“I can.”
Stone stopped, lifted his arm out of one crutch, and showed me the ol’ faithful middle finger.
“Love you, too, buddy,” I said.
In the kitchen, Eleanor was sitting in front of the fireplace. I got a better look at the dog now. What the breed was, I had not the slightest idea. It was a weird-looking one, that I could say for sure. Maybe the reason it was so weird looking was the fact it’d been stuck in a basement for God knew how long. Its cinnamon colored fur was long but thinning. Patches of pale skin showed through. Its ribs protruded so much, I thought they might poke out its flesh.
Eleanor was petting it. She looked up at me and said, “Grady, get those dog treats out of the cupboard, and Stone, get me some water and a dish. Watch the dog a second. I’m gonna go check downstairs for food or something.”
I did, sat next to the dog, took out a handful of Milk-Bones and held them out. It sniffed at them curiously. Its large, buggy eyes were wet with tears. I saw there was still hope in them. This dog seemed on the verge of death, but it wasn’t ready to give up yet. It chomped down on the treats, slobbering all over my palm. I didn’t mind.
After the dog finished with the treats, it lapped at the water like it was dying of thirst, which was probably pretty accurate. It stood on its wobbly legs, and wagged the nub of its tail. I stroked its fur, feeling the ridges of its spine and ribs.
Eleanor came back with a disgusted expression on her face. “No food…but it’s a mess down there.”
I could imagine.
“Damn,” Stone said, “that dog looks like it belongs in one of those Sarah McLachlan commercials.”
Eleanor shuddered. “Don’t talk about those commercials.”
“Hey, I read that they raised like thirty million bucks the first couple of years they aired. So they were definitely working,” Stone said.
The dog rolled over, wanting me to scratch its cold belly. “Well, he’s definitely a boy.”
Stone turned away in disgust. “Ugh, gross. I don’t wanna see dog nuts, dude!”
“You got a name, boy?” I asked our new friend. He was looking at me upside down, one floppy ear raised, like he was listening and understanding what I was saying.
Eleanor parted his fur, which was scruffy and mangy. Around the dog’s neck was a thin red collar. Once all the fur was out of the way the collar hung loosely there. The tag around the loop was shaped like a dog bone. Eleanor squinted as she read it. “Chewy. That’s your name, huh?”
Chewy wagged his nubby tail in reply and let out a weak bark. The bark alone was enough to melt the iciest of hearts.
“Chewy,” Stone said. “That’s a pretty fitting name, am I right?”
Eleanor looked at Stone. “How so?”
“Seriously? You don’t see it?” He turned to me. “Grady, you see it, don’t you? Look at that fur. And the beard!”
I nodded. “Yeah, I see it.”
“See what?” Eleanor said.
Chewy barked again, and this time I was happy to hear it was stronger than the last.
“Chewy is the nickname of Han Solo’s best friend and first mate. In Star Wars,” Stone said.
Eleanor furrowed her brow. “Darth Vader?”
Stone looked at me in disbelief. “Is she serious?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, noting the strong scent of dog on my fingers. “I think so, man.” I looked up at Ell now. “Have you never seen Star Wars?”
“Is that the one where they have to find the ring, or the one with the guy who’s got those pointy ears?” Ell said.
Stone threw his arms above his head. “Oh, my God...”
I waved him off. “Relax, Stone. She’s obviously just giving us a hard time. I hope.”
“No, I’m serious,” Eleanor said, scratching Chewy in a particularly ticklish spot that made him kick his leg and pant. “I’ve seen the ring one. With the short guys and their gross, hairy feet.”
“That’s The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit,” I said.
“We don’t talk about The Hobbit movies,” Stone mumbled. Ever since Hollywood decided to stretch out a three-hundred page book over a trilogy of three-plus hour films, The Hobbit had become a contentious subject. I didn’t blame him one bit, either, but that was a conversation for another day.
“Star Wars, Ell!” I said. “C’mon, you know Star Wars. ’Luke, I am your father’? Everyone knows that one.”
“He actually doesn’t say that,” Stone said. “It’s ‘No, I am your father.’”
