A Fence
The Man On The Roof
Prolouge
I supose I could have missed him up there. Because the back yard was exposed due to a sharply sloping hill exposing it and me to countless spying neighbors, I chose to smoke in the shelter of the bushes in the front yard to hide my sloth. I was a hous paiter doing a recently sold house, frequently sampling the pills of the elderly purchaser who spent her days in distant Portland Oregon preparing her belongings for the move.
I had just finished sanding the moldings in the musty smelling basement and had decided to walk out front for a cigarrette when the man caught my eye. Well my ear, rather as he was whistling up beat tune. His house was identical to the one I was painting. It too faced a dramatic drop off and view of the town and bay below.
He seemed to be taking inventory. He and I counted maybe five large bottles of cheap wine. He then tested the sturdiness of a plastic lawn chair before disapeared into his house. I suposed he was hosting some sort of outside party for depressed people when he reemerged with a long ladder. He caught my interest, so I took a seat on the front stoop to watch, puffing on my generic cigarette. He placed the ladder against the side of the house, shook it to make sure it was firm, then took a bottle in his arms and climbed onto his roof. He decended and repeated this process untill all five large bottles were on the roof. He paused for a minute to rest, then hoisted the chair up to the roof as well. He tried the chair in a few places before settling on a cozzy spot facing the bay. He then placed the wine bottles around the chair in an almost druid like formation. Acting as if his task were done, he walked over to the ladder and was just about to kick it down when he seemed to remember somthing. He climbed down the ladder and disapeared for a few moments. Reapearing I saw he had a wine glass in his hands. He climbed his ladder again placed the glass next to the chair, then kicked the ladder down and returned to sit in his chair. He seemed to breath a deep sigh of relief as he filled his glass with wine.
I smiled, stepped on my cigarette and went back to work. It was a long monotonus day of sanding and I had a sence of growing guilt and aprehention at the possibility of being caught for stealing the medications in the bathroom, but more pills rendered those fears mute. By the time my boss came to relieve me and check my days work, my eyes were droopy and I was having sleepy drugged up sexul fantasies as I worked. Walking out into the late afternoon light, I noticed a storm clouds moving in from the Pacific. I had forgotten about the man on the roof, but his raising his glass to his face caught my eye. He was placid and content, iddly watching the town, the bay, the boats and the storm comming.
Chapter One
The Neighbors
By not taking the high way, Mike could extend his commute from Seaside, one ocean town, to Astoria, a slightly inland town where he and his long time girl friend lived. He worked for a firm instaling duck work and electric wiring into new subdivisions. It was good work, active and often outdoors. It paid well for Astoria (not so well for Seaside) and gave him helth insurance which he sorely needed for a childhood injury that caused his knee to periodicly swell with puss and cause him blinding pain.
By not taking the high way and stalling for a beer he could catch the sun set over Youngs Bay and watch the hill of Astoria aproach in beautiful silohette. There was a grage by the marina where he used stare at the engines of cars with high school buddies, but those buddies had moved away. There was no reason to stop, but Mike followed the garage with his eyes as he passed.
Now on the highway, the city rolled by. The Astoria Bridge loomed over head, he passed bars he’d known like ex-girl friends. Intermitant breaks in the buildings exposed the bay, which he was told was large but he’d seen no other. The passing ships used to remind him of traveling to distant destinations, but as they always seemed to be there, they also reminded him of the unatainable desire to leave. Friends he’d not seen in years reminded him of traveling to distant destinations these days. He thought he’d go shopping. Maybe get a beer. He passed his turn and headed for the supermarket on the other end of town.
He parked apart from the other cars to avoid getting hit by run-a-way carts or miopic old women in sedans. He stood for a moment apraising his car. It was a BMW, a nice sleek black car. He had bought it from his uncle some years back at had been the pride of his life for some time. But since it was over decade old, it had paint chips missing and subtle dents. He pushed the button on his keychaian to activate the alarm and walked towards the store. The sun had nerly set and black storm coulds loomed over the horizon. He mentaly asured himself he had rolled up his windows.
Just outside the automatic doors of the store a young girl was sitting, absent mindely talking as a giant old pit bull stood next to her watching every one come in and out of the store. The girl had dreadlocks and several layers of miss matched clothes on. He wondered if she were high.
Mike realy had no reason to be in the store, so he systematicly went down every isle with an empty basket in his hands, trying to find some inspiration. He stopped in the magazine isle and thumbed through a few foreign car magazines, but they seemed to remind him of whata he didn’t have, so he put them back. He took a four pack of toilet paper even though he didn’t know if he needed it.
In the next isle he came across a whole secion devoted to dog’s toys and treats. He imagined that big pit bull standing next to the girl. People probably gave her money and passed over him all the time. He decided to buy a bone for him, but this wasn’t a simple endevour. There were several kinds. Some touted different merits such as healthy teeth, shiney coat etc. He took several packages down and examined them. They all seemed comprable, yet exorbantly expensive. A large bone caught his eye aas it seemed the sort of bone a large dog would like, so he took that and put it in his cart.
In the beer isle, he found a can of imported lager and put it in his basket, but as he walked away, he spied a six pack of cheaper beer, so he put the can back then put the six pack in his basket. As he left the isle he saw a case of beer of sale, so he put the six pack back and carried the case away instead. He then waited patciently in line with the case and bone behind a woman who was negotiating with a loud child. The child was intent on not going home, but the mother insisted he’d already lost the fast food priveledge. The child’s tear strewn red face made a stop at McDonalds sound very apetizing, but Mike knew he’d stalled long enough and Beth would be waiting for her.
Walking out the automatic doors, it seemed as if a great deal of time had passed on acount of the dramatic darkening of the sky. Mike looked down and the girl was still there, now rocking back and forth. Mike took a step towards her and became aware of what sounded like a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. It was the dog growling. Thi stopped Mike’s approach.
“I, uhh... got you somthing,” He said holding out the bone, still in it’s wrappers. Suddenly he feared he had insulted her by implying the bone was for her. “What’s the dog’s name?”
The girl stopped rocking and looked up at him through a fallen dread lock on her face. Her eyes were very blue and her face was covered in freckles. She squinted up at him, then looked down withdrawn. The dog growled again and turned it’s face to look at Mike out of one eye. It’s huge eye ball seemed featureless, with out a pupil, just a black hole. Mike realized too there was no leash around it’s huge neck. It could lunge at him at any time. For some reason it came to his mind that the reason he didn’t go to bars anymore was that Beth had taken to talking shit about him when they got drunk together in public. The dog barked and Mike stepped back. With shaking haands he tore the plastic from the bone. Now unwrapped, he had no idea what to do with it. He didn’t want to approach the dog so he tried to hand it to the girl, but she listlessly looked up at it, then down again. Carefuly Mike put it on the ground, the lower he crouched, the louder the dog growled. When he finaly had it on the ground, he kicjed it towards the dog and quickly turned to escape, but walked into a shopping cart. This made him panic alittle and skamper towards the parking lot. Looking back he saw the dog eying him with the bone in his mouth. Mike felt mildly guilty, wishing he’d given her oney instead.
The stairwell leeding up to their apartment smelled like piss, as it always did. He trudged up te three flights with his heavy case of beer in tow. He walked down the hall way, smelling the exotic smells of his Mexican neighbors cooking which made him very hungry. He finaly got to his own door. Pausing to find his keys he heard the TV from within. He opened the door, the TV was quite loud.
He walked into the kitchen which was also empty, putting his beer in the fridge, taking one for himself. He looked around for Beth, but saw no sign. Beer in one hand, he dropped his fly and walked into the bathroom to pee. As soon as he had the light on, Beth said, “Well that’s quite a hello,” from the tub, causing Mike to jump.
“Hi,” Mike said. He noticed as he relived himself the TV was turned slughtly so she could see it from the dark warm lair of the tub.
“Get me one of those,” she half asked not taking her eye off the TV. Mike looked down at his beer. As he walked to the kitchen he drank his entire beer. He grabbed two and brought one to Beth who said nothing as she accepted it. Mike walked out into the living room and raised the blinds. The sky was almost completetly dark and the boats on the bay had their lights on. Across the way the neighbors hand’t come home yet.
As their appaartment was on the third floor it had a fine view of the city and other apartments facing it. In one apartment in particular a younger couple had recently moved in. Maybe that’s whe the trouble had started.
Mike turned and sat infront of the TV and tried to watch the program. It was a stylized crime drama and Mike quickly felt he hadn’t the patcience. He stood and poked around in the kitchen. He began to assemble the ingredients for grilled cheese and tomato soup. The white bread was stale and the last person to use the chese hadn’t wrpped it properly so it was hardened on the edges. The soup, however was unmolested. He opened the can an put it in a pot to warm on the stove. He fashioned the best sndwiches he could and put them in the oven to brown, then leaned against the counter and finished his beer. The kitchen had the same view as the living room. Gradualy the apartments in view turned their lights on as people came home, then off as they turnned on their Tvs and a blue glow filled the rooms. Often by comparing the blue flickers he could determine what chnel the people were watching.
“Mike? Mike?” Mike took another beer from the fridge and took it to Beth. “You knew,” she said, her voice dripping with sacharine affection.
Mike looked at his watch. It was only eight PM. The neighbors usualy came home at nine. As he didn’t have to work the next day, he could find no reason to sleep, or pretend. Returning to the kitchen to check on his food he ran his hands through his hair and worried if it was thining. He turned the heat on the soup way down and the oven to ‘warm,’ and leaned against the counter again. Shortly he heard the toilet flush and the TV’s volume decrease. He got another beer out in a hurried guilty way. Beth apeared in a towel at the door of the kitchen. She put a hand on either side of the doorway.
“How was your day?” She asked.
“Ok. You know. We did... the house.”
“Oh Yeah? The house?”
“I mean we wern’t doing houses, we were doing that strip mall.”
“But now your doing the house.”
“Yeah. How was work?”
“You know. I finished framing the pictures for the funeral. Got to imtimately know the life and times of Arnold Applegate. Aparently he served in Korea.”
“Oh yeah?”
“There was a picture of him in front of a plane,” Beth relinquished her post at the door and moved to the fridge and got another beer, then sat on the stool next to the door.
“How do you know it was Korea?” Mike said.
“The plane seemed to new for WWII.”
