by Shady Grim
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimmy reach over and touch her arm as he whispered, “We’re not supposed to tell.” But Emmy kept talking.
“I asked Shelly what the noises were, and she said it was the door slammin’ shut when Thor ran out, and then when she ran after ‘im, and then again when she came back in. Then I asked ‘er what the scream was, and she said it was ‘er because Thor bit ‘er when she tried to pull ‘im in the house. She said it was a secret because yeh’d be really mad even though it wasn’t ‘er fault. She looked out yer window to see if she could see ‘im, but he was gone.”
“My window? In my bedroom, you mean?” I was a little puzzled as to why she would need to be in my bedroom.
“Yeah, she was comin’ down the hallway when I got up. Yer not mad at ‘er, are yeh?”
“No, I’m not mad. But let’s make it our secret, okay? If she doesn’t know you told me then she won’t get upset.” Emmy agreed and Jimmy looked relieved. “And here are your waffles. Can I get anything else for the Lord and Lady?”
“Orange juice, please” said Emmy, attacking her waffles, “Jimmy too.” I poured two glasses of orange juice and placed them on the table. By this time, Ethan had found his way back to the kitchen.
“Are you going to eat?”
“No, I have to go to the store. Gimme that empty milk jug, would yeh?” He pointed to the empty gallon container that was sitting on the counter, waiting to be recycled. I reached over and handed it to him. I was about to ask him why, but he answered before I could get the question out. “I’m gonna get some holy water and some ammo for the guns.”
“Holy water and ammo? I’m not sure those two things should be in the same sentence.” Ethan ignored me and strode purposefully out the door. He was on a mission. “Do you need any money?” I yelled as he jumped into his truck.
“No, I got yer credit card!” he hollered back. Just as I started after him, the kids yelled that they were finished and wanted to get outside with the rifles.
“What did you do, inhale them?” They laughed as they handed me their empty plates.
“Can we go outside now?” asked Emmy, still chewing on her breakfast.
“Yes, but leave the guns on the table. I’ll bring them out after I’ve finished looking for Thor.”
“We can help yeh look for ‘im.”
“You and Jimmy stay close to the house and look after Shelly. Clean the guinea pigs’ cage, and make sure they don’t get out again.” Emmy was disappointed; Jimmy looked relieved.
I walked to the refrigerator and reached up for the boxes of rounds. All four boxes were new, but I noticed that one of them had been opened and was missing a few rounds. I stared at it for just a moment; then I picked up the .44 and the .270 and headed upstairs with them. I heard the kids scramble outside as I trod up the stairs. I put the guns back in their cabinet and made sure it was securely locked. I rooted through my dad’s footlocker at the bottom of my bed. I pulled out my grandfather’s old Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife and clipped it to my jeans at the small of my back, and covered it with my t-shirt. I relocked the footlocker before I headed back downstairs. This time I put the keys in my pocket. I tested the locks on all four gun cabinets and the various storage chests and footlockers that littered my spacious third-floor bedroom. I had planned on using the former sitting room on the first floor as a presentation room for my dad’s collectibles. They would remain in my bedroom until the house’s interior was completely restored, and I could display them properly. I walked over to the window that looked over the side of the house facing the driveway. I peered at the mouth of the dirt road that disappeared among the trees and thought of Thor. Ethan and I assumed that he’d run into the woods, parallel to the driveway, in an attempt to follow my truck. This was the most logical direction for him to go since he accompanied me on my drives to work in the mornings. It was usually along this road that he and I walked, and where I often took a morning run. He was less prone to picking up fleas and ticks than if he and I walked through brush. Thor rarely ventured off the acre of mowed grass that surrounded the house. He never chased little animals, unless it was to identify an injured one, and he disliked getting his long coat caught on the many snagging shrubs of the wooded area.
