Wanted

by Ho, Jo

  CHAPTER 19

  SULLY

  I barely registered the sight before me.

  The kid — she must’ve been all of 15 — was covered in blood and hysterical. A quick scan of her body revealed she wasn’t harmed, however, I couldn’t say the same for the dog lying in the shopping cart.

  He was a tri-colored liver border collie. Pedigree I’d bet, and very rare judging by his green eyes. He was also dying with a gaping wound in his stomach. Normally I wouldn’t take house calls this time of night, but this was clearly an emergency, and if I didn’t do anything, the dog was going to die.

  The girl was babbling at me, but I’d already tuned her out, my professional head taking over. I grabbed the cart and wheeled it inside.

  “Close the door and come with me,” I commanded.

  Surprisingly, the girl shut her mouth and complied.

  I steered the dog into the operating theatre and hoisted him onto the table. I felt for his pulse; it was weak, but it was there. A quick examination of the wound revealed a laceration deep enough that it exposed both muscle and tissue. He’d lost a lot of blood. I pursed my lips. Infection, along with possible organ failure, was a very real concern right now.

  “I’ll need to operate to have any chance of saving him.”

  “Do it,” she said. “Whatever you need to do, just don’t let him die!”

  “Go wait in the lounge.”

  This time, however, she wouldn’t comply, shaking her head violently. “I’m not leaving him! This only happened because of me. I was attacked. He saved me.” The Girl’s voice cracked as she struggled to hold back the tears. I had seen upset kids before, especially when I’d had to put down their beloved pets, but this was something else. This level of desperation reminded me of myself at the hospital, at Emma’s bedside, holding onto her pale and non-responsive hand… Shaking my head to clear the unwelcome memory, I took in her battered clothing and general griminess. She was a street kid, I would bet my life on it. This dog was probably her only friend in the world.

  I softened my voice.

  “I’ll do the best I can, but you can’t be in here. He has an open wound. You could risk infecting him.”

  My words sliced into her panic. She looked up at me then and must have been reassured by what she saw there. She swallowed then nodded, moving across the room. When she reached the door, she shot me a pleading look.

  “You have to save him, OK? He’s special.”

  I nodded and got to work. Reaching across the bench, I snapped on a pair of gloves then set up a donor blood bag, measuring out the correct dose of anesthetic for a dog this size. When I looked up again, she had gone.

  CHAPTER 20

  CHASE

  I left the operating theatre, but there was no way I could just sit there, twiddling my thumbs. Bandit’s life was hanging by a thread, and I couldn’t believe there was nothing I could do! Flashes of our recent travels came into my head like a movie of our best moments that was being projected directly into my mind. I could feel myself on the verge of a panic attack and had to mentally clamp down. Breathe!

  I ran my tongue over parched lips to discover how dry they were. Like someone whose brain’s been lobotomized, I didn’t even know how I had gotten there. All I can remember is seeing the details for this place in the directory then running the eight blocks here. For the first time, I noticed my surroundings.

  I was standing in a waiting area. There was no hiding the fact I was in a veterinary clinic, but someone had given it a good try. The room was painted a cheery yellow, and a giant bulletin board wrapped around the four walls with hundreds of photographs pinned onto it. I moved in for a closer look.

  They were all snapshots of healthy animals and their happy owners. Scribbled on some were messages addressed to “Sully” thanking him for his great work with Fido, Gizmo, and Dodo. I scanned the many messages and felt a tiny spark of relief at the sheer number of success stories contained on the board. I decided right then that when this was all over, there’d be one more photograph stuck on this board.

  I glanced at the name again — Sully — and guessed that that must be the guy with his hands inside Bandit now. The thought of that brought a vivid image to mind that struck me with renewed terror as a wave of nausea overcame me.

  I bolted into the next room, hoping it was a restroom, but found myself inside a kitchen. I ran to the sink and got there just in time for the acrid bile to fly out of my mouth. I retched until my stomach cramped and there was nothing left inside.

