Night Howl

by Andrew Neiderman

  He looked back at the stairway and then put his shoulder to the door. It began to give slowly until he built up momentum and shoved it open. As soon as he did so, he saw Clara Kaufman lying on the floor, unconscious, the little boy cuddled up in her right arm. Lisa appeared from behind them, her eyes bloodshot, her face streaked from the tears.

  “It’s okay,” Harry said. “Everything’s going to be okay now.” He knelt down and felt for Clara’s pulse. Satisfied with the strength of it, he turned his attention to the little boy. Bobby’s eyes opened slowly and then he sat up quickly, rubbing his face. “Okay, take it easy, buddy. Everybody’s going to be all right. Jesus,” he said, rising. He stepped out and went right to the phone behind the bar.

  After he called for the ambulance and for the dispatcher to bring in all his patrolmen, he dialed the number Sid Kaufman had given him.

  “I’m in your house, Mr. Kaufman,” he began. “Your children are all right, but your wife’s been hurt.”

  “How badly?” Sid said. “And by what?”

  “She’ll be all right,” Harry said. He had no idea if she would be or not but thought it best to lie at this point. “She’ll need some medical treatment, though.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “Not just yet.”

  “She can’t talk?”

  “Mr. Kaufman, Mr. Kaufman,” he repeated. He heard the hysteria in Sid’s voice. “I told you I would come right up here and I told you I would call you right away, didn’t I? I didn’t lie to you, did I?”

  “No, no . . .”

  “So you’ve got to believe me now. It won’t do you any good not to,” he added.

  “What happened to her?”

  “They had a bad scene here, Mr. Kaufman. They were being terrorized by a dog.”

  “A dog? A German shepherd?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was she bitten?”

  “Just nipped on the wrist. She did a good job of protecting the children. It’s all over and I’m getting her to the hospital for a checkup.”

  “I’m on my way home,” Sid said.

  “Mr. Kaufman, you’d better drive carefully. It’ll do your family no good if you get hurt at this point.”

  “I understand. Thank you. Chief, Chief,” he added before hanging up, “a German shepherd? You’re sure it was a German shepherd?”

  “I didn’t get that long a look, Mr. Kaufman, but I’m sure. I guess your little boy and your wife really saw what they said they saw.”

  “But why? How?”

  “Maybe when you get back, I’ll have some answers for you, Mr. Kaufman. Remember, be careful. We’ll call the state police and have them on the lookout for you.”

  “Oh, God,” Sid said.

  “Amen,” Harry said after he hung up.

  Phantom heard the policeman arrive; he heard his heavy steps upstairs and knew it was a man. He expected the little girl’s scream to bring him down into the basement, and he anticipated that the man would carry a weapon. The way all this came to him surprised him. He was getting better at it. The more he turned to his imagination, the more vivid the images became. It wasn’t hard to envision the man on the stairway, and the sound of the man’s footsteps helped to create the man’s size. Since he was already downstairs, it was difficult, if not impossible, for him to get behind the man, so he decided to hide behind the bar.

  He waited, poised. As soon as he saw his opportunity to rush the man, he did so, but he was surprised by the man’s strength. After his initial assault, he opted for retreat. He had discovered something unexpected about himself—he did not like head-to-head, face-to-face combat with a man. He needed an advantage, a chance to strike unseen. If that strike did not end the battle, he preferred to withdraw and wait for another opportunity to strike from a hidden location.

  With his back to the man, the gunshot filled him with terror. He whined as he rushed around the upstairs corner, and he didn’t hesitate in his flight from the house. He went directly to the front entrance and leapt through the screen-door window, tearing the material away from its frame. Once outside, he headed quickly into the forest, half expecting the man to be behind him, firing his gun again and again. He didn’t look back until he was deep into the woods, and when he stopped to do so, the sound of his own panting drowned out any sounds that could have come from a pursuer.