I thought about the description of the events that Emmy gave me. There was no way Shelly could’ve run in the house and up the stairs to my bedroom before Emmy got up, so she must’ve done something to Thor from up here. I stepped out onto the narrow wrought iron walkway that surrounded the third floor room. It was an odd addition to the house that looked like it belonged among a castle’s battlements rather than on a fancy Victorian mansion. I walked around to the back of the house. Although I had tested the sturdiness of the walkway when I moved in, I hadn’t yet cleaned the dust, leaves, and bird droppings that littered it. I noticed some fresh prints in the dust, but they weren’t clear enough to tell if they were shoe prints. What struck my attention most vividly was the broken spider web. This was the reason that I didn’t open or go out the back window onto the walk. There was large black and yellow garden spider that had spun a very intricate web, which was attached to the iron rail on one side and the window on the other. Spiders have always fascinated me and this one was unusually large, about two and a half inches long, and I didn’t want to break its beautiful web. As I was looking for the spider, smudges on the window caught my eye, and I gave them a close inspection. They were small fingerprints, though not small enough to be from a child. I was sure that they wouldn’t have been from the children as I made of point of showing them the spider and her web so they wouldn’t sneak out and accidentally fall off the walk. I looked down to see if Shelly had come outside. When I was satisfied that she was still in the house, I went back in and unlocked one of the footlockers. I took out an old rope ladder and secured it to the part of the walkway that overlooked the driveway-side of the house. I set the bundle on the walk, close to the wall, and covered it with a few leaves. I went back inside and fished out two canvas backpacks. I stuffed my night-vision goggles, a folding knife, and a wooden baton in one pack, put it under the bed, and relocked the footlocker. The other pack I took with me. I went downstairs and found Shelly in the kitchen.
“Would you mind taking the kids canoeing? I’d like to go look for Thor again.”
“No, I don’t mind,” she answered coldly.
“Why can’t we come too?” asked Emmy.
“Because your dad thinks that Thor might be sick. If he bites one of you, you could get sick too.” I hoped the lie would cool Shelly’s temper a bit. I didn’t want the kids with me in case we encountered the apparition again, but I was also concerned about Shelly’s behavior. She’d been fine with the children so far, but I was unsure if she was capable of being violent with them. As long as she thought that they weren’t a threat to her twisted mind she was unlikely to harm them, or so I hoped. I was afraid that Thor could be suffering with a wound or even that he could be dead. In either case, I wanted to prove if Shelly had actually done anything and, hopefully, get her the help that she desperately needed.
“But Thor wouldn’t bite me!” protested Emily.
“If he’s sick there’s no telling what he’ll do. I want you to stay here with Shelly where it’s safe.” I was stern, so she reluctantly gave up the argument. The evening I spent with Ethan’s friend, Carly, was also swimming around in my mind as I made my way across the yard. I was beginning to wonder if her explanations could actually be possible. I didn’t want to leave Thor out there to face that thing, whatever it was, all alone. I was also concerned that, assuming Carly’s suggestions of possession was actually possible, Thor might be in a fierce frame of mind. I was well aware of the potential damage that an animal his size could do, and I was concerned about him coming back to the house. A two-hundred-pound St. Bernard dog could easily break through the solid wood doors of the house, and the children would be totally powerless against him. No, if it came to it, I would rather have to euthanize him without the children seein
g or hearing it. I went to the garage and rolled up one of Ethan’s canvas drop cloths and stuffed it into my backpack. I thought if I found Thor alive, I could put him on the drop cloth and drag him home. This time I headed for the acres-deep patch of woodland behind the house. I scanned the length of trees at the edge of the clearing for any sign of Thor’s presence. I found a few rust-colored droplets on the grass about three feet away from the trees, and a few more on the shrubbery. I looked back toward the house for any sign of Shelly observing me. I didn’t see her outside, but she could easily observe my movements from a window. I looked up and down the trees, inspecting them for any signs of gun fire. I couldn’t find anything and was about to move on when a glint of something shiny caught my eye. I looked at the base of the tree that was sitting just behind the blood-stained shrubbery and found a perfect .22 caliber bullet embedded in the bark. If it had penetrated any farther, I would never have seen it. I pulled my knife from its carefully concealed sheath, dug the pellet out of the tree, and dropped it into the front pocket of my jeans. I returned my knife to its sheath and went looking for my injured dog.