I waved him away again. “Rein the nerd in, Stone.”
Eleanor chewed her bottom lip. “Is that the one with ‘Do. Or do not. There is no try?’ The little green guy says it, right?”
“Yoda,” Stone mumbled angrily.
Eleanor burst out in laughter, throwing her head back and practically cackling. Stone and I had no idea what the hell was going on. Neither did Chewy, who jumped in shock. Eleanor quickly began petting him again. “Oops, I’m so sorry, Chewy!”
Judging by the furious wagging of his tail, the dog was all right.
I narrowed my eyes. “Wait a second… So you do know what we’re talking about?”
Eleanor was smirking. “Of course I know Star Wars, dummy! I know I’m from the south, but that doesn’t mean I lived under a rock. I love those movies. My first Halloween, I dressed up as C-3PO. My mom made the costume out of cardboard and lots of gold paint.”
“C-3PO, huh? That’s a weird choice,” Stone said.
“He was my favorite for some reason,” Eleanor shrugged. “We like what we like. So, yeah, I get it. The dog looks a lot like Chewbacca. I think he’s a Brussels Griffon. Before you ask, I only know this because I remember that breed winning some big dog show a few years ago.”
“Maybe it was this dog,” I said, leaning down and scratching Chewy behind the ears. “You’re certainly cute enough, aren’t you, buddy?”
Chewy barked his agreement.
“Wonder where his owner is,” Stone said. He moved over and sat on the stool nearest the fire with a sigh. His crutches leaned on the counter behind him, and his legs hung down by our canine companion.
“Probably went out to see what the hell was going on,” I whispered, “and didn’t make it back. Maybe they were trying to get to the nearest house or something to find a working phone.”
I didn’t remind them of the missing pictures and ransacked dressers, obviously signs of someone who knew they were going to be gone for a while.
Stone raised both eyebrows. “So you think this little guy’s been stuck in the basement for that long?”
“Give or take,” I answered.
“How the heck did he survive?” Stone said.
Eleanor picked Chewy up and nuzzled him. “Dogs are smart, Stone. Smarter than we give them credit for. I saw an empty bag of dog food down there when I grabbed him. It was torn to shreds. Big barrel of water, too, connected to one of those dog bowls that refills itself. If I had to guess, his owner…well, you know what I’m saying.”
Yeah, they abandoned him.
“Shit. That makes me mad. Why not take the dog?” Stone said.
“I don’t know,” I answered, “but I’m glad they didn’t.” The others nodded. They knew what I meant. If the dog had gone out there with someone who wasn’t prepared for what was out in the cold, Chewy wouldn’t have made it, either.
Stone nodded. “Yeah, lucky we found him. Doesn’t look like he would’ve lasted much longer.”
“He will now,” I said.
That was how we added another member to our family.
The dark spell lasted longer than all the others had, in the day, at least. The data I’d recorded in my notebook before leaving on my own to the town store was all but useless now.
We spent about thirty hours in that strange house. Over that time, Chewy emptied the box of Milk-Bones. We gave him some chunky chicken noodle soup, minus the soup part. He devoured the chicken and noodles and the few vegetables he could
eat. Luckily, Eleanor knew onions were poisonous to dogs, and so we picked all of them out.
I remembered one of the houses I searched after Helga told me the news about our lack of food had an unopened twenty-pound bag of Purina dog food. I remembered this because I picked it up, my stomach growling painfully, and thought Is this what it’s gonna come down to?
We left after those thirty hours, our food stored on the sled, Chewy wrapped up in many blankets and stuffed into Stone’s jacket. Just his snout stuck out beneath Stone’s chin, which was a comical sight. I hauled them through the fresh snow, Eleanor walking beside me.
The rest had done me good. I felt renewed, reinvigorated. Because of this, we made decent time. The three-quarters of a mile of distance took us about two hours, a record considering our luggage and the fresh snowfall.
We stopped at the house I’d broken into not long ago, and I grabbed the big bag of dog food. I was breathing raggedly at this point, all that new energy almost drained. When I came back outside, Eleanor had the sled’s rope tied around her waist.