  Afterwards, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and drank a glass of water, giving myself a few moments to recover. My forehead was clammy, and I suddenly noticed my hands were shaking. Maybe my sugar level was low. Come to think of it, I hadn’t eaten since the pretzel that morning. Driven by the natural instinct to survive, I pulled open the kitchen cupboards and investigated their contents.

  The first had neatly lined rows of mugs advertising different pet food brands. I marvelled that someone — clearly with nothing better to do — had taken the time to face them outward and turn their handles to the right. Somehow I didn’t think it was that Sully guy.

  The next cupboard contained a mixture of hot drinks and powdered milk. I actually contemplated taking the milk since it was still a source of protein, but then I arrived at the final cupboard and hit the jackpot! Inside, there was a smattering of energy bars, a box of cereal, and a couple of packs of cookies. I swiped the bars and cookies, and snagged a handful of cereal, which I crammed into my starving mouth. I must’ve swallowed half the box before I reluctantly set it aside. I’d stripped the entire cupboard in under a minute, which must’ve been a record.

  A part of me felt bad about what I was doing. Sully was in the next room attempting to save Bandit’s life, and here I was thieving, but something told me if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t really have minded. Judging by what I’d found here, he could more than afford to eat. Besides, if Bandit survived, he’d need all the food I could salvage.

  I fingered an energy bar, sorely tempted. Saliva flooded my mouth, and I could almost taste the sweetness, but I stopped short of tearing open the wrapper. Although my stomach churned with hunger, I decided I would save it for Bandit. It was the least I could do.

  I opened the fridge. Instead of the food I expected to find, there were boxes and boxes of medical vials and syringes. As they were of no value to me, I closed the fridge and resumed my exploration of the house. Two doors lead out of the kitchen: one opened into a no frills bathroom, the other onto the base of some carpeted stairs. I wondered if I should keep going - the stairs didn’t have the same feel as the rest of the clinic. Framed certificates and memorabilia lined the walls, which weren’t yellow anymore, but a pale green. I hesitated, but then I convinced myself that if I kept myself occupied, I wouldn’t think about the scene next door — and the potentially, devastating result.

  Cocking my head, I listened for any sounds of life from upstairs, but there was nothing. I’m usually pretty stealthy, and this carpet would muffle any excess sound, even if I weren’t unusually light on my feet. I headed up, telling myself I only meant to have a peek.

  When I reached the top, I found myself in a living room. Huge windows looked out onto the upmarket neighborhood. I guess this was a nice place. Kinda hard to see it though, covered in trash like it was. Takeout cartons and burger wrappers littered the place. I picked up the nearest carton. Whatever it was had long died and was now a congealed green soup. Nice. I set the box down.

  The room was painted in yet another cheerful color, this time a spring orange. Drooping plants with brown encrusted leaves overflowed from every window. Whoever had the green thumb hadn’t cared for them in quite some time. I moved past a sofa covered with workout clothes and investigated the many framed photographs on a bookshelf. Sully had his arms around a pretty woman in every one. There they were running down a beach; sharing a dog at a Red Sox game; sipping coconut shell cocktails in an exotic far eastern place (Thailand?). I
stopped on the last photograph, on their wedding day. Could two people look more in love?

  Would I ever experience love like that?

  I carried on through the living room into a hallway, past the bathroom, and found myself in Sully’s bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was messy. Why do people have nice homes if all they’re going to do is trash them?

  Yes, I felt weird in a grown man’s room. I knew I had to keep myself occupied though, so my mind wouldn’t play the “what if” game. You know like, “What if Bandit doesn’t make it?”

  See? Not good, is it?

  The walk-in closet stood out, as it was the only tidy thing in here. Inside, dresses and shirts hung neatly on hangers, all arranged in the same direction, and in ascending length order. So cropped tops started on the far left, mid length shirts took up the middle section, and by the time you got to the right, the hems of full length dresses draped on the floor.

  I noted Sully’s wife was petite; only a size bigger than me. I hoped she wasn’t one of those who starved herself to look good and thought back to the happy face in the pictures I had seen. No, she seemed much more sensible than that.

