by Toby Barlow
his girlfriend died in the flames. With a dog.
And the fact is this was a dog nobody knew,
like there was a dog outside Calley’s house,
like there was a dog I was chasing when I was hit,
and I get the feeling nobody knows who these dogs are
except maybe you.
So, yeah, honestly, straight up,
I need to know what you know about it all.
What exactly, what the hell
is going on?”
There is a long silence.
“I can assure you that even without knowing
the details, I had nothing to do with this event,” says Venable.
“I can’t be responsible for every stray in Los Angeles. Yes,
we have been following certain dogs, the dogs I sent you after
some time ago, but this strange event, this tragedy
doesn’t fit into their style.”
“What do you mean ‘style?’ Dogs don’t have a style.”
“Oh,” says Venable, “these most assuredly do.
For these particular dogs, it seems to be based on revenge.”
“Fuck this bullshit,” says Peabody and hits “end.”
He collects himself, and then calls back.
“Hello, Detective.” The voice velvet with patience.
“Listen,” says Peabody, “go near my family again
and I’ll fucking kill you. Understand?”
Peabody feels the bottomless blackness
of this particular night.
“Yes, Detective, I understand. Now, please do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep an eye on the girl. And the dogs.
Find out who they work for.”
“Why should I do that?”
“Well”—Venable sighs—“because
I think you are smart enough to know
just how great my reach is
both in your department and in your life.”
Peabody hangs up thinking
he’s been feeling less and less like a cop
ever since this case began
and now
it’s kind of like he’s
no cop at all.
Anthony emerges from the brightly lit station
into the perfectly dark world.
He’s numb and mum, completely carved out and shattered.
Peabody swallows his frustration
slaps a sympathetic smile on his face and leans his head out of the window.
“You want me to take you somewhere?”
Anthony shakes his head, stands there. Time passes.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get going.”
Peabody looks at Anthony
who looks like a man who’s lost
all his insides.
“I’m happy to drop you off somewhere.”
Anthony looks around, finally speaking
“Maybe…the ocean, that might be nice.”
“The ocean?”
“Yeah,” says Anthony. “It might be a good night for that.”
Peabody leaves him in Santa Monica
at the edge of the public parking lot
beneath the shadow of the Casa Del Mar Hotel.
Anthony walks away from the car
toward the ocean without
looking back.
There has to be something better than this,
thinks Peabody, watching this soul
disappear toward the sea.
But where is he going to go?
You’ve got to want help to get it,
and all Anthony wants tonight
is the ocean.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Peabody says out loud,
unsure whether he’s talking to Anthony
or himself.
XI
Sunny day, sunset night,
Bonnie comes home
and discovers Buddy sitting on the lawn.
Now how’d he get out?
And he’s with a new friend
almost as big as Buddy, with
a beautiful coat.
The two dogs scamper around.
A little investigation shows
that it’s a girl, my,
a girlfriend. Well, Buddy,
you’re full of surprises.
And look how happy Buddy is.
No collar on the girl dog.
Betty, thinks Bonnie, I’ll call her Betty.
I’ll take her in for a bit, no need to call the pound.
Someone might come looking for her
and until then it’ll be Bonnie and Betty and Buddy.
Quite a full house.
After Bonnie takes her medication
as she sleeps deeply
Lark and his old partner change back.
They sit in the dark kitchen, sipping from the same glass of water.
The hours pass as they fill each other in, stopping now and again
to listen as the house creaks or the wind gusts through the trees.
She tells him about the dog she’s been hunting.
“Is that why you called me?” he asks.
“What?” She looks surprised, having forgotten why she called.
He looks her in the eyes. “Were you hunting me?”
She looks down at the counter. “I really don’t know Lark,
but it doesn’t matter now, does it?”
He puts his hand on top of hers. “No, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Do you know the story of the girl who came first,
the one who came before you?” asks Lark.
“Yeah, I’ve pieced it together,” she says.
“So, you know what happens now.”
“Yeah.”
Any real pack has only one woman.
The delivery girl must have been theirs.
As long as there’s a pack out there
searching for the one who killed their bitch
the one who took out their beacon, their center, their focus, their light
then their quest for vengeance will go on, unabated.
Their blood hunger will never wane.