  Nevertheless, he remained there, studying the trees and the foliage behind him, looking for some sign of the man or other men. Finally convinced that he was safe, he turned and went on into the forest, moving up the mountain and continuing in a southeasterly direction. When he reached the top, he could see some houses and a major highway before him. The highway was a busy one, but the houses nearbly looked as quiet and peaceful as the ones he had left behind.

  He descended the hill, moving with slow but determined steps until he reached the end of the wooded area and entered a long, flat field overgrown with tall rye grass and weeds. No one from the houses before him or the road ahead of him could see him moving over the field. The panic of his flight from the man with the gun had left him. Now he trotted gracefully, almost sleekly, like a fox. His travel through the forest and his escape from the world of men had permitted him to relax his mental powers. He was more of a dog again.

  Some bees, working on his right, caught his attention, but he knew enough to stay away from them. He started after a small rabbit but quickly grew bored with the chase. Some field mice looked at him curiously and then burrowed under the earth when he drew too close. He took hold of some blades of grass and chewed them rapidly.

  He paused before he reached the highway and sat back on his haunches to clean some stickers out of his fur. He struggled awkwardly with his tail for a while, tearing as much of the annoying weeds from his hair as he could. But, suddenly, he had a whiff of an interesting scent.

  Actually, it was far more than interesting; it was enticing. It filled him with a rush of blood. His eyes widened. He held his jaws shut and perked his ears and he felt a stirring in his genitals. Rising to all fours, he sniffed the wind greedily. It was coming from his right. He turned to it magnetically, as if drawn by an invisible leash. He could not fight the urge to go. He wasn’t concerned with any dangers, and try as he did to reason with himself, he could do nothing but obey the call of this invisible voice.

  It took him to the side of the road, where he paused to study the house and the garage and machinery directly across from him. There were no human beings about, but he sensed that they had been there only a short time ago. To the right of the garage were columns of used refrigerators, a number of electric and gas stoves, and some hot water heaters. A sign braced up against a stick in the ground by the entrance to the driveway advertised the used appliances under the heading, Wilson’s Secondhand Shop.

  The scent that had brought him here weakened and grew stronger in an undulation that made him dizzy. He didn’t seem to notice the cars that whizzed by. Suddenly something caught his eye. He saw the bitch come out of the garage and turn sharply to her right. She headed for the rear of the building. The strengthened scent did not diminish. He tore across the road and leapt over a fallen refrigerator to get to the side of the garage.

  The bitch didn’t sense him until he was around the corner at the rear of the garage. She was a mixed breed with a good deal of collie in her. Her initial instinct was to growl, but he recognized immediately that the growl was without intent. She was in heat. She wanted the courting to begin.

  For the first time in a long time, he was utterly stupefied. Back at the laboratory, they had never permitted him to confront a female dog. That event was a few experiments down on the list. Now, the sexual drive both confused and frightened him.

  He went forward. The bitch pretended to snap at him. He feinted and pretended to snap back. She ran into the rear field, but she didn’t run hard and when she made a turn to throw him off, she did it so slowly as to invite him to mount her, which he did quickly and firmly. She held his weight comfort
ably and stood perfectly still, accepting him eagerly.

  As soon as he was finished, she shot away from him. Panting, he stood there, watching her run back toward the rear of the garage. When she reached it, she looked back at him as if in challenge, but he wasn’t eager for play. He was still fascinated with all that had happened, all that had come over him, and all that he had done. It had gone so quickly, but it had been so satisfying. He had known nothing like it before, and he was eager for it to happen again.

  After a few moments, he charged at her. She looked as though she would wait, but just as suddenly, a human voice was heard.

  “Candy,” the voice cried. “Where are you, you dumb mutt?”

  He stopped as the dog went obediently to the front of the garage. When he peered around after it, he saw that a man and a boy had come out of the side entrance to the house. The boy was placing a bowl on the ground for the dog. The dog sniffed it, but then she turned and looked in Phantom’s direction. He anticipated that the man and the boy would do the same thing, so he pulled back behind the garage. When he looked out again, the boy was kneeling beside the dog as she ate and the man was walking toward the used machinery.

