Running With the Moon

by Kiernan Kelly

  Chapter Five

  JACK SPED Dae’s truck through the streets of town, screeching around corners and ignoring stop signs and traffic lights. He was livid, and his lips curled over his teeth in a snarl. Gripping the steering wheel in a white-knuckled rage, his mind raced as he considered his next move. His mood was fueled by more than simple outrage at Dae choosing that whelp of an assistant over him. Underlying his rage was a rising, uncontrollable fear. Jack couldn’t allow Dae to cut him off. Not now… especially not now.

  Pulling into a parking space in the darkened lot at the rear of a strip mall, Jack pounded his fists against the steering wheel. He’d bet everything on Dae accepting him back into his life. Everything. His chest tightened, and he felt a light sweat break out across his forehead as his mind whirled, trying to come up with options.

  He found that he had none.

  Jack’s little surfer boy had turned out to be quite the party animal. After being kicked out of Dae’s apartment, homeless and without funds, Jack had done what came naturally to him: he’d latched onto his new boy toy’s wallet with a death grip. Moving in with Ash, Jack had quickly been accepted into Ash’s circle of friends and found that he shared their fondness for partying.

  It had started with a little Ecstasy at the clubs Ash had dragged him to each night. For a short while things had been fine, but Jack had gotten bored with Ash all too quickly. Ash clung a little too tightly to Jack at the clubs, made too much of a fuss when Jack flirted with other men. In other words, Ash cramped Jack’s style.

  Jack began to slip away from Ash at the clubs, making friends of his own, friends with hard muscles and harder habits. It was these new friends who introduced him to crystal meth, and that, for Jack, was the beginning of the end.

  His new friends were happy to supply him at first but were soon holding their hands out for cold hard cash—something in short supply. He remedied the situation by helping himself to whatever was in Ash’s wallet whenever he could.

  Ash quickly became fed up with funding Jack’s fixes. Jack had come home one night to find the locks changed on the apartment door and a snub-nosed revolver pointed at his knees through the mail slot. Jack had taken the hint and left.

  Homeless again, this time with an expensive habit to feed, Jack felt he was up to his neck and in danger of drowning. Needing an income in addition to a fix and seeing what he thought was opportunity knocking, he’d become involved with trafficking. He’d run drugs in exchange for a cut of the profits and his own private stash.

  Unfortunately the last run he’d made had gone horribly wrong. Two men were dead, and Jack had lost the goods without being paid for them. He’d barely escaped with his own hide intact, but the men who owned the drugs were not impressed with his quick-witted escape. They wanted one of only two things—their shit or their money, neither of which Jack had at the moment.

  Jack owed more money to the men who had supplied him than he could hope to repay on his own, especially considering that he hadn’t been able to hold down a job even before he’d become a user. These men were impervious to his charms, and finding that he couldn’t twist them around his finger, Jack had fled, heading back to the one man he had always been able to count on before. Dae would take him in. Dae would get him out of trouble. Dae would take care of him.

  But Dae had said no.

  Extracting himself from the truck and slamming the door shut behind him, Jack strode into a liquor store in the mall and plopped down his last crumpled twenty for a bottle of Jack Daniels. He took it and returned to the truck, twisted off the cap, and took a long, throat-burning swallow. He’d figure it out. He always did.

  Chapter Six

  GUNSHOTS RANG out in a rapid staccato as Dae flew down the road, his legs a blur underneath him, panic gripping him as an enemy, unseen but close, hunted him. Dae could hear the growl of the pickup’s engine just behind him, nearly nipping at his heels. Looking over his shoulder, Dae saw that Jack was behind the wheel, grinning like a madman as he tried to run Dae down. Ahead, Sean waited somewhere in the darkness, calling for him. “Dae! Dae!”

  “Dae! Dae, wake up!”