Stone offered an apologetic look, stuck his arms out to the side. “I tried to tell her, Grady. She wasn’t having it.”
“Ell, don’t—” I began.
She held up a hand, palm out. “No, Grady, you’ve done enough. Just carry the dog food,” Ell said. “I’ll lug these guys. We’re almost there, anyway.” Her eyes told me she wasn’t taking no for an answer, either.
I conceded, hesitantly but gratefully.
Helga’s house didn’t become visible until we were about a hundred feet away from it. It was a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you. I nearly collapsed when I saw it.
The sky wasn’t dark yet, but it was on its way. The house gave us all a boost and we reached the driveway—well, where it was buried beneath all the snow—also in near-record time.
Mikey was outside, bundled up in a dark brown jacket. He hadn’t seen us yet. He was too busy chopping firewood for the fireplace, which was gas-powered. Running out of food had been an awakening for Helga. This was her way of being more prepared. As soon as the gas went, we’d have the wood to replace it. Good for us, but I didn’t think we’d be around long enough to see that.
The food we brought would only last a month or so, and then we’d have to move on to Avery’s Mills, where we could hopefully find a vehicle capable of traversing all this snow. Heat meant nothing if you were starving to death.
Mikey’s axe went up, and then came down. The metal thunked dully against the log, splitting it in pieces. His face was red. Like the blood in the snow at the market, his cheeks stood out starkly against the backdrop of white.
Eleanor untied herself from the sled and took off toward her little brother. She moved deftly through the snow considering the large rackets on her feet. She didn’t trip, or even so much as stumble.
I set the dog food on Stone’s lap, and he complained about it being too heavy. I told him to shut it, then I got to pulling the rope up the slope toward the house. In the background, I could just make out the wide, indented circle of Lake Prism, frozen and snow-covered.
“Mikey!” Eleanor shouted.
Mikey jumped, and the axe fell. He took a few quick steps back and tripped. Eleanor practically pounced. She was laughing and hugging Mikey tight when I pulled the sled to them.
“You’re—you’re back?” Mikey said.
“In the flesh,” Stone said.
“I thought you guys were dead. Holy shit, you’ve been gone for like three days,” Mikey said. “I can’t believe you’re okay! I wanted to come looking for you, but…” He trailed off, obviously ashamed. “I don’t know. I was scared. I kept thinking about that spider…”
“We’re okay,” Eleanor said. “I’m glad you didn’t come. It’s worse out there than we originally thought.”
“What happened?” Mikey asked.
Eleanor shook her head, and then patted Mikey’s shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is we’re okay.”
Tears welled in Mikey’s eyes. He looked at Stone and me, just a passing glance, and he turned away. I could tell he was embarrassed for crying, but it was justified. No shame in that. I felt like crying, too. Maybe he caught that thought of mine by the look on my face, or maybe by way of some sort of telekinesis—stranger things had and were happening—but he faced us again and said, “I’m really glad you guys are okay, too.”
I smiled. “Good to see you, Mikey.”
Mikey’s eyes ballooned as he noticed the newest member of our group. “Is that a dog?”
“No,” Stone said, “I grew a second, furrier head.”
“This is Chewy,” I said. “We found him in a house we stayed at.”
I had never seen Mikey the way he was when he laid eyes on that dog for the first time. He was only a teenager, but the stuff he’d gone through, the stuff he’d seen, had forced him to grow up. Life had beaten him down. When he saw Chewy, all that went out the window. He was a young kid again. His face lit up with a warmth that could’ve melted all the snow. Before that day, I had seen Mikey smile only a handful of times. The smile he showed now was enough to make up for all the smiles that never came to fruition after the blizzards began.
End of the world or not, that sort of happiness has a way of spreading to others, and pretty soon, we were all beaming.
“Can I hold him?” Mikey asked.
Stone looked down at the floppy ears below his chin. “Well, that’s not really up to me or any of us, is it? I think you gotta ask Chewy yourself.”
Eleanor had walked over to my side. She wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled herself close. She was watching Mikey with pride. Hell, we all were. He had been in a funk since his parents passed, and we weren’t sure if he was ever going to come out of it. Seeing him all excited and happy, like a kid on Christmas morning, gave us hope.
