Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

  “They’ve already put a call into animal control. I’m sure Jeremiah is chomping at the bit to get started.”

  He immediately regretted mentioning it the moment he stopped talking.

  “Who’s Jeremiah?”

  Mark sighed, swigged some beer. “An asshole that takes his job way too seriously. He was in the army for a couple years and treats each animal like a mission.”

  “Great,” she said, ruffling her hair. She looked at Mark as if deeply troubled. Her earthy eyes glistened with tears and her lips were curled. “Be honest with me.”

  Mark’s throat felt dry as he nodded.

  “Was it bad?”

  He’d hoped for any question other than this one. Sighing, he felt his posture slacken. He realized he’d been putting on a front of his own and Amy had just knocked it down with one question. “Yeah,” he said. “Very.”

  Her lip quivered and she sucked it into her mouth. Turning away, she put her hand up to her face. “Poor Teresa...” She started to sob.

  Mark wanted to hold her again, but the Bud Light was still pressed in her lap. He was afraid to reach for the bottle. It was too close to her groin, and he didn’t want to risk her thinking he was making a pass at her.

  But he also didn’t like sitting here while she cried so hard. Her front had diminished and pure emotion was pouring out of her, making her shake.

  Groaning, Amy grabbed the beer bottle and threw it. The glass shattered against the wall. Mark jumped back against the couch. He turned to Amy, his heart pounding from the sudden heated gesture.

  She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and face buried into her palms.

  He reached over, putting his hand on her back. He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades.

  She acted as if he wasn’t there.

  And sobbed.

  Should I leave?

  He didn’t know if he should wait around until she calmed down or if she should be alone to process all he’d told her.

  “Want me to go?” he asked.

  She shook her head, face sloshing against her hands. She looked back at him. Her pink cheeks were slick with tears. A few beads clung to her upper lip. Wiping her mouth with her arm, she continued to stare at him. “I want you to kiss me.”

  A cold hand grabbed his stomach. “Amy...”

  She leaned back, turning on the couch and bringing a leg onto the cushions. Her knee pushed the T-shirt open and he could see the smooth skin of her pubic mound. “Kiss me,” she said, again, starting to crawl toward him.

  He knew he shouldn’t. Just like last night, he couldn’t allow her vulnerability to persuade him to take advantage of it. “Listen, we shouldn’t...”

  She put an arm behind him and another on the couch beside his leg. She brought her other leg onto the cushions and sat up straight, folding her legs under her. Reaching down, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt. She pulled it up. Her breasts lifted as she tugged her head out of the shirt and lowered when she tossed it away.

  Her breasts were firm and sat high on her chest. They weren’t overly large, but definitely weren’t small, either. Her nipples were dark points in the front.

  She started crawling toward him again. She put her arms on either side of him. “I know we shouldn’t. But right now, I don’t give a shit. Just kiss me. Now.”

  Mark stopped fighting and kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jagger awoke with a yelp. The nightmares of being beaten were already fading from his mind, the accompanying shouts dwindling away in ghostly resonances. Looking around, he couldn’t remember where he was or how he’d gotten there. Pointing his nose in the air, he sniffed. A pleasant breeze stirred the trees, making the leaves rattle softly. Scents wafted into his nose and, as he became more alert, his memory returned, bringing with it the tastes he’d found so pleasurable and satisfactory.

  He’d traveled all night and most of the morning—sprinted for a while, walked even longer, and had eventually curled up under an Evergreen near a stream.

  He’d slept.

  Now he needed to urinate. And his muscles ached. His stomach felt as if it was being stomped from how hungry he was. He remembered the blood’s taste, remembered glugging it like water on a hot day. The meat, warm and tender, springy with flavor as he’d chewed. There had been an immense satisfaction that had come with the kill, a soothing rush that had made the buzzing in his head stop. That had made the hunger pains causing his stomach to feel as if it was trying to eat itself go away.

