by Amy Shojai
Scarface sprang.
Shadow whirled, and left behind a mouthful of thick black fur in the other’s jaws. When a branch scuttled across the ground, Shadow spun away from the massive wind-torn limb. It lifted into the air, clubbed the white dog and spun up into the sky.
Scarface screamed a choked eerie sound that rivaled the storm's shriek. He threw himself onto his back in a silent plea, eyes screwed tight. He didn't fight, just accepted the beating sure to come. The sharp aroma of dog pee rode the wind.
Before the white dog's confusion cleared and he scrambled away from the approaching funnel, Shadow fled in the opposite direction, back to the barn, to September. He needed to be with her, and keep September safe if Scarface returned. She'd know what to do about the black wind, and the ice balls that turned the ground white.
Shadow put paws up on the car’s back window to peer inside. He barked, calling, pleading, don’t forget the dog.
But he'd disobeyed. He'd only wanted to keep her safe from the white dog. That was his job. He barked again, but September didn't come. He pawed the glass, then hopped down and frantically searched for a way under or around the car.
The two remaining metal boxes banged against each other, their lids lifting and slamming closed like hungry mouths. Shadow cried out as two ice missiles hit his flank and the car glass simultaneously. September didn't come.
Shadow raced for the meager shelter of the dumpster tipped on its side. He timed his movement until wind lifted the cover a dog's width, and dove inside the metal box. Ice balls pounded and echoed as they tried to batter their way inside. The box stank of fear, feces and misery.
The box lifted slightly, and fell. Again, and then again it tumbled and rolled one way, and back the other direction. Shadow yelped, wailed, and finally fell silent. He crouched against a corner and curled into a tight ball of misery. No light penetrated the metal box, and the icy scabrous floor, filthy with animal stink and blood, made him shiver. Sounds of the outside storm echoed and hurt his ears as the wind raged.
After a long time, longer than a good-dog could say, the wind slowed and finally stopped. The plink-thump-CRACK! of ice missiles disappeared. Shadow stood and shook himself, and flinched and yelped at the bruises and the hot sting from the bite slicing his face. He nosed the heavy lid, but it stuck on something outside the box and wouldn't open. Shadow barked, and pawed the lid with frustration. Trapped.
A growl answered, followed by a whine and a hollow thumping sound. Shadow sniffed. His hackles rose. Another dog shared the big metal box.
Chapter 28
A sudden eerie silence proved more frightening than the storm's violence, but September refused to move. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. She held Melinda circled tight in her arms, and the girl's trembling form in turn crouched protectively over Nikki and Steven. All remained silent, except for Kinsler, who keened and shivered.
September wanted to cry, too, but not in front of the kids. She couldn't think about Shadow, or would dissolve into a useless puddle. She had to be the adult. September cautiously opened her eyes and released her grip on Melinda. "Everyone okay?"
Melinda lifted her head. She turned loose of the kids and hugged herself. "Is it over? Will it come back?"
"Nikki, how's your head? Steven, you all right?" September waited impatiently for a response.
Steven remained silent, but Nikki nodded, then winced, and gingerly touched her blood-soaked hair. September pasted on a cheerful expression to hide her concern. Head wounds bled a lot, even when not serious. She hoped it wasn’t serious.
Kinsler squirmed from beneath their feet, shook himself hard, and sniffed the bloodstained ground. The 18-foot square dogfight pit offered an ideal storm shelter. Three-foot-high plywood walls framed the space on two sides, reinforced by stair-step stacks of straw bales piled halfway to the loft.
Ironically, the same space had meant death or worse for the dogs forced to compete within its walls. The Pit Bulls she and Nikki had freed stood a better chance fighting the tornado than surviving this arena. September prayed they'd evaded the storm.
And God, please let Shadow be all right.
Any hope of finding Shadow hinged on escaping the barn. September scrambled to her feet to assess the damage.
Her SUV blocked the main entrance but the wall had collapsed around the vehicle. The car had taken out the loft ladder, too. Overhead, steady rain fell through where the metal roof peeled back like a pop-top lid.
