The squirrels parted in front of us as we walked toward the street. Every few seconds one would charge forward, trying to get a purchase on my leg or one of Petey’s. My eyes darted to the left and then to the right, trying to anticipate their movements.
The can was almost empty now and the spray had gotten weaker. The squirrels, noticing this, began once again to close in.
With the hand that held Petey’s lead, I reached into my pocket and grasped the other can. Taking a deep breath, I pulled it out and, tossing the first canister at the squirrels in front of us, yanked off the top and pressed down on the spray tab.
A full blast of pepper spray hit the squirrels.
Screeching madly, they backed away from us, opening a path to Main Street and safety.
This surprised me. It was too good to be true.
I started to step forward, but sensed something moving to the rear.
I pivoted.
They had amassed behind us, hoping to catch me off-guard.
I let loose with the spray.
We were now only steps away from the street and the air was thick with the anger and frustration of the murderous squirrels.
“They’re going to attack, Petey,” I whispered. “Pepper spray or not. When I give the word, run.”
We took another step. I held my breath.
“Now, Petey! Run!”
14
Main Street
I EMPTIED THE rest of the can at the charging squirrels as I stumbled my way to the street. Several jumped on me from behind, but I paid them no mind. We were almost home.
I don’t know how to express the euphoria I felt when my foot hit the asphalt. Petey was running ahead of me and I yelled at him to stop, afraid he’d cross the street entirely and find himself back in the same mess we’d just left behind.
Weary, he lay down in the middle of the street and began to lick his wounds.
When I got to him, I sank to my knees, then looked back.
The cul-de-sac we’d called home was deserted. All the squirrels were gone.
Had this been a dream? A nightmare?
The feeling of something on my back dispelled that notion. I ripped off my jacket, hurled it to the ground, and stomped on the offending squirrel with the heel of my boot.
Exhausted, I sat down, legs spread open in front of me, to take inventory. Blood was soaking through my ski pants where the squirrels had clawed and bit me. I could also feel something wet dripping down the side of my face. I pulled off my glove, reached up, and yanked off the football helmet. I tossed it aside and then looked down at my hand. It was coated in blood. Gingerly, I felt my cheek. There were three long gashes that ran from near my ear to just above my lips – a souvenir of the squirrel that tried to rip out my eye.
Deciding that, even though maimed and in pain, I would live, I turned my attention to my dog. Petey’s left ear was shredded and he had multiple wounds on his legs, neck, and haunches. His dog coat was soaked with blood.
We were a sorry mess and we still had about a mile or so to walk. And, I feared there would be no one to help us on our way.
Tears threatened, but I fought them off. God willing, there would be plenty of time later to cry. Feeling sorry for myself was an emotion I couldn’t afford right now.
I used my scarves to bind the wounds on my leg and did my best, using strips of fabric from my jacket to bind Petey’s wounds. When we were bandaged to the best of my ability, I got to my feet.
“Okay, sweetie,” I said. “Just a mile more. That’s all. Then we’ll be safe. Stay with me. Don’t wander.”
Petey looked at me gravely, then appeared to nod. I smiled.
Dogs – God’s gift to us all.
We limped more than walked, careful to stay as close to the middle of the street as possible. Occasionally, an errant squirrel or two gathered up the courage to step out into the street, but I stamped my feet, yelling and waving the box cutter in their faces, trying to exhibit as much false bravado as I could muster.
We’d been walking for about ten minutes when I noticed Petey beginning to falter. I tried encouraging him, but finally he just lay down, his little body exhausted.
“Come on, baby,” I said, crouching down beside him. “We’re almost there. Please, Petey, don’t give up on me now.”
He just stared at me, tongue lolling, a look of sadness in his eyes.
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to lose my best friend – not when we were so close.
“Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll carry you.”
Petey was a Llewellyn, so he was smaller than most field setters. Still, he weighed about forty-five pounds. On a normal day, I could carry him a short distance without difficulty. But now, wounded and with little strength left, I wasn’t so sure.
But I would try.
Gently, I lifted his front legs to wrap them around my neck, then, with a silent prayer, I took him into my arms.
I staggered and was afraid for a moment I would fall and/or drop him. But some deep, dark survival gene within me kicked in and I righted myself and, once again, we began on our slow journey to safety.
I continued for about ten more minutes more when I was startled by something moving in the distance.
Someone was walking toward us. Was it a man?
A sob caught in my throat as I saw him begin to jog in our direction.
“Miss!” he called as he approached. “Are you all right?”
I sank to my knees.
“Sweet Jesus!” he exclaimed as he knelt beside me.
I looked at him, surprised. I recognized him - it was that young reporter from the news broadcast, Ben something or other.
“Ben?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re hurt, you and the dog. My car’s just down the street, behind the barricade.”
“Barricade?” I asked. “I thought everything was blocked off further out.”
