Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

  Screaming and crying, Teresa patted the floor, trying to grip onto something but only leaving narrow lines in the dirt with her fingernails.

  “Help!”

  Where’s Clayton? Help me, Clayton! Why aren’t you helping?

  She slid over the door. Her breasts hit the wooden ridge, stopping her movement. Jagger jerked harder. Her breasts bounced over the edge, pulling the front of her dress down. The tops of her breasts scraped the wood. Her bra shielded her nipples, but she could tell it was beginning to slip down.

  “Clayton!” she cried. “Help me!”

  Jagger’s claws spaded the dirt floor, locking in place long enough for him to wrench her further. With each jerk of his head, more pain blasted her. How her shoulder crunched whenever it moved, she figured it was dislocated.

  “Jagger! Stop!” She looked up, flung her hair out of her face. “Stop!”

  Her arm looked nearly flat inside his mouth. Her hand hanging from the other side like a lettuce leaf, fingers limp.

  “I said stop!”

  She pushed against the floor, arching her back as if attempting a push-up.

  And locked her eyes on Freddy’s mangled corpse inside the stall.

  She screamed even harder.

  Freddy had been gutted, his stomach torn open and hollowed out. She could see the lumps of his spinal column through the deep wound, intestines strewn out like grease-colored confetti.

  Jagger killed Freddy!

  Ate him! Jagger ate Freddy!

  And he’s taking me in there! I’m next!

  “Noooo!”

  Teresa tried to pull her arm away. She pushed against the floor, felt her palm burrowing into the dirt. She strained, shoved.

  And kept sliding.

  Sliding toward the stall.

  A flicker of movement caught her eye.

  “Clayton!”

  He appeared behind Jagger, raising the hammer with both hands. He brought it down on the dog’s head. It made a sound like something hard hitting raw beef. Blood shot out. Teresa felt it sprinkle her face.

  The hold on her arm was released. She dropped to the floor, rolled away, and pulled her ruined arm close. She felt her shoulder crunch and crackle with each movement. Her forearm dipped down, like a hose without water. Puncture wounds from Jagger’s teeth leaked blood down her arm. Her skin was painted in crimson.

  “Oh...shit...” Clayton’s voice.

  Looking up to see, but her hair blocked her eyes. She flung her head to clear her view.

  Clayton, standing over Jagger, gripped the hammer with both hands. It shook in his grasp. The flat end had a small clump of bright pink skin and dark fur affixed to it.

  Jagger raised his head as fresh streams of blood sluiced down between his eyes.

  How is he still awake? That hit should have killed him!

  But it didn’t. Jagger’s thin lips trembled around the rumbling growl coming from his throat.

  Clayton’s arm shot up, hammer prepped to strike again. He swung downward.

  Jagger jumped away, twirling a circle and snapping his jaws. His teeth clapped like rocks as they searched for something to bite.

  Screaming, Clayton backpedaled, feet kicking up dirt as he tried to avoid Jagger. His left foot kicked against his right, throwing it out from under him.

  He started to fall.

  Those meaty jaws snapped shut between Clayton’s legs, catching him. Suspending him in air with his back slightly bowed as if doing a stretch.

  As if she’d been the one bitten, Teresa felt pain in her stomach. “No!” she cried, reaching out with the arm that wasn’t hurt.

  Jagger raised his head, lifting Clayton with him. A leg hung next to each of Jagger’s ears, his arms reaching down, hands pushing against the dog’s head. His face twisted in agony as his lips formed an oval that produced moans and wails.

  Teresa scrambled to her knees, holding her hurt arm to her side. She searched the ground for the hammer.

  And couldn’t find it.

  Looking back at Jagger, she screamed as he bit down, making Clayton’s legs extend outward to perform a split. Clayton’s screams turned to high-pitched screeches, like a tape being eaten inside the player.

  “Clayton!” she uselessly cried.

  He looked at her, tears in his eyes, his face pink. Drool hung from his lips as he tried to speak. It was hard to tell for sure, but she thought she heard him say: “Run!”

