She wagged her tail. I got ready to go, gave her the promised bone, and left. I was almost at the vehicle when I hesitated.
I thought of Keen, happily chewing on her bone. Alone.
Vulnerable.
I returned to the door, pulled out my keys, and locked it.
6
My heart still hurt, but I felt much more human after the movie and a beer with Greg. Life had gained some perspective. Chloe—possibly nuts and off limits. Dillon—definitely nuts and best avoided. Liam—would be fine as long as he obeyed the new world order.
It all made perfect sense with my beer-induced insight. I noticed Keen’s bone had vanished and she fixed me with her “I’m ready for a walk” look. I stood at the door, leash in hand. Considering how my last two late-nighters had gone, was this a great idea? But Keen had been shut in the house for hours.
Just a short one, I promised myself. I teased and tickled her as we headed out onto the road. She loved every minute, mouth hanging open in a broad grin, dancing and spinning until I had to untangle both of us from the leash. I turned the opposite direction from last time, heading toward the dairy farm at the other end. A thin sliver of moon cast its feeble light, and the night had that crystal clarity that usually means frost by morning.
The dairy had several yard lights, evidence of the crazy hours the operators kept. I knew the farmer well, and he often called me if he had an emergency. I’d saved bovine lives by being mere minutes away.
All appeared quiet tonight. Our breath hung like fog in the air as Keen trotted along, unraveling the day’s mysteries with her marvellous nose. I could smell the pungent aroma of silage, a common and nutritious feed for the cattle. Pastures and fields of alfalfa for hay surrounded the large buildings that formed the beating heart of the farm. The cows must have been in the back areas, because I couldn’t see them from the road.
We walked until I contemplated a hot shower and a soft bed. I slowed and debated turning when Keen stopped moving and stared ahead at the empty pasture. She whined low in her throat. Nervous, my eyes scanned the darkness, and what I’d interpreted as a mound of dirt, moved. I clutched Keen’s leash tighter as the thing drew closer, getting larger, the yard lights catching the odd flash of limbs—not fluid like a coyote, but powerful, its back rising and falling in a now familiar rhythm. I backed away, pulling Keen. She looked from me to the oncoming form, but oddly, did not growl. When the light reflected in shades of red and brown off the coat, I realized this was the smaller animal, the one who’d saved me that first night. She—I somehow knew it to be female—watched Keen and me as she came to within fifty feet of the road.
To my shock, Keen’s tail wagged. What the hell? If she’d been off her lead, she might have trotted over to say hi. And gotten eaten for her trouble.
I blinked, trying to make out details in the dim light. The creature paused and tilted its head as it considered us. I pulled Keen in. She whined, but her silly tail continued to wag.
Then the animal rose on its hind legs. It didn’t sit up like a gopher or even pop up to wobble like a dog. It stood, back straight, forelimbs hanging down its sides—like a human. And any illusion of it being a wolf shattered completely and forever.
For a few seconds, it held position as we contemplated each other with all my neck hairs standing straight on end. The jaws opened in a sharp-toothed grin before it turned and took three long strides on two legs. At last, it dropped back to all four, vaulted the pasture fence, and was swallowed by the darkness.
My heart threatened to pound right out of my chest. I gathered Keen’s leash, pointed for home, and broke into a jog. Soon I pelted along the road, trailed by a confused but enthusiastic dog. When I slowed in front of Peter’s house, I sucked in huge mouthfuls of air and realized I’d held my breath almost the entire way. I didn’t stop until I stood in my kitchen, trembling, with a locked door between the outside world and me.
Was that for real? Or was I losing my frigging mind?
* * *
Dragging myself out of bed on Easter Sunday, I re-established my determination to face life from a normal, non-crazy perspective. The Chevy’s absence in the driveway was a positive sign, and I decided repairing the front fence would be a good start to my day.
I dug new boards out of the barn, loaded them with a hammer and nails into the wheelbarrow, and set off across the grass, Keen at my heels. A short time later, as a balm to my lonely soul, Peter appeared. Keen greeted him with enthusiasm as he carried a pair of lawn chairs to where I worked, offered me a beer, and sat.
“Dillon working?”
“Chloe and he are doing a movie and dinner. Thought it might help.”
I finished prying off an old rotten board, grabbed a beer from him, and planted myself in the second chair. Knowing neither Dillon nor Chloe were around relaxed me. I hoped that wherever they were, things would get resolved, one way or the other.
“You go out last night?” Peter asked.
I straightened in my seat, and the events I’d successfully suppressed came crashing back. He noted my expression and his eyebrows rose. “Anything wrong?”
He was talking about going out, like to the movie, you idiot. “I saw a movie too,” I said, but I must have sounded weird because he continued to stare at me. “Took Keen for a walk after. And . . . I saw one of those creatures again.”
Peter rubbed the beer bottle along his brow as though he
