“Are you a good boy?” Helga asked in a serious voice.
Chewy examined her with his bulging eyes. I noticed his tail had stopped wagging. I noticed he was sizing Helga up as much as she was sizing him up. It seemed like a trumpet might go off at any moment, announcing the start of a battle.
Helga’s tone lightened, became playful. She cracked a smile. “You are a good boy, aren’t you?” Chewy’s tail got going again, as fast as helicopter blades. “Come here, Chewy!” Chewy stood on his hind legs for a second, then slammed his front paws down. His nails clicked on the hardwood. “Come here!”
He tried to take off. The way he moved reminded me of whenever a monster chased Scooby-Doo, legs a blur but getting him nowhere. Finally, when he found some purchase, he darted toward Helga and jumped into her lap. The two of them fell over, and Chewy bathed Helga’s cheeks with his slobbery tongue as she railed off gales of happy laughter.
“Oh, quit it! Quit it! Eww!” Helga was saying as Chewy snorted and continued licking her.
Yeah, this was another one of those good moments
That night we ate a modest dinner of muffins and candy. We washed it down with Sprite. I know, I know, it wasn’t exactly a healthy meal, but we deserved it. All of us. I had trekked through the snow, dealt with an insane man and a queen rat, and nearly froze to death in the process, but I wouldn’t trade places with Helga and Mikey. They went for three days not knowing our fates.
The more I think about it, waiting around for some sort of answer or sign would drive me crazy. Time already went slow enough as it was. I couldn’t imagine how slow the seconds had ticked by for them. How much sleep they didn’t get. How sick they felt. It sucked. I thought we deserved an unhealthy dinner. It was a celebration after all, wasn’t it?
Chewy wasn’t begging, but I slipped him a few scraps of muffin here and there. Ell and Mikey did the same. The little guy loved it; he was basically in heaven.
After a while, Stone yawned and said, “Man, I’m gonna hit the hay. It’ll be nice to sleep in a place where I can’t see my breath.”
“Amen to that,” Eleanor said. She got up and helped Stone to his feet, then reached for his plate.
Before she got it more than a few inches off the table, Mikey took it out of her hand. “Let me, Ell. You go to bed. You look like you need it.”
Eleanor flashed a wry grin. “Gee, thanks, Mikey. You really know how to compliment a gal.”
“You know what I meant,” Mikey said. He went around and gathered the other plates. “Besides, I like washing the dishes. It’s kinda relaxing.” He patted his thigh. “C’mon, Chewy.”
Chewy stayed put. The chance of snagging a few table scraps was much better than watching Mikey do the dishes.
“All right, boy. I can respect that,” Mikey told him as he left the dining room.
Eleanor was looking at me. “Grady, you need to sleep, too.”
“Giving me a bedtime, huh?”
“If I don’t talk some sense into you, you’ll die of exhaustion.”
“You’re probably right,” I said, “but I’m gonna stay up a little longer.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Okay…your funeral.”
I blew her a kiss, which she fanned away with her left hand before turning and heading upstairs, leaving the dining room to Helga, Chewy, and me.
Chewy stood on his hind legs and set his forepaws on my thigh. He sniffed around the bottom of the tablecloth. I mussed up the too-long fur on top of his head. “Looks like it’s just us three now, buddy.”
He licked my hand, which was sticky from the muffins.
Helga leaned back in her chair and patted her stomach. “Oh, what a meal. You done good, Grady. You done real good.”
“Thanks. It wasn’t easy.”
“Hey, but you got a new friend out of it, didn’t ya?” She nodded at Chewy, who was now sniffing around Stone’s empty chair. “You know, I had a pup a few years back. Little Chewy here kinda reminds me of him. Not in looks, more in his mannerisms.”
“Yeah? What was his name?”