  And she did.

  Jumping to her feet, she dashed away from the stalls and into the barn’s front area. The door was still open, just as she’d left it.

  Her injured arm dangled beside her, slapping against her side. The pain of its bouncing slowed her down, so she reached over with her good hand and held it still. It seemed to help a bit, but not enough to matter.

  Teresa heard heavy padding in the dirt behind her, the deep huffs of Jagger’s enraged breaths. He was coming after her like a furry locomotive, and he was gaining fast.

  She wanted to peek over her shoulder and see just how close he was, but didn’t dare. Her exit was just a few steps away. Leaning forward, she kicked her legs harder to increase her speed. She shot out of the barn, skidded to a halt, and spun around.

  Jagger was just a few short steps away. Screaming, she grabbed the door and slammed it shut. The latches clicked. She wished she had something to slip through the handles to make sure it stayed closed. She didn’t, so the latches would have to do. They would at least give her some time, and any time would do.

  Turning, she prepared to run. She put weight on her front foot, started to push off.

  Jagger’s head crashed through the door, breaking the boards. Teresa flung herself sideways, avoiding a sailing plank that stirred her hair as it went by. In her spinning vision, she glimpsed Jagger halfway out the door, his forepaws scratching at the dirt to pull him out all the way. His hips seemed to keep him wedged there.

  Teresa shook her head, unable to comprehend this dog was Jagger. Nothing about him seemed the same, even his appearance was different. Altered, slightly sick and mutated. The split in his head caused from the hammer had no effect on him and looked like a jagged bleeding grin between the curves of his floppy ears.

  Jagger snapped and roared, as if he could make his jaws stretch to find Teresa’s tender flesh.

  He’s lost his mind...evil...

  Still shaking her head, Teresa walked backward, not taking her eyes away from the dog. He saw she was leaving and his attempts to get free became more desperate as he hurled himself forward. His paws slapped the ground, claws raking lines through the dirt. They latched onto something and Jagger pulled forward.

  “No-no-no...”

  The wood groaned as it bulged out like a wooden sphincter trying to shit out a furry turd. Jagger pulled harder. Splintering sounds came from the door, expanding in a bubble of wood around his shoulders. Any second now it would pop!

  Teresa put her back to Jagger and started to run.

  The door exploded behind her, triggering a scream from her lungs. She ran harder. Her arm flapped beside her loosely and out of control. The other arm pumped, elbow out for balance.

  She saw her car and wished she was already in it.

  Jagger, behind her again, pummeled the ground with his huge feet. His breaths sounded like a winded giant as he neared.

  “Stay away, Jagger! Stay back!”

  He barked in response. Teresa felt its depth in her chest, and it caused her to scream again.

  “I’m sorry, buddy! Please, stay back!”

  It was pointless to try reasoning with a dog, but she hoped maybe Jagger would hear her voice, the fear and regret, and decide to leave her alone.

  He growled with such rage behind her that her bladder nearly released. Her voice was helping—helping his decision to kill her. It seemed that each time she spoke, it made him want to get a hold of her even more.

  Crying, Teresa neared the car.

  She recognized its familiar shape through her tear-blurred
eyes.

  Almost there!

  If she tried to get in right away, Jagger would be on her in an instant. She should run around the back, circle around the other side as a way to throw him off. It would confuse him and she might get back around to the driver’s side before him.

  Running past her door, she made her way to the back. Jagger followed her just as she’d expected. She circled around the other side and darted up along the passenger doors. The galloping pursuit became fainter as she left him behind.

  It’s working!

  Teresa ran around the front and was passing the first headlight when Jagger appeared from the other side to intersect her.

  “Shit!”

  Digging the balls of her feet into the ground, she spun around and went back the other way.

  How did he know?

  Head thrown back, Teresa rounded the front corner, holding her arm in place. She could hear Jagger behind her. Could feel his slobber spattering the backs of her legs. Abandoning her plan, she reached for the passenger door handle and lifted.

