Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

Pausing on the gravel road of Eagle’s Nest, Amy listened. A terrifying stillness returned. The direction of the screams was hard to pinpoint. But on this side of the park’s horseshoe road, she only knew of one child.

  Nathan.

  And the screaming woman must have been Janice.

  What’s going on?

  It clicked.

  The bark. The screams.

  What Mark had told her about the attacks, about Teresa’s death, the crime scene she was at the day of her meltdown. She saw it all in a quick series of flashing images.

  “Oh, shit!”

  Slapping her shorts, she expected to feel the skinny hump of her cell phone in one of the pockets. All she felt were her keys. Her cell phone was somewhere at home. Probably in her purse. And she couldn’t call Mark without it.

  When the woman’s screams returned, Amy realized she wouldn’t have time to go back for it.

  She started running toward Janice’s.

  Her legs seemed to not want to cooperate. They felt as if they were weighted down by lead, lagging when she needed them to pump.

  The screams continued, becoming louder as she followed the bend in the gravel road. Up ahead to her right was Ellie and Jim’s trailer. She could see the old pinwheel, the weeds growing between the spokes, at the mouth of their driveway.

  And just as she’d suspected, the screams were coming from her left.

  From Janice’s.

  Amy ran harder, the trees zipping beside her in a blur of green. As she neared Janice’s lot, the screams diminished. Now all she could hear were the blubbery cries of a child.

  The woods ended on a yard that looked more like a field used for grazing. Amy scanned the bank of weeds from one end to the other.

  At first, she couldn’t find anything that would suggest trouble.

  Then her eyes landed on Nathan.

  He stood alone in grass that reached his thighs, crying, his arm reaching out. His short fingers were splayed wide, wiggling slightly. His face was red and pinched, his cheeks puffed out as he bawled for his mommy. Even from here, she could see he was bleeding. His shirt looked torn, hanging open like a vest.

  Amy made a long stride over the ditch, nearly stumbling when her feet slapped down. “Nathan!” she shouted.

  The boy didn’t hear her above his own wails.

  Amy was closing in on him when her feet stumped something hard. She felt it spin around. A stiff narrow piece knocked her in the shin. It threw her foot back and her upper body forward, causing her to splash flat on the ground at Nathan’s feet.

  The wind was banged out of her. She wanted to lie there a moment, allow herself a minute or two to catch her breath. But she couldn’t. She needed to get up.

  Nathan stood just inches from her, shrieking in a wild frenzy, calling for his mommy. One eye was inflamed and puffy, leaving only a wink of white between the two blobby lips. His cries rose and squeaked when he took a breath.

  Crawling to her knees, Amy hooked an arm around Nathan’s back and jerked him to her. He acted as if he didn’t notice, still screaming. She put a hand on the back of his head and pulled him close. She felt his warm tears smearing across her chest, dashes trickling down between her breasts. The boy’s body felt hot and feverish as it trembled against her.

  She tried shushing him, but the boy couldn’t be silenced.

  Pressing him tightly to her, she hobbled around on her knees. The ground was hard and rough, scraping her skin. She saw what had tripped her lying in the grass a few feet away.

  A thick frying pan.

  Adhered to one of the sides was a chunk of pink flesh. Hair that matched Jagger’s fixed to the end of it.

  Janice must have bashed Jagger.

  But where are they now?

  Nathan squirmed in her arms, trying to turn around. He must be looking for Janice. Amy couldn’t even begin to imagine what this little boy had witnessed.

  “Mommmeeeeee!”

  “We’ll find her, Nathan, we’ll find…”

  Amy’s words died in her throat when she followed the path of Nathan’s stare.

  A cold, spikey hand gripped her insides.

  Jagger waded through the weeds, carrying Janice in his mouth by her spine. She hung from his snout, arms dangling, hands brushing the grass. Her legs drooped from the other side of Jagger’s mouth, knees dragging the ground alongside her hands. The skin of her back had been torn away, along with her shirt. The spaces around her spine hollowed out, the jagged column clamped between Jagger’s teeth.