  Jagger rolled onto his stomach. Looking around, he kept his ears open to the sounds around him. He heard birds singing far away. Wings flapped from somewhere nearby. Twigs snapped and leafage rustled as things scurried about. The sounds of flowing water nearby reminded him how thirsty he was.

  Those didn’t interest him. Somehow he knew they could do nothing for the craving that made him sick with need.

  Crawling out from under the shade of the Evergreen’s bushy branches, he squinted at the forest’s brightness. Pine needles dangled from his filthy fur.

  Looking from side to side, he saw trees that seemed to carry on endlessly. He sniffed the breeze and didn’t detect any suspicious scents.

  Last night, he had been sniffing Teresa’s tires when the first car had arrived. He’d heard it coming and was already fleeing into the woods when the car had shown up.

  From the bordering woods, he’d watched the man walk around. The temptation to attack him had been so strong, it had made Jagger shake. He’d known better than to try. The man had had something in his hand that Jagger knew could hurt him, so he’d kept his distance.

  The man had also had fragrances clinging to him that Jagger sensed above all others, an aroma Jagger had once enjoyed, had once loved...had once trusted.

  Home.

  Amy.

  Jagger had also smelled Amy in Teresa’s car, traces of his old home had been all over the tires. He’d collected a range of scents from the rubber treads and had them stored away. Without any conscience thought, Jagger had decided to trace those smells back to home.

  Nose to the ground, Jagger searched for a place to urinate. He didn’t want to claim any of this territory as his, so he was careful to avoid areas he sensed other markings. He finally found a spot near another tree that looked dead and bare among the luscious timber. He cocked his leg and relaxed his muscles. A heavy stream of urine poured out, pelting the ground. It felt great and seemed to take some of the edge away from his thoughts. When he finished, he turned a circle and squatted. Once his bowels were empty, he felt better and lighter.

  But the hunger remained, mingling with the anger inside that he couldn’t calm, brewing into an inner storm that seemed to be growing stronger.

  A vision of Amy lying next to him, stroking his fur, appeared in his head. He used to love sleeping next to her. The feel of her hand petting the length of his back had once brought him peace. Now, the image caused rage to twist his insides. His colorless vision appeared to flicker with blinding flashes, tearing through his skull in spiky jabs.

  Such thoughts confused him. And the confusion brought about even more anger. He blamed Amy for his pain, for his abuse. She’d betrayed him, had broken their bond, had allowed him to be taken, to be hurt. She’d caused the turmoil in his brain, the constant pains in his body that made him want to lash out.

  In the vision, Amy’s hand reached under his chin and lifted his head. She moved in to kiss his nose.

  And Jagger opened his mouth and snapped his curved teeth down on her face.

  The clap of his jaws connecting echoed around him, bouncing off the trees. So embroiled with his fantasy, he’d absently acted out the glorious bite. He huffed through his nose, licked his lips, and started walking.

  He made his way to the stream and began to drink. He lapped up water for several minutes before turning away. Water ran down his jowls as his nose worked. Filtering through the odors around him, he processed those scents he’d store away. He wanted to find one tha
t matched. He walked a long time before the scents spliced together perfectly like a piece of tape.

  Jagger knew he was going in the right direction. It might take him some time, but eventually he would be home.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Mark stood behind a tree, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his penis. He started to urinate. Though he’d already peed a couple times today, his pee still came out in sputters from all the sex he’d had last night.

  Four times.

  It had taken that long for Amy to finally climax. He’d started to think it wasn’t going to happen. They’d done it on the couch, lying on their sides and facing each other. The floor in the living room, with her bent over the coffee table and Mark slamming into her from behind. Moving to the hallway, he’d hoisted her against the wall and pounded into her until reaching his third release. And after a short break to catch his breath, he’d taken her into her bedroom and allowed her to get on top. It hadn’t taken long before she’d begun shuddering on top of him, her head leaned back and crying at the ceiling.