“It could have been Vietnam. Early Vietnam.”
“I supose. But I got a feeling. It was Korea.”
“What ever you say,” Mike took a drink.
“Your pretty obsessed with the specificity of which war it was I was framing a photograph from, but when you talk about your own job you never get more specific than, ‘it was a house.’ You work on houses for fucks sake. What are you making?”
“Food,” Mike said smiling.
“Fucker,” Beth said and went and sat on the bed and turned back up the TV.
Mike passed her as he went to pee again. She didn’t look up and she was still wearing just towel. The bathroom smelled like her poop. Otherwise it was a neat bathroom. Old fixtures and an old toilet gave it character.
Returning to the kitchen he noticed twenty minutes had passed. He looked in the oven and the grilled cheese sandwhiches were browned and hard like Melba toast. He took them out. He could see her shadow against the bare living room wall. As he cut the sandwhiches he noticed through the kitchen window the neighbors apartment’s lights turn on. He imeadiatly looked down. Pouring the soup into bowls he averted his eyes. He then took the portions out into the living room, noticed Beth’s beer was empty and went and got more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him taking off his studded leather jacket off and hanging it on the wall.
“Are they home?” Beth asked taking the beer.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mike said not looking up. He looked at the TV for moment then snuck a glance at Beth to see if she knew. She was watching the TV show cntentedly, still in her towel. Mike crunched down on his sandwhich which made a loud noise. He looked up at Beth to see if she noticed. He saw the noise caused her to pick up her sandwhich and bite into it. She stopped mid bite and put her hand under her mouth and spit it out. Mike looked down.
“Jesus. I thought you were in there too long.”
Mike didn’t say anything. He defiantly ate his own sandwhich, then inhailed a beer. Some time passed and Beth gave up on her sandwhich and took her plate into the kitchen. She came skampering out with a beer and said, “They’re home, they’re home!”
She then got the binoculars out and sat by the window. Mike continued to slurp his soup. Maybe tonight they’d take a night off, or maybe go out. There passed a long silence as Mike stared at the TV, but didn’t remember anything that occured.
“Uh oh. Uh oh. I think they’re gonna do it. Come here, look.” Mike ignored the order. “Oh shit. Oh shit,” she took a drink without putting down the binoculars, “Oh shit.”
The red haired detective on TV dramaticly took off his sunglasses and said, “Let me have a look.” Mike looked down at his beer. He wasn’t feeling drunk, just bloated.
“Come here, come here,” Beth said.
Mike reluctantly rose to his knees and crawled over to the window. Without the binoculars he couldn’t see much. All he could see was the guy sitting. Beth handed him the binoculars. It took him a moment to hind their window, then him, then yes... he was getting a blow job. “Jesus Beth, give them some privacy.”
“No!” she shouted grabbing back the binoculars. Mike sighed and crawled back to the TV.
“Want to go out?” he ventured.
“Maybe,” Beth said not looking at him.
“I’m getting sleepy,” Said Mike.
“I thought you wanted to go out.”
“Yeah. I thought it would wake me up. Maybe.”
Beth looked at him suspiciously.
“What?” Mike looked defensively. Beth looked back.
“Nice,” Beth said. Mike didn’t ask why. He stood to take a pee.
“Don’t you masterbate in there.”
“What?” Mike said closing the dor behind him. He peed, then looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was thining. What little heat he had going in his pants quickly disapeared. He looked at the tylonol PM bottle. It was empty. He drank more. Beth didn’t look up as he re-entered the room and sat infront of the TV.
“...at least that’s what he thought the spill was...” the red haired detective put his sun glasses back on as he said this.
“When they’re done do you wnt to go get drink at Tony’s?” Mike ventured.
“Come here. This is good.”
“I don’t want to.”
“No I’m serious. This is like the best yet.”
“No.”
“If you look at this I might go to Tony’s.”
“Jesus. Ok.” Mike took the binoculars and looked. They were 69 on the bed. She was on top. Her tiny young but was facing them. It lowered it’s self slightly onto his face repeatedly. “Jesus! Ok. This is wrong.”
“Why?” Beth cooed and took the binoculars from him.
“Leave them alone. How would you like it if sombody was watching us?”
“Watching us what? Watch TV? Yeah, I don’t know how I would feel because we never do it any more.”
“Jesus,” Mike drank. “Well, the foreplay sucks for God’s sake. You take a dump, hate my food and watch kids have sex. How is that suposed to spark my interest?”
“Fuck you,” Beth said and stormed into the bathroom.
It’s not the Mike found her repulsive, it’s just that he didn’t like having sex as a matter of duty. And picturing those kids made him feel like he was comparing his passion to them. For christ’s sake he was older than them. Beth just ought be happy, or explore his desire instead of ploping down infront of the TV and demanding sex. It was so incredibly imasculating. It always hadn’t been like this. There were times years before he had passion. There were times with Beth too. What the hell did she want? What? Looking down into their apartment he could tell they had a bigger place. Maybe if the guy spent less time fucking and more time working they could afford a bedroom to fuck in and not have to do it in their studio livingroom/bedroom.
Or what the hell was he doing? Stalling to get home. Maybe he ought be strung out with that girl outside the store. Fancy free, doing it in the bushes. Beth swooped in, dressed. “Come on.”
Mike shrugged and grabbed a coat and they left. Out on the street they could feel a slight drizzle. They both looked up at the neighbors window, but at the angle of being below it they could see nothing. Mike put his arm on Beth’s back as they walked towards the bar.
Chapter II
One For the Road
It had been a perfect job. Just him and the routine. Cars came and went along the highway, they needed gas. He liked it. He liked the overalls. He liked doing oilchanges. He liked knowing how to do things. He liked holding a wad of money in his pocket. He liked paychecks, he liked rain dripping over the awings covering the pumps. He liked corn dogs, he like cigarettes, he liked the smell of the laudry mat. He liked the exotic cars that somtimes stopped. HE liked marveling at Mr. Williams 52 Hudson Hornet when he came through.
It all worked together. HE had aplace, he had a car, he had some money. His friends would bitch about getting out of town, but he was ok. He was having the best sex of his life. The first regular sex. His fucking punk friends would come back from their first terms or what ever at college and they’d be all afraid of getting dirty and saying they couldn’t stand the smell of canaries. He fucking loved oil under his fingers and he couldn’t smell any canaries. Oh well.
So sitting there, listening to the country music squeak through the speakers on the awning above the gas pumps, his head wasn’t clear. His mind drifted, over and over. Racheal’s body, under his.
It was funy how the moods shifted over his eight hour shift. When he got to work, he was beaten. He was hollow. He was weak. He took shit from everybody. Then he got mad at about lunch. HE didn’t eat. The cars came through and he was rude. He wanted somone to say somthing about anything so he could haul off and kick some ass. Then about three o clock he was sorry. He was so sorry. He was doing a wheel rotation on a car up on the rack and he felt so fucking in love with Rachael. His thoughts were worded towards her. God he loved her. HE could picture her, working at the Fultano’s Pasta, dressed in black, so gorgeous and clean. So perfect.
God he hated her at five o clock when he was done.
“Nathan, sell me some beer,” Andy said to the cashier in the market joined to the gas station.
“No,” said the over weight Nathan while bagging the bottle of Mad Dog. “Not only are you a minor, you are an employee and selling you alcohol would jepordize our national sequrity.”
“Nate, I can’t tell if your fag or your really fucking funny.”
“I can,” Nathan said, putting a hand on Andys.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Andy said, slapping his hand away as Nathan giggled.
“Gimmie a pack of Marlboro’s too,” Andy said.
“I’ll need to see some ID,” Nathan stated.
“Here,” Andy said and flipped Nathan off. He then took his bag and walked out of the store. HE threw it in the back of his pick up and drove off.
The collum on the hill in the city wasn’t the best brightest drinking spot. It was the only thing that passed for a tourist atraction in the town. Most people opted for piers and beaches, but Andy wasn’t in the mood to drive very far. He could drive there asleep and was soon there. Some fat people were taking pictures. He put the truck in park and openned is bottle, keeping it in the paper bag. He stared at the tourists while he drank. The fat fucks probably wouldn’t even try to climb the damn collum, he thought.
He and Racheal had screwed in his truck all over the town. Including the parking lot he was in. They got together at the end of high school when everyone was planning their escapes from the town. She had talked about Seattle, but she wasn’t sure. He liked her, ‘Fuck you,’ attitude towards school. So as people obsessed over their futures, they’d drive around and get drunk at beach parties and fuck. It was good. It was a damn good summer. The first time they did it it was at a beach party. There were like ten pallets burning on the beach. Slowly the people left after they all got their cars and trucks unstuck from the sand. Soon it was just them. The tide had already hit it’s high point and it looked like the ocean was a mile away. The burn pile was just glowing embers and they had sex in the back of his pick up. It was so nice.
The summer went by fast because it was just them and his job. He got a little studio apartment and she got a job and they moved intogether. The partied got weird as all their friends said goodbye to go to college or the army or what ever. He looked forward to it. Just the two of them left. He remembered particualry going to the store one night after he got paid. They bought coats together. The same kind, just different sizes.
The fucking coat. Jesus. She came home wearing that coat. It was after a cast party or what ever. She had been in a play. It was a stupid local play about car title loans or something. She didn’t have a very big part but she always seemed to be gone. What ever, he had more time to himself to play video games and shit she hated. But there was this party. He went to the party and some smart ass made a comment and then ignored him. He couldn’t quite figure it out and he didn’t feel right so he left and said he’d be at home and she could come home when ever.
She came home just before the sun came up, took at shower and went to bed. She didn’t say anything for like three days until one day she wouldn’t have sex with him after work. He said, “What? Do I smell bad?” She said no and was silent. He had to ask like a million questions, then she told him and stared right at him.
He remembered that moment really well. Her staring at him defiant. She had ‘slept with another guy.’ He looked at her and he felt so confussed. Why? Who? What? After a few minutes she begged him to speak, but he didn’t. He didn’t for a long time. He felt tired for a week. He felt like sleeping all the time. Everything looked and seemed different.
One day he came home and she was there, crying. She asked if he still loved her, and he cried and said yes. They had sex but he thought about the other guy the whole time. He remembered when she came back from that party, she was wearing that coat. It was heavy canvas with a cordoroy collar. He wondered if the guy had opened it gently, or pasionatly tore it off her. He wondered if she came or what.