Much to my surprise, Mikey didn’t brush off Stone’s words. He knelt in the deep snow so he was eye to eye with Chewy. The dog tilted his head, and one ear went upward. “Chewy, mind if I hold you?”
Chewy leaned forward, sniffed at Mikey, then planted a big kiss on his cheek. Mikey’s giggling was music to our ears.
“I think that’s a yes,” I said.
Stone unzipped his coat, pulled Chewy out, and handed him to Mikey. The two took to one another like peanut butter and chocolate. Watching Chewy nip at Mikey’s face and slobber all over the place, I barely felt the cold wind. I even felt kind of warm. It was one of those good moments, the ones you look back on years later and think to yourself, Man, we had it good then, didn’t we?
But, like all good moments, this one didn’t last long.
Chewy’s playfulness stopped. He went real still and fixed his gaze on the snow-crusted trees surrounding the house. He growled low. If you’d never seen the dog before you heard it, that growl would’ve had you turning around and running. It was unnatural for a dog his size, but then again, there was a lot of unnaturalness going around. The growl tapered off to a whimpering whine, and Chewy buried his face in Mikey’s chest.
I looked where Chewy had been looking. I saw nothing, but I’d be lying if I told you my skin didn’t break out in goosebumps when I focused on those trees.
“Sky’s getting dark,” Eleanor said. “We better get inside.”
“Someone’s finally speaking some sense,” Stone added.
They started moving toward the house, the sled in tow, Chewy still whimpering.
Me, I remained staring at the trees, wondering what was there waiting in the darkness.
6
Settling Back In
Helga cried when she saw us come through the door. She was standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand, and like Mikey with his axe, it slipped from her grip. The glass didn’t break, but it made a hell of a noise.
“You’re back!” Helga screamed. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” She wrapped us all up in a tight hug. “Get outta those clothes, and go on and sit by the fire. Warm your bones. You, too, Mi
key! You’ve done enough these last few days to merit some rest, I think.” She looked at Ell. “That boy has been nothing but a workhorse since you’ve been gone.”
We walked into the kitchen. The counters were sparkling clean, the faucet so shiny you could see your reflection in it, and the floors were spotless.
Eleanor said, “Seems like you’ve been busy, too.”
Stone sniffed the air. “Yeah, what’s that smell? Pine-Sol?”
“I get a little clean-happy when I’m nervous. Helps relax the bundled-up nerves,” Helga said. “After my bout with the ‘Big C’ I’m just glad I still have the energy to clean.”
Chewy barked from Mikey’s arms. He was still wrapped in blankets, so all that was visible was his furry, snowy face.
Helga stepped closer to Mikey. “Son, you got a dog with ya, or did I just hear you bark?”
Mikey laughed, shaking his head. He set Chewy down on the hardwood and helped him get the blankets off. Despite the cold, Chewy panted as he got familiar with the new environment. “This is Chewy.”
“Yep,” I said a little cautiously. Helga’s stance on pets was unknown to me, but it wasn’t like I could’ve called her up to ask her if she minded having a dog or not. During my brief stay at Helga’s, I saw no evidence of her having pets. No stray hairs, no long-forgotten chew toys or scratching posts, no photos of her and a cat or a dog or a parakeet.
I studied her face, waiting for her to go bananas and kick Chewy out. She wrinkled her nose, but her eyes and mouth offered no hint of how she felt.
Chewy, on the other hand, could hardly contain his excitement. He spun around in circles, snapping at his little tail, snorting, and letting out playful barks.
Eleanor bent and patted him on the backside. “He’s a good boy, Helga. Don’t worry.” She must’ve been thinking the same thing I was thinking.
Helga knelt across from Chewy. The rest of us stepped away to give them some room. Chewy focused on her. He sat on his haunches, but his overgrown nails wouldn’t allow his front paws to get any traction. One paw slipped forward, and he’d pull it back, and then the other did the same. Poor fella.
Whiteout (Book 2): The Dark Winter Page 7