by Ken Douglas
“ They’re gaining,” Ann said.
“ Don’t worry, honey, they can’t catch us.” He hoped he was right.
He shifted into second, picking up speed, then into third and felt a surge of relief when the lights played over a road ahead. Keeping it in third, he turned a hard right onto the smooth dirt track, shifted into fourth and left the wild dogs in the distance.
Thirty minutes and thirty kilometers later, they were sitting by a campfire, watching flames leap into the night.
“ I wasn’t scared,” Ann said.
“ I know,” he answered, but he thought maybe she was, a little. He certainly had been.
“ Come over here, Flash.” She patted her sleeping bag. She only called him that when she wanted to make love.
“ Now?” he smiled. “In the middle of the desert?”
“ I can make all the noise I want,” she said. “Nobody to hear.”
He rose and put more wood on the fire. “All the better to see you with,” he said as he watched his wife remove her clothes, down overcoat, sweat shirt, tee shirt, bra and Levi’s.
“ Come on over,” she said, clad only in sheer cotton panties.
Eagerly he closed the distance that separated them and embraced her, marveling, as he had many times in the last twenty-five years, at the large breasts pressed against his chest and the firm body he encircled with his arms.
Ann raised a hand, brushed his hair aside and ran her tongue along the length of the scar behind his left ear. She knew that drove him crazy. It was odd that a scar left by a bullet that could have put him in a body bag, turned out to be one of the most sensual places on his body.
“ Wait!” he said. “I think something’s out there.”
“ I don’t hear anything.”
He held an index finger to his lips and they listened.
“ Whatever it was, I think it’s gone,” he said after about a minute.
“ I’m glad.” She thought about picking up where they’d left off, but the mood had passed. Then she raised the wrinkles on her forehead, the way she always did when about to ask a serious question. “Do you think about what it’s going to be like not having to work anymore?”
“ I try not to, but sometimes I can’t help it. I’m going to miss it.”
“ But it’s what we’ve worked for all these years, so that we could quit when we were still young. It’s why we took all those chances.”
“ I know, but it was exciting. We traveled a lot.”
“ We’ll still travel,” she said, “and we won’t be looking over our shoulders all the time or worrying if the phone is tapped. We’re free now, nobody’s after us anymore.”
“ I know you’re right and I hate myself for wanting to get back into it,” he said. She saw him tense up. “Ann, move over by me!”
“ There is something out there, isn’t there?”
“ Yes.”
“ Is it the dingoes?”
“ I don’t know.”
“ Are you sure there’s something there?”
“ I’m sure.”
“ Oh, my gosh!” Ann saw the glowing eyes and dog shapes at the edge of the firelight. “The dingoes found us,” she said.
Rick stood in time to block one of the animals as it raced toward the fire. He placed himself between the wild dog and Ann, taking the animal’s flying charge. The dog closed its powerful jaws on Rick’s arm, dragging him down. He hit the ground hard and was knocked unconscious, blood spilling from his forehead. The animal shook him for a few seconds, before releasing him and returning to its companions in the dark.
Ann sat, still as death, by the fire, staring unblinking at five pairs of dingo eyes, limpid pools of red, reflecting the fire’s glow. She wanted to go to Rick, see if he was okay. She wanted to crawl into her sleeping bag and hide. She could do neither, she was frozen, dead still.
A scream roared out of the dark, tearing into her soul, but still she couldn’t move, other than to wet her pants. Another scream, closer, so close it shook her body as well as the night. Another roar rocked her as something leapt over the dingo dogs, landing in the fire. It spun around, a miniature tornado, shaking flames and embers as a wet dog does water, eventually coming to a stop, standing still in the middle of the flames, front paws resting on a blazing log.
She could feel its breath, smell its hate, see its gaping mouth with canine teeth that were unnaturally long. The animal was huge, big, black, powerful and somehow beautiful. Beautiful and horrible at the same time. It wasn’t at all like the dingoes she was used to. Much bigger and its claws resembled those of a big cat. It looked at home in the fire.