  Just like he would carry his play rope, she realized.

  Jagger saw Amy and stopped. Lowering his head, he set Janice on the ground, as if presenting what he’d done to Amy.

  “Jagger…what’s happened to you?”

  His fur looked stiff and mucky, congealed with blood to form clumpy spikes. She could see where Janice had clobbered him with the pan—a wide gash that started on his snout and spread up to the top of his head, sagging around the skull. The gray of bone was exposed and coated in red. It was like a mask that had been unzipped partway and left hanging around the face.

  How he had survived the hit, Amy couldn’t understand.

  And his eyes were all wrong now. No longer a soft brown, they’d turned a septic yellow, oozing from the corners in clods that looked like egg salad.

  Jagger lowered his head, looking up at her with his eyes. She got a clear view of the wounds on his head. Blood had dried to a crust on some, but the fresher areas seemed to spill it down between his eyes.

  His jowls juddered with a growl that sounded unlike anything she’d ever heard come from her dog before. She felt it in her toes more than heard it.

  “Jagger, easy…”

  His growl turned to a snarl, teeth dripping with thick dark foam. She saw little threads of flesh stuck in his gum line.

  Nathan cried harder, so she pushed his face against her shoulder, muffling his sounds. His tears rubbed wetness across her skin.

  “It’s me, baby boy,” she told Jagger. “It’s me.” The sound of her voice seemed to agitate him even more, seemed to make his growls more vicious. “Don’t you want to go home?”

  This seemed to confuse him. Though his mouth remained an angry snarl, his eyes shifted. She heard a whine somewhere behind the rumbling growl. It was as if a part of him wanted that very thing, but the rest of him wanted nothing but slaughter.

  And that part of Jagger was winning the inner turmoil she could see working inside her dog. His eyes lowered back to their scowl, the growls overpowering the tortured whine.

  “Jagger…let’s go home. Okay?”

  He barked. Spatters of foamy heat hit her legs. There was nothing excited in his bark, just anger that told her he would not be going home.

  Tears welled in her eyes, throat tightening. How could Jagger do this? How could he have done any of the things Mark said he had? She realized she was more hurt by this than she had been when she’d learned about Teresa and Nick. More hurt than any of the times her father had made her feel worthless, insufficient, and isolated.

  She also realized that Jagger was all she’d ever needed in this life and now he had turned on her, just like everyone else had in the past.

  Amy had never felt more alone, more betrayed. She knew it was selfish, feeling this way when so many others had been hurt or killed, but she couldn’t help it. Jagger was hers, and he’d hurt her more than anyone, broken her heart, decimated her soul.

  “How could you do this to me?” she cried, squeezing Nathan against her. “Huh? What did I ever do to you!?!”

  Jagger’s forepaws slapped the ground with his hateful bark.

  Nathan screamed against her, shaking. She felt the back of his shorts turning wet, felt warm streams going down his leg as he peed himself.

  “You do this after all I’ve done for you? You’re just like the rest of them! You’re a fucking scumbag!”

  Jagger hopped forward, his hair pushing up on his back. His tail was stiff.

  “I tr
eated you like a king…You…goddamn…bastard!”

  Jagger lunged, snapping at Amy’s legs. The sound of his jaws clacking together shattered the red that had been blinding her vision. Blinking, her eyes returned to normal. She felt warm liquid on her arm, could smell urine. Grasping that she had scared Nathan as badly as Jagger had made her feel lousy.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered as she turned around.

  Nathan’s screams turned rocky when she started running.

  Jagger’s teeth tore at Amy’s heels, ripping lines through her calves. It lit up her legs in a flurry of stings, but she kept moving.

  She headed for the front door of Janice’s trailer.

  Nathan was heavy and hard to hold, but she hugged him close with both arms, not allowing him to fall. His screams tore through her ear, triggering the pounding of her hangover against her brain. Any other time she could have easily maneuvered with the boy in tow. But her night had left her sluggish and achy.