  It was locked.

  “Yaa!”

  She pushed away from the door, just missing Jagger’s lunging jaws. She heard them scrape the car’s shell as his mouth shut.

  Reaching the rear of her car, she stole a fleeting peek over her shoulder. Glimpsed Jagger turning away from the car and starting after her again. There was more distance between them now, but it wouldn’t last. She faced forward once again, pumping with all she had to pick up her speed.

  Reaching the driver’s side door, she jerked back the handle and nearly fell when it shot open. Not taking the time to regain her bearings, she dived into the car. The top of her head grazed the door frame as she landed on the seat. She turned to pull the door shut.

  And Jagger leaped in after her.

  His mass crushed down on her, throwing her against the compartment. The emergency brake jabbed her side. His massive size eclipsed her vision, filling her line of sight with fur that felt sticky and warm as it wriggled over her arms and thighs. She kicked at him, barely catching him with her heels.

  “Jagger! Stop!”

  His breath huffed in her ears.

  She felt it on her neck, warm and dripping saliva right before his teeth punctured her throat.

  Teresa’s screams turned to gargled cries.

  And she knew there was nobody left to hear them.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Amy opened the door. Dim light filled the frame, making her a lovely pale shape. Her hair was mussed and hung around her face in strands.

  She’d been sleeping.

  And I woke her up, knocking.

  When she saw Mark, her groggy expression turned grim.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  Mark took a deep breath. “Can I come in?”

  Sitting on the couch, Mark watched Amy in the kitchen. She had on a long T-shirt and when she bent inside the fridge to get the beers, it hiked up her waist. He glimpsed a pale tip of a buttock. The light spilling out from the fridge turned the shirt’s white fabric translucent. He could see the dark shapes of her breasts, swaying slightly as her arms reached in.

  Mark looked away, not wanting her to catch him staring.

  A few moments later she entered the living room carrying a carton of Bud Light bottles by the cardboard handle. They clinked softly when she set them on the coffee table. She sat down beside him. Only a small gap of space was between them. Mark was reminded of last night, how they’d sat on this same couch with much more distance between them.

  Things have changed. We trust each other more now.

  What she had on should be evidence of that. She hadn’t even taken a moment to put on some real clothes. He supposed he could have suggested her to get dressed first, but the idea had never occurred to him.

  I could say something now.

  Amy leaned forward, her dusky knee bumping his leg. He decided to let her wear whatever she was comfortable in.

  She took two bottles from the carton and gave him one. There was a synchronized hissing pop when the caps were twisted off. The gulping sounds of beer being guzzled interrupted the silence.

  When she lowered the bottle, half the beer was gone. “Are you going to tell me now?” she asked in a breathy voice.

  “Well...”

  He didn’t know where to begin. There was so much she needed to know.

  “It’s not good, is it?” she asked.

  Mark saw the barn awash in the glow of their work lights. Saw photographers taking pictures of the busted door. Flashes from their cameras popped across the dark sky. Another was crouched at the prints, tearing open a bag of plaster to make a cast. Others were huddled around more prints, measuring their size with tape.

  “No.” He took a deep breath. “I have to tell you that...Teresa’s dead.”

  Amy stared at him. “What?”

  Nodding, Mark sipped his beer. It was no longer refreshing and now tasted bitter. He nearly shivered as it went down. “Jagger killed her.”

  Her hand started trembling. Beer spilled from the mouth of the bottle. Mark quickly took it from her and put it on the table. He threw his arm around her and pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. She fell against him, her face pushing against his chest.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  An image of the car’s interior flashed in his mind: the blood dripping from the ceiling, coating the windshield in gloppy red, innards strewn all over.

  He saw Pierce and a couple of the officers, wearing gloves, loading the pieces of Teresa’s body into black bags.

  He felt his stomach quiver, threatening to eject what little was inside. “Yes.”