  With her release finally spent, Amy had come back to reality—quiet, distant. She’d all but told him to leave, saying she’d wanted to get some sleep and in the morning had to get some things done.

  Her way of letting me know not to come around this morning.

  And he hadn’t. It was going on eleven and he hadn’t even called her.

  She hasn’t called me, either.

  Tapping the head of his penis, he winced at the tender ache he felt there. He zipped his pants and started back to his cruiser. He’d left it parked on the shoulder of the road. Being nowhere near a bathroom, a quick stop in the woods worked just fine. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to make a quick pit stop on the side of the road.

  Back in his car, he checked his cell phone for any missed calls or text messages. There were none. Amy would probably get in touch with him before too long. The shame of what she’d done last night would eventually wear off. She’d call. Might even apologize.

  Hell with that. I’ll apologize to her.

  Shouldn’t have let it happen.

  How could he have refused?

  I did refuse. Kept telling her we shouldn’t do it.

  He couldn’t pretend he’d tried very hard.

  I could’ve been anybody. Wouldn’t have mattered to her.

  Maybe, maybe not.

  Checking the road for cars, he saw nobody coming from either direction. He drove off. Mark sipped some iced coffee through the thin straw poking out from the cup. It was melting and made slurping sounds as it traveled through the straw.

  Driving along Goodson Lake Road, he took turns gazing out the passenger and driver side windows. This morning, the sheriff had told him to patrol for the dog until told otherwise. He’d probably get called off and put onto the dog fight investigation at some point, but right now, Mark was on Jagger duty since responded to the call. Though Pierce hadn’t confirmed anything, they were working this as if Jagger was the killer dog.

  Mark preferred it like this, really. Let the guys making the big bucks handle the rest. Besides, deep down, he wanted to be the one to find Jagger. He felt he owed it to Amy, especially after last night.

  Yawning, Mark drank more coffee. He got three hours of sleep last night and was feeling it in every part of his body. He felt achy, sore as if he were coming down with something. It was supposed to be another scorcher of a day and the heat would only make him feel worse.

  My own fault.

  And Amy’s.

  He saw the sign warning him of a sharp curve ahead, so he slowed his speed. At the point of the curve, he spotted a large white truck parked on the turnoff before a large field that separated the wide expanses of woods. Blades of sunlight stabbed golden arcs through the clouds, making the thick grass twinkle like golden specks.

  It was hard to read the words on the truck’s door, but once he saw the cages in the back, he knew those words spelled out Animal Control.

  Jeremiah.

  Mark sighed. He eased the car onto the gravel border of the road, parking at an angle behind Jeremiah’s truck. He leaned over so he could see out the window. He didn’t spot Jeremiah right away. A light mist hovered around the area, glowing under the sunlight. It was actually a very lovely sight, but knowing Jeremiah was over there killed any admiration he might have for the scenery.

  Get this over with.

  He climbed out of the car, gently shutting the door. His feet made whispering sounds as he walked through the tall grass alongside the road. Patting his pocket, he felt the lumps of his keys through his pants. He didn’t remember putting them there.

  Mark stepped up to the rear of the truck and peered into the cages in the back. None of them looked large enough to hold Jagger.

  Obviously Jeremiah didn’t get my description of Jagger’s size.

  At the rear of the truck, Mark looked around. He saw no one. Birds chirped in the distance. Insects buzzed and chittered, the volumes growing and shrinking in alternating patterns. He saw some hay bales scattered out through the field like giant straw bunkers.

  But he didn’t see Jeremiah.

  Mark walked beside the truck, heading to the front. On top of the hood, a man’s elbow came into view. It jutted out, the tanned skin coming to a point. He followed the arm to where it was folded under a ball cap.

  There he is.