“Sarge. Dumb name, I know, but you can blame Calv for that. The agreement was I got to pick ‘em, and he got to name ‘em. See, he was pretty allergic to cats and dogs, and he hated taking those damn allergy pills. Always forgot. But he surprised me on my birthday one year. Said, ‘Sweetheart, I’m taking you someplace fancy. Get on your Sunday best and let’s boogie.’ I remember it word for word.” She looked longingly over my shoulder. I could tell she was picturing the past, all the good times her and Calv and Sarge had in this house. “He didn’t take me no place fancy, either. I had no idea where we were going until he pulled into the lot of a local animal shelter. ‘Take your pick, honey, and we’ll bring ‘em with us to dinner. But remember, I get to choose the name.’ I was crying with happiness. But that was Calv, always sacrificing his own happiness for the happiness of others. He’d give you the shirt right off his back, even in weather like this.”
Helga’s eyes were misty. She wiped at a tear with one hand and patted her lap with the other. Chewy hopped up on her.
“Grady, I ain’t lying when I tell ya I wanted every damn dog in that place. Those poor things. I picked a terrier a little smaller than Chewy here.” Chewy swiped his tongue right up her cheek. She barely noticed. “Then we went out to eat. Nothing fancy. Got some burgers and ice cream at a local Dairy Queen. That way, Sarge could sit on the patio with us. Then we got home, Calv and I got drunk on Crown Royal. Our f—”
“Favorite drink,” I finished. She had told Stone and me all about her love of Crown, Stone being a frequent whiskey drinker—however, not a fan of Crown.
“You got that right, Grady.” Helga grinned and pointed a finger my way. “Us three, Calv, Sarge, and me, were inseparable. Good times, Grady. Good times. You gotta remember to hold onto ‘em, them good times. When life gets like this”—she nodded toward the boarded-up window—“them good times is all you got left. Man, I miss Sarge, and I miss Calvin.”
Silence fell between us, the only other sounds being the soft clink of the dishes in the kitchen and the constant droning of the wind.
I wanted to say something—I don’t know what, sorry, maybe—to fill the silence, but Helga spoke up before I could.
“I still got an old grooming kit someplace around here. I know we gotta save on water and power, but this guy needs a bath.”
Chewy growled low. Smart dog. He not only knew we were talking about him, but he knew what we were talking about.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Chewy,” Helga said. “You wanna be a free spirit with this haircut you got going on. I’m sorry, friend, but the hippie days are long gone. I won’t shave ya bald, just get that fur outta your eyes so you can see a little bit better. How’s that for a compromise?”
Apparently not much, because Chewy jumped off Helga’s lap and made a beeline toward me. Once in my arms, he nuzzled up to my face like I was going to protect him. The stink of his fur threw me into a coughing fit. When I caught my breath, I said, “No compromising on the bath, though, Chewy. You smell worse than Stone.”
Helga laughed. “Now be nice, Grady.” She got up and disappeared. I heard her walking around, opening doors, and throwing stuff every which way as she dug through a bunch of closets and crawl spaces. A few minutes later, she came back with a small leather case. It looked like a makeup bag.
“Mind if I help?” I asked. “I can hold him while you trim him up.”
“You sure? Eleanor was right, Grady, you do look like you could use some rest,” Helga said, eyebrow raised. “I don’t want you passing out on me. I’m strong for my age, but I don’t think I could catch you very well.”
I chuckled. “No, I’m good. Sleep won’t come easy for me tonight, anyway. I need something to distract me from all that crap I saw out there.”
“All right, if you say so. Hope you don’t mind me chewing your ear off while we do this.” She leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper. “Mikey’s a good kid, but he ain
’t much for chattin’.” A little louder: “He’s about as interesting as a bowl of gravy.”
“I can hear you, Helga!” Mikey shouted from the kitchen. “And I know where you live!”
“No shit, dummy!” Helga shouted back, and Mikey poked his head around the doorway, grinning. The visible part of his shirt I could see was wet. He held the dish scrubber handle up between his fingers. A creative way of flipping the bird, no doubt.
Color me impressed.
Not long after, we got to grooming Chewy. Surprisingly, it didn’t take too much water, either. We warmed it and then got to work. Chewy remained still. He was a bathing pro. I had never done this to a dog—or any animal, for that matter—so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Helga told me we were lucky. Her pup, Sarge, wasn’t too fond of them. He’d squirm and try to jump out of the tub.