  Jagger bit down on her foot, his teeth slipping behind her shoe and plucking it off. She kept going, leaving Jagger a few hops in the rear as he spat out the shoe. Now her pace was uneven and more difficult.

  But she reached the steps, skipping the first and jumping to the second one.

  Jagger’s mouth clamped on the bottom plank, tearing out a wide chunk of wood.

  Amy grabbed the handle of the screen door, jerked it wide.

  She dived.

  Releasing Nathan, she glimpsed him tumble away from her when they landed inside. Behind her, his screams were frenzied as she spun around on her knees. She crawled forward to the doorway.

  Jagger lurched forward.

  Amy grabbed the edge of the front door and threw it toward the frame. Jagger’s head sounded like a giant’s fist against the door when it banged shut.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Nathan sobbed uncontrollably behind her. Amy, her back to the door, leaned her head flat against it with her eyes closed.

  Why does he look like that? What made him so violent?

  She rubbed the backs of her calves and felt sticky wetness. Raising her hand, she saw her fingertips were dotted in blood. It wasn’t heavy, only a couple thin runnels of crimson, so she should be okay.

  Lifting her head from the door, she looked at Nathan. Crying, he sat on his bottom, shirt hanging open over a row of scratches. His eye looked very swollen above his opened mouth and trembling lips.

  “It’s okay, Nathan…”

  The boy shook his head. Even at his young age, he knew that nothing would ever be okay again. And Amy began to cry, knowing the same.

  She crawled to him. She checked his wounds more closely. Some of them had already stopped bleeding. The ones that still bled were barely a trickle. His eye looked the worst. Probably poked by one of Jagger’s claws. Hopefully there wasn’t any permanent damage.

  “Stay right here, I’ll be back.”

  Nathan only cried, not responding to her statement.

  Standing, Amy looked around the living room. It was cleaner than the last time she’d been here. A lot cleaner. She thought she detected the scent of Pine-sol in the air.

  Something banged against the front door, making Amy jump. The sudden pounding caused Nathan to shriek. Another sound like tearing metal derived from outside.

  He’s clawing the door.

  It was a thin tin design that wouldn’t hold Jagger out for long. She needed to devise a plan. Quickly.

  Maybe Janice has a gun.

  She thought about asking Nathan.

  He won’t know.

  Then she realized she had just contemplated shooting Jagger and felt grief wash over her.

  He’s not Jagger, not anymore. Doesn’t even look like him anymore, not really.

  Amy could search for a gun, but it might take forever.

  She checked on Nathan. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor and still bawled. His face was soaked in tears and slightly pink from the bleeding.

  More scraping sounds came from the door. Something pounded. The ferocity in the noises showed how desperate Jagger was to get inside.

  Amy spun around and scanned the kitchen. She saw the counter, the stove, the sink. She looked to the other side. Another counter, a breadbox on top, a basket filled with what looked like coupons.

  And a knife rack.

  Bingo.

  She hurried into the kitchen in a shuffling jog. It was annoying moving around with only one shoe, but she wasn’t planning on shedding the other one to even out her movements. Leaning over the counter, she looked at the handles jutting from the wooden block. She saw the biggest one and grabbed it. She pulled out a large butcher knife, the kind she’d seen used in many horror movies. The blade was slightly tarnished, but looked very sharp.

  With the knife by her side, she turned around. She was about to head back into the living room when she glimpsed a phone mounted to the wall.

  A phone!

  “Thank God,” she muttered.

  Amy ran to the wall, snatching the phone from its base. She raised it to her ear as she reached for the keypad with the hand clutching the knife.

  No dial tone.

  “What?” She tapped the switch on the base several times. No dial tone came on. “No!”

  Amy looked at the phone, angry at it for not working. Janice didn’t have much money, so she probably couldn’t afford to keep the line connected.

  Amy screamed again. She slammed the phone down.

  Before defeat could take its hold on her, the idea to find a cell phone struck her.

  Surely Janice had one somewhere, even if for emergency purposes.