She thought it was going to attack, to kill her, but instead the most horrible looking man she had ever seen walked in out of the night. He had skin like burnt toast and breath like rotten fish. His clothes were shabby and torn, falling off his wasted body. He was short, old and evil. He captured her eyes with his and she was afraid.
“ Smell-your-fear,” the ragged man hissed.
She felt a blast of hot air and all of a sudden the fire was consumed by a star-white light, engulfing the screaming creature, causing it to leap from the flames. Then the light was gone and where only a moment ago the beautiful, horrible animal had been, there was only the charred smell of death.
“ Smell yours!” a deep voice attached to a man behind her said to the ragged man.
Without a word the ragged man fled, followed by the dingo dogs.
“ Are you all right?” He was the oldest man Ann had ever seen in person. An aborigine, but he didn’t dress like one. He wore Levi’s with a red checkered flannel shirt and cowboy boots. He was tall. His skin was rough and cracking. His hands were large. His arms were long. He had light brown skin, dark brown eyes and silver-white hair. He was thin and needed a walking stick to help him stand and Ann knew that he was a friend.
“ I guess so,” she said, “but my husband is hurt.”
The old aborigine bent over Rick, touched his head and said, “He’ll be all right in the morning.”
Ann looked disbelieving and said, “There isn’t any blood. Where did it go?”
“ Just a nasty bump, he’ll be fine.”
“ Will you stay until he comes to?” Ann asked as she searched her backpack for a fresh pair of panties.
“ I’ll stay, but you have to do something for me.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small wooden box and handed it to Ann. She opened it and looked inside.
Chapter Two
The alarm on Mark Donovan’s watch went off for the last time at 6:45, the way it did every morning. He stretched, rolled out of bed, stumbled into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator, recoiled when the light hit him full in the face, blinked and reached into the cold for the coffee and set it by the coffeemaker. He yawned again and opened the pantry without closing the fridge. He took out the coffee filters, dropping one on the floor. He bent to pick it up without bending his knees.
The fridge light cast ghostly shadows through the kitchen as he put the fallen filter into the machine. He made the coffee strong, the way Vicky liked it.
He tapped his fingers while he waited, poured his first cup before the machine had finished working its magic. He gulped the hot liquid, racing the machine. He won. He poured another cup as the machine was steaming. He took a sip from his second cup, before pouring a third, for his wife. He added cream to hers and took the two cups into the bedroom.
Vicky enjoyed waking to coffee in bed, but probably not as much as he enjoyed waking her. He loved the way she looked with the morning light sneaking in through the curtains, basking the room in soft shadows. Vicky slept on top of the covers, in the nude, and the filtered light and morning shadows gave her sleeping form an artful, erotic appearance.
“ Coffee’s here,” he said, smiling.
“ So soon, can’t I sleep a little longer? It’s Saturday.”
“ No.”
“ But the bed is so soft.”
&
nbsp; “ I know and the bathroom is so cold.”
“ Can’t we skip the riding today?”
“ If I had my way, we’d skip it everyday and sell the bikes. You’re the health nut. I was perfectly happy with donuts for breakfast and cheesecake for lunch.”
“ Don’t forget the steaks for dinner.”
“ Yeah, and steak for dinner.”
“ I don’t want a husband dead before he’s forty.”
“ I’m not going to die.”
“ You were eating yourself to death and you were getting fat. Look at yourself now.”
It was true, he had to admit it, since she’d put her foot down and made him ride with her every morning, he’d lost weight and had even started to regain the body he’d had in college. People were starting to notice and to comment on how good he was looking.
“ Honey, I’m worried about J.P.,” he said, changing the subject.
“ Why?”
“ I think he spends too much time with Rick.”
“ And what’s wrong with that?”
“ I don’t think Rick sets the right kind of example for the boy.”
“ What are you talking about?”
