Ghoul

his friend. 'Wwhat?' Still suspicious, Catcher barked. His muscles rippled as he flexed his haunches. Timmy stomped his foot at the dog.

Doug's eyes grew wide. 'Oh, Jesus…'

Suddenly, Catcher darted forward, open jaws pointed directly at Doug's crotch. Doug screamed.

Catcher moved quickly, but Timmy was quicker.

'Nowfire!'

They did. All three aimed their squirt guns directly at the charging Doberman' s eyes and unleashed a stream of vinegar and lemon juice. The effects were instantaneous. Catcher stopped in midcharge and spun around, trying to avoid the stinging barrage. Yelping, he darted away, weaving back and forth as if he were drunk.

'It worked,' Barry hollered. 'Holy shit, it worked!' Laughing with triumphant glee, the boys continued their assault, squeezing their triggers again and again, releasing all of the squirt guns' potent contents. Catcher' s tortured whining grew louder. Fleeing, he ran onto the grass and rolled onto his back. He squirmed, yelping and snapping at the air. Flipping over onto his belly, the dog pawed at his eyes.

Still firing, Timmy inched closer. Barry and Doug followed along with him. Their bravery grew with each step until they stood over the thrashing canine. Catcher looked up at them, unseeing.

All three boys continued laughing.

'Eat shit.' Doug leaned over and fired directly into the dog's left eye at point blank range.

Catcher let out one long, mournful howl, and then Barry kicked him.

'Take that, dickhead.'

Timmy and Doug's laughter dried up. They stared in shock and surprise. Barry kicked The dog again. The tip of his sneaker drove into Catcher's side, right between his ribs. Catcher snapped at his foot, but Barry easily sidestepped him and lashed out a third time.

Timmy's heart sank. Catcher, their personal demon, the dog that had terrorized them for all these years, that had made the simple act of going to each other' s homes a living hell, suddenly seemed pitiful. Timmy was horrified. He felt sorry for the dog, and ashamed at what they were doing. This had been his idea. The guilt was overwhelming. Barry kicked him again. Blood trickled out of Catcher's nose.

'Stop it, man,' Timmy cried. 'You'll kill him!'

'So?' Grimacing, Barry wiped the sweat from his eyes. 'We won't have to worry about him chasing us…'

Kick.

'… ever…'

KICK.

'… again.'

Catcher wailed. Not yelpedwailed. Timmy had never heard a dogor anything elsemake that noise before. The sound filled him with dread. Catcher' s nose and muzzle were covered with blood now. The dog 's bladder let go, flooding the ground with urine.

'Bite me now, fucker! Cocksucker. Son of a bitch.' Timmy had never heard so many curse words come out of his friend's mouth at once.

'Barry,' Doug pleaded. 'Stop. You'll get us in trouble.' Timmy grabbed his friend's arm, but he was no match for Barry's superior strength and size. Grunting, Barry pushed him to the ground.

'Get off me, Graco, unless you want some, too. This was your idea!'

'Not like this…'

Taking advantage of the distraction, the wounded dog jumped to his feet and fled across the fields, his tail tucked firmly between his legs. He was limping badly, and dog shit ran down his hindquarters.

Out of breath, the three boys stood there looking at each other. Each of them was exhausted. Timmy felt sick to his stomach. The strength seemed to drain from his limbs. What had just happened? And how had it happened? He 'd daydreamed about this plan a dozen times, but never with these results.

He shook his head at Barry. 'What got into you, man?'

'My father,' Barry panted, his hands on his knees. 'Oh Jesus, just like my old man …' Misunderstanding, Doug pointed back toward Timmy's house. 'Let's go. If we leave now, your dad will never find out.'

Barry stared at him and said nothing.

Timmy picked up the fallen squirt guns. 'He' s right. We need to get the hell out of here before Mr. Sawyer finds out what happened to his dog. If he sees us standing down here, we 're screwed. He'll tell our parents for sure.'

'Sorry I shoved you,' Barry apologized. His cheeks were wet with tears.

'Don't worry about it. Let's just go, okay?'

The three of them cut across the road into Bowman's Woods, far enough inside the treeline so that they couldn't be seen. They wound their way through the forest, pushing aside lowhanging limbs and slashing the clinging vines and poison ivy out of the way with long sticks. When they reached the creek, they stopped to rest and catch their breath. Doug kneaded his sore ankle and swatted at the swarming gnats. Timmy washed the squirt guns out in the cold water to get rid of the evidence, the lingering smell of vinegar. Barry was silent and morose.

'I don't know what happened,' he said after a few minutes. 'I just… snapped.' Timmy picked up a pebble and threw it into the creek. 'It's okay, man. We all kinda did. We could have blinded him.'

'Seriously?' Doug asked.

Timmy shrugged. 'Sure. He was certainly acting like we had. Guess I didn't think about that when I came up with this plan.'

He'd heard the expression, 'Things can change on a dime' before. His grandfather had said it all the time, but until today, Timmy had never really understood it.

'Well,' Doug said, 'we shouldn' t be too hard on ourselves. Remember all those times he chased us? Remember in school, when we were studying mythology? That dog that guards the afterlife? Cerebus? He was a monster, and so was Catcher.' A monster, Timmy thought. Was he really?

He tossed another stone into the water and watched the ripples spread. The concentric rings lapped against the creek bank.

Is Catcher the real monster, or are we?

Chapter Six

'Shit.' Barry stopped suddenly in the middle of the trail and threw his hands up in despair.

They'd been following a winding deer path through the middle of Bowman's Woods, taking the long way back home so nobody would see them. Timmy and Doug halted and turned. Barry was frantic, his expression one of sick fear.

'What's wrong?' Timmy asked.

'My watch…'

'You break it?'

'No. I think I lost it.'

Timmy felt a surge of panic. 'Back at Sawyer's place? Oh man, if they find it…'

'I know.' Barry finished his thought. 'Then we're screwed. My name's engraved on the bottom. Mom got it for me for my birthday last year. God damn it, I don' t believe this.'

'We've got to go back and get it,' Timmy said. 'We can't just leave it lying there.'

'Are you crazy?' Doug swatted a mosquito. 'We can't go back there. Mr. Sawyer probably already called the cops.'

'Well, I can't go home without it,' Barry said. He sounded terrified. 'My old man will have a cow if he finds out I lost that watch.'

'You took it off while we were working,' Doug told him.

'Are you sure?' Barry asked, sounding hopeful. Doug shrugged. 'Pretty sure. Kind of. Well, maybe…' Timmy thought for a moment. 'You know, now that he mentioned it, I don't remember seeing it on your wrist after that. Did you take it off in the graveyard?'

'I don't know. I can't remember. Sometimes I do, because my arms get sweaty and the band slips off. So, maybe.'

'Well, if you did take it off, where would you have left it?' Barry sounded very close to tears. 'On one of the