by Dale Mayer
Brandi’s retriever, Lacey, had also gone missing. And Lacey had been pregnant, so Brandi knew that, at this point in time, chances were pretty slim that the dog and/or her puppies had survived. Brandi wasn’t even sure exactly when the puppies would have been born, but it should have been at least a month ago, if not six weeks ago. She stopped to catch her breath, turned to see the man once again walking down the hill slowly. She’d been rude and curt, but that’s how she felt toward everyone these days. She could only let out so much pain at a time, without it overwhelming her. And, even as she thought about it, she collapsed on a rock, its surface smoothed by the intense heat of the fire here, to stare below.
She looked around and murmured, “Mother Nature, why were you such a bitch here?”
And, of course, there was no answer; there was never any answer. Mother Nature would probably say that she needed a cleanse here, so that new growth could happen. And it did seem like a little bit of green started to pop through in places, and that just seemed so wrong too. Everybody here wasn’t done grieving, yet life had gone on.
She tilted her face up to the sky and let the sun warm her from the inside. She was so cold all the time now, so caught up in grief. She knew she had to let it go; her grandmother had had a good life, and, with any luck, she’d been overcome by the smoke and hadn’t suffered. The fire had burned so intensely hot that she had basically been cremated. That was something else Brandi would have to live with. She’d sifted through some of the rubble, but nothing was there except for the ash.
Of course the police and the firefighters, even the coroner, had been here soon after the fire had been put out. And now Brandi was trying to rebuild her own life. What a wrong six-week period to have gone to a special course in Europe. She shook her head, staring about. If she’d just been here, both Lacey and her grandmother would have been just fine.
She wrapped her arms around her chest, fending off that cold once again. And, even though it was futile, she whistled, hoping that Lacey was somewhere around. Brandi had done this every day for the last three weeks. And there’d never been any response. She caught sight of the man walking on the road down below; he turned when he heard her whistle. He stared at her for a long moment, and then, realizing she wasn’t whistling at him, he walked away. She could feel his own sadness. Still, she wondered if his story was true, but then it wasn’t any more far-fetched than her own.
She at least knew her dog had been here with her grandmother, and Brandi didn’t know what it would take for Lacey to run away from home, leaving Grandma behind. And could Lacey have even gotten out of the house? There was a doggy door, but the backyard had been fenced. And she’d been pregnant. Her grandmother had just told Brandi about it on the phone. She couldn’t believe it. As far as Grandma was concerned, the breeder she’d gotten Lacey from had already fixed her, but apparently that was all lies and misinformation as well.
Sometimes Brandi hated people, particularly those who cheated others. It just wasn’t fair that such a great life was ahead for all of them. And now Brandi just sat here, alone, bereft and empty, wondering what had happened to her beautiful dog, hoping beyond hope that her grandmother had crossed over easily and was, even now, staring down at Brandi, telling her to buck up and to live her life.
Chapter 2
Brandi got up eventually and kept on hiking up and over the crest, the same crest that she hiked every day, whistling every few minutes, calling out for Lacey. There was never any answer, no sign of life, nothing rustling in the ashes of the burned skeleton sticks that used to be trees. Then she slowly made her way down the crest. Eventually the hill eased down to level ground again, making for a much easier descent. Only then did she come around to where her vehicle was. It was time to go home.
She was currently in an apartment—and furnished at that—because she’d lost everything in the fire too. There was insurance, but, because her grandmother had died, her case was that much more complicated. The house had been her grandmother’s, but Brandi was set to inherit it. Only now there was nothing to inherit. She shook her head. She’d lost so much in so many ways.
There was insurance, but she didn’t think acts of nature were covered; at least the insurance company said it wasn’t. Some kind of help was coming from the government, but she didn’t know that she would even be allowed to get it because the money technically would have been for her grandmother, as the legal property owner. Brandi tried to talk to lawyer about it, and nobody really knew. She’d called the State Department, and again nobody would talk to her. She figured they’d take it as an opportunity for her to not get any payout. Wouldn’t that be typical of the government?
Then, of course, a lot of people would say it wasn’t her house—it was her grandmother’s—so Brandi should just start fresh. And why should the taxpayers pay for anything like that? As far as she was concerned, the insurance company was responsible for paying out on the property, but, of course, they didn’t agree.
The same circle of torment had gone through her mind every single day that she had been here. And she knew she had to stop. She had to get to the point where she could just go home and forget about it. But she hadn’t come to that point; she hadn’t reached that day yet. She didn’t know if she ever would.
Back at her vehicle, she put her backpack on the passenger seat and pulled out the last bottle of water and took a big drink. She found the air here really dry, even though the fire had blown through weeks ago, and fresh air was coming in all the time. Still the air had a dryness and a smokiness to it that parched her throat and mucous membranes. She downed the bottle of water, popped the empty plastic into the same pouch, and walked around to the driver’s side.