  Coming awake all at once and shifting simultaneously, Dae sat bolt upright on the bed, his chest heaving and his brow beaded with sweat from his nightmare. Blinking rapidly, Sean’s face swam into focus. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The pounding at his front door answered his question before Sean could. Dae stood up, grabbing his jeans from the floor where he’d dropped them the night before and pulling them on as he made his way to the door. Opening it, Dae found himself looking into the white-goateed face of Mr. Peterson, his elderly downstairs neighbor. The old man was dressed in a ratty purple bathrobe, and held a yipping Pekingese firmly wedged under his arm.

  “Dr. Dae, sorry to wake you,” the old man said, peering over Dae’s shoulder at Sean who, wrapped in the bed sheet, had followed Dae to the door. “There’s something going on down at the animal hospital. Thought you’d want to know,” he said, pointing in the direction of the Blue Moon.

  Looking into the distance, Dae saw an eerie orange glow over the area of the Blue Moon. Thick clouds of black smoke, a shade or two darker than the sky, mushroomed up into the moonlit night.

  “Oh, my God, fire!” Dae gasped, spinning away from the door and running into the bedroom. He was pulling on his shirt as Sean dropped the bed sheet in the doorway and raced for his own clothing.

  In a flurry of motion they dressed and passed Mr. Peterson and Precious, tumbling down the stairs of the apartment building to Sean’s VW. Screeching out of the parking lot, they headed toward the Blue Moon with Sean pushing the needle to make it there in record time.

  BARRICADES HAD been set up across the road. Sean pulled off onto the shoulder, and Dae jumped out of the car before it had even stopped rolling. The entire area surrounding the clinic was a sea of fire trucks and police cars, illuminated by flashing red-and-blue lights. Arcs of water poured down on the blazing roof of the offices of the Blue Moon as firefighters fought to put out the flames. Luckily the fire seemed contained to the building that housed Dae’s office and examining rooms and had not yet spread to the outbuilding where he kept the animals kenneled. Smoke, however, lay like a thick, heavy blanket over both buildings.

  A police officer met Dae at the barricades, refusing to allow Dae to get any closer to the building.

  “I’m the owner of this building! I have patients in there!” Dae shouted, trying to push past the adamant officer.

  “Dae! You can’t help them,” Sean cried, pulling on Dae’s arm, trying to keep him behind the barricade. “For God’s sake, stay here!”

  “Dae? Dr. Dae Anderson?” the officer repeated, his face clouding. “You need to come with me, sir.” He took Dae’s elbow firmly, leading him past the barricade and toward an unmarked squad car where a trio of police officers stood watching the activity at the building. Sean followed them, worried.

  “Detective Baker? This is the vet,” the officer said as they approached.

  “Dr. Anderson?” Baker repeated, turning toward Dae. Baker was a stocky man, with a thick, neatly clipped mustache and a jowly face that would seem as much at home on a hound dog as it did on a human being.

  “Yes,” Dae answered distractedly. All he could think about were the several dogs and cats he had left inside the clinic that night. He feared that they wouldn’t stand a chance against the smoke and flames while locked in their cages.

  “You own a red Ford Expedition?”

  “What? Yes, I do.”

  Baker nodded, turning to watch the blaze and the firefighters. “That it over there?” he asked, nodding toward the front of the clinic.

  Dae squinted and picked out the shape of a truck sitting just under the shadow of the clinic’s roof. It had been mostly burned black, with little of the cherry red paint job remaining, but it could have been Dae’s. “It might be mine,” he said. “It was stolen tonight.”

  Baker’s eyes cut back to Dae, and
he could see suspicion clouding them. Not that Dae could blame him. Saying that his truck had been stolen the moment the detective pointed it out to him sounded too convenient, even though Dae knew it was the truth.

  A crash drew Dae’s attention away from Baker and back to the action going on at the clinic. Turning toward the scene, he watched the cloud of thick, black smoke billow through the roof as firefighters standing on the raised platform of an aerial truck aimed a thick stream of water down onto the building. Other firefighters struggled with hand lines, directing the jets through the windows and door of the clinic.

  Sean came up behind Dae, his shoulder brushing Dae’s arm. Saying nothing, he stood stoically next to Dae, offering his silent support. Together they watched the Blue Moon creak and sputter in its death throes as the fire ate the heart out of Dae’s practice. Out of his life. Out of their lives.