The small loft above and three remaining cement block walls retained most of their integrity. A pushed-in section marred the back wall, where a small door and three shuttered windows suggested another way out.
"Melinda, watch the kids." The older girl had already begun to clean up Nikki's cut brow. Steven's attention remained glued to his tablet, probably playing a video game. Maybe her phone reception had returned. She checked, but had no bars.
September noted the scratch line in a corner of the square pen as she vaulted over the plywood wall. She tripped on a washtub positioned nearby, empty now but used to bathe fighting dogs before they entered the ring to be sure nobody "cheated" by putting poison on the fur. The opposite corner would have the same diagonal scratch mark, she knew, where the so-called "dog men" held their canine contenders at the ready before the "referee" gave the signal to release them and begin the fight. She shuddered.
Once past the divider, she saw more dogfight paraphernalia. A modified spring pole hung from an overhead beam, consisting of a length of rope and rubber tubing dogs were encouraged to grab and hang from to condition neck and jaw muscles. September knew BeeBo also provided a spring pole for his dogs to have fun, but she found nothing innocent about the contraption in this context. Out of place in the rustic surroundings, a modern electric-powered treadmill stood against one wall. The attached logging chain, similar to the ones she'd cut from the dogs’ collars, made it clear the treadmill served as one more tool for conditioning the canine athletes for the blood sport.
The machine's presence meant power, if she could find a switch. Daylight faded early in February. With the SUV totaled, and storm still lurking, September had no intention of hiking out with a bunch of kids. Best to hunker down and wait for help. Lights would shine a welcome beacon to speed rescuers to find them, especially once the sun set. Only gray light filtered through the gash in the roof, but even as she watched, it grew dim.
On the wall behind the treadmill, September found a power bar with a bright orange weatherproof cord that trailed up the wall and disappeared through the ceiling into the loft. She toggled the switch, and floodlights blazed from the rafters, spotlighting the dog-fighting pit bright enough for an ESPN special.
Melinda stood up and cheered, and September turned back with a smile and a thumb's up. Nikki wobbled, though she kept a firm grip on Kinsler's collar. If she had a concussion, Nikki needed a doctor sooner rather than later.
"Let me see if I can get the back door open." September hurried to the far end of the barn.
The lights revealed the cat mill and she cringed. Designed like a miniature horse walker, trainers harnessed the dog to the long spoke projecting from a turn-style and lured him to chase the living bait held in a cage beyond his reach. This built up the dog's conditioning as well as increasing prey drive.
September hurried past, averting her eyes from the sad mound of fur trapped inside the cage. She gasped and stopped short when the fur moved. "Hey, there's a cat." And still alive, despite being cramped inside a space too small for it to stand.
"A kitty? Where?" Nikki finally roused, and stood up woozily.
September motioned to Nikki to stay put. "Keep hold of Kinsler or he'll scare it." She didn't want to explain to the kids about the cat, or God help her, the rape-stand over there used to keep breeding pairs of fighting dogs from killing each other.
The cat mewed and cheek-rubbed the side of its cage as she struggled to get the door open. He hadn't been inside long. She saw no waste in the cage or dropped beneath in t
he dirt of the barn floor. September knew that bait animals, often rabbits or cats, didn't last long, so this cat won the lottery. Otherwise, after the "training" session, the bait became the dog’s reward. She'd like to "reward" the sickos with some of their own medicine.
The striking green-eyed cat sported a brown tabby "cap" on his head, tabby coat covering his back and tail, and underneath, snowy legs, chest, muzzle and tummy. His friendly demeanor had enabled the catnapping. The thieves hadn't even bothered removing his collar or nametag that clearly spelled out, “Boris Kitty.”
She feared he'd run away—hell, she wouldn't blame him—but September couldn't bear to leave him inside the wire contraption. "Stay close, big guy." She crooned soothingly as she messed with the opening, hoping he wouldn't spook and zoom away. "When we get out of here, I'll do my best to get you back home."