Andy slamed his fist on the steering wheel. He turned on the radio then turned it off after checking two stations. He drank some more, didn’t really feel drunk and started his car. He drove to McDonalds and had a Meal Deal. He felt not quite there the whole time. After that it was time to pick up Racheal at her work. He parked in back and lit a cigarrete and waited. The sun was going down and it looked like it was going to rain. He waited at the back door of the reasturant more frequently. He didn’t want to seem like he was following her, but he was more likely to dote since she cheated on him. His cigarette butts littered the street around him. It was a far less traveled street than the main street which doubled as the highway through town. There was a crappy old car lot on this street. The cars were all like seven years old. It seemed like they never changed either. Day after day the same mini van sat there. He took out the bottle from his breast pocket and finished it. He then put it on the ground. He wondered if bottles would accumulate there over time. He had a headache.
A woman passed, but what drew his attention was the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. It had wide bowed legs and walked like it was drunk. It was a pit bull, or at least it was one once. Now, he didn’t know. It had one tooth sticking up from it’s jaw. It had raw skin on parts of it. It looked as if it tried to look up at him as it passed which let Andy see his eyes were completely fogged up. “Jesus, man. Shoot me when I get that old.”
Just as he started to really have to pee, she emerged. She seemed tired. He reached out and hugged and kissed her. “You smell like alcohol,” she said, then smiled. “How was your day?”
“Shit. Same shit same toilet,” Andy said and guided her towards the truck with his hand on her back.
It was a short drive up the hill to their apartment. He parked out front on the street. He wasn’t allowed to smoke in the building so he lit one as Rachael walked ahead and checked the mail just inside the front door of the apartment complex. It was almost dusk and Andy thought he felt a drop of rain. He stood smoking and looking at his truck. He wasn’t sure what was missing. He finished his cigarette, flicked it into the street and walked into the building. He trudged up the steps and walked into their warm little room. He took off his coat and put in on a a hanger next to hers. She was cooking something at the stove which was also in the room. It smelled nice. He sat in his chair by the window as all the dark thoughts haunted him that had bothered him all day.
“It was a boring day. Nobody came in except regulars. Nobody. Dead. Silent,” Racheal said as she warmed a big can of chili. Andy loved chili and knew she wouldn’t touch it. Thinking of that made him hurt a little.
“Was it that bad?” Andy asked for some reason guilty.
“It ws pretty bad,” Racheal turned and look at Andy and saw that broken hurt in his eyes. He could see it hurt her. There was so much goddamn hurt in the room. Andy picked up an empty glass on the floor and turned it in his hands. Racheal turnned off the burner and walked over to him and lay her head in his lap. “It’s ok. I’m sorry. I love you.”
Andy squeazed the glass so hard he thought he might break it. But it didn’t break. Rachel looked up at him from his lap. She then unzipped his fly and took out his flacid penis which quickly became hard in her mouth. It seemed back to normal for a few moments as Andy closed his eyes and only felt the warmth of her mouth. She had her way of doing it so slowly and perfectly. Andy relaxed and slid down in his chair. Suddenly a pang of memory made his eyes open. He picked racheal up and took her to the bed and slowly took her clothes off. She did have a lovely hard body with small breasts. No one loved it more than him, he knew that. He winced and pushed thinking out of his mind. He took his own clothes off while staring at her hips, not making eye contact. He then manuvered her on top of himself.
It happened like that over and over. Andy would get close, then a thought would cross his mind, so he’d change the position. She was so patient. And she didn’t show any sign of relief when he finaly came.
Laying on the bed, Rachael cooking, Andy’s mind seemed more empty. A light drizzle touched the panes of glass outside. A wind was whirling off the bay and pushing the rain all over. He wondered if he had rolled up the windows in his truck.
Chapter III
Heavan
It was heavan. There on the road behind the market the smell of the dumpsters; meat, bread, beer, met the fish smell coming from the big buildings hanging over the bay. Miles wasn’t the type of dog to pant, but standing there next to Ericka, his hind quarters feeling weak, he liked to breath despite the pain. It was like breathing food. He couldn’t see much, but by smelling could ‘see’ where these buildings were in relation to him.
But feeling good was scary. It was better since Ericka’s brother went to jail and they walked to this town. It had been better than the house that smelled like all of their bile and him in the cage on the lawn for weeks at a time. Better than the food there was from a big purple bag. And it was bad.
Ericka stood up from peeing behind a bush and began to walk. Miles stood and trotted behind her. She rumbled a long line of nonsence words and rubbed her hands as she walked. It smelled like they were going back to the store, walking along the planks of the pier. He hoped they didn’t take the train tracks. He couldn’t keep up or see the slats of wood beneath him; and he often fell.
It was a long walk. Years before maybe it would have been a short walk, but now he was tired. If he was distracted even for a second by the smell of another dog, it would seem as if Ericka was a long way ahead of him. But he didn’t whine.
Erick had stopped somwhere. It was a cafe of some kind. When she opened the door, warm air touched his nose, and on the air there were a million smells. Perfumes, meats, fish, butter, bread and beer. Miles wasn’t sure if his tail was wagging as he waited. The door slowly shut behind her and Miles felt alone. Shortly it opened again and Miles could smell stronger the sweat of Ericka and a new smell. She walked down an alley where there was a strong smell of something like soup. She sat. Miles hears the rustling of a paper bag.
“Miles. Miles. Miles,” Ericka said this while putting bones and meat on the pavement in the alley. Miles had trouble standing, his franticly swinging tail ws throwing him off balance. he finaly lost footing on one foot and found himself half sitting, but he didn’t correct it until all the food was gone. Then he sniffed all around. He sniffed the edge where the building met the ground, he sniffed the alley around him, then he licked his teeth until all the food was gone. Finally he settled next to Ericka who ate what she had gotten. It smelled like beans and rice, things he wasn’t too fond of. He lowered himself painfuly to the ground and tried to listen and see into the fog for things or people trying to hurt them while she ate. He would see shapes pass the mouth of the alley and growl to ward them off. When he lay his head on his paws, his one good sharp canine would stick out and he liked that it was visiable.
“There he is,” a man’s voice said. It made Miles jump and growl. He wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from. He was worried he had fallen asleep again. HE was doing that more and more. Sometimes he’d awake and Ericka would not be around and he’d be terrified. “Miles,” Miles couldn’t help but stop growling. He smelled the thick odor of sour mash beer. It was the man from the building that smelled like soup. He once tried to reach for Ericka and Miles lept at him. He missed, but the man got the point.
The man put the bowl on the ground, and by smelling, Miles found it. He growled as he lapped up the thick liquid. He wanted him to know he wasn’t completely distracted.
“Do you want to take a shower? Have a warm meal?” The man had a strange nervous tone. He smelled like he was sick. “Shower? You are beautiful. Come to my house and shower.”
Miles looked at him through the fog. His arms were never at his side. They moved around his face and scratched him all over like he had fleas. He seemed to want Ericka to do something. Miles backed off the bowl and growled.
“It’s ok big guy. I’m going to help,” The man said. “I’ve been watching you two. Don’t you guys have somewhere to stay? Isn’t it wet?” He reached for Miles with an open palm which Miles lunged for. “Ok budy. I get it. Do you talk doll?”
Ericka stopped rocking back and forth and looked up at him, shook her head and continued to rock back and forth. Miles felt a yawn come from deep inside of himself. He fought it, but he unrolled his long tounge and whined.
“Yeah budy. That’s strong mash meal. I thought you’d like it. If you are still here when I get off work I’ll take you to get cleaned up, ok?” He looked to either side then disapeated back into his door.
Ericka finished her food and stood, sucking on each of her fingers. Miles struggled to his feet and sneezed. This almost made him fall down. He felt sort of tired and light. At first he felt almost younger, keeping pace with Ericka as she mumbled down the the street, stopping at each trash can to peek in. They passed a smoking man leaning against a wall. He smelled like sweet fruit, very bad. Sniffing at the ground next to him, Miles stumbled alittle, but Ericka charged on. The man said somthing, but Miles couldnt hear it. If he fell too far behind she seemed to loose form to the blur all around. He could still find her by smell, but it worried him when that happened. Anyway he ought not go far from her.
He started to feel very tired. Luckily Ericka was slowing to negotiate the traffic of the highway. Sitting down at a curb, he whined alittle on accident. Ericka looked down at him which made his tail wag. He sneezed again which made Ericka chuckle, somthing she rarely did. “Miles,” she said which made his tail wag. Just then she charged across the high way. Miles struggled to his feet and trotted as fast as he could behind her. The light was fadding, which ment he’d be able to see almost nothing soon. But they were headed to their camp under the concrete foundation of a long torn down building. There they had collected blankets and tarps. It was home and when they slept, Miles tried to keep awake enough to scare off the racoons, cats and men who somtimes came by in the night. Ericka slept so deep she needed him to be keen.
Soon they came to a large open space with a few parked cars. They walked to a building whose inside was brightly lit and Miles watched as Ericka sat by the door where people came in and out. Miles sat too, very very drowsey. Ericka resumed her rocking back and forth as Miles lay with his head on his paws. His eyes seemed so heavy. He could sence the people looking at them, but sleep seemed to hold on so tight to the edges of his eyes.
It must have not been more than a few seconds, but when Miles opened his eyes again a man was holding out an object to Ericka. Miles lept to his feet and growled and the man put the object on the ground. It was a raw hide bone and when the man left, Miles bit down on it. But it agravated his mouth and gums, so he dropped it. It was getting cold and dark quickly, so Miles stood, circled and lay next to Ericka.
Running now. Fast. Roads and danger. Ericka was gone, maybe she was just around the corner. There were dogs, stupid jumping dogs with their teeth showing. Barking back made them go away. He could see down the road, that maybe just around the bend was the trailor where Ericka and her brother stayed. His kennel was there too. If he ran through the trees he could go straight there. He smelled the forrest and the animals and the scat. But where was Ericka.
Movement startled Miles. He opened his eyes to see Ericka standing and walking with a man. Miles tried to jump to his feet. It was dark and a few drops of rain were falling. Another try and he was standing. He trotted after Ericka. She was with the man who gave him the thick liquid. Miles wasn’t sure what to do. He was already with Ericka. He growled from behind them, but Ericka didn’t look back.