  Shouts went up as part of the roof collapsed, sending a renewed surge of fire and sparks into the sky. Firefighters struggled to keep the blaze from spreading to the connecting kennels, pouring water on the kennels’ exterior wall in an effort to keep it from catching. Dae didn’t know how long they’d be able to contain the fire and felt his eyes burn from more than the smoke at the thought of the animal lives that would be lost if the kennels burned. The flames were too intense for firefighters to get to them.

  For hours Dae and Sean stood by, watching the firemen slowly take control of the fiery beast that bellowed and shrieked within the clinic, until at long last they gained the upper hand. The black smoke turned gray, then white, as the flames were beaten into submission and then finally died out completely.

  As soon as the flames had been extinguished, a hazmat team was sent in to determine if the x-ray machine posed any possible threat of a radiation leak, everything waiting for their all clear. Then, and only then, did firefighters attempt to enter the building, dragging their hand lines inside.

  The fire in the main building was still smoldering and would likely continue to do so for another day or so, but eventually the fire captain gave the green light for his crew to enter the outbuilding. He insisted that it was still unsafe for civilians, though, and Dae bristled when told he would not be allowed to enter. He tried to argue, but both the fire captain and Baker were adamant that he stay behind the barriers. All Dae could do was sit by, feeling helpless, as he waited for the firefighters to do their job.

  For most of the animals, it was already too late. The thick smoke had done what the flames hadn’t the chance to do.

  Dae saw firefighters carrying several limp animals in their arms, laying them on the grass at a safe distance from the smoking ruin of the clinic.

  Paling, all thoughts of what he had personally lost instantly gone, Dae turned away from Baker without another word and strode toward the grassy area where the firefighters were bringing the animals.

  “Dr. Anderson!” Baker yelled, running after Dae and grabbing his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m the vet. I need to see if I can save any of them!” Dae growled angrily, shaking off Baker’s hand and gesturing toward the animals that lay sprawled across the grass. “They’re my responsibility!”

  Baker picked up his radio and conferred briefly with the fire chief. “All right, but stay here on the field, and don’t try to get to the buildings.”

  Followed closely by Sean—and Detective Baker, who evidently was less than enthusiastic about letting Dae get too far from his reach—Dae sprinted to the first of the victims of the fire. It was the retriever pup that had been in the cage next to his when Dae had been a wolf at the Blue Moon. That seemed like far too distant a memory for the few hours that had passed in reality.

  The pup lay still on the grass, pitifully small and unresponsive. Laying a gentle hand on its ribcage, Dae could detect no movement at all. The pup had stopped breathing, its tiny lungs overwhelmed by smoke inhalation.

  Flicking his eyes up, Dae spotted Sean already kneeling on the grass next to a cat, a chocolate point Siamese, examining it. Dae glanced over at Baker, who hovered nearby, his hawkish eyes watching Dae as if Baker feared that the unconscious pup might aid and abet the doctor in fleeing the scene. Looking up at him, Dae said, “Detective? It would help if we could get a few of the cages from inside the clinic.”

  Baker nodded and picked up his radio again, relaying Dae’s request to the fire chief. He took a step back from Dae, giving Dae room to work.

  Satisfied that Baker was not going to impede either Sean or himself from helping the animals, Dae quickly returned his attention to the pup.

  Pushing the retriever’s body onto its right side, Dae used his finger to probe for the animal’s femoral artery. When he felt a pulse, he mouthed a silent, grateful thank-you to whichever God watched over fools and animals.

  Lowering his head, Dae first gently pulled the pup’s tongue out a bit to clear its airway, then covered the retriever’s snout with his mouth. Blowing softly into the pup’s mouth, Dae’s hand felt the dog’s small ribcage as it rose and fell with each breath.

  Just when Dae felt that his help might have been too late in coming for the retriever, the pup gave a small whine and shivered. Small, round, brown eyes blinked open as the pup began breathing on its own.