“On more than one occasion, he was successful, too. A little terrier is a lot faster than me. You can imagine how hard it was for me and Calv to catch the rascal. He left a soapy trail from the bathroom all the way to the upstairs master bedroom. Talk about a mess!”
Chewy seemed enraptured by this story, and he gave no sign he was about to follow in Sarge’s footsteps. He was, in fact, a good boy
“We got pretty lucky with Chewy here, didn’t we?” Helga said.
The worst thing Chewy did was shake when he was wet, flinging water all over the walls and my face. Helga and I laughed hard as ever. Mikey came in while it was happening, and once a few soapy drops hit him, he shook his head and said, “No thanks, count me out.”
The fur-trimming went smoothly as well. Helga had said brushing and bathing a nappy-haired dog before you clipped them helped smooth out the mats and tangles in their coat. Chewy was basically one giant mat. The brushing part was a little rough, a few yelps here and there, but he didn’t whine or snap at us.
The clippers cut through the leftover mats, but she kept his coat long enough. We didn’t want him to freeze.
When I mentioned he might be a little colder now, Helga said, “Way ahead of you there, skipper.” She moved the towels around and pulled out a fuzzy Christmas-themed dog sweater. Chewy balked at the sight of it, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
The only part of the process that proved difficult was trimming his nails. I had to hold him down as he squirmed and whined. The sound broke my heart. I almost called it quits, but Helga assured me their current length probably hurt him worse than the fear he felt now. Too-long nails dug into the paw and made it a pain to walk.
“Someone probably cut ‘em too short in the past,” she said. “That kinda thing can scar a pup. Poor thing. Don’t worry, Chewy, I know what I’m doing. This ain’t my first rodeo.”
Of course, Helga’s words didn’t comfort him much. He continued squirming.
“See, Grady, when we cut our nails too short, it’s just a little uncomfortable for a few hours until we get used to the feeling. But with dogs…you cut ‘em too short, you can hit a nerve that makes ‘em bleed. We’re not talking a little dribble of blood here, either. They can bleed a lot.”
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“Yep, that’s why it’s such a tough job. Most people don’t trust themselves to do it. Me included. Grooming was fine; nail clipping…not so much. I used to take Sarge to the vet every couple of months. They knew what they were doing. Cost about fifteen bucks, but it’s a cheap price to pay to keep your pup pain-free. Problem now is we can’t exactly drive on down to Doc Firth’s, can we?”
“Nope.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “We’ll make it work, won’t we, Chewy?” She finished and set him down. His nails no longer clicked loudly on the floor. He spun around in a circle, his mouth open, floppy tongue hanging out. “Yes, you’re a good boy! You’re such a good boy!”
Chewy did a jig, hopping from side to side, his butt in the air, little tail wagging like crazy.
I rose from the stool I was sitting on. My knees cracked and my back was sore. Grooming Chewy was tough work, even with the two of us. The clock in the hallway said it was the middle of the night. Where had the time gone? I decided it was about time I hit the hay. As I helped Helga clean up the fur, wet towels, and the clippers, she leaned over and spoke in a whisper.
“What are we gonna do next, Grady?”
The question caught me by surprise, almost as much as the serious tone of her voice.
“Go to sleep?”
“No, son, I mean, what are we gonna do about”—she motioned a hand to the nearest window—“this.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“You can’t be expected to brave that snow and cold and whatever the hell those damn shadow things are every time we run out of toilet paper.”
I offered a grin. “I actually didn’t grab any toilet paper.”
“Don’t be a smartass, Grady. You know what I meant.” She sat down heavily on the edge of the tub, leaned forward, and dropped her head in her hands. “I was hoping this would all blow over. You know, I am an optimist and all that. But it’s been long enough to make me think otherwise. And it’s still snowing. The last blizzard seemed like it dropped another foot out there.”
“Oh I know. I was in it.”
“I don’t think it’s gonna stop anytime soon, and there’s those things. Grady, I still hear the voices. Sometimes, I’ll part the curtains and I’ll see Calvin standing next to that cancer-ridden version of myself.” She sounded like she was going to cry. I sat next to her and put a hand between her shoulder blades. The knobs of her spine poking out of her skin and sweater were unsettling. If she didn’t start eating more, she’d have something worse to worry about than snow and wraiths.