“Is this where you live?” the man asked. He was carrying a plastic bag. Miles could smell warm chicken comming from it. They made their way through the large space with the cars, over the railroad tracks towards their home. Miles was tired and couldn’t see aanything once they were away from the lights of the big space. He followed largely by sent and memory.
Ericka and the ma made it to their home before he did. There was no light and Mile’s old eyes couldn’t see well, but he could smell the chicken being torn apart. “If you just come to my place you can have a bath, get on your feet again.” Miles whined. He didn’t like the feel of what was happening. He stood and peed on the wall near by.
A thud on the ground infront of him made him sniff. Part of the bird had been thrown to him. He sniffed for the exact location, found the steaming meat, then ate it.
“You know what budy? Nothing goes better with fried chicken than beer,” the man said. Miles heard a can open and a gurgling noise. Then he senced a cold liquid under his nose. Bubles jumping from it made him sneeze, but he was thirsty and the liquid seemed strangely sweet, so he drank it. As he finished it, a light cae from no where and Miles could see the man with a lighter infont of his face. He was sucking on somthing that made a strange burning plastic smell. Miles whined, not able to see Ericka. His legs got weak benieth him and his head slowly drooped onto his paws.
Heaven. That smell from the facdtories and the river. He could drink all he wanted from the water. He could run to the cafe, he could just run. Ericka was strong and running too. That smell of fish. Miles wanted to roll in it. The smell was everywhere. And it was warm.
Somthing kicked Miles. It took a moment to remember where he was. There was rain falling around, hitting the bushes branches and the tarp above. The smells had changed. He was kicked again. He sniffed and groped at the dark with his paws. It was Ericka’s bare foot. Her foot was never bare. She screamed. “Shhh,” the man said. Miles perked his ears and heard russtling. Ericka screamed again, muffled. Miles listened closely but was confused. The sound seemed to be comming from all over. He turned and sniffed wildly, trying to heard over the sound of air flowing through his nostrils. The smell was not good. Miles got a little frantic but knew barking would give himself away. Thinking he smelled somthing he lunged and flew head first into the concrete wall making up part of their shelter. Miles stopped and perked his ears. With the wall next to him he wasn’t confused by echo. Faintly he heard Eirkca’s muffled protest and an ugly sound. Miles felt his hind legs tremble with rage. He couldn’t see anything at all, but he’d have to keep calm. Like a racoon, he’d have to trick it, sneak up on it.
Miles opned his eyes as wide as he could. It didn’t help him see, but it helped him concentrait. He got low to the ground, despite the pain in his hips. He breathed slowly, fighting the instinct to growl with each breath. He made a slow aproach to the sounds and smells. He sniffed the ground as he went. His paws came across a foreign fabric laying where the blanket ought be. It smelled of the man. He filled his nostrils and continued to slink towards the noise. Being blind helped in a strange way, the angrier he got, the larger he felt. In recent times alot of Miles barking and growling had been out of fear. Now he felt every old part of his body aim it’s self, align it’s self towards it’s porpose.
Now miles felt the warmth on the ground from where he had been sleeping a monet before. The foot must be close. He sniffed into the blackness. The smells and noises were terrible, they made him want to kill like he’d never felt lik he wanted to before. Whiteness filled his vision, then pain. He had been kicked by Ericka’s foot. He was close. He couldn’t help but growl, but the man’s lewd barking covered Miles noise.
Mile’s nose found naken skin. The man’s. He opened his mouth and closed down with all his might. It brought with it great weight. Miles dragged the stiff shocked body back about five feet, then slowly, but increasing with time, shaking the apendage back and forth as he would a racoon to break it’s neck.
“Shit, shit shit,” Miles heard the man say over his own growling. Miles continues to drag the body back while shaking it as violently as his body could. Soon, though he wa sback against the concrete wall. By paying atention to the weight of the leg, Miles could tell which way the man’s body lay. Not wanting to lossen his grasp, Miles made quick pulls with his jaws, then repositioned his mouth closer and closer to the mans torso, making sure to shake his body every time he found a grip. The man was feebly trying to crawl away. It seemed too easy. The taste of blood finaly registered on Miles tounge, which strangely calmed him. It was a familiar taste. It tasted like somthing familiar, even though he couldn’t remember what. This made him pause. He heard Ericka sobbing and the an’s hard breathing. He also heard what sounded like glass being picked up. Shortly after, everything went white again. Pain filled Miles head, but he didn’t losen his grip at all. Again he was struck and everything went white again. Then e was hit several times quickly which didn’t allow the whiteness to go away.
It reminded Miles of night and day as the white slowly turned back to gray. “Stop it!” The man screamed. Miles remembered his plan and yanked back on the body and grabbed a place closer to the man’s torso. He jusdge he was some where on the man’s upper thigh. Miles didn’t have many teeth, but the few he had left were holding on. Another wave of white flashed through his head, but this time followed by sound. A crash and things fell across his body. Miles grabbed more flesh and shook it hard. Blood filled his mouth. He felt a shoe on his nose. The man must have ben trying to pry him off with his other foot. It hurt and he helt his nosebend, then snap which didn’t matter. Miles shook the man again and he screamed.
Now Miles heard Ericka mumbling somthing. She must have been rocking back and forth some where close. This made Miles shake the man with renewed vigor. “Please, please. Fuck no,” he said, trying to claw away. Miles jerked at him again and took another bite. He got more flesh this time, somwhere atop the leg and he heard and felt a very satisfying crunch and pop. The leg he was chewing on ceased to fight, but the other leg kept kicking, now at Miles’ torso, which didn’t bother him. Miles realized he was panting, which was somthing he seldom did. He wasn’t tired though, the blood pooling under his tounge kept him strong.
Another white flash lit up his head followed by a crash. Miles remembered the bottles littered about from the man who lived where they did last. The man he was fighting must have been hitting him with them. But there was a new sensation. A cold, shocking feeling in his side. It made Miles pause. He felt another cold feeling in his side. It was somthing like a bite and a punch. Then a pain filled his belly. He tried to shake the body again, but his rear legs wouldn’t comply. He could only shake the body with his neck. Another cold blow hit his face. From the sound the object made on the bones in his face and the blood trickling through his broken nose, Miles could tell he was being cut by a broken bottle. Miles knew he needed to increase the speed of his attack. He let go the leg and hoped to lunge for the neck of the man, but he over estimated his abilities and snapped at the blackness that surrounded him.
Miles knew he was broken. He panted but blood choked him. It was his own blood. He knew this because it didn’t have a taste. He heard the mad scuttle backwards in the darkness which made Miles grow imeadiatly quiet. He tried to creep forward, but his back feet wouldn’t comply. Now Miles felt tired. It was a good feeling. He couldn’t see so keeping his eyes open didn’t fight sleep. Blinking he felt his eyes were cut badly. His nose was filled with his own blood, which was warm. One of his ears seemed to be gone, the other registered mostly the sound of his own heart beat. His front canine ached from more action that it was used too, but all in all Miles knew that one thing, his tooth, was all he needed.
He became worried. All his sences seemed to be gone. He wasn’t sure where he was, where the man was or where Ericka was. he didn’t feel pain like had for so long. The blackness that had surrounded him was slowly turning light. He seemed to feel like he needed to do somthing, but he wasn’t sure what. A blow to his chin woke him up a little. He growled, then realized it was his head hitting the ground from falling down. The ground was sturdy and inviting. He pushed away from it with his paw, gained his feet for a moment but couldn’t seeme to stay standing on acount of only knowing where the groud was couldn’t keep him standing. He made a wild lundge, trying to find the man, but felt he ws draging his head on the ground. He wasn’t giving up by a long shot.
Breathing heaily, feeling his blood in his mouth, he knew he was alive. He closed his mouth and listened. It was quiet at fisrt through his one ear, then he heard his hert beating, then he heard Ericka mumbling. Then finaly he heard, ‘Shit shit shit and some rustling.”
Without thinking Miles propeled his body forward biting at the blackness. He caught fingers in his teeth just as his front paws senced he was standing on the man’s naked leg. Knowing the hands are conected to the torso, Miles continued his charge. His mangled nose hit somting hard firm and warm. He opened his jaws and closed them on what ever hold he could find. Again he senced a crunch, then an odd sensation of escaping air as his tooth dug itself deep into the man. It was like breath, only warmer. It filled Miles’ mouth. Violently swining the body and feeling the man’s hand pushing against his face, Miles determined the throat was close. The body was not retreating so Miles bit directly at where he thought it was, and found ear. One more bite found the neck and his tooth felt the warm beating of blood. Miles new he had to hold on for a few seconds for the fight to be over. His front paws colapsed. He felt his underside touching the Man’s warm naked front. The man’s hands ceased to push and claw at Miles’ mangled face, but the beating blood still flowed out from his neck.
Miles began to whimper. His body seemed to relive every blow at once. He had trouble breathing through his own blood and the man’s. He began to doubt himself. he stopped breathing to try to get some bearing on where he was. He heard his heart beat in his ear, but it had a strange echo. A pang like a tooth ache was throbing in his mouth. It was alive like a racoon. He shook it as best he could. He bit as hard as he could. His eyes tried to close, but there wasn’t anything buy gore to close over. The throbing stopped in his mouth, but Miles knew better than to let go. Some other dog could take away his food. He let his head fall where it could, still clamped onto its prey. He snorted aand hacked dislodging blood from his nose and carried on the rain was the smell of fish.
Chapter IV
It was a differnt bar, but the same time. They sat in bar stools apropriately spaced and sat in silence for a while. Finaly a bartender came. It was Five o clock, but that ment nothing in this town. Everyone was met with suspicion. Despite the mark time had made on them both, the bartender carded them. Perhaps this eventuality was the cause of their earlier discomfort, or perhaps that was caused by their mutual general discomfort. Nathan slided his ass slightly on his chair as if hemoroids were the cause of his discomfort. Once beer sat infront of them, the seemed relieved, as if they had just sucsesfuly fooled some one. Now came the rekoning; conversation.
“Yes,” Nathan said.
“Fucker,” Louis said.
A silence fell over the bar. It was a large space. Nathan looked left, then right, then left again.
to be cont.........