“ He’s a criminal,” Mark said.
“ Was a criminal, which is more than I can say for your precious brother.”
“ But Judy divorced him and now J.P. is hanging around someone just like him,” Mark said.
“ Rick is not just like your brother. Judy didn’t divorce Tom because he sold a few concert records, she left him because he couldn’t keep his thing in his pants. He was cheating on her every chance he got. She found out and dumped him and I say good for her.”
“ They could have worked it out if she really wanted to,” Mark said.
“ The only thing that kept her sane through it all was Rick and Ann. She moved here because she was able to rent the house next door to them. They were there for her when she needed them most and they still are.”
“ She should have stayed in Toronto.”
“ Come on, Mark, your brother loves Led Zeppelin more than he ever loved her.”
“ He does not,” he said. She was angry now and Mark was beginning to feel that he’d crossed the line.
“ You should be glad Tom brought Rick and Ann up last year for the Reggae Festival, because if he hadn’t, Ann never would have fallen in love with this place and they never would have bought that house. They would have stayed in L.A. and Judy would probably be living next door to them down there. You wouldn’t be able to see J.P. at all.”
“ I don’t see him that much now.”
“ Listen, Mark,” she said, calming down, “you’re not the jerk your brother is and Judy knows it, but you look an awful lot like him. Every time she sees you it has to remind her of the man she’s trying to forget. Give her a little more time and before you know it, you’ll be complaining about J.P. spending too much time here and not enough time with his mother.”
“ I hope you’re right.”
“ And one more thing,” she said, “Rick doesn’t do that stuff anymore, but your brother still does.”
“ But Rick got him into it.”
“ Oh come on, Tom was selling Zep bootlegs when you guys lived in Canada, before he ever met Rick. Rick just made it possible for him to make a living at it.”
“ Okay, I give up.” He raised his hands in mock surrender.
She laughed.
“ Come on,” he said, “let’s hit the shower.”
“ Right behind you.”
They took their coffee to the bathroom and showered together. Vicky was feeling a little frisky, so when Mark began soaping her breasts, she reached between his legs and the shower lasted longer than usual.
“ That’s a great way to burn calories, maybe we should do this every morning and leave the bikes in the garage,” Mark said after they finished making love.
“ In addition to, but not instead of.” Vicky laughed.
Mark stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel.
“ Throw me one too,” Vicky said and he complied. She toweled off before leaving the tub. She hated getting the floor wet, but didn’t mind when Mark did.
“ Do you want to wake Janis or should I?”
“ You do it, she loves the airplane noise you make in the morning.”
Mark put on his robe, then held out his arms, with hands and fingers extended, and started making a buzzing sound as he flapped down the hall to his daughter’s bedroom. She was sitting awake, laughing as he came through the door and jumped into his arms.
“ Okay, Janis on with your sweats.” He dropped her on the bed. “We’re out the door in ten minutes.”
“ Do I have ta?” She giggled.
“ Yes, you have ta.” He tickled her tummy. “Get a move on. We don’t want to keep Mommy waiting.”
“ I bet I beat you.”
“ I’ll bet you don’t.” He buzzed out of her room. Back in the master bedroom he caught a glimpse of his wife’s breasts as she slipped on her sweatshirt.
“ Better put those brown eyes back in your head and hurry or she’s going to beat you again.”
“ Not today.” He threw open his robe, jumped into his sweatpants and shirt.
“ I win, I win, I win,” Janis squealed, bursting into the room as Mark was lacing his running shoes.
“ You win again, but I’ll get you tomorrow.”
“ Let’s go.” She ran toward the front door. She loved riding on the back of her father’s bike.
“ Right behind you.” Vicky and Janis were out the door ahead of him. He wasted a few seconds getting his keys. He wore them around his neck when they rode in the mornings, because his sweats had no pockets.
“ Seven-thirty,” he told his wife as he unlocked the garage door.
“ Seven-thirty?” she questioned.
