thought the door was in to get back inside the building.
“Only you,” Tina said from the driver’s seat.
“What’d I do?” I asked her, my feet kicked up on the dash, my laptop open.
“Now I know why you’re an introvert,” Tina said.
I avoided commenting that she looked like she needed a phonebook or two to sit on. Our size difference wasn’t something I usually noticed any more, except she was driving my big van and we were a day out from Michigan still.
“Why’s that?” I asked her.
“Whenever we go on somewhere, things seem to happen. It’s like… if you wrote this kind of stuff in your books, nobody would believe it really happened.”
“Sometimes life is stranger than fiction,” I told her, “Something about suspension of disbelief.”
“Leaf!” Owen shouted from behind me.
I turned and held up my casted right hand. He pushed his against it, our own version of knuckles.
“I mean, those guys attacked me but I was ok. Last year in Utah—”
“We don’t have to talk about this,” I told her.
“You don’t want to?” she asked.
“No, I mean, if you don’t want to talk about the bad stuff specifically. I know your dreams still get to you is all.”
“Listen, babe,” Tina said, “I will never be a victim again. Even when those guys drugged me, I had things under control. You and the dogs coming when you did probably saved Javier’s life. So I… I think I proved that I can take care of myself. After being afraid for all this time, I really think the dreams won’t be an issue.”
“But last night—”
“I dreamed about how fearless our two-year-old terrorist is and how nothing seems to bug him. I thank Jesus everyday that he brought me you and the dogs. If he had a little more fear in him, I wouldn’t worry so much, but I have you and the dogs.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering where this was going.
“It just really bugs me though.”
“What does?” I asked her, thinking this was a change of subject.
“When you found Javier, he thought he was protecting Owen from the dogs. He could have finished crossing the courtyard and gone out the emergency exit, but he stopped for some reason and shielded him from the storm and the dogs.”
“Ok?”
“What I’m saying is… you still sucker punched him,” she said, turning to look at me.
My left hand was casted almost from elbow to fingertips and had caused us to wait another half a day after the storm had finished blowing through. We’d been able to get out as soon as it did and the extra fuel we’d stored had been a good call, because much of Florida and Georgia were dry from the evacuations.
“Yeah, that felt good,” I admitted.
“But he was trying to save our son.”
“No, when Opus caught up with him, he was sort of using him as a shield. Maybe even a bargaining chip to escape. He wasn’t trying to help or save you earlier either. Wasn’t he the guy who knocked me over after I’d been drugged?”
“I guess the reason I’m mad at you…” Her words trailed off and she grinned as my jaw dropped open, “I’m just kidding, I’m not mad. I just… this is so surreal.”
“Almost like we’re stuck in somebody else’s story?” I asked her.
“Exactly. But I hope you can use this in your writing somehow. Beating those guys asses helped me mentally get over some things. I hope you can write this mess out of your system, or however you choose to deal with this.”
“You know what I really want to do?” I asked her suddenly.
“Grammy?!” Owen shouted.
“Exactly,” I told Owen, turning to see a grin so cheesy it was straight outta Wisconsin.
“You want to go up north?”
“Or see if Annette wants to come down and stay with us for a few days. You know how often she’s called us once she could.”
“I like that idea.” Tina said, “Either way, but… I might need to heal up some. Your van is a pain to drive.”
Opus chuffed from the spot in the middle of us, rubbing his head first on Tina, then taking a step to me and laying his big head across the keys of my laptop. I scratched his head with my right hand, making him groan in pleasure.
“So no more super adventures?” Tina asked.
“I’m all for adventure, let’s just take the danger out of it.”
“Wuv Mommy n Dayee!” Owen yelled for the eleventy billionth time.
“Love you too, bud,” I said at the same time as Tina.
We both looked at each other and chorused, “Jinx,”
Tina silently laughed, and I sat there quietly until Ophelia pushed next to Opus and sniffed my cast. Her whiskers tickled my fingers.
“Dang it, Rick
, I release you from your Jinx. You can’t type and, if you can’t talk, stories don’t get written.”
“Ok, but you owe me a coke,” I told her.
“In the cooler, sugar,” she said watching I-75.
“Ok, if you don’t care, I think I’m going to get my recorder out and work on a story here in a little bit. It’s kind of burning the forefront of my head.”
“What’s it about?” Tina asked.
“Not my usual stuff. It’s about a moonshiner in Arkansas.”
“What’s romantic and sexy about that?” Tina asked me.
“No, it’s not a romance. It’s a post-apocalyptic book.”
“Oooh! So you are going to finally finish that storyline you started on earlier this week?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling a little self-conscious.
“I read your notes and outline for it. There’s only one thing missing in the story.”
“What’s that?” I asked her.
“Your main character, Wes… he needs a dog.”
Opus loudly barked in agreement while Ophelia gave me a high-pitched whine.
“Oggy!” Owen said loudly over the sound of the wind and a window that was opened a crack.
“Yes, a doggy,” I told him, “Every boy and girl should have one.”
My words weren’t just for him. They were for me, for Tina, and anybody who’d listen. A dog gives the purest form of love a human can get, with the exception of their kids or their spouse. Dogs have an overwhelming love coupled with honor, dignity, and a purity that we humans lack. Maybe, just maybe, I was reminding myself.
--The End--
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Author’s Note
This was the hardest book of the Opus series to write. It’s been almost a year and a half since I lost Beastly and I’m still missing him. I have a son whose nickname is ‘Hemmy’ or the ‘The Little Tyrant’, here in the house. As I grew, as my son grew, the story here seemed to grow as well.
One Man's Opus (Book 3): Opus Adventure Page 18