Prolouge
I supose I could have missed him up there. Because the back yard was exposed due to a sharply sloping hill exposing it and me to countless spying neighbors, I chose to smoke in the shelter of the bushes in the front yard to hide my sloth. I was a hous paiter doing a recently sold house, frequently sampling the pills of the elderly purchaser who spent her days in distant Portland Oregon preparing her belongings for the move.
I had just finished sanding the moldings in the musty smelling basement and had decided to walk out front for a cigarrette when the man caught my eye. Well my ear, rather as he was whistling up beat tune. His house was identical to the one I was painting. It too faced a dramatic drop off and view of the town and bay below.
He seemed to be taking inventory. He and I counted maybe five large bottles of cheap wine. He then tested the sturdiness of a plastic lawn chair before disapeared into his house. I suposed he was hosting some sort of outside party for depressed people when he reemerged with a long ladder. He caught my interest, so I took a seat on the front stoop to watch, puffing on my generic cigarette. He placed the ladder against the side of the house, shook it to make sure it was firm, then took a bottle in his arms and climbed onto his roof. He decended and repeated this process untill all five large bottles were on the roof. He paused for a minute to rest, then hoisted the chair up to the roof as well. He tried the chair in a few places before settling on a cozzy spot facing the bay. He then placed the wine bottles around the chair in an almost druid like formation. Acting as if his task were done, he walked over to the ladder and was just about to kick it down when he seemed to remember somthing. He climbed down the ladder and disapeared for a few moments. Reapearing I saw he had a wine glass in his hands. He climbed his ladder again placed the glass next to the chair, then kicked the ladder down and returned to sit in his chair. He seemed to breath a deep sigh of relief as he filled his glass with wine.
I smiled, stepped on my cigarette and went back to work. It was a long monotonus day of sanding and I had a sence of growing guilt and aprehention at the possibility of being caught for stealing the medications in the bathroom, but more pills rendered those fears mute. By the time my boss came to relieve me and check my days work, my eyes were droopy and I was having sleepy drugged up sexul fantasies as I worked. Walking out into the late afternoon light, I noticed a storm clouds moving in from the Pacific. I had forgotten about the man on the roof, but his raising his glass to his face caught my eye. He was placid and content, iddly watching the town, the bay, the boats and the storm comming.
Chapter One
The Neighbors
By not taking the high way, Mike could extend his commute from Seaside, one ocean town, to Astoria, a slightly inland town where he and his long time girl friend lived. He worked for a firm instaling duck work and electric wiring into new subdivisions. It was good work, active and often outdoors. It paid well for Astoria (not so well for Seaside) and gave him helth insurance which he sorely needed for a childhood injury that caused his knee to periodicly swell with puss and cause him blinding pain.
By not taking the high way and stalling for a beer he could catch the sun set over Youngs Bay and watch the hill of Astoria aproach in beautiful silohette. There was a grage by the marina where he used stare at the engines of cars with high school buddies, but those buddies had moved away. There was no reason to stop, but Mike followed the garage with his eyes as he passed.
Now on the highway, the city rolled by. The Astoria Bridge loomed over head, he passed bars he’d known like ex-girl friends. Intermitant breaks in the buildings exposed the bay, which he was told was large but he’d seen no other. The passing ships used to remind him of traveling to distant destinations, but as they always seemed to be there, they also reminded him of the unatainable desire to leave. Friends he’d not seen in years reminded him of traveling to distant destinations these days. He thought he’d go shopping. Maybe get a beer. He passed his turn and headed for the supermarket on the other end of town.
He parked apart from the other cars to avoid getting hit by run-a-way carts or miopic old women in sedans. He stood for a moment apraising his car. It was a BMW, a nice sleek black car. He had bought it from his uncle some years back at had been the pride of his life for some time. But since it was over decade old, it had paint chips missing and subtle dents. He pushed the button on his keychaian to activate the alarm and walked towards the store. The sun had nerly set and black storm coulds loomed over the horizon. He mentaly asured himself he had rolled up his windows.
Just outside the automatic doors of the store a young girl was sitting, absent mindely talking as a giant old pit bull stood next to her watching every one come in and out of the store. The girl had dreadlocks and several layers of miss matched clothes on. He wondered if she were high.
Mike realy had no reason to be in the store, so he systematicly went down every isle with an empty basket in his hands, trying to find some inspiration. He stopped in the magazine isle and thumbed through a few foreign car magazines, but they seemed to remind him of whata he didn’t have, so he put them back. He took a four pack of toilet paper even though he didn’t know if he needed it.
In the next isle he came across a whole secion devoted to dog’s toys and treats. He imagined that big pit bull standing next to the girl. People probably gave her money and passed over him all the time. He decided to buy a bone for him, but this wasn’t a simple endevour. There were several kinds. Some touted different merits such as healthy teeth, shiney coat etc. He took several packages down and examined them. They all seemed comprable, yet exorbantly expensive. A large bone caught his eye aas it seemed the sort of bone a large dog would like, so he took that and put it in his cart.
In the beer isle, he found a can of imported lager and put it in his basket, but as he walked away, he spied a six pack of cheaper beer, so he put the can back then put the six pack in his basket. As he left the isle he saw a case of beer of sale, so he put the six pack back and carried the case away instead. He then waited patciently in line with the case and bone behind a woman who was negotiating with a loud child. The child was intent on not going home, but the mother insisted he’d already lost the fast food priveledge. The child’s tear strewn red face made a stop at McDonalds sound very apetizing, but Mike knew he’d stalled long enough and Beth would be waiting for her.
Walking out the automatic doors, it seemed as if a great deal of time had passed on acount of the dramatic darkening of the sky. Mike looked down and the girl was still there, now rocking back and forth. Mike took a step towards her and became aware of what sounded like a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulling into the parking lot. It was the dog growling. Thi stopped Mike’s approach.
“I, uhh... got you somthing,” He said holding out the bone, still in it’s wrappers. Suddenly he feared he had insulted her by implying the bone was for her. “What’s the dog’s name?”
The girl stopped rocking and looked up at him through a fallen dread lock on her face. Her eyes were very blue and her face was covered in freckles. She squinted up at him, then looked down withdrawn. The dog growled again and turned it’s face to look at Mike out of one eye. It’s huge eye ball seemed featureless, with out a pupil, just a black hole. Mike realized too there was no leash around it’s huge neck. It could lunge at him at any time. For some reason it came to his mind that the reason he didn’t go to bars anymore was that Beth had taken to talking shit about him when they got drunk together in public. The dog barked and Mike stepped back. With shaking haands he tore the plastic from the bone. Now unwrapped, he had no idea what to do with it. He didn’t want to approach the dog so he tried to hand it to the girl, but she listlessly looked up at it, then down again. Carefuly Mike put it on the ground, the lower he crouched, the louder the dog growled. When he finaly had it on the ground, he kicjed it towards the dog and quickly turned to escape, but walked into a shopping cart. This made him panic alittle and skamper towards the parking lot. Looking back he saw the dog eying him with the bone in his mouth. Mike felt mildly guilty, wishing he’d given her oney instead.
The stairwell leeding up to their apartment smelled like piss, as it always did. He trudged up te three flights with his heavy case of beer in tow. He walked down the hall way, smelling the exotic smells of his Mexican neighbors cooking which made him very hungry. He finaly got to his own door. Pausing to find his keys he heard the TV from within. He opened the door, the TV was quite loud.
He walked into the kitchen which was also empty, putting his beer in the fridge, taking one for himself. He looked around for Beth, but saw no sign. Beer in one hand, he dropped his fly and walked into the bathroom to pee. As soon as he had the light on, Beth said, “Well that’s quite a hello,” from the tub, causing Mike to jump.
“Hi,” Mike said. He noticed as he relived himself the TV was turned slughtly so she could see it from the dark warm lair of the tub.
“Get me one of those,” she half asked not taking her eye off the TV. Mike looked down at his beer. As he walked to the kitchen he drank his entire beer. He grabbed two and brought one to Beth who said nothing as she accepted it. Mike walked out into the living room and raised the blinds. The sky was almost completetly dark and the boats on the bay had their lights on. Across the way the neighbors hand’t come home yet.
As their appaartment was on the third floor it had a fine view of the city and other apartments facing it. In one apartment in particular a younger couple had recently moved in. Maybe that’s whe the trouble had started.
Mike turned and sat infront of the TV and tried to watch the program. It was a stylized crime drama and Mike quickly felt he hadn’t the patcience. He stood and poked around in the kitchen. He began to assemble the ingredients for grilled cheese and tomato soup. The white bread was stale and the last person to use the chese hadn’t wrpped it properly so it was hardened on the edges. The soup, however was unmolested. He opened the can an put it in a pot to warm on the stove. He fashioned the best sndwiches he could and put them in the oven to brown, then leaned against the counter and finished his beer. The kitchen had the same view as the living room. Gradualy the apartments in view turned their lights on as people came home, then off as they turnned on their Tvs and a blue glow filled the rooms. Often by comparing the blue flickers he could determine what chnel the people were watching.
“Mike? Mike?” Mike took another beer from the fridge and took it to Beth. “You knew,” she said, her voice dripping with sacharine affection.
Mike looked at his watch. It was only eight PM. The neighbors usualy came home at nine. As he didn’t have to work the next day, he could find no reason to sleep, or pretend. Returning to the kitchen to check on his food he ran his hands through his hair and worried if it was thining. He turned the heat on the soup way down and the oven to ‘warm,’ and leaned against the counter again. Shortly he heard the toilet flush and the TV’s volume decrease. He got another beer out in a hurried guilty way. Beth apeared in a towel at the door of the kitchen. She put a hand on either side of the doorway.
“How was your day?” She asked.
“Ok. You know. We did... the house.”
“Oh Yeah? The house?”
“I mean we wern’t doing houses, we were doing that strip mall.”
“But now your doing the house.”
“Yeah. How was work?”
“You know. I finished framing the pictures for the funeral. Got to imtimately know the life and times of Arnold Applegate. Aparently he served in Korea.”
“Oh yeah?”
“There was a picture of him in front of a plane,” Beth relinquished her post at the door and moved to the fridge and got another beer, then sat on the stool next to the door.
“How do you know it was Korea?” Mike said.
“The plane seemed to new for WWII.”
“It could have been Vietnam. Early Vietnam.”