  My fingers reached out, itching to feel the fabric of a beautiful white dress, but before they could make contact, I whipped them back in horror. Dried blood covered my hands.

  Bandit’s blood.

  I spun around and staggered into the bathroom to see my gruesome reflection staring back at me. There was blood all over my top, on my face, and in my hair. How had I not noticed this before?

  I blasted the tap and frantically started scrubbing.

  CHAPTER 21

  SULLY

  I had been working on the collie now for close to two hours.

  My mind was a blur. I wasn’t even sure how I’d managed it on my own. I’d set up a blood transfusion — taking blood from a healthy dog who was in for a broken paw. Putting an animal under can be tricky on even a healthy animal, but on one as injured as this, well, there’s a lot of luck and prayer involved. Sometimes the animals reacted to the anesthetic and never woke up again.

  I hoped that wasn’t the case here.

  The nasty gashes in his stomach were caused by a sharp, serrated instrument. Amazingly, no internal organs were punctured. I concluded that whatever had sliced into him hadn’t penetrated his intestines. I cleaned the wound the best I could, sewed it up, and covered it with a bandage. I’d have to check on the wound regularly. Worst thing that could happen now was for it to get infected. Having done everything I could to save him, all they could do now was wait. Hopefully he’d come around in a few hours.

  After I disinfected the instruments and pulled off the rubber gloves, I took my first unhurried look at him. He really was a gorgeous thing. Glossy white coat with brown patches. Unusually, his face was white, barring the top right section, dissected in a perfect diagonal under his nose. His eyes were closed now, but I knew they were a brilliant jade green. He was worth a lot to someone. Somehow I didn’t think he belonged to the girl.

  Although the dog was currently malnourished, there were signs it wasn’t always this way. His blood pressure was low, but that was par for the course with blood loss to this degree. The cracks on his feet were new, which was unusual in and of itself. I’d pegged him for about two years old and never had I seen soles so smooth. Almost as if he’d never stepped foot outside before.

  His teeth were so pristine you’d think his owner had used whitener on them. No buildup, only slight doggy breath. I looked inside his left ear. As expected, it was spotless — also unusual for a dog that’s been on the streets. Tugging gently on the dog’s right ear, I looked inside to see a row of numbers and letters, tattooed into his ear. It was some kind of identifying code. I jotted it onto a notepad I kept handy and made a mental note to look into this when I knew more about the dog’s condition.

  My neck muscles complained wearily. I reached up to massage them, surprised to find it was almost eleven at night. Suddenly my thoughts drifted to the girl, and my stomach twisted into knots. I’d let a complete stranger — and a homeless one at that — loose in my home.

  Stupid, Sully. Stupid.

  I ran from the operating room.

  CHAPTER 22

  SULLY

  I ran into the waiting room, but the girl wasn’t there (not that I had really expected her to be, but sometimes, it’s nice to be proven wrong).

  She wasn’t in the hallway or kitchen, and my office was empty, which just left upstairs. I swallowed as a bitterness began a party in my mouth. Taking two steps at a time, I raced upstairs…

  And gave a huge sigh of relief. Everything was as I had left it. We I hadn’t been burgled. The room was still a bomb site, except now, buried under my workout clothes on the sofa, the girl slept. I froze and gave what Em had fondly dubbed my bug out face.

  She dressed tough, but it couldn’t hide the fact she was a naturally cute kid, albeit one who’d had it rough. The bottoms of her jeans were worn, and the soles of her baseball boots, coming apart. A dirty backpack lay on the floor next to her. Even in sleep, its strap was looped tightly around her wrist.

  It was that single detail that undid me. Explained a lot about her life. I wondered what horror made her run away from wherever she was from.

  I didn’t want to wake her, but I couldn’t just hop into bed either, so I did the next best thing. I opened the fridge and took out a loaf of bread, some butter, and a block of cheese. Moments later, two packed grilled cheese sandwiches were toasting on a skillet. Before Em had passed, I was the cook in the house, but it had been a while since I’d wanted to do anything this domestic. If my instincts were right, I figured the girl would be hungry. Besides, I had questions, and answers were always more forthcoming when softened with a bribe.