“It’ll be all right,” I said. The uncertainty in my voice sounded obvious, at least to me. I hoped Helga didn’t notice. It’s pretty evident comforting people has never been my strong suit. I’m sure you know that by now.
She chuckled wryly. “Will it?”
“It will. We’ve got each other, all of us, and we’re stronger together. The food’ll run out and we’ll be cold, but we aren’t gonna give up when that happens. I know I’m not. I know Mikey, Eleanor, and Stone won’t.” I motioned to Chewy. “I know that dog won’t, either. We’ll fight to the very end.”
All things considered, I thought my pep talk would do some good. Judging by the uneasy expression on Helga’s face, I was wrong.
“The wraiths or whatever you call them,” she said, “even if the snow melts, they’ll still be here. You know what happened to me earlier?”
I shook my head.
“Not long after I first told you about Sarge, I happened to look outside.” Her voice shook. “And you know what I saw?”
I could guess.
She went on: “I saw him. I saw Sarge out there in the cold, and he was happy as ever, healthy and dancing around on top of the snow like he wouldn’t sink. And you know what else?”
This, I didn’t know, but I kept quiet.
“I almost went out there to go get him. I almost fell for it. The urge was too much, Grady. You were in the dining room, and I was in the breezeway with my hand on the cold doorknob that leads to the back porch. I wasn’t bundled up, I had no weapons and no flashlight. A slight twist, a few steps, and I would’ve met the Reaper.”
The story surprised me. I felt the goosebumps raise almost painfully all over my flesh. I pulled the sleeve of my sweater down over my wrist so Helga wouldn’t notice. After taking a deep breath and steeling myself, I managed to speak.
“But you didn’t go out there. You stayed inside, and you’re all right. I know you can’t replace Sarge, but maybe finding Chewy was a sign, you know? Whether or not there’s a higher power in charge of our lives is a mystery to me, so I can’t say this with a hundred percent certainty…but maybe, just maybe, there’s someone up there watching over us.”
“Yin and yang, right?” Helga said. She cracked a hesitant smile. It made her look a decade younger. “Opposing forces. The good a
nd the bad balancing each other out.” She waved her hands with a little more energy. “I don’t know, something like that.”
“Exactly.”
We sat there for a silent moment, both of us deep in thought, then Helga spoke again.
“They used to say a level head comes with age. As you get older, you’re supposed to see things for what they are. You’re supposed to stop worrying so much, ‘cause you know life’s got this nasty way of kicking you while you’re down. But you learn from experience that it’s possible to fight back, to weather the storm.” She paused, met my eyes, and whispered, “Grady, I don’t think we can weather this storm.”
“We can and we will,” I said.
Helga began to rise. I held my arms out, ready to steady her if she decided to collapse on me. Her emotional state wasn’t the best, and I honestly don’t know how she had any energy at all, considering how thin and frail she was.
“God, listen to me. I sound like I’m going crazy, don’t I?” She let out an exaggerated sigh, blowing her hair from her brow.
“That’s okay,” I replied. “I think we all are, if we weren’t a bit crazy already. And crazy ain’t dead.”
“That is very true.” She hugged me. I wasn’t expecting it, the same way I wasn’t expecting it when she first told me we were running out of food, but I hugged her back. “You’re a wise fella, Grady. Very wise.”
“Thank you.”
I tried sleeping after that conversation, but without much luck. Exhaustion rendered me almost immobile. I lay in the bed of one of the guest rooms on the second floor. Not my usual spot, but I didn’t want to disturb Stone and Mikey, who were both out cold, each snoring like hibernating bears.
We were home now, behind the safety of the four walls, and mostly warm. This meant I should’ve been able to rest easy like them, especially on top of the total exhaustion I felt. Only I couldn’t.
Something Helga said had me worried. More worried than I’d been since the shit hit the fan, and that was saying something.
Whiteout (Book 2): The Dark Winter Page 8