Chapter Sixteen
I followed the drops of blood for a considerable distance when they disappeared. I circled the area but was unable to pick up the trail again. I didn’t know what to make of it, but all I could think of was Thor getting injured somehow by that column of light, or possibly being dragged away by some lunatic or wild animal. I didn’t know where to look or what to do and was trying to decide in which direction I should continue looking, when I heard the light snap of a twig. The sound was fairly close, but I couldn’t tell from which direction it had come. I felt an instant bolt of fear shoot through me when I heard the noise as it reminded me of the childhood incident. The animal noises hadn’t ceased, all the birds were still chirping and singing, and there were two squirrels chasing each other up and down a large old paw-paw tree only a few feet from me. I thought maybe it was Thor making the sound and I called for him. Instead of seeing him come trotting out to me, or hearing his familiar barking reply, I heard the voice of a man. His voice was just audible, but what he was saying was unclear.
“Who’s there?” I said, trying to figure out from which direction the voice was coming.
“I’m Tim,” answered a soft male voice. He was standing directly in front of me, about twenty feet away, and was half obscured by foliage. I slowly reached behind my back and carefully unsnapped the sheath of my knife. The man was wearing a well-worn pair of high-top canvas sneakers that had long since lost their original color. They, like the rest of his clothes, were stained dirt-brown. He wore a threadbare t-shirt and equally well-worn jeans. He appeared to be just a little taller than myself, not more than two inches, had a small bone structure and was excessively thin. He had tanned weathered-looking skin, short white hair, silvery stubble, and piercing sky-blue eyes. He had a long scar on the side of his neck that I could plainly see even at a distance. It appeared to be an old would and was clearly not a surgical scar. He appeared to me to be in his mid to late forties. “Are you looking for your dog?”
“Yes, have you seen him?” I felt a bolt of excitement shoot through me. I was instantly both hopeful and fearful. My hand was still positioned behind my back.
“He’s right here.” I moved forward, careful not to get too close to this man. He was apparently aware that I was a little spooked and stepped away from me. Behind him, on the ground, lay a sleeping Thor. “I sedated him. He should be asleep for a few more hours.” I immediately forgot about the knife at my back and knelt by Thor’s side. His rear leg was bandaged, and there was some blood on his fur. “I pulled this out of his leg.” Tim handed me a .22 caliber bullet. I became so angry when I saw it that all I could think of for a few seconds was wrapping my hands around Shelly’s neck and squeezing with all my strength. Tim saw my change of expression, and thankfully, he misread its meaning. “Your dog will be okay. I’ve packed the wound, and you can see that I bandaged it. I couldn’t wash all of the blood out of his fur though.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing.”
“How did you find him?”
“He found me. I have a camp over that way. I was over here looking for some mushrooms. Your dog came out of the brush to me. I just finished patching him up when I heard you coming. I’ll carry him back to your house, if you like.”
“I’ve got a bit of canvas in my pack we can put him on.” I laid out the drop cloth, and Tim slid Thor onto it. Tim slung a brown leather satchel over his shoulder, took the canvas out of my hands, and proceeded to pull the unconscious Thor by himself. I learned very quickly that this Tim fellow wasn’t the chatty sort. He said nothing at all unless I asked him a direct question. His responses were short and concise. I saw Ethan’s truck pull up to the house as we crossed my nicely mowed yard. I heard Emmy shout as she went running to him.
“What did yeh get, Dad?”
“Oh, I got all kinds of cool stuff,” he replied as he opened the tailgate of his truck.
“Cool, water guns!” shouted Emmy as she climbed in the back and picked up a super-sized water gun.
“Daddy needs to use one of those first. But when I’m done, yeh guys can play with ‘em.” He handed the other gun to Jimmy, and they went running over to show them to Shelly, who feigned interest.
“Is he your brother?” said Tim.
“No, he’s my cousin.”
“You look very much alike.”
“We get told that all the time.” Ethan spotted Tim and I approaching and spoke before I had a chance to make an introduction.