  Mark walked around to the front passenger wheel and stopped. Jeremiah was stretched out on the hood of his truck, a foot propped on the bumper and the other braced on his knee. He looked like someone enjoying a relaxing day on the beach, lying back as if relishing the feel of the sun. Though he had on dark sunglasses, Mark guessed his eyes were closed behind the shaded lenses. His face had a light brushing of stubble on the cheeks. His mouth hung partway open.

  Mark detected the soft rattles of a snore.

  Getting a few winks?

  Mark wished he could too. But since he was on duty, he couldn’t. And neither could their expert animal control officer.

  He kicked Jeremiah’s leg away from the bumper. The young man slid down the hood with a “Whaaa!?!” Arms flailing, he reached out, trying to grab onto something. He slipped off the front, quickly bringing his legs down and landing on his feet. He spun around, and leaned over the hood. His hands slapped the metal as if holding himself up.

  Panting, he looked around. His face was pale with shock and confusion. After a moment, he turned to Mark and smirked.

  “Funny, Varner.”

  “Good morning. Have a nice nap?”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” said Jeremiah. Taking off his cap, he scratched the closely cropped hair on top. He’d been out of the army for a couple years now, but had kept the hairstyle. “I was letting my eyes rest for a few minutes.”

  “Ah. So the snoring helps with that?”

  Jeremiah took off his sunglasses and rubbed his tired eyes. “What do you want, Varner?”

  “Saw the truck and thought I’d check in with you. You weren’t at the briefing this morning.”

  “Didn’t see why I needed to be. Figured that was about the dogfight stuff. Not my foray. I’m all about the animals, Varner. I leave the rest to you guys.”

  “Well, you should have at least been there to hear about the kind of dog we’re looking for.”

  “I know. A Mastiff, right? I’ve seen them before.”

  “Not like this one, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe not. But one Mastiff is like any other.”

  Mark restrained a groan. “Not like this one.”

  Jeremiah puckered out his bottom lip, raising his eyebrows. He nodded. “All right. Color me intrigued. What’s so special about this dog? I’ve got the report, his description, the whole works. What can you tell me that I don’t already know?”

  “This dog killed two grown adult men and a one adult woman without slowing down. We found some of its skin and fur matted to the end of a hammer. Pierce believes one of the victims attempted defending themselves.
”

  “A good assumption.”

  “Do you know how hard they would have had to hit the dog to get a clump of its skin on it?”

  “Pretty hard, I’d imagine.”

  “And it didn’t affect this dog enough to even slow it down. After being bashed with a hammer, it still killed these people.”

  Jeremiah’s face was already a little pale from fatigue, but Mark watched as it turned an even lighter shade. “I’m prepared for all kinds, Varner. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

  “What cage do you expect to haul him back in if you do catch him?”

  “The big one.”

  Mark remembered the one on the end. Though it was big, it was not enough to contain Jagger. “This dog weighs nearly two-hundred damn pounds, Jeremiah. Vet records confirm it. How do you plan on cramming something that big inside that thing? Going to fold him up like a piece of paper before putting it in an envelope?”

  “It’ll be fine. I’ve hauled coyotes and even a panther in that damn cage. Ain’t no dog going to make me change my procedure, Varner. All these animals are the same, you know that. I know we don’t like each other very much, but the one thing about you I always admired was your abhorrence to these bastards. You hate them nearly as much as I do. But don’t you dare think you can come here and tell me how to do my fucking job. I’d put my foot in your ass before I’d allow that to happen.”

  “Wow,” said Mark. “Threatening to kick my ass?”

  “I’m not threatening anything. I’m just saying—fuck off.”

  Mark felt heat rising from the collar of his shirt. Sweat had broken out along his hairline.

  Jeremiah turned away from him, walking toward the field. “I parked here because I know he’ll come this way. I read the report. It stated footprints put him going west, into the woods. Since no one has reported the dog’s termination or capture, I figure he’s still on the move. He’ll stick to the woods because he’ll feel safer there, concealed, away from the open areas. He’ll have to cross this field to get to these woods.” He pointed to the woods on his left.