The Mad and the MacAbre

* * *

Charlie burst into the hospital emergency room with Kutter in his arms. 'I need help!' he cried out. 'He's dying!'

Several people turned to stare at him, but Charlie didn't care. He rushed over to the receptionist's window and tapped on the glass. 'Please, you need to save him.'

The receptionist, a plump woman with too much eye makeup, slid open the window. 'Sir, you're at the wrong--'

'I don't know any twenty-four hour veterinarians,' said Charlie. 'Saving a dog is easier than saving a person, right? Please.'

'Sir, your arm--'

'I don't care about my arm. I care about my dog.'

A man in blue scrubs pushed through a pair of swinging doors and looked startled as he saw Charlie and Kutter. 'What's going on here?' he asked, walking over to them.

'Please save him,' Charlie begged. 'His name is Kutter and he loves Frisbee and this wasn't his fault.'

The man in the scrubs looked at Kutter, then at Charlie, and nodded. 'Give him here.'

* * *

Charlie sat in the waiting room with his arm bandaged up. It had required eight stitches, but he wouldn't bleed to death.

Two cops sat next to him, one on each side. Charlie had promised to go peacefully if they let him wait until he knew what had happened to Kutter.

* * *

'Not my usual patient,' the doctor said with a smile, as Kutter licked Charlie's palm. Kutter's entire torso was covered in bandages, as was what remained of his left ear, but his tail wagged happily. Charlie wished that there was more unbandaged fur available to pet, and settled for petting Kutter's legs.

'You're a good boy,' Charlie said. 'You're the best dog ever.' He wiped some tears from his eyes--much happier ones than before--and turned to the doctor. 'Thank you.'

'Not a problem. It'll be a good story for parties.'

'He'll be okay, right?'

'Yeah, he'll be fine. The vet should be here to pick him up any minute now. Don't worry about him.'

Charlie spent a few more minutes with his dog, until the police told him it was time to leave.

* * *

'I could ease into this, or I could just get straight to the point,' said the detective, leaning back in his chair in the interrogation room. 'As you'll soon discover, Charlie, I'm a get-to-the-point kind of guy. Where are the bodies?'

'I can't tell you yet.'

'The more you hold out on me, the worse things are going to be for you. I recommend that you come clean right now.'

'I'm really stupid sometimes,' said Charlie, 'but I know enough to know that things can't get worse for me. I want to bargain.'

'You have nothing to bargain with.'

'I can save you a lot of time. I'll tell you everything you want to know.'

The detective raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his cup of coffee. 'What do you want?'

'I have a dog. He's hurt, but he's going to be okay.'

'Yeah, I know about your dog.'

'Kutter.'

'Kutter, right.'

'I want you to make sure he gets taken care of. His original owner is a good guy, he'll take him back, but I want to make sure that Kutter gets everything he wants. I've got some savings. I don't want to pay for a lawyer--I want that money to go to Kutter. I want him to have steaks and bacon treats and a nice dog bed and I don't want him going back to being named Duke and I want him to come visit me sometimes.' Charlie wiped his eyes. 'That's all I want.'

The detective scratched his chin. 'Hmmmm.'

Charlie wondered what Alicia and his other co-workers were saying about him. They were probably totally freaked out. Liz was definitely freaking out. She'd had sex with a serial killer. He didn't think she'd ever come see him in prison, except maybe to yell at him, but he didn't care as long as they brought Kutter in every once in a while.

'I want it in writing,' said Charlie.

The detective took another sip of his coffee. He set the mug down and smiled. 'You've got yourself a deal, Charlie. If the original owner doesn't want him back, my daughter has been wanting a dog. He'll get a good home. I promise you.'

'Thank you.'

Charlie took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then told the detective everything he wanted to know.

REMAINS

On May 21st, 2008, seven graduate students in Religious Studies set out from the University of Colorado in Boulder in search of God. Armed with only their faith and the scriptures, they rented a small cluster of cabins on the western side of the Continental Divide, twenty-eight miles northwest of the nearest town of Pine Springs. Their website allowed their friends and family to track their progress via daily video blog updates, the last of which was made on July 11th.

None of them were ever heard from again.

On July 14th, a forest ranger was dispatched to check on the students at the urging of their concerned families. He found the cabins abandoned, though all of their belongings remained, as though they had simply walked away and never returned. Forty-eight hours later a formal inquest was instigated. Rangers and volunteers combed the surrounding National Forest beneath the thunder of the Search & Rescue helicopter, while policemen tore apart the cabins looking for clues. After ten days, only the families remained to wander the woods in futility. A week later, even they were gone.

On July 11th, 2009, a ten-foot cross was erected on the summit of Mount Isolation. The bronze placard affixed to its base listed seven names above the inscription: Seek and ye shall find.

All great truths begin as blasphemies.

—George Bernard Shaw

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.

—Charles Baudelaire, The Generous Gambler