“I supose. But I got a feeling. It was Korea.”
“What ever you say,” Mike took a drink.
“Your pretty obsessed with the specificity of which war it was I was framing a photograph from, but when you talk about your own job you never get more specific than, ‘it was a house.’ You work on houses for fucks sake. What are you making?”
“Food,” Mike said smiling.
“Fucker,” Beth said and went and sat on the bed and turned back up the TV.
Mike passed her as he went to pee again. She didn’t look up and she was still wearing just towel. The bathroom smelled like her poop. Otherwise it was a neat bathroom. Old fixtures and an old toilet gave it character.
Returning to the kitchen he noticed twenty minutes had passed. He looked in the oven and the grilled cheese sandwhiches were browned and hard like Melba toast. He took them out. He could see her shadow against the bare living room wall. As he cut the sandwhiches he noticed through the kitchen window the neighbors apartment’s lights turn on. He imeadiatly looked down. Pouring the soup into bowls he averted his eyes. He then took the portions out into the living room, noticed Beth’s beer was empty and went and got more. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him taking off his studded leather jacket off and hanging it on the wall.
“Are they home?” Beth asked taking the beer.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mike said not looking up. He looked at the TV for moment then snuck a glance at Beth to see if she knew. She was watching the TV show cntentedly, still in her towel. Mike crunched down on his sandwhich which made a loud noise. He looked up at Beth to see if she noticed. He saw the noise caused her to pick up her sandwhich and bite into it. She stopped mid bite and put her hand under her mouth and spit it out. Mike looked down.
“Jesus. I thought you were in there too long.”
Mike didn’t say anything. He defiantly ate his own sandwhich, then inhailed a beer. Some time passed and Beth gave up on her sandwhich and took her plate into the kitchen. She came skampering out with a beer and said, “They’re home, they’re home!”
She then got the binoculars out and sat by the window. Mike continued to slurp his soup. Maybe tonight they’d take a night off, or maybe go out. There passed a long silence as Mike stared at the TV, but didn’t remember anything that occured.
“Uh oh. Uh oh. I think they’re gonna do it. Come here, look.” Mike ignored the order. “Oh shit. Oh shit,” she took a drink without putting down the binoculars, “Oh shit.”
The red haired detective on TV dramaticly took off his sunglasses and said, “Let me have a look.” Mike looked down at his beer. He wasn’t feeling drunk, just bloated.
“Come here, come here,” Beth said.
Mike reluctantly rose to his knees and crawled over to the window. Without the binoculars he couldn’t see much. All he could see was the guy sitting. Beth handed him the binoculars. It took him a moment to hind their window, then him, then yes... he was getting a blow job. “Jesus Beth, give them some privacy.”
“No!” she shouted grabbing back the binoculars. Mike sighed and crawled back to the TV.
“Want to go out?” he ventured.
“Maybe,” Beth said not looking at him.
“I’m getting sleepy,” Said Mike.
“I thought you wanted to go out.”
“Yeah. I thought it would wake me up. Maybe.”
Beth looked at him suspiciously.
“What?” Mike looked defensively. Beth looked back.
“Nice,” Beth said. Mike didn’t ask why. He stood to take a pee.
“Don’t you masterbate in there.”
“What?” Mike said closing the dor behind him. He peed, then looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was thining. What little heat he had going in his pants quickly disapeared. He looked at the tylonol PM bottle. It was empty. He drank more. Beth didn’t look up as he re-entered the room and sat infront of the TV.
“...at least that’s what he thought the spill was...” the red haired detective put his sun glasses back on as he said this.
“When they’re done do you wnt to go get drink at Tony’s?” Mike ventured.
“Come here. This is good.”
“I don’t want to.”
“No I’m serious. This is like the best yet.”
“No.”
“If you look at this I might go to Tony’s.”
“Jesus. Ok.” Mike took the binoculars and looked. They were 69 on the bed. She was on top. Her tiny young but was facing them. It lowered it’s self slightly onto his face repeatedly. “Jesus! Ok. This is wrong.”
“Why?” Beth cooed and took the binoculars from him.
“Leave them alone. How would you like it if sombody was watching us?”
“Watching us what? Watch TV? Yeah, I don’t know how I would feel because we never do it any more.”
“Jesus,” Mike drank. “Well, the foreplay sucks for God’s sake. You take a dump, hate my food and watch kids have sex. How is that suposed to spark my interest?”
“Fuck you,” Beth said and stormed into the bathroom.
It’s not the Mike found her repulsive, it’s just that he didn’t like having sex as a matter of duty. And picturing those kids made him feel like he was comparing his passion to them. For christ’s sake he was older than them. Beth just ought be happy, or explore his desire instead of ploping down infront of the TV and demanding sex. It was so incredibly imasculating. It always hadn’t been like this. There were times years before he had passion. There were times with Beth too. What the hell did she want? What? Looking down into their apartment he could tell they had a bigger place. Maybe if the guy spent less time fucking and more time working they could afford a bedroom to fuck in and not have to do it in their studio livingroom/bedroom.
Or what the hell was he doing? Stalling to get home. Maybe he ought be strung out with that girl outside the store. Fancy free, doing it in the bushes. Beth swooped in, dressed. “Come on.”
Mike shrugged and grabbed a coat and they left. Out on the street they could feel a slight drizzle. They both looked up at the neighbors window, but at the angle of being below it they could see nothing. Mike put his arm on Beth’s back as they walked towards the bar.
Chapter II
One For the Road
It had been a perfect job. Just him and the routine. Cars came and went along the highway, they needed gas. He liked it. He liked the overalls. He liked doing oilchanges. He liked knowing how to do things. He liked holding a wad of money in his pocket. He liked paychecks, he liked rain dripping over the awings covering the pumps. He liked corn dogs, he like cigarettes, he liked the smell of the laudry mat. He liked the exotic cars that somtimes stopped. HE liked marveling at Mr. Williams 52 Hudson Hornet when he came through.
It all worked together. HE had aplace, he had a car, he had some money. His friends would bitch about getting out of town, but he was ok. He was having the best sex of his life. The first regular sex. His fucking punk friends would come back from their first terms or what ever at college and they’d be all afraid of getting dirty and saying they couldn’t stand the smell of canaries. He fucking loved oil under his fingers and he couldn’t smell any canaries. Oh well.
So sitting there, listening to the country music squeak through the speakers on the awning above the gas pumps, his head wasn’t clear. His mind drifted, over and over. Racheal’s body, under his.
It was funy how the moods shifted over his eight hour shift. When he got to work, he was beaten. He was hollow. He was weak. He took shit from everybody. Then he got mad at about lunch. HE didn’t eat. The cars came through and he was rude. He wanted somone to say somthing about anything so he could haul off and kick some ass. Then about three o clock he was sorry. He was so sorry. He was doing a wheel rotation on a car up on the rack and he felt so fucking in love with Rachael. His thoughts were worded towards her. God he loved her. HE could picture her, working at the Fultano’s Pasta, dressed in black, so gorgeous and clean. So perfect.
God he hated her at five o clock when he was done.
“Nathan, sell me some beer,” Andy said to the cashier in the market joined to the gas station.
“No,” said the over weight Nathan while bagging the bottle of Mad Dog. “Not only are you a minor, you are an employee and selling you alcohol would jepordize our national sequrity.”
“Nate, I can’t tell if your fag or your really fucking funny.”
“I can,” Nathan said, putting a hand on Andys.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Andy said, slapping his hand away as Nathan giggled.
“Gimmie a pack of Marlboro’s too,” Andy said.
“I’ll need to see some ID,” Nathan stated.
“Here,” Andy said and flipped Nathan off. He then took his bag and walked out of the store. HE threw it in the back of his pick up and drove off.
The collum on the hill in the city wasn’t the best brightest drinking spot. It was the only thing that passed for a tourist atraction in the town. Most people opted for piers and beaches, but Andy wasn’t in the mood to drive very far. He could drive there asleep and was soon there. Some fat people were taking pictures. He put the truck in park and openned is bottle, keeping it in the paper bag. He stared at the tourists while he drank. The fat fucks probably wouldn’t even try to climb the damn collum, he thought.
He and Racheal had screwed in his truck all over the town. Including the parking lot he was in. They got together at the end of high school when everyone was planning their escapes from the town. She had talked about Seattle, but she wasn’t sure. He liked her, ‘Fuck you,’ attitude towards school. So as people obsessed over their futures, they’d drive around and get drunk at beach parties and fuck. It was good. It was a damn good summer. The first time they did it it was at a beach party. There were like ten pallets burning on the beach. Slowly the people left after they all got their cars and trucks unstuck from the sand. Soon it was just them. The tide had already hit it’s high point and it looked like the ocean was a mile away. The burn pile was just glowing embers and they had sex in the back of his pick up. It was so nice.
The summer went by fast because it was just them and his job. He got a little studio apartment and she got a job and they moved intogether. The partied got weird as all their friends said goodbye to go to college or the army or what ever. He looked forward to it. Just the two of them left. He remembered particualry going to the store one night after he got paid. They bought coats together. The same kind, just different sizes.
The fucking coat. Jesus. She came home wearing that coat. It was after a cast party or what ever. She had been in a play. It was a stupid local play about car title loans or something. She didn’t have a very big part but she always seemed to be gone. What ever, he had more time to himself to play video games and shit she hated. But there was this party. He went to the party and some smart ass made a comment and then ignored him. He couldn’t quite figure it out and he didn’t feel right so he left and said he’d be at home and she could come home when ever.
She came home just before the sun came up, took at shower and went to bed. She didn’t say anything for like three days until one day she wouldn’t have sex with him after work. He said, “What? Do I smell bad?” She said no and was silent. He had to ask like a million questions, then she told him and stared right at him.
He remembered that moment really well. Her staring at him defiant. She had ‘slept with another guy.’ He looked at her and he felt so confussed. Why? Who? What? After a few minutes she begged him to speak, but he didn’t. He didn’t for a long time. He felt tired for a week. He felt like sleeping all the time. Everything looked and seemed different.
One day he came home and she was there, crying. She asked if he still loved her, and he cried and said yes. They had sex but he thought about the other guy the whole time. He remembered when she came back from that party, she was wearing that coat. It was heavy canvas with a cordoroy collar. He wondered if the guy had opened it gently, or pasionatly tore it off her. He wondered if she came or what.