“ Seven-thirty, don’t you get it? Up only forty-five minutes and look what we’ve already accomplished.”
“ Wash your mouth out.” Vicky laughed.
They brought the bikes out and Mark locked the garage. Janis was laughing as he lifted her up to her seat and strapped her in. Then they were off, pedaling down Seaview Avenue toward the bike path. They turned right at the end of the street, onto the bike trail, and started picking up speed on the way to the Wetlands. Mark’s heart was beating fast as they turned into the nature preserve. Vicky hadn’t broken a sweat.
They usually made four laps of the Wetlands, the first and last at a slow, leisurely pace, because they thought Janis liked to look at the ducks. The second and third laps were the fast laps, and the ones that Janis really liked.
Peddling into the early morning mist was the best part of Mark’s day.
A half mile into the Wetlands, they started their turn to the right, past the duck ponds, back toward the entrance. Janis squealed with delight, leaning into the turn, urging her father to go faster and Mark picked up the pace, passing Vicky as they neared the entrance turn and the completion of their first lap.
“ Yeah, Daddy, we’re winning, go, go, go!”
Mark pedaled furiously, keeping his lead for the next half mile and started to pull away from his wife. Both Mark and Janis leaned expertly into the turn around the ponds for the second time, and leaned again around the entrance turn when Vicky started to gain on the straightaway, heading toward the ponds.
“ She’s catching! Pedal, Daddy! Pedal, pedal, pedal!”
Vicky passed them just before the ponds and kept the lead all the way back to the entrance turn, where she braked hard, hopped off her bike, laughing, and waited for her panting husband to puff his way to the finish, before starting their cooling down lap.
“ She always wins, Daddy.”
“ That’s because I have you on the back.”
Mark laughed, chugging his way to the finish.
“ I think I can, I think I can, I think I can,” Janis sang as they slowed down.
“ Wanna rest a second?” Vicky said. Mark nodded, sucking in g
reat breaths of the crisp morning air.
“ Daddy sounds like a broken engine,” Janis said.
“ He sure does.” Vicky laughed. “We’ll just have to wait till the engine’s all rested up and ready to go before we do our last lap.
“ All right you two,” Mark said, trying to laugh and control his breathing at the same time, “let’s go.”
“ Can we feed the ducks?” Janis asked as they were approaching the duck ponds on their cooling down lap.
“ How? We don’t have any food,” Mark said.
“ I sneaked some bread.”
They parked their bikes by the turn and walked down to the duck pond, Janis in the lead, breaking up the bread. “Here ducks, here ducks,” she sang.
“ Stay out of the water,” Vicky said, cutting Janis’ stride short. The girl waited till Vicky caught up and they went down to the pond together, where Vicky watched as the ducks took the bread from her daughter’s hand.
Mark stayed back with the bikes.
Janis was chasing after the one duck that always refused to take the bread from her hand. It was the same every morning, the duck ran and she chased, but this morning as Janis ran behind the waddling bird, it stopped. Something caught its attention and Janis followed its eyes to the bike path and saw the beggar man.
He looked like one of those homeless people that hang out in the park during the summer, except she had never seen a homeless man that dirty. Dirt and grime were mixed up in his scraggly hair and it looked like he had wet his pants so many times that the wet place the pee makes was covered in black, like old engine oil.
The man turned her and she almost screamed when she saw the blotchy skin and bloodshot eyes, but suddenly the duck turned and was running toward her. She forgot about the beggar man and grabbed on to the duck she’d been chasing after for as long as she could remember.
“ I got you,” she squealed. She didn’t wonder why the duck didn’t fly or why it didn’t struggle and she didn’t see the Bowie knife in the beggar’s hand, gleaming silver as it reflected the sun’s rays.
Vicky turned to wave at her husband as the scrawny man stepped behind Mark, grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back. He ran a knife across his neck, slitting his throat from ear to ear. The ragged man smiled, even as blood washed down the front of Mark’s sweatshirt.