“Who’s Dirt Man?” Ethan’s tone was cold, and he stared forebodingly into Tim’s eyes. Tim wasn’t bothered in the least.
“My name is Tim.” He held out his hand, but Ethan didn’t take it. Instead, Ethan folded his arms across his chest.
“Does ‘Tim’ have a last name?”
“My full name is Timothy Robbins.”
“No middle name?”
“No.”
“Why no middle name?”
“My parents didn’t give me one.”
“Why not?”
“Ethan, that’s enough! Tim helped me bring Thor home, and he treated a wound on his leg.”
“Thanks for helpin’ out. We can take it from here. Yeh can go back to yer dirt hovel now.”
“Ethan! I’m so sorry, Tim. I’d like to say that my cousin isn’t usually like this, but that would be a lie.”
“It’s fine. Would you like me to bring the dog inside?”
“I’ll take Thor,” said Ethan. “Dirt people aren’t allowed in the house.”
I was mortified by Ethan’s boorish behavior and apologized again to Tim, who didn’t seem bothered at all by Ethan’s rudeness. I took one end of the drop cloth and Ethan the other. We were going to lift Thor together, but Tim moved me aside and took my end. Ethan glared at him. They deposited Thor on his bed in my study and shut the door to let him rest. I invited Tim to stay for lunch, and Ethan was furious about it. He sat opposite Tim at the kitchen table and interrogated him. The children giggled at some of the questions, and Shelly eyed Tim suspiciously. Tim was unfazed by the negative attention and answered each of Ethan’s questions with as little embellishment as possible.
“Where are yeh from?”
“Clement.”
“How old are yeh?”
“Forty-two.”
“Got any kids?”
“No.”
“Got any brothers or sisters?”
“No.”
“Parents still alive?”
“No.”
“Did yeh kill ‘em?”
“No.”
“Then why are they dead?”
“Because they died.”
“That’s a good answer. Are yeh married?”
“No.”
“Are yeh gay?”
“No.”
“Where are yeh from?” repeated Ethan.
&n
bsp; “Clement.”
“Yer either tellin’ the truth, or yer a good liar.”
Lunch was tense. The children were quiet; Ethan wasn’t. I repeatedly told him to leave Tim alone, but he ignored me. Shelly barely ate. Tim had a very healthy appetite, and I was shocked that such a skinny man could eat so much food. I was even more shocked that Tim could hold his temper so well under the torrent of insane questions that Ethan fired at him. In a brief moment of silence, while Ethan was chewing, I asked Tim if he would like to stay and he accepted. An uncomfortable silence fell upon everyone until Tim left to retrieve his belongings.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?” cried Shelly.
“Have yeh lost yer mind? I do impulsive shit like that. Yer supposed to be the level-headed one.”
“I don’t know what came over me. I just blurted it out.”
“Yeh better pray that he’s not a psycho or a pervert.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to keep our eyes on him.” I was already feeling guilty for putting the children at risk. I felt an inexplicable affinity for this man. I couldn’t talk to Ethan about it because he took an instant, and very strong, dislike to Tim.
“I’m definitely gonna be watchin’ ‘im.”
Shelly didn’t say anything. She rose from her chair in an obvious temper, and disappeared into the house. I made up a room for Tim while Ethan washed the dishes and waited in the kitchen for Tim’s return. I was just re-entering the kitchen when I heard Tim’s motorbike approaching.
“Can’t even drive a car like a normal person,” mumbled Ethan.
Tim entered carrying a large olive-green backpack. Ethan offered to show him to his bedroom. He walked down the hall and up the stairs with Tim trailing silently behind him. “The bathroom’s down the hall if yeh need a shower–and yeh do need a shower.” Ethan stopped in front of the door to the spare room and opened it for Tim to enter. “The furniture’s empty so yeh can unpack. Please leave all the dirt and bugs in yer bag. The spare bed linen is in the chest at the bottom of the bed. I hope yeh’ll be comfortable in here, and I hope that yer stay will be short. If yeh need anythin’, just holler; and if yeh touch the kids, I’ll rip yer dick off.”