Andy slamed his fist on the steering wheel. He turned on the radio then turned it off after checking two stations. He drank some more, didn’t really feel drunk and started his car. He drove to McDonalds and had a Meal Deal. He felt not quite there the whole time. After that it was time to pick up Racheal at her work. He parked in back and lit a cigarrete and waited. The sun was going down and it looked like it was going to rain. He waited at the back door of the reasturant more frequently. He didn’t want to seem like he was following her, but he was more likely to dote since she cheated on him. His cigarette butts littered the street around him. It was a far less traveled street than the main street which doubled as the highway through town. There was a crappy old car lot on this street. The cars were all like seven years old. It seemed like they never changed either. Day after day the same mini van sat there. He took out the bottle from his breast pocket and finished it. He then put it on the ground. He wondered if bottles would accumulate there over time. He had a headache.
A woman passed, but what drew his attention was the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. It had wide bowed legs and walked like it was drunk. It was a pit bull, or at least it was one once. Now, he didn’t know. It had one tooth sticking up from it’s jaw. It had raw skin on parts of it. It looked as if it tried to look up at him as it passed which let Andy see his eyes were completely fogged up. “Jesus, man. Shoot me when I get that old.”
Just as he started to really have to pee, she emerged. She seemed tired. He reached out and hugged and kissed her. “You smell like alcohol,” she said, then smiled. “How was your day?”
“Shit. Same shit same toilet,” Andy said and guided her towards the truck with his hand on her back.
It was a short drive up the hill to their apartment. He parked out front on the street. He wasn’t allowed to smoke in the building so he lit one as Rachael walked ahead and checked the mail just inside the front door of the apartment complex. It was almost dusk and Andy thought he felt a drop of rain. He stood smoking and looking at his truck. He wasn’t sure what was missing. He finished his cigarette, flicked it into the street and walked into the building. He trudged up the steps and walked into their warm little room. He took off his coat and put in on a a hanger next to hers. She was cooking something at the stove which was also in the room. It smelled nice. He sat in his chair by the window as all the dark thoughts haunted him that had bothered him all day.
“It was a boring day. Nobody came in except regulars. Nobody. Dead. Silent,” Racheal said as she warmed a big can of chili. Andy loved chili and knew she wouldn’t touch it. Thinking of that made him hurt a little.
“Was it that bad?” Andy asked for some reason guilty.
“It ws pretty bad,” Racheal turned and look at Andy and saw that broken hurt in his eyes. He could see it hurt her. There was so much goddamn hurt in the room. Andy picked up an empty glass on the floor and turned it in his hands. Racheal turnned off the burner and walked over to him and lay her head in his lap. “It’s ok. I’m sorry. I love you.”
Andy squeazed the glass so hard he thought he might break it. But it didn’t break. Rachel looked up at him from his lap. She then unzipped his fly and took out his flacid penis which quickly became hard in her mouth. It seemed back to normal for a few moments as Andy closed his eyes and only felt the warmth of her mouth. She had her way of doing it so slowly and perfectly. Andy relaxed and slid down in his chair. Suddenly a pang of memory made his eyes open. He picked racheal up and took her to the bed and slowly took her clothes off. She did have a lovely hard body with small breasts. No one loved it more than him, he knew that. He winced and pushed thinking out of his mind. He took his own clothes off while staring at her hips, not making eye contact. He then manuvered her on top of himself.
It happened like that over and over. Andy would get close, then a thought would cross his mind, so he’d change the position. She was so patient. And she didn’t show any sign of relief when he finaly came.
Laying on the bed, Rachael cooking, Andy’s mind seemed more empty. A light drizzle touched the panes of glass outside. A wind was whirling off the bay and pushing the rain all over. He wondered if he had rolled up the windows in his truck.
Chapter III
Heavan
It was heavan. There on the road behind the market the smell of the dumpsters; meat, bread, beer, met the fish smell coming from the big buildings hanging over the bay. Miles wasn’t the type of dog to pant, but standing there next to Ericka, his hind quarters feeling weak, he liked to breath despite the pain. It was like breathing food. He couldn’t see much, but by smelling could ‘see’ where these buildings were in relation to him.
But feeling good was scary. It was better since Ericka’s brother went to jail and they walked to this town. It had been better than the house that smelled like all of their bile and him in the cage on the lawn for weeks at a time. Better than the food there was from a big purple bag. And it was bad.
Ericka stood up from peeing behind a bush and began to walk. Miles stood and trotted behind her. She rumbled a long line of nonsence words and rubbed her hands as she walked. It smelled like they were going back to the store, walking along the planks of the pier. He hoped they didn’t take the train tracks. He couldn’t keep up or see the slats of wood beneath him; and he often fell.
It was a long walk. Years before maybe it would have been a short walk, but now he was tired. If he was distracted even for a second by the smell of another dog, it would seem as if Ericka was a long way ahead of him. But he didn’t whine.
Erick had stopped somwhere. It was a cafe of some kind. When she opened the door, warm air touched his nose, and on the air there were a million smells. Perfumes, meats, fish, butter, bread and beer. Miles wasn’t sure if his tail was wagging as he waited. The door slowly shut behind her and Miles felt alone. Shortly it opened again and Miles could smell stronger the sweat of Ericka and a new smell. She walked down an alley where there was a strong smell of something like soup. She sat. Miles hears the rustling of a paper bag.
“Miles. Miles. Miles,” Ericka said this while putting bones and meat on the pavement in the alley. Miles had trouble standing, his franticly swinging tail ws throwing him off balance. he finaly lost footing on one foot and found himself half sitting, but he didn’t correct it until all the food was gone. Then he sniffed all around. He sniffed the edge where the building met the ground, he sniffed the alley around him, then he licked his teeth until all the food was gone. Finally he settled next to Ericka who ate what she had gotten. It smelled like beans and rice, things he wasn’t too fond of. He lowered himself painfuly to the ground and tried to listen and see into the fog for things or people trying to hurt them while she ate. He would see shapes pass the mouth of the alley and growl to ward them off. When he lay his head on his paws, his one good sharp canine would stick out and he liked that it was visiable.
“There he is,” a man’s voice said. It made Miles jump and growl. He wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from. He was worried he had fallen asleep again. HE was doing that more and more. Sometimes he’d awake and Ericka would not be around and he’d be terrified. “Miles,” Miles couldn’t help but stop growling. He smelled the thick odor of sour mash beer. It was the man from the building that smelled like soup. He once tried to reach for Ericka and Miles lept at him. He missed, but the man got the point.
The man put the bowl on the ground, and by smelling, Miles found it. He growled as he lapped up the thick liquid. He wanted him to know he wasn’t completely distracted.
“Do you want to take a shower? Have a warm meal?” The man had a strange nervous tone. He smelled like he was sick. “Shower? You are beautiful. Come to my house and shower.”
Miles looked at him through the fog. His arms were never at his side. They moved around his face and scratched him all over like he had fleas. He seemed to want Ericka to do something. Miles backed off the bowl and growled.
“It’s ok big guy. I’m going to help,” The man said. “I’ve been watching you two. Don’t you guys have somewhere to stay? Isn’t it wet?” He reached for Miles with an open palm which Miles lunged for. “Ok budy. I get it. Do you talk doll?”
Ericka stopped rocking back and forth and looked up at him, shook her head and continued to rock back and forth. Miles felt a yawn come from deep inside of himself. He fought it, but he unrolled his long tounge and whined.
“Yeah budy. That’s strong mash meal. I thought you’d like it. If you are still here when I get off work I’ll take you to get cleaned up, ok?” He looked to either side then disapeated back into his door.
Ericka finished her food and stood, sucking on each of her fingers. Miles struggled to his feet and sneezed. This almost made him fall down. He felt sort of tired and light. At first he felt almost younger, keeping pace with Ericka as she mumbled down the the street, stopping at each trash can to peek in. They passed a smoking man leaning against a wall. He smelled like sweet fruit, very bad. Sniffing at the ground next to him, Miles stumbled alittle, but Ericka charged on. The man said somthing, but Miles couldnt hear it. If he fell too far behind she seemed to loose form to the blur all around. He could still find her by smell, but it worried him when that happened. Anyway he ought not go far from her.
He started to feel very tired. Luckily Ericka was slowing to negotiate the traffic of the highway. Sitting down at a curb, he whined alittle on accident. Ericka looked down at him which made his tail wag. He sneezed again which made Ericka chuckle, somthing she rarely did. “Miles,” she said which made his tail wag. Just then she charged across the high way. Miles struggled to his feet and trotted as fast as he could behind her. The light was fadding, which ment he’d be able to see almost nothing soon. But they were headed to their camp under the concrete foundation of a long torn down building. There they had collected blankets and tarps. It was home and when they slept, Miles tried to keep awake enough to scare off the racoons, cats and men who somtimes came by in the night. Ericka slept so deep she needed him to be keen.
Soon they came to a large open space with a few parked cars. They walked to a building whose inside was brightly lit and Miles watched as Ericka sat by the door where people came in and out. Miles sat too, very very drowsey. Ericka resumed her rocking back and forth as Miles lay with his head on his paws. His eyes seemed so heavy. He could sence the people looking at them, but sleep seemed to hold on so tight to the edges of his eyes.
It must have not been more than a few seconds, but when Miles opened his eyes again a man was holding out an object to Ericka. Miles lept to his feet and growled and the man put the object on the ground. It was a raw hide bone and when the man left, Miles bit down on it. But it agravated his mouth and gums, so he dropped it. It was getting cold and dark quickly, so Miles stood, circled and lay next to Ericka.
Running now. Fast. Roads and danger. Ericka was gone, maybe she was just around the corner. There were dogs, stupid jumping dogs with their teeth showing. Barking back made them go away. He could see down the road, that maybe just around the bend was the trailor where Ericka and her brother stayed. His kennel was there too. If he ran through the trees he could go straight there. He smelled the forrest and the animals and the scat. But where was Ericka.
Movement startled Miles. He opened his eyes to see Ericka standing and walking with a man. Miles tried to jump to his feet. It was dark and a few drops of rain were falling. Another try and he was standing. He trotted after Ericka. She was with the man who gave him the thick liquid. Miles wasn’t sure what to do. He was already with Ericka. He growled from behind them, but Ericka didn’t look back.