  “She’s hungry tonight, Grandpa!” the boy said.

  “She’s been bumming a lot. She oughta be hungry,” the man said. “You’d better take her in, Tony, or she’ll be down to Bridgeville again and we’ll get a call from the Homestead that she’s bothering their customers.”

  “Okay,” the boy said. He went to the side of the house and came back with a leash, which he snapped onto the collar of the dog. After a few minutes, he took the dog back into the house with him and closed the door.

  The man remained outside by his used appliances. He went into the garage and came out with a dolly. He loaded a refrigerator onto it and brought it back to the garage. Then he went out and did the same with another and another. He returned one more time for a water heater, but before he returned with that, the side door opened and a woman came out.

  “You can’t wait for Mac in the morning, canya, Stanley? You gotta do it all yourself.”

  “Aw, all I’m doin’ is selectin’ what we’re takin’. He’ll help me put it on the truck.”

  “You told Tony you were goin’ to take him along.”

  “So?”

  “You know Tami don’t like him goin’ to New York City, especially that section.”

  “He’ll be with me and Mac. We ain’t gonna let him go anywheres.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t worry about it. She don’t hafta know, anyway,” he said.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know, you don’t know. Jesus.”

  “Well, come in and wash up. It’s time to eat.”

  “Be right there,” he said and muttered some more under his breath. The woman went in and, a few minutes later, he followed.

  Phantom waited until the door closed and all was quiet. The scent still lingered in the air, holding him close to the house. He was hungry now, but thoughts of going off to search for food were suppressed by his all-encompassing desire to repeat the act of intercourse. He wanted to howl to bring the dog back out to him, but he didn’t do it. Instead, he approached the house and searched for ways to enter unseen. He didn’t find any. The basement in this house was entered through two metal doors now clamped down over the steps. There was no way for him to get into that.

  He retreated to the garage where he could wait and keep an eye on that side door. The sun had fallen low behind the tall trees to the west. Shadows grew deeper, longer. The air grew cooler, although the scent never left. The lights in the house windows became brighter. He could see the people within moving about.

  It took some time, but hours later, long after the sun had gone completely, the side door opened again. The boy appeared with the dog on the leash.

  “Tie her in the garage,” the man behind him commanded. Phantom watched them approach. He slunked in behind the appliances and the truck when the boy reached the garage. The mutt, restless and aware of his presence, struggled against the hold the boy had on her.

  “Easy, Candy, easy.” The boy set out a dish of water beside the dog. He stroked her a few times and then headed back to the house. Phantom waited until the door was closed again. Then he came out of the shadows and approached the waiting bitch.

  Qwen saw that when Maggie reached the lakeside, she became increasingly excited. Her bark was louder, quicker; and she was moving faster. He picked up his own pace to keep up and eventually broke out into a trot as he and the others reached a dirt road that led up from the lake toward a macadam-laid street and the houses. Kevin and Fishman fell farther behind, but Ann remained only two or three yards behind.

  The dirt road moved up an incline. It consisted of hard-packed sand and gravel. As Maggie pulled farther away, Qwen envisioned the possibility that Phantom might be just ahead. It was possible they could confront him in a matter of minutes. Up until this moment, he hadn’t really given that as much thought as he should have. If the woman was telling him the truth, then it was possible Kevin and Fishman did not realize how dangerous the dog really was. The original belief that they could capture him with little difficulty seemed remote. If there was going to be violence, how would they handle it? How would he?

  When Maggie reached the macadam road, she paused and looked back. Turning around, Qwen saw that the two men had dropped considerably behind. Kevin was holding his side and Gerson looked like an exhausted workhorse. Ann, breathing hard but not uncomfortably, caught up with him.

  “We’re close, huh?”