  She found one on a wobbly end table in the living room. It was plugged into the wall, charging. She yanked it from the chord and was raising it to dial when she noticed the screen.

  Balance: $0.00 Please add money now.

  “Damn it!”

  Nathan screamed.

  The door pounded, metal twisted. Jagger’s frantic growls drifted inside.

  Amy dropped the useless cell phone. It hit the carpet with a soft bump. She was trapped in this substandard trailer with Nathan. If Jagger kept tearing at the door, he’d get inside before much longer. There would be no way to escape him, no way to defend herself or to protect the boy.

  Amy looked at the knife and nearly laughed at how inadequate it seemed. What could a blade like this do to a dog Jagger’s size?

  She remembered going to the breeder—an older man, with kind eyes and glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose.

  “He’ll be a big boy,” he’d warned her. “Are you sure you want a dog that big?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s good,” he’d said. “Although they get really big, these kinds of Mastiffs are the sweetest dogs in the world. They like to cuddle, so when he’s trying to get in your bed, don’t be surprised.”

  His attempt at a final warning had made her decision for her. She’d wanted a dog like that.

  Now the dog was trying to kill her.

  Amy didn’t notice Jagger had stopped trying to get inside until Nathan’s bawling settled down. Sniffling, he whined and chewed on his finger.

  “Stay there, Nathan,” she said, though it wasn’t needed.

  Amy crossed the room to the front windows. She looked out. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the steps, but she knew Jagger was out there somewhere.

  She searched the yard for any signs of movement. She saw only the tall grass, slightly swaying. From this spot, she couldn’t even locate where Jagger had left Janice.

  Soft crackling sounds pulled her eyes to the road.

  Mark’s police cruiser appeared.

  “No!”

  Before she could shout for him, he’d already driven by.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Mark stared into the rearview mirror.

  I could have sworn…

  He checked both side mirrors as well, to be sure. Nothing was back there.

  He thought something h
ad flitted across the road behind him. Something big.

  Nothing’s there now.

  Must be his nerves.

  Shaking his head, Mark slowed the car down as he neared Amy’s driveway. He steered onto the narrow pathway and drove into the corridor between the trees. Shade fell on the car, blotting out the glaring light of the sun. He stretched his eyes, blinked. Even with his sunglasses on, he’d been heavily squinting. The constant tightness in his eyes was making his head hurt.

  As he came out of the trees, he spotted Amy’s small brick house.

  The carport was vacant.

  He felt a pang of dread as he parked the car.

  She’s probably home.

  As far as he knew, her Jeep hadn’t been retrieved from the impound lot yet.

  Maybe she’s cooled down some.

  He knew she wouldn’t want to see him, not after the other night. But he needed to check on her. After his visit with Dr. Alasba, he was even more worried about her mental stability. The more he thought about what the vet had told him, the more things about her had begun to make sense.

  Mark left the car running, enjoying the cold air blowing from the vents.

  I’m dawdling.

  He looked at the house through the windshield, then the backyard. Other than the trees and jiggling leaves from the small breeze, he saw no movement.

  Heard no sounds other than the motor and the fan of his car.

  He shut off the engine. The cool air died. Stuffiness was already suffocating the comfort level inside the car. He removed the keys, opened the door.

  And was hit by something big that slammed him back inside the car.

  Dropping into the seat, Mark was crushed under the heavy burden pounding down on top of him. A barking mouth, spitting foam, rose above his flailing arms.

  Jagger!

  Stupid, so stupid! He should have checked before opening the door.

  Jagger’s weight pinned Mark down. One of his legs was free and he kicked it wildly, trying to peg the dog with the heel of his shoe. He struck the door, the frame, Jagger’s tail, but his foot couldn’t connect how he needed it to.

  The dog’s snout snapped at him, teeth clacking together. Drool spattered Mark’s face with hot dots.

  He managed to get his hands under Jagger’s chest and throat. Holding the dog back, Mark writhed underneath, trying to lean his face away from the chomping mouth.