  CHAPTER 23

  CHASE

  I was dreaming. Bandit and I were stuck in this weird Matrix style world, only instead of computer binary codes, we were surrounded by drunks hurling playing cards at us, and in the background, there was this sizzling sound, like someone was cooking a BBQ, except the meat smelled liked burnt cheese.

  My nose wrinkled involuntarily. It was like a magic compass and always did that when food was on the horizon. Dimly, I was aware of more noises: scraping of plates and pots banging. My eyes flashed open and I leapt up with a snarl, ready to fight.

  Sully was standing at the sink, a tea towel over one shoulder, his mouth wide open, startled by my aggressive stance. I blinked at him, completely disoriented.

  “Hi there,” he said.

  I didn’t reply, glancing wearily around the room instead. Well this was pretty stupid of me. Alone. In a stranger’s home.

  “You hungry? I made grilled cheese.” He gestured at the dining table, where the sandwiches waited with two glasses of milk.

  My stomach made an involuntary sound. Something between a growl and all out shouting. I wanted nothing more than to sink my teeth into that sticky cheesiness, but there was something I had to know first.

  “Bandit, my dog…” Fear constricted my throat so tightly, the words got stuck, and I couldn’t finish the full sentence.

  Sully’s expression was grave, but hopeful.

  “I did what I could. He just has to rest now. If he comes out of the anesthetic there’s a good chance he’ll make it.”

  “If he comes out?” I questioned.

  Sully held my gaze as he spoke. “It can be hit and miss for a healthy dog and Bandit, you said?”

  I nodded.

  “He was cut pretty bad,” he continued. “All we can do is give him time.”

  I flung my bag onto my shoulder and started for the stairs.

  “So we should be by his side right? What if he wakes up and no one’s there? What if he’s in pain?” Clearly I had forgotten my own rules of that game. I made it to the top step when Sully stopped me.

  “That much trauma, combined with the anesthetic, he’ll be out for at least four hours. Plenty of time for us to eat and get to know each
other.”

  I must’ve shot him a hard look, as he suddenly backed off, mortified.

  “I meant that in a far less creepy way than it sounded,” he said.

  I hesitated, but honestly? I was growing so faint from hunger that the only thing stopping me from falling down the stairs was my hand clutching hold of the bannister. Gruffly, I nodded and went across to the table. He sat opposite me.

  “I’m Sully.”

  “Chase,” I mumbled as I grabbed the sandwich nearest to me and bit into it. The taste was so overwhelmingly good, so fresh, that if I had had any tears left in me I would’ve cried.

  Sully tried not to watch me as he started on his own. We ate quietly for a few seconds. Just two strangers enjoying a meal. He was good, I’d give him that. Not one question so far, but I knew they were coming. I braced myself. He polished off his sandwich in five or six bites, while I was determined to savor mine. Who knew when I’d be eating like this again? He gulped down his milk and wiped a hand across his mouth.

  “What happened?” he asked simply.

  Usually, whenever a grown-up asks me anything, my first instinct is to lie. I’m not even sure why. Call it my healthy distrust of them. But this guy seemed different. After all, he could’ve called the cops on me the minute I turned up at his door, but instead, he’d helped Bandit and cooked me a meal. Figured I owed him the truth, if nothing else.

  “A drunk attacked me, took all my money. Bandit tried to protect me, but the drunk stabbed him with a bottle.” My voice was flat. I could’ve been reciting the weather report for all the emotion I showed.

  Sully looked shocked. There was a well of sadness reflected in his eyes, but all he uttered was “Tough break.”

  I appreciated he didn’t try to make this into a thing. I finished my sandwich, drank the milk, and pushed back my chair. The food was a nice gesture, but that didn’t make us bff’s. I was determined to put a little distance between us. As I stood up, there was a strange expression on Sully’s face. Took me a while before I realized he was staring at my bloodstained shirt. I plucked at it self-consciously.