Once in the vehicle, she turned on the engine, cast one last sad goodbye to the area, then turned the vehicle around and headed back home again. Wasn’t much of a home and, of course, that just accented all that she’d lost.
She’d lived with her grandmother since she had been ten, and the home was one of those beautiful redwood and glass residences that had been filled with happy memories. And Brandi felt like she’d lost those memories with the physical home at the same time. She knew her grandmother still lived in her heart and in her mind, and she had all those memories. However, so much had disappeared in that fire, and so little had been salvaged, that it was just beyond her comprehension.
She pulled into an underground parking lot, got out, grabbed her backpack, and headed upstairs to her second-floor apartment. She had a week-to-week lease, and she had already started month two, although she was rarely here. These past weeks she’d been working at the lab and afterward going to her old home, completely lost in time, repeating seemingly duplicate days over and over. Mentally she told herself to buck up, and only as she unlocked the door to her place did she remember how she was supposed to pick up groceries and, once again, had forgotten.
She had dropped an easy ten pounds since she’d come back to find out about the house and her grandmother. And, if Brandi didn’t start eating correctly, she would start losing strength too; something she couldn’t handle, not with her job and not with her after-work searches of the fire area. She was a lab technician, working on stem cell research. She loved her work, and that’s why she’d been in Europe, doing extra training for it and learning a new technique that they were cultivating over there. But she was stateside again and went to work from 8:00 a.m. till 4:00 p.m. most weekdays, some weekends, and, if she could, she extended it daily to 5:00 p.m. Regardless of when she left her work, the first thing she did afterward was head to her grandmother’s place.
Today had been an exception, being a Thursday. She’d taken a couple days off since she needed to go in on Saturday. Normally she went out to the fire area to spend longer hours searching for Lacey every weekend, but she had gone early this week. She looked at her empty fridge and grunted that she would have to order in again. She wondered about that too. A little fish and chips shop was around the corner that she could walk to. With that decision
made, she switched out her hiking boots for normal walking shoes, dropped her plaid overshirt, and grabbed a lightweight sweater and her purse, then headed out again.
She hated being home at the apartment, almost as much as she hated being at the space where her home used to be. Really the truth was, she was just a lost soul. She had to find a way to ground herself, yet again. And it wasn’t the first time in her life that she had felt this way. Only, this time, she didn’t have another family member to go live with. She got another text just then. She checked it out and frowned when she realized it was the same threatening text from before, and she quickly hit Delete. She probably shouldn’t be deleting the evidence of these, but they’d been coming in ever since the damn fire. So she still had plenty on her phone, if needed for the cops later.
Somebody seemed to think that her grandmother had given her something. True. Her grandmother had given her a lot, and all of it was intangible. She’d given her heart and home, love, acceptance, and peace. She sure as hell hadn’t given her some coins that this guy seemed to think she had. And, even if she had been here in time to save something out of the house from that damn fire, it wouldn’t have been coins because she didn’t know of any.
She pocketed her phone and headed for the fish and chips place. In the back of her mind she wondered if this threatening caller had had anything to do with that fire. But it was so far-fetched because it wasn’t just her house that had been taken out. At least forty, maybe fifty, houses had been burned to a crisp. And the fire had come from a long way away, so surely that wasn’t the case. But maybe, just maybe, it was something that she should keep in the back of her mind because this guy was pretty insistent that she knew something. And, even as she went to delete it, another text came in.
Tell us, or the same thing will happen to you that happened to your grandmother.
She froze on the sidewalk and stared at the ominous message. This was the first inkling she had had that her grandmother hadn’t died in that damn fire. But this was way-the-hell worse of an answer. Her grandmother had been light and sunshine; she’d been music and animals and furry kittens and puppy dogs. She’d been cookies and muffins and cut flowers on every table surface. She’d laughed and filled the house with music.
If she’d been murdered, dear God, the enormity of the horror was just too much to even contemplate. But now that the suggestion had been brought to the surface, Brandi had no way to know if it were true or not. And she was stumped as what to do next.
Exhausted after a day of walking, knowing he would pay for it overnight, Rowan headed back to his motel. As he walked in, he realized he hadn’t picked up any food for dinner. He tossed down his backpack and unlaced his heavy boots and stepped out of them. With only half a foot, he found his balance on the one side just crazy unstable. He was getting a new prosthetic for that side, and he hoped it would be ready soon, but, in the meantime, it was amazing just how difficult it was to walk. He’d spent the last six months relearning to walk.
And, of course, he had new knees on both legs too and pins in his back and was missing a good chunk of his glutes. Even had esophageal surgery. And that wasn’t all of it. Still, his physical injuries made getting up and down quite a problem on the one side. But he was a hell of a lot better than he had been, and he was mobile. He was also gaining strength all the time. He knew that hiking around the mountain would be quite a challenge, but he was up for it because it was the next stage in his therapy anyway, with the bonus being finding Hershey. But Rowan also needed food and lots of it. He walked over to the window and stared out at the strip mall outside across the street. This motel setting wasn’t his normal kind of place, but, as this was a freebie job, he didn’t want to spend too much money on his accommodations. He figured a burger joint or something was around here within walking distance.