As soon as the confinement opened, the cat leaped out of the wire basket, and scaled September's shoulder to nuzzle her cheek. He draped himself around her neck like a sack of potatoes, and the vibration of his purr made her smile for the first time in hours. "Guess that's as good a place as any. Hang on, Boris Kitty."
September fought the déjà vu sensation. Only eight weeks ago, she'd nearly died while trapped inside another barn when it caught fire. With the wooden loft drowned by the storm, not even a direct lightning strike would ignite this barn. Still, she didn't want to stay inside any longer than necessary. That the storm had abated didn't mean it couldn't return with renewed violence. As if in agreement, thunder boomed.
Keeping one hand on the cat as much to calm herself as to balance the perching animal, September hurried to the far wall. She tried the door, but it jammed from something wedged outside, and wouldn't budge. Long metal bars secured shutters covering each of the windows, effectively keeping any inside light contained. Scheduled fights likely took place at night. Whoever ran the show didn't want light leaking out and giving them away.
After removing the rebar brace, she swung open the first set of shutters. Glass had shattered from the outside in, and fell with a music box crinkling sound. A blue metal surface butted up solid against the opening, with no way through.
September moved to the next window, pulled away the brace, and found a repeat of the broken glass and blue wall. She banged on the metal with frustration, before moving to the third, final window.
Startled, the cat dug nervous claws into her coat collar. "Sorry, Boris Kitty. My bad. You're right, nothing gained by getting angry." She pulled and tugged the final rebar until it released. September lost her balance and fell backward on the ground. She heard an answering thump from the blue metal.
The cat scrambled to keep his perch on her shoulders, and then abandoned her and ran. Wet soaked through her pants, and September put down a hand to brace herself. Where moments before the floor had been dry, now she sat in a wet spot that slowly grew as she watched, pooling from cracks in the cement blocks at the foundation level.
The banging came again, followed by faint shouts. September scrambled to her feet, and wrenched open the final set of shutters. The opening revealed the passenger side glass of a blue van pressed against the barn's shattered window. Willie Combs thumped and yelled from the front passenger seat, a dark haired younger girl peeking from behind him while a teenaged boy slumped behind the steering wheel, motionless.
Chapter 29
Shadow cautiously sniffed the direction of the strange, spotted dog. Elevated levels of testosterone in the youngster’s pee labeled him an adolescent. The pup crouched in the farthest corner of the dumpster, banging tail echoing in the metal box. A short length of metal loops hung from the pup's collar, and clanged against the filthy floor when he shifted. Shadow arched his neck and stretched his nose closer, and the pup whined and rolled onto his back, his tail whipping back and forth in an abject show of deference.
Shadow yawned and turned away, giving the youngster a chance to compose himself. When the pup slunk forward, crawling to reach Shadow, whimpering as he came, Shadow stood stiff and slowly waved his own tail. He allowed the youngster to lick his face and eyes. The spotted pup dropped to his back without prompting, and wriggled as he offered Shadow an up-close personal sniff. Recognizing the pup posed no threat, Shadow gave him space to stand. The dog rolled happily to his feet, dripping from the pooled water in the bottom of the metal box, and shook, spraying wet in the close space.
Happy to have a new dog friend, Shadow rested his chin on the smaller dog's shoulders for a moment before turning to the exit. He needed to find September. His paws splashed in the puddles that got deeper inside the box, and Shadow nose-nudged the edge of the plastic door-lid beside him. It should be above him, except that the metal box had tipped on its side. It wouldn't move. Something pressed against the plastic from the other side, so that he couldn't budge the covering. Now water leaked into the bottom of the metal box from the saturated ground outside. As he watched, a steady stream ran inside.
Shadow followed the bottom edge of the door lid, and push-tested every few inches until he reached the far corner where it gave a bit more. He pushed harder and managed to stick his nose through the opening. He pulled back when it tightened on his neck, and tried to jerk free. Shadow pawed the plastic, thumping and clawing to no avail. His feet stung with cold, and he splashed with each step.
The pup shouldered beside him, and pressed a blunt muzzle to the base of the plastic. He dug paws for traction and leaned one shoulder against the plastic surface. When it gave a bit more, Shadow wasted no time, and pushed his nose, then face, and finally shoulders through before it tightened and held him in its jaws.