She realizes she was a fool to think
she could seamlessly slip
back into the gentle world
into the simplicity of it all
into Anthony’s arms.
“If he’s with you,
they’ll find you.
He doesn’t know the ways,
you’ll get caught, and then
you’ll both die.”
“I know,” she says, “I know.”
She empties the glass
and they agree to
lie low.
He’ll show her the new pack
but she’ll stay outside it for now.
It’s Maria’s, not hers,
So she’ll stay here.
They change back,
and under the cover of fur
slip into Bonnie’s room,
curling up at the foot of the bed.
Lying beside Lark’s heavy slumber,
she winces in her sleep
all the way to the dawn.
XII
Jorge the man and Frio the dog
are curled up in the shade of the bunker.
Jorge is talking, reading Frio’s response, the ear flick,
the tail thump, the snort.
“Yo man,” says Jorge, “since Sasha’s been gone
this pack is hurting. I tell you, it feels like the spine
just got clean ripped out.”
Frio exhales. Jorge keeps talking.
“But we gotta stand. We gotta make it.”
Frio is tired. Baron keeps them working, tracking,
scan the news, scan the streets, find the girl.
Last night, trying to buck up their spirits
he took them all out
down to the strip clubs near the airport
where they
stayed till closing time.
They spent money on dancers and wasted the hours.
Today, everyone recovers and wonders
about the future. Even with the search for the girl,
and the greater task of putting the pieces of
Baron’s dream into place, the pack still feels
aimless and drifting.
Jorge scratches Frio’s haunches,
“We’re gonna make it. It’s gonna be good.”
Frio sighs again. Because of the plan,
they’re all working day jobs now,
Frio pulls long hours with the pound,
then comes home and changes into dog
because it just feels better that way.
A couple of late nights like the last one,
spent watching the silicon bounce
can wear a body down.
Jorge keeps talking, “You seen Baron? Baron’s looking thin,
his eyes spark easy, like he’s got kerosene in his head.”
Frio looks across to the two empty bunks,
The dogs who slept there were moved into the pound.
A lawyer guy has stopped the city from putting any under the needle,
so these dogs just sit there, waiting for adoption.
Frio is only half listening to Jorge
mostly he’s thinking about his new job.
The old-time dogcatchers down there talk about “the curse.”
One guy disappeared, another shot himself,
then Anthony walked away when his girl burned down the house.
And the old-timers who talk about this curse
don’t even know where the new workers who sit there listening
actually come from.
If they did know, thinks Frio, they’d really lose their shit.
He tunes in again and hears Jorge rambling on, “Yeah, well,
these may be tough times for the pack,
but from what I know of Baron’s plan
the whole city is going to be feeling
a whole lot of pain
real soon.”
XIII
Anthony’s first night on the beach
he stares at the water, listens to the pull of the current
wonders where his tears are.
He senses the undertow pulling every wave back
sucking and tugging the world toward its darkness
he wishes he was ready to sink into it now.
Before her, everything seemed so loose and jerry-rigged
one day only barely duct-taped to the next,
but after she arrived, the ground grew firm beneath his feet,
the world aligned, the joints were tight
the beams sturdy.
And now all that fine work was
just as cindered and burned
as the body in the morgue.
There was not enough time with her
and now there’s nothing to go back to.
Two days and a random fistfight later
Anthony is poking through a wire garbage can
looking for something to eat.
Hungry, with a fresh cut over his eye
he’s digging deeper, his head burrowed in,
he’s burying himself there
beneath it all.
XIV
Bonnie’s tired,
she has her dinner at the table alone and
she’s working her way through a half bottle of wine.
Her new dog Betty is lying on the rug, while
Buddy is asleep in the next room.
The local news is on just for sound,
just for company,
when suddenly up like a shot
Betty is on her feet barking
and barking, barking big
barking right at the TV screen.
Buddy comes bounding in and then
just like that both dogs are quiet again
sitting watching the TV like they understand everything.
Well that’s just the craziest thing, Bonnie thinks.
She looks at the TV and it gets even crazier because
the thing is, you see, on the TV
they’re talking about dogs.
Lark knows why she woke him.
There’s Potter on the screen
talking about animals and ethics.
Lark remembers some of the work he had Potter do,
stuff that was too dirty for Lark’s firm to get near,
and thinks that Potter talking about ethics
is like watching Satan sing about Jesus.