He switched into his other shoes, readjusting the prosthetic so it gave him something to work with as he walked, then grabbed a lighter jacket and headed back out again. By now he was tired and hungry, and he could feel his blood sugar dropping. He needed protein, and he needed food, fast. As he headed out to the front, he could see a burger joint down the road on the opposite side. He quickly crossed over and made his way toward the restaurant.
As he stepped in, he found it noisy and filled with what appeared to be locals. That was always a good sign. An empty table was at the back. He quickly slid into place, and, when the waitress brought him a menu, he grinned to see pictures of big burgers and loads of fries. He checked the plates around him too and decided this might be his go-to place for the next week.
He quickly ordered the Granddad Special, a side of fries, and a beer. The beer arrived first, and the fries and the burger arrived within five minutes. He sighed happily when he saw the size of the burger; he wouldn’t starve tonight. He popped in several fries to help the beer stabilize. Ever since his pancreas had taken a hit, it was something he had to watch. Pancreatitis was not fun for anybody, and, if the pancreas shut down, he ended up as a type 2 diabetic right off the bat. So far, his pancreas appeared to be healing.
The burger itself was absolutely delicious. He munched his way quite happily, as his mind was preoccupied with what to do. He wanted to contact the local groups working to find the animals displaced by the fire, to see if anybody had heard about Hershey. He also wanted to contact anybody in the neighborhood who was still around, to see if they’d seen the dog. That meant a lot of footwork, and he was okay with that.
He didn’t have a deadline as to when he had to be done; he was just working his way to getting this accomplished. It was all good, except for the fact that Rowan had seen no sign of Hershey. Rowan’s mind drifted to the young woman whom he’d met on the hill. She was obviously still suffering a loss, and, where Rowan found her and from their conversation, he assumed she had lost either somebody or a pet in the fire.
“But then she wasn’t the only one,” he murmured.
His losses were different, and they came from a sudden event in his life—but not with an enduring amount of grief. And then again, maybe his physical event itself had been the enduring grief, but he had just come to the other side of it. He finished off his dinner, including all the fries and beer. When the waitress came around with his bill, he dropped enough cash to cover it, plus a tip, smiled, and said thanks. He walked back out of the restaurant and stood on the front step.
The waitress came up behind him then and said, “Taking my break right now,” she added with a laugh. “I’ll sneak a cigarette, even though I know I shouldn’t.”
He smiled at her. “You ever hear about any dogs coming around after that fire? Do you know of any animal shelters or whatnot that dealt with any recovered animals?”
“There was a shelter,” she said. “I can’t remember the name of the group though. Hang on,” she said, and she darted back inside the restaurant.
He stood here and waited outside, happy that she had not lit her cigarette yet. His lungs had been compromised in his accident, and it was amazing how sensitive he was to smoke. He figured that’s why the fire site itself had bothered him so much.
She came back out again and announced, “It’s called Helping Hands after Trauma.” He looked at her in surprise. “I think that’s what they called themselves,” she said.
“Thanks very much,” he said with a wave, and he headed back to his motel. With his phone out, he looked it up and found a number to call, if you caught sight of an animal. He dialed the number anyway, and, once he had crossed the road and headed to his motel, a woman answered. He explained what he was doing and what he was looking for.
“We don’t have any large dogs like that turned in,” she said. “All the animals that have been picked up have been returned to their owners, except for two small pugs, and they were adopted out again. I can put out a call to any of the rescuers to keep an eye out for him though.”
“That would be awesome if you could,” he said. “I know it seems like I’ve waited weeks to come, but I only found ou
t yesterday about Hershey’s possible existence after this fire.”
“Well, it’s amazing just how durable some of these animals are,” she said.
“Being part of the War Dogs division, Hershey slipped through the cracks. Otherwise somebody would have been here a lot earlier.”
“A dog like that has already been through hell and back,” she said, her tone turning disapproving.
“That’s true,” he said, “and a dog like that has also saved thousands of men’s lives. So, to me, his life is priceless. And he obviously was meant to be adopted out to a good family and to have a good retirement.”
“And that, at least, is a saving grace,” she said. “I’ll write down a note here for our office. Do you have any photos of Hershey?”
“I do,” he said. “I can send them to you when I get off the phone.”
“Do that,” she said. “Text them to me at this number, and I’ll put them up on the website, in case anybody has seen him.”
“Thanks very much.” When he hung up, he pulled up the pictures that he had on his phone and quickly sent them to her. By that time, he was back in his motel room. He walked inside, sat down, and caught Badger up on the day.
“It was a good first day then.”
Rowan responded, saying, “How can you even say that? There’s no sign of the dog at all.”
“You’ve got five days to do your best,” he said, “and that’s just the five days that we gave you. If you need or feel you should take longer, then do so.”