“Yeah, that’s how it was until my broadcast. After, they moved the National Guard to the Four Corners and blocked access to Main there. I snuck around some of the buildings to get down here. You’re the first person I’ve seen.”
I took a deep breath, holding back the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm me.
“There are others,” I said. “I’m sure, inside their homes. But I don’t know how many are still alive. The squirrels are everywhere and they’re aggressive. Petey and I know firsthand.”
A look of concern crossed Ben’s face. “Are you okay? Do you need help to walk? Here, let me take the dog. Do you think you can make it? You look about dead on your feet.”
I nodded, gladly relinquishing Petey to this young man.
“Yeah,” I said with a glint of hope. “We can make it.”
15
Safe Haven
WHEN WE ARRIVED at Four Corners, we were greeted by a sergeant in the National Guard. His face was grim as he pointed his rifle at us.
“Stop right there,” he commanded.
Ben, taking over, stepped in front of me. “I’m Ben Mathers from WKPZ news. Here are my credentials.”
He handed the sergeant his ID, then continued. “This woman and her dog need immediate medical attention and, if you detain her here, you could be held responsible, Sergeant Powarski.”
Ben spoke firmly and put special emphasis on the young officer’s name which he’d read from the badge on the man’s chest. His use of the Sergeant’s name let the man know that if he didn’t comply, he might find himself featured prominently on the evening news and not in a very favorable light.
The officer hesitated only a moment, then ushered us inside the barricade.
“Thank you,” I said, a hint of anger in my tone. “And you should know. There are a lot of folks like me down that street who are in need of help. You should be providing assistance, instead of pointing guns at your fellow taxpayers.”
The officer didn’t respond.
“Let’s get going,” said Ben, ushering me away to avoid further confronta
tion. “What’s your name, anyway?”
I smiled. “I’m Brooke – Brooke Davis – and this is Petey.”
“Okay, Brooke, nice to meet you. Where do you want me to take you? Hospital?”
I shook my head. “I need to get Petey to the vet first. He’s worse off than I am. Can you take us there?”
Ben nodded as he helped us into his car.
“The animal clinic it is.”
I called the doctor as we drove. It was early, but he agreed to meet us at the hospital.
The vet arrived shortly after we did and I left Petey in his capable hands.
“Don’t worry about him,” the doctor said. “Dogs are very resilient. Now, you get yourself to the people hospital. I’ll keep Petey here as long as necessary. Don’t worry. He’ll be okay. I don’t see anything life-threatening.”
“Thanks, doc,” I replied.
I turned to leave, but a wave of dizziness caused me to falter and I grabbed hold of the counter to keep from falling.
“Hospital, now!” Ben said as he put his arm around my waist and swiftly guided me out the door.
16
Recovery And Cover-Up
AFTER TRIAGE IN the emergency room, I was admitted with multiple wounds on my legs, hands, and a deep laceration across my cheek. I was also in shock and was kept on a cardiac monitor because of an irregular heartbeat. I was treated, immediately, for the threat of rabies and placed on IV antibiotics to ward off other infectious processes. The wounds on my hand, legs, and face were flushed out with a saline solution and left open to drain. Simply covered with a dressing that was changed frequently, the bites were examined at regular intervals for signs of infection.
I was pretty well out of it by the time I was admitted. However, that evening, I experienced what would be just the first of a series of violent nightmares that would plague my sleep for months to come. A psychiatrist was called in and he diagnosed me with PTSD. From that moment on, as long as I was in the hospital, I was given serious medication to help me sleep.
Worried about my daughter, as soon as I was able, I called Larry and tried to explain what had happened. He listened and said all the right things, but I could hear the skepticism in his voice and knew that he didn’t really believe me. The incident in Laketon had made the national news putting all that had happened down to a chemical spill. There was no talk of squirrels whatsoever.
I spoke to Tessa and told her simply that “Mommy had an accident” and was in the hospital. I reassured her that I was fine, but that it might not be possible for her to come home as early as planned.
On the second day of my hospitalization, Doug surprised me with a large bouquet of roses.
“How did you know I was here?” I asked after thanking him.
“I called the paper. I was worried with all the news reports coming out of Laketon. They told me you were here.”
“Did they tell you about the squirrels?”
Doug frowned and, pulling up a chair beside my bed, leaned close.
“Shush about that,” he whispered. “Now’s not the time or place to talk. County’s put it out that it was a chemical spill that was responsible for all the uproar in your town.”
“But that’s not so…”
“I said put a lid on it, Brooke, or they’ll be transferring you to the psych unit.”
“But the bites…”
“Your chart will say they’re dog or cat bites. No squirrels. The story’s been shut down. No one’s going to believe you.”
I stared at him and could see from the sadness in his eyes that he was telling the truth. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded.
“Okay. I’ll shut up. For now.”