  Amy shook against him, sniffling. “Jagger did it?” Her voice was thick and bubbly.

  “Pretty damn sure he did, yeah.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  He stroked her back. Her skin was warm through the thin shirt. “The cigar in your backyard had Freddy Cormack’s DNA all over it.”

  Amy sat up in a hurry. “Freddy Cormack?”

  Mark nodded. “Know him?”

  “Well...yeah, I mean, when we were kids, through school and stuff.”

  “Does he come over here?”

  “No!” She grimaced. “No way in hell.”

  Mark nodded. “He’s dead, too.”

  “My God...” Teresa looked pale. She shook her head. “Did...Jagger?”

  “We think so. Won’t know for sure until the dog saliva taken from the scene is matched with what your vet has on file. But judging the severity of the damage…”

  “God,” she muttered, falling back against the couch.

  “There’s more,” Mark said.

  Amy closed her eyes, as if preparing herself.

  “We found a third body, Clayton Fortner.”

  Amy opened her eyes, turned to Mark. The shock must have lost its edge since her reaction wasn’t as severe. “Teresa’s boyfriend?”

  “He’s the one?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Here’s my theory and there’s already plenty of evidence that supports it. I believe those three came here while you were away at the gym and took Jagger.”

  Amy’s lip curled, baring teeth. “Why? That makes no sense at all.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said. “We found the bodies inside a barn on the outskirts of town. Way out in the sticks. We believe the barn was being used as an arena for dog fights.”

  Amy looked as if she was pain. “Jesus...”

  “There have been reports of such activity going on, but we’ve never been able to get anyone involved. Hell, we couldn’t even find somebody willing to talk about it. With these deaths, an entire ring will probably be exposed. I’ve already heard rumors of cops being on the payroll to keep things quiet.”

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  “Afraid so.”

  Amy reached up and grabbed her beer. Her breasts moved freely behind the T-shirt. Sitting back, she raised the bottle
to her lips and guzzled three heavy swallows. She lowered the bottle letting out a heavy breath that puffed out her cheeks. “And Teresa was involved with this?”

  “We don’t know to what extent, but I’m willing to guess that she wasn’t very heavily involved. Probably mostly her boyfriend.”

  “And Freddy.”

  “Yeah.”

  Mark studied Amy. With her head low, she had the beer resting where the shirt draped her lap. It pulled the fabric taut around her thighs and pushed it down her groin. If he looked harder, he could detect a pale band of skin between her legs.

  He chose not to look.

  “So,” she said, eyebrows narrowing. “What does this mean for Jagger?”

  “Sorry?”

  She looked at him. “Will he be put...down?”

  Mark was angry at himself for not already telling her about Jagger. How could he have forgotten? A glimpse of Amy’s legs showed him why the fact had slipped his mind.

  “We don’t know where Jagger is.”

  Amy’s mouth dropped. “You don’t?”

  Mark shook his head. “He’s out there somewhere. People are combing the Cormack property for him right now. There’re a lot of acres to cover, and in the dark...” He shrugged. “Won’t really get to explore until the morning.”

  “I want to help.”

  He shook his head. “Not a good idea. Besides, the sheriff wouldn’t allow it.”

  “You already asked?” She somewhat smiled.

  “I thought it would help if Jagger heard you calling for him.” Mark shrugged. “The sheriff thinks it’ll just put you in unnecessary harm. He’s probably right.”

  “Do you have to go hunt?”

  “Not right away. I’m supposed to keep looking into the dog fights. They have a team handling the search, but I’m supposed to keep my eyes open and look around some while digging up info about the dog ring. Nobody even knows I came here.”

  She smiled. “You wanted to be the one to tell me?”

  “I guess so, yeah.”

  He definitely didn’t want one of the other guys coming over in the morning and unloading all this information on her. He doubted she would have handled it as well coming from anybody else. He recognized she was putting on one of her tough fronts for him. Inside, she was probably ruined.

  “What if they don’t find him at Freddy’s? Then what?”