Bones

“Bien,” I whispered, when we reached the muddy bank on the other side. “I think you’ve crossed streams this way before, Bingle.”

I removed his leash, then took a moment to examine the fallen tree, to look for something that I might later use as a lever to move it, but found nothing. I realized that this part of the stream was not far from the group camp. Thinking that I might scrounge some useful items from it again, I went back to it. I had to call to Bingle a couple of times to keep him from going back to the meadow.

Among the sodden ruins of the camp, I saw a length of rope that might come in handy, but not much else. I figured that it would take Parrish a little while to find where I had stayed last night, and to rummage through the tent — but I didn’t want to give him enough time to find Ben. I hurried back to the stream, and continued along the bank, until I was near where Parrish had stood when he called to me.

I moved a little way into the woods, found two small trees and stretched a length of the rope between them at about ankle height. I covered it with leaves. I hurriedly sharpened three sticks with my knife and planted them in the soft ground a few feet beyond the rope, sharp-end up, at roughly forty-five-degree angles, so that they formed a row pointing back toward the rope. These I also covered with leaves. A little farther away, within easy sight of the first trees, I tied another length of rope between two other trees, this time at a height of almost a foot off the ground.

I quickly worked out a route through the woods, occasionally piling stones up as markers.

“Okay, Bingle,” I said, snapping the leash back on. “Let’s put on a show.”

I moved back toward the stream, but stayed out of sight, in the trees. “Cantame, Bingle.” Sing to me.

He looked at me, looked back at the meadow, and whimpered.

I swallowed hard. “Cantame, Bingle.”

He lay down, and would not look at me. I tried holding his face, and still he kept his eyes averted.

“Okay, so that belongs to David,” I said. “I apologize. Will you speak for me? Hablame, Bingle. Por favor, hablame.”

He looked up at me.

“?Hablame!”

He was watching me, looking undecided.

“?Hablame!” I tried again.

He barked.

“?Muy bien! ?Hablame!”

He entered the spirit of things then. He barked and barked, and I praised him in Spanish, until finally I saw movement through the trees on the other bank. Loudly in English, I called, “Stop barking! Please, Bingle!” In Spanish, I continued to enthusiastically command just the opposite.

Not wanting to overdo it, I finally said, “?Calmate, callate!”

He fell silent. I quietly petted him and praised him in Spanish. We walked back toward the starting line of the obstacle course I had set for Parrish.

Bingle had become aware of Parrish’s presence some time before, probably catching his scent on the breeze that came our way every few minutes. At the same time, if it’s true that animals can smell fear, I was overloading the poor dog’s snoot.

Parrish reached his little bridge, and couldn’t resist taunting me. “I’ll find you, you know!”

What the hell? I thought. Do not go gentle into that good night.

“Hey, Nick!” I shouted. “Who’d you pimp for after your mother died?”

There was a gratifying silence before he shouted, “You’ll pay for that!”

“Taking up Mama’s slogan, Nicky?”

That put him into a hurry.

“?Apurate!” I said to Bingle, and we gave ourselves a head start. We made a lot of noise as we ran; Bingle kept up with me at an easy lope, enjoying the hell out of himself. I was having a harder time of it, slogging through the mud. Over our own noise, I soon heard Parrish crashing through the woods behind me.

I came to the first set of trees, veered around them, and positioned myself not far from the trees with the more visible rope. As soon as Parrish came into sight, I made a show of hurrying over that rope, Bingle leaping behind me. I heard Parrish shout, “Nice try!” just before he tripped on the other, hidden rope.

I heard him scream.

I kept running, calling Bingle to follow me. We ran for a long way, keeping to the trees, until finally I was sure Parrish was no longer following me.

I rested, feeling sick and shaky. I held on to Bingle. He gave no sign of scenting or hearing Parrish.

I waited as long as I could stand it. If one of those stakes had killed him, I wanted to get back to Ben.

At the very least, I knew I had wounded him. If he was only wounded, I wanted to know where he was. I had a job to finish.

I almost ran into him.

Bingle realized that he was near before I did, but not quite soon enough. He had kept downwind of us, and although Bingle had growled a moment before, I still gave a cry of surprise when Parrish stepped out from behind a tree.