Potter is holding a news conference
announcing that the city’s temporary ban
on putting dogs to sleep
has just become permanent.
A victory for dog lovers everywhere, says Potter.
Not to mention, thinks Lark,
a victory for dogs.
And yes,
Lark realizes that Baron must be behind this.
There’s a trail blazing through his mind
as bright as the 101 at night.
Lark has almost every answer he needs.
Maybe his new pack isn’t big enough
or physically ready to take on Baron’s.
But Baron’s just exposed his hand,
giving Lark the lead he’s been waiting for.
And so, Lark thinks, looking across the room
at the kind woman picking at her defrosted diet entree,
maybe it’s time to say good-bye to Bonnie.
He and the girl slip off that night.
Bonnie will always wonder
how they got out of the locked house.
XV
Maria lies awake again, breathing hard,
curled up next to Linus, a new recruit,
whose loving worship was another fresh blade of grass
growing over the black tomb of her past.
She stretches her toes and exhales
a happy sigh.
Hearing someone come into the house,
she slips out from beneath Linus’s arm
and goes downstairs.
Lark’s in the kitchen writing a note.
Behind him stands a woman with dark hair and
an expression of anger that makes even Maria cautious.
Lark looks at the two of them and then says to the woman,
“Go wait in the car.” The girl heads out.
Maria gives Lark a sharp look.
“Who is she?”
“She’s the past, Maria,
and”—Lark looks up—“that’s all you need to know.”
He goes back to writing while
Maria takes this in with her arms crossed.
“Okay,” she finally says, “well, I got two more from the bar.
Turned them myself.” A small smile of pride slips across her lips.
“Excellent,” says Lark, still writing. “Did you change them yet?”
“They’re changed and rewarded for it,” Maria says, shifting her hips,
still feeling the soreness.
Lark stands up and hands her the piece of paper,
“Have everyone on that come first light.”
She looks at the paper, a regimen, a schedule.
“Everything is accelerated, the game starts now,” says Lark,
his voice as serious as ever but with
a hint of excitement in his eyes.
It’s something she’s never seen in him before.
Kissing her once on the cheek Lark says,
“You can call me anytime.”
And he’s gone.
XVI
Anthony’s been living on the beach
for nine weeks now.
He’s got all the crazies down,
knows who to talk to and has his own flight path
for weak soup and free sodas.
Unkempt, unwashed,
with a beard that makes him look
like a pathological Jesus
, he’s been
listening to nothing
but the clatter of shellfish falling
from the gull’s beaks
and breaking on the rocks of the piers.
“That’s my heart, babe,” he murmurs,
watching the birds flocking down to feast.
Passersby think he’s talking to himself but
he’s not, he just talks to her from time to time.
At night he lies down on the benches and contemplates
the deception of starlight, long dead suns making small lights
almost bright enough to guide the way.
He sits at the tide’s edge
letting the sound of the surf
chase the echoing song of her voice
clear out of his mind.
There was another fight with some lunatic
about whatever it is crazy people fight about.
The man came at him so fast that it took Anthony
a second to remember his moves. But he did.
He flipped the guy down on the boardwalk with such force,
splinters filled the man’s cheek.
After that everyone steered clear,
which was fine with Anthony.
One night sitting there
he hears the humming of a new voice.
“You want some peanut butter and jelly?”
No one has approached him this gently
they should all know better.
He looks up sharply at the blonde girl.
With the streetlamp burning behind her, she has a nice glow.
So he scratches his ear, nods a little and, hungry,
accepts half a sandwich with some thanks.
“You surf?” she asks.
“No,” he says and he gets up and walks away.
The next day she finds him again,
she starts out slow but nice
a bit more peanut butter, some carrots, and
a joke about the seagulls that makes him smile.
“Oh, you get it,” she says, grinning.
“Yeah,” he says and walks away.
The third day, as the sun
tumbles down from the sky
they begin to talk.
She tells him she lives with her brothers,
“But they’re not really my brothers,” she says,
“we’ve just lived so many places, done so many things.”
Anthony chews some of the celery she brought.
“Have you ever had someone like that?” she asks.
“Sort of,” says Anthony.
“But she’s gone now?” she asks.
“Yeah, she’s gone.” He thinks about walking off now
but he stays,