  Dae sat back on his haunches, smiling and gently stroking the retriever’s fur. Poor little guy. First you get peed on and now this. Been a rough few days, huh, little fella?

  Dae had little time to dwell on his success with the young pup, since several other animals were lying on the grass in various stages of distress. The lawn looked like an animal version of a MASH unit, sprinkled with the limp bodies of dogs and cats. He placed the pup inside one of the empty cages that had been left nearby and moved on, quickly triaging the victims according to the nature and severity of their injuries and the risk of them escaping into the night.

  Sean had moved from one cat to another, and from the Siamese’s still form as it lay on the grass, Dae realized that it had been beyond help. He watched as Sean tried to breathe life into the lungs of a large calico.

  Paramedics were trying to help as well, giving basic first aid to the injured dogs and cats, but Dae knew that time was quickly running out for many of the animals. He forced himself to move faster, work harder. Time ceased to have meaning as he focused solely on saving lives, moving from one animal to another tirelessly.

  Leaning over a large gray-and-white sheepdog, Dae examined him, automatically feeling for a pulse even though the animal’s eyes had already begun to cloud over. Dae swore as a feeling of impotence overwhelmed him. No matter how fast he moved, how well he performed, it was simply too late for many of them. He dragged himself away, heading for another victim.

  “Sean!” Dae called as he moved to kneel beside a German shepherd. The dog had recently undergone abdominal surgery and, in its panic during the fire, had ripped open its belly wound. Its breathing was shallow and labored. “I need help here!”

  Sean was beside him in what seemed an instant, ripping open a bandage pack secured from the paramedics and readying it for Dae’s use. Dae didn’t need to ask Sean for anything—his assistant was so well in tune with Dae’s habits that Sean anticipated Dae’s requests flawlessly. Silently they worked together like a well-oiled machine, binding the dog’s wound, hoping that staunching the flow of blood would keep it alive long enough to be transported to another clinic.

  Side by side, faces smeared with smoke and sweat, Dae and Sean fought to save the animals’ lives until the last one had been stabilized and placed in a carrier.

  DAE SAT on the curb, watching the firefighters continue to spray water over the ruins of his animal hospital.

  After the last dog had been moved into a cage, he and Sean had spent the better part of an hour calling other veterinarians and arranging transport for the animals to other practices for further care. They had also made arrangements with the local animal shelter to take away the bodies of the dead until their owners could be notified, a task neit
her Dae nor Sean was looking forward to.

  And then he’d sat there silently for hours, watching the flames destroy his life’s work, reducing everything he’d worked so hard to build over the past four years into a pile of scorched, broken timber and ash. Worse than the loss of his business was the guilt he felt at the loss of life. Although he, Sean, and the paramedics had worked feverishly to save the animals, most had been lost, and Dae had felt his heart break with each death.

  The clinic had been Dae’s entire life. Since he’d broken away from the pack, his sole focus had been the opening of his own clinic. He’d spent years building his reputation, fostering the trust of the community in his abilities. Now, in a few hours, it was gone, and Dae tortured himself, blaming himself for the fire. It had been Jack, he was sure of it. His Expedition was there, and he knew Jack had taken it. The guilt ate at him, consuming him just as the flames had consumed his clinic.

  Sean had lost nearly as much as Dae. Faithfully, for four years he’d virtually lived at the clinic. He’d treated the animals alongside Dae and known many of them since they were young kittens and pups. He knew their owners and was on a first-name basis with most of them. Sean knew the pets’ medical histories by heart and their owners’ personal histories as well.

  He knew that two years ago Mr. O’Dowd had lost his wife of fifty-seven years and lived for his two Angora cats, Sadie and Sam. He knew that Katie Lewis had gotten her German shepherd, Beaver, shortly after she had been beaten and nearly killed by an ex-boyfriend. Katie never went anywhere without Beaver. He knew that Marcia Owens had miscarried several times, and that her husband Bill had recently bought her a retriever pup, called Simon, to ease the ache in her heart.

  Sean hadn’t just lost a job; he’d lost a home and a family.