Whining with sudden concern, Shadow struggled but couldn't move. He backpedaled, but couldn't pull himself free that way, either. A big tree outside held the dumpster lid shut.
He had to get out-out-OUT, and find September. Shadow yelped and struggled, but the plastic held tight.
Behind him inside the metal box where he couldn't see, the younger dog leaned against his flank, and Shadow stiffened with concern. He couldn't defend himself, or get out of the way. Shadow panicked when the pup scramble under him. He pedaled and flailed when the smaller body wiggled beneath his tummy. But the youngster didn't make a sound, only squirmed and clawed in the mud until he'd escaped through the door-space held open by Shadow's body.
Shadow closed his eyes when the pup again licked his face. He pulled and tugged and squirmed, but still couldn't get free.
His jerking efforts to escape startled the pup so much, the youngster dodged away, but stopped short. Shadow stared, and cocked his head. The dangling chain from the collar caught on something, and held the spotted pup in place. Shadow sniffed the metal links, and twisted to see them disappear beside him under the plastic lid cover. The pup yelped, and tugged, and the lid cover jostled.
Struggling but now silent, the young Pit Bull braced his paws, ignoring the water that had risen knee deep. He pulled, pulled, and pulled again. With each tug, the pup's neck and shoulder muscles bunched and relaxed, and Shadow felt the lid shift, slightly releasing pressure that clamped him in place. Shadow dug his own claws for purchase, and when the pup gave one more wrenching yank on his collar chain, Shadow pushed out of the metal box the same moment as the pup's chain popped free.
Shadow shook himself hard, and briefly nose-touched the pup. He saw the metal box still rested against the hard wall of the barn. September's car poked out the doorway. He needed to find her.
As Shadow splashed his way to the car, the spotted puppy whined, and lifted each paw in turn in reaction to the deepening water. The youngster scrambled onto the fallen tree that leaned next to the dumpster they'd escaped, heavy chain still dangling from his collar.
After a quick sniff around September's car, Shadow knew she hadn't come out yet. But he could find no way into the building. The water level flowed around the base of the barn, more from one side than the other, and instinctively Shadow headed toward the higher elevation past the dumpster, uphill to the water sou
rce.
He had to duck and weave to find a pathway through scrubby trees that sheltered the side of the stone building. A loud metal noise sounded overhead, and Shadow flinched when the roof waffled in the wind. Would it take flight like a bird and soar away? He'd seen big birds grab little animals. Would the roof-bird chase a good-dog and carry him off, too? Shadow hugged tight to the building, and hurried to reach the back of the barn.
The ground became steeper when he rounded the corner. The barn backed up against a big hill covered with grass and scrubby trees. A dark scar cut down one side of the hill. It looked like a dog had dug for varmints. Now water ran down the trench, overflowed, and bled mud across the grass.
A big boxy car, bigger than September's, sat at the end of the channel and Shadow wondered how it got there without a car path to ride. It leaned against the backside of the barn. Someone moved inside the car. Shadow cocked his head when someone shouted from the barn.
"Get back. Cover your face."
He recognized September’s voice when she called from inside the barn. Shadow charged ahead despite the scary thump-thump-crash-crunch sound as he raced toward the big car. He barked, and barked again, frantic for a way to get past the car and into the barn to reach September.
Despite his barks, September never answered. Instead, she waited until the boy inside the van shook off pieces of glass. She helped him climbed out the car window into the barn, and never looked at Shadow at all. That made his tummy hurt with worry.
Maybe September couldn’t hear or see him. The water’s noise covered up a good-dog’s barks, and he knew people couldn’t hear as well as dogs. Shadow dodged to one side as the van shifted when a small girl also climbed out. He froze in momentary shock when September crawled out the barn window into the van. Shadow whined and licked his lips, relief mixed with concern for her safety. She’d come for him, after all! He expected her to call to him, make eye contact and tell him what to do. But she only crouched over the motionless driver.