“Is this where you live?” the man asked. He was carrying a plastic bag. Miles could smell warm chicken comming from it. They made their way through the large space with the cars, over the railroad tracks towards their home. Miles was tired and couldn’t see aanything once they were away from the lights of the big space. He followed largely by sent and memory.
Ericka and the ma made it to their home before he did. There was no light and Mile’s old eyes couldn’t see well, but he could smell the chicken being torn apart. “If you just come to my place you can have a bath, get on your feet again.” Miles whined. He didn’t like the feel of what was happening. He stood and peed on the wall near by.
A thud on the ground infront of him made him sniff. Part of the bird had been thrown to him. He sniffed for the exact location, found the steaming meat, then ate it.
“You know what budy? Nothing goes better with fried chicken than beer,” the man said. Miles heard a can open and a gurgling noise. Then he senced a cold liquid under his nose. Bubles jumping from it made him sneeze, but he was thirsty and the liquid seemed strangely sweet, so he drank it. As he finished it, a light cae from no where and Miles could see the man with a lighter infont of his face. He was sucking on somthing that made a strange burning plastic smell. Miles whined, not able to see Ericka. His legs got weak benieth him and his head slowly drooped onto his paws.
Heaven. That smell from the facdtories and the river. He could drink all he wanted from the water. He could run to the cafe, he could just run. Ericka was strong and running too. That smell of fish. Miles wanted to roll in it. The smell was everywhere. And it was warm.
Somthing kicked Miles. It took a moment to remember where he was. There was rain falling around, hitting the bushes branches and the tarp above. The smells had changed. He was kicked again. He sniffed and groped at the dark with his paws. It was Ericka’s bare foot. Her foot was never bare. She screamed. “Shhh,” the man said. Miles perked his ears and heard russtling. Ericka screamed again, muffled. Miles listened closely but was confused. The sound seemed to be comming from all over. He turned and sniffed wildly, trying to heard over the sound of air flowing through his nostrils. The smell was not good. Miles got a little frantic but knew barking would give himself away. Thinking he smelled somthing he lunged and flew head first into the concrete wall making up part of their shelter. Miles stopped and perked his ears. With the wall next to him he wasn’t confused by echo. Faintly he heard Eirkca’s muffled protest and an ugly sound. Miles felt his hind legs tremble with rage. He couldn’t see anything at all, but he’d have to keep calm. Like a racoon, he’d have to trick it, sneak up on it.
Miles opned his eyes as wide as he could. It didn’t help him see, but it helped him concentrait. He got low to the ground, despite the pain in his hips. He breathed slowly, fighting the instinct to growl with each breath. He made a slow aproach to the sounds and smells. He sniffed the ground as he went. His paws came across a foreign fabric laying where the blanket ought be. It smelled of the man. He filled his nostrils and continued to slink towards the noise. Being blind helped in a strange way, the angrier he got, the larger he felt. In recent times alot of Miles barking and growling had been out of fear. Now he felt every old part of his body aim it’s self, align it’s self towards it’s porpose.
Now miles felt the warmth on the ground from where he had been sleeping a monet before. The foot must be close. He sniffed into the blackness. The smells and noises were terrible, they made him want to kill like he’d never felt lik he wanted to before. Whiteness filled his vision, then pain. He had been kicked by Ericka’s foot. He was close. He couldn’t help but growl, but the man’s lewd barking covered Miles noise.
Mile’s nose found naken skin. The man’s. He opened his mouth and closed down with all his might. It brought with it great weight. Miles dragged the stiff shocked body back about five feet, then slowly, but increasing with time, shaking the apendage back and forth as he would a racoon to break it’s neck.
“Shit, shit shit,” Miles heard the man say over his own growling. Miles continues to drag the body back while shaking it as violently as his body could. Soon, though he wa sback against the concrete wall. By paying atention to the weight of the leg, Miles could tell which way the man’s body lay. Not wanting to lossen his grasp, Miles made quick pulls with his jaws, then repositioned his mouth closer and closer to the mans torso, making sure to shake his body every time he found a grip. The man was feebly trying to crawl away. It seemed too easy. The taste of blood finaly registered on Miles tounge, which strangely calmed him. It was a familiar taste. It tasted like somthing familiar, even though he couldn’t remember what. This made him pause. He heard Ericka sobbing and the an’s hard breathing. He also heard what sounded like glass being picked up. Shortly after, everything went white again. Pain filled Miles head, but he didn’t losen his grip at all. Again he was struck and everything went white again. Then e was hit several times quickly which didn’t allow the whiteness to go away.
It reminded Miles of night and day as the white slowly turned back to gray. “Stop it!” The man screamed. Miles remembered his plan and yanked back on the body and grabbed a place closer to the man’s torso. He jusdge he was some where on the man’s upper thigh. Miles didn’t have many teeth, but the few he had left were holding on. Another wave of white flashed through his head, but this time followed by sound. A crash and things fell across his body. Miles grabbed more flesh and shook it hard. Blood filled his mouth. He felt a shoe on his nose. The man must have ben trying to pry him off with his other foot. It hurt and he helt his nosebend, then snap which didn’t matter. Miles shook the man again and he screamed.
Now Miles heard Ericka mumbling somthing. She must have been rocking back and forth some where close. This made Miles shake the man with renewed vigor. “Please, please. Fuck no,” he said, trying to claw away. Miles jerked at him again and took another bite. He got more flesh this time, somwhere atop the leg and he heard and felt a very satisfying crunch and pop. The leg he was chewing on ceased to fight, but the other leg kept kicking, now at Miles’ torso, which didn’t bother him. Miles realized he was panting, which was somthing he seldom did. He wasn’t tired though, the blood pooling under his tounge kept him strong.
Another white flash lit up his head followed by a crash. Miles remembered the bottles littered about from the man who lived where they did last. The man he was fighting must have been hitting him with them. But there was a new sensation. A cold, shocking feeling in his side. It made Miles pause. He felt another cold feeling in his side. It was somthing like a bite and a punch. Then a pain filled his belly. He tried to shake the body again, but his rear legs wouldn’t comply. He could only shake the body with his neck. Another cold blow hit his face. From the sound the object made on the bones in his face and the blood trickling through his broken nose, Miles could tell he was being cut by a broken bottle. Miles knew he needed to increase the speed of his attack. He let go the leg and hoped to lunge for the neck of the man, but he over estimated his abilities and snapped at the blackness that surrounded him.
Miles knew he was broken. He panted but blood choked him. It was his own blood. He knew this because it didn’t have a taste. He heard the mad scuttle backwards in the darkness which made Miles grow imeadiatly quiet. He tried to creep forward, but his back feet wouldn’t comply. Now Miles felt tired. It was a good feeling. He couldn’t see so keeping his eyes open didn’t fight sleep. Blinking he felt his eyes were cut badly. His nose was filled with his own blood, which was warm. One of his ears seemed to be gone, the other registered mostly the sound of his own heart beat. His front canine ached from more action that it was used too, but all in all Miles knew that one thing, his tooth, was all he needed.
He became worried. All his sences seemed to be gone. He wasn’t sure where he was, where the man was or where Ericka was. he didn’t feel pain like had for so long. The blackness that had surrounded him was slowly turning light. He seemed to feel like he needed to do somthing, but he wasn’t sure what. A blow to his chin woke him up a little. He growled, then realized it was his head hitting the ground from falling down. The ground was sturdy and inviting. He pushed away from it with his paw, gained his feet for a moment but couldn’t seeme to stay standing on acount of only knowing where the groud was couldn’t keep him standing. He made a wild lundge, trying to find the man, but felt he ws draging his head on the ground. He wasn’t giving up by a long shot.
Breathing heaily, feeling his blood in his mouth, he knew he was alive. He closed his mouth and listened. It was quiet at fisrt through his one ear, then he heard his hert beating, then he heard Ericka mumbling. Then finaly he heard, ‘Shit shit shit and some rustling.”
Without thinking Miles propeled his body forward biting at the blackness. He caught fingers in his teeth just as his front paws senced he was standing on the man’s naked leg. Knowing the hands are conected to the torso, Miles continued his charge. His mangled nose hit somting hard firm and warm. He opened his jaws and closed them on what ever hold he could find. Again he senced a crunch, then an odd sensation of escaping air as his tooth dug itself deep into the man. It was like breath, only warmer. It filled Miles’ mouth. Violently swining the body and feeling the man’s hand pushing against his face, Miles determined the throat was close. The body was not retreating so Miles bit directly at where he thought it was, and found ear. One more bite found the neck and his tooth felt the warm beating of blood. Miles new he had to hold on for a few seconds for the fight to be over. His front paws colapsed. He felt his underside touching the Man’s warm naked front. The man’s hands ceased to push and claw at Miles’ mangled face, but the beating blood still flowed out from his neck.
Miles began to whimper. His body seemed to relive every blow at once. He had trouble breathing through his own blood and the man’s. He began to doubt himself. he stopped breathing to try to get some bearing on where he was. He heard his heart beat in his ear, but it had a strange echo. A pang like a tooth ache was throbing in his mouth. It was alive like a racoon. He shook it as best he could. He bit as hard as he could. His eyes tried to close, but there wasn’t anything buy gore to close over. The throbing stopped in his mouth, but Miles knew better than to let go. Some other dog could take away his food. He let his head fall where it could, still clamped onto its prey. He snorted aand hacked dislodging blood from his nose and carried on the rain was the smell of fish.
Chapter IV
It was a differnt bar, but the same time. They sat in bar stools apropriately spaced and sat in silence for a while. Finaly a bartender came. It was Five o clock, but that ment nothing in this town. Everyone was met with suspicion. Despite the mark time had made on them both, the bartender carded them. Perhaps this eventuality was the cause of their earlier discomfort, or perhaps that was caused by their mutual general discomfort. Nathan slided his ass slightly on his chair as if hemoroids were the cause of his discomfort. Once beer sat infront of them, the seemed relieved, as if they had just sucsesfuly fooled some one. Now came the rekoning; conversation.
“Yes,” Nathan said.
“Fucker,” Louis said.
A silence fell over the bar. It was a large space. Nathan looked left, then right, then left again.
to be cont.........
posted by Bloodnock at 12:24 PM
2 Comments:
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