  “Very. I guess it’s like perfume—the closer you get to the origin of the scent, the stronger it is. Funny way to identify living things, isn’t it—smell?”

  “Not really. There are bacteria everywhere; bacteria produce odor.”

  “For a dog it’s like fingerprints,” Qwen said, pushing the point. He didn’t like the way she could reduce everything he thought remarkable and wonderful to a common denominator, an explainable, scientific fact. When he thought about it, this was what he hated about science—it took the mystery and romance out of life.

  Maggie paused only a moment; then she turned left and disappeared.

  “Isn’t your dog getting too far ahead at this point?”

  “She’ll know how close to get and where to wait for us,” he said. They had both slowed to a quick walk.

  “You have such faith in natural things, don’t you?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t derogatory. It had more the sound of clinical curiosity.

  “They’re simple. They’re honest.”

  “Are you a religious man? I mean, do you think this all has some divine design to it?” she asked, gesturing toward their natural surroundings. This time Qwen did detect a note of disdain.

  “I don’t know for sure, miss, but if there is, you can be sure man is goin’ to mess it up.” He walked faster and then broke into a trot again. She was right behind him.

  “Or improve on it, Mr. Qwen.”

  He just grunted. They reached the road. Maggie’s bark had become shrill. Qwen knew that meant she was at a place where the dog had spent a concentrated amount of time—or she had come upon the dog. He looked back. Kevin and Gerson were into a sprint. They were shouting for Ann and him to wait, but Qwen ignored them. He looked at Ann, and then both of them continued on down the side of the road. They saw Ken Strasser’s farmhouse ahead. When they reached it, they stopped to read the sign posted on the doorway, forbidding trespassing or entrance. It was by order of the town police. Maggie had already gone behind the house.

  “What do we do?” Ann asked.

  “She might have him cornered.”

  “Then we had better wait for them.”

  “You wait. I’ll start to check it out,” he said. He took the safety off his rifle and went to the rear of the house. He stopped when he saw the roped-off area and the diagram of a man’s body. Maggie went past it and sniffed the ground before the doo
r of the barn. She looked up at him and wagged her tail as he approached. “Proud of yourself, huh?” His dog came to him and he knelt down to pet her. “But what do you make of all this, girl?” He looked from the roped-in area to the barn door.

  “Wait a minute!” Kevin yelled when Qwen stood up and started toward the door.

  “What does this mean?” Ann asked. She stood by the diagram.

  “It looks like the investigation of a murder,” Qwen said.

  “Murder?”

  “You saw the police sign out there. Something’s going on here.”

  Kevin looked at Gerson. Both of their faces were red with the effort of the pursuit. Kevin was sweating profusely, his hair matted with the dampness. Gerson wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

  “If he’s in there,” Kevin said, “I’d better go first. He’s used to my voice.”

  “Suit yourself,” Qwen said. “I guess he could open and close a barn door behind him.” He stepped back, but he noticed that as Gerson moved forward, his hand reached for his pistol. Kevin went to the door and slowly slid it further open.

  “Phantom,” he said, “you in here, boy?” He took the chain leash from his backpack and entered the barn. After a moment he announced that it was empty.

  “You got one helluva brilliant hound there, mister,” Gerson said.

  Qwen ignored him and went into the barn. He saw the bed of hay and went right to it.

  “He was here,” he said. Maggie was at his feet, sniffing the hay and whining. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he had something to do with whatever happened out there.”

  “How do we know the dog was here for sure?” Gerson asked. “This mutt of his could be leading us on a wild-goose chase.”

  “No, I think Mr. Qwen might be right,” Kevin said. “I doubt that his dog has been wrong.”

  “What do we do now?” Ann asked.

  “I don’t like this,” Gerson said. He stepped forward to accent his feelings physically. Qwen spit into the hay and walked out of the barn. He stared at the diagram.

  “We’re going to have to get to a telephone,” Kevin said after he came out behind him. “I’ve got to call Dr. Bronstein.”