Doug smiled. “You’re going to get a visitor from the county. They’re going to offer to repair all the damage to your home in exchange for your signature on a nondisclosure agreement.”
“What if I say no?”
Doug sighed. “Well, they might offer to buy your home – for the same price you paid or a little lower. That’s your best option. If you’re not going to go along with the story they concocted, then they’ll want you outta there. Do you want to go back to that house anyway?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I can’t. I have nightmares already. Returning there … I don’t know what it would do to me.”
“Then take their offer. Now, I have to get going. I’ll come back tonight, if that’s okay with you?”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll see you later and think about what I said. You don’t have very many options. These town council and county guys are joined at the hip and they’ll push back if you try to force their hand.”
He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, then turned and left the room.
I sat quietly thinking about what he’d said. No one was going to believe me. No one.
Later that afternoon, Ben stopped by. He, too, offered a small bouquet of flowers, but he also brought something much more important.
“How about we go for a walk?” he asked, nodding his head toward the wheelchair he’d brought with him into my room.
“Where?” I asked, sliding my legs over the side of the bed.
Ben didn’t answer, just brought the chair over to me and helped me into it.
“Hang on,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”
Puzzled, I let him take over. He wheeled me out into the hallway and down the corridor to the elevators. Once inside, he pressed the “L” button. We were going to the lobby.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked.
“Just sit tight. Believe me, you’re going to love it.”
I leaned back in the chair, assuming we were going to the cafeteria, gift shop, or something like that. However, surprisingly, when we exited the elevator, he wheeled me straight out the main doors, into the parking lot.
“Are you kidnapping me?” I asked, beginning to feel a bit concerned.
Ben laughed. “No, just borrowing you for a while.”
He stopped my chair next to an old Volkswagen bus, which I remembered was his car.
“You ready?” he asked, unlocking the rear door.
I started to respond, but a loud, high-pitched “Roo, roo, roo!” stopped me.
“Petey!” I cried as my setter leapt from the van into my arms. Tears streamed down my cheeks as my sweet pup washed my face with his long, rough tongue.
After a few minutes of loving, I wiped my eyes and took a better look at my little survivor. He was covered with stitches and was wearing what looked like a cervical collar to prevent him from biting at the ones on his legs and haunches.
“What did the vet say?” I asked Ben. “Is he going to be all right?”
Ben nodded. “Pretty much. Oh, he’ll have some lasting damage, especially to his left ear and right front leg, but he’ll be okay. I’m keeping him at my place for the time being until you’re up and about again.”
Smiling, I gazed at this young man – a man who just may have saved my life.
“Thank you, Ben,” I said, smiling. “It means the world to me that he’s being taken care of.”
Ben looked a bit embarrassed by my compliment and made a show of putting Petey on lead and helping him into the van.
“I’d better be getting you back,” he said, “Before they send the cops out looking for us.”
He locked the car then began wheeling me toward the hospital entrance.
“Has anyone told you anything?” he asked. “I mean about what they’re saying happened?”
I nodded. “Yeah. A friend was by earlier. Says I’m going to get a visit from the county. Said they might want to buy my house.”
I heard Ben sigh. “Yup, that’s what’s happening. Either folks are being paid off and staying or they’re being bought out. Which will you be?”
“Bought out. I can’t go back there.”
“Well, where will you go?”
“That’s a problem. I haven’t thought about it. I don’t know i
f I want to stay anywhere near Laketon, ever!”
Ben was quiet as he wheeled me into the elevator.
“I may have a short-term solution,” he finally said.
“How so?”
“I have a friend. Owns a bookstore down by the big lake. The upper floor of the building was once a studio apartment. It’s vacant now. I bet she’d rent it out, cheap. And, I don’t think she’d mind a dog. Petey would provide security, if you know what I mean. It’d be a place you could stay while you heal and sort things out. They’re not going to keep you in the hospital forever, you know.”
I nodded. “That sounds like a decent option. Thank you. Could you speak to your friend, please?”
He grinned. “Consider it done.”
17
A New Beginning
AND SO, WE survived. I did get a visit from the county and I accepted their offer to buy my house. The purchase was a wash – nothing lost and nothing gained except for peace of mind. My belongings went into storage and Petey and I took up residence in Ben’s friend’s apartment.
Our experience in Laketon did nothing to dim Petey’s indomitable spirit and, while he now moved a little slower and took a few more naps, he remained his cheerful, loving self. I, unfortunately, did not bounce back as fast. I continued to suffer from PTSD and had recurring nightmares. Because of this and my current lodging situation, I didn’t feel capable of taking on the care of Tessa. She was scheduled to return to me on September 1st, but I asked Larry if he could keep her through the Christmas break. This would give me time to pull myself back together and deal with my new demons.
Surprisingly, he was supportive and agreed, but continued to look with skepticism upon my story about the squirrels. As a result, I stopped telling it.
The Night of the Sciurus Page 7