Everything about this scene is horrifying. The human form slumped against the wall, legs spraddled out only in the way of the dead or unconscious. The stubby dog, barking and leaping against the restraint of a short leash bolted to the opposite wall. The stink. The moonlight spotlights the scene, spilling against the drug paraphernalia, putting it center stage in this sad drama. Adam looks to the body first, some old first-aid training causing him to put a finger against the pulse point in the boy’s neck. He can’t tell. He’s too cold and too nervous to decide if what he’s touching is living or dead. He grabs the limp hand, fumbles to find the place where the pulse should be. The boy, for he can’t be much older than Cody, is still as death, but his eyes are closed, which gives Adam a little hope that maybe he’s just unconscious. He is the cause of the stink; the vomit cakes his mouth, and his chest is covered in it.
“Call nine one one.”
“I did.”
“Good girl.” Adam’s knees creak as he gets to his feet. The dog has stopped barking, is making only a slight whimpering sound; he is entirely focused on them, his boxy head lowered, his ears back. His whole posture is stiff, and he is studying them with narrowed eyes.
A flicker of blue lights strobe into the small room. In a moment, a uniformed cop comes through the open door and into the room. The dog immediately growls, leaps against his chain. The police officer steps back, puts his hand on his weapon, sees that the dog is restrained, and bends to the boy, who’s still lying against the wall.
Chance leaves Adam’s side. Stalks toward the growling dog.
It’s a perfect setup for a massive dogfight, a restrained and territory-guarding dog, one that is frightened, certainly. Another dog, a stranger, coming into that territory. Adam gives the command to back off: “Chance, leave it.”
But Chance has other ideas and goes right up to the other dog; ears at neutral, tail making a slow sweep, he play bows. The other dog sniffs the offered cheek, makes his own show of submission. Sits. Does Chance look perhaps a little smug?
“Oh. All right. Good boy. Boys.”
Minutes later, medical help arrives, and Adam and Cody are shouldered out of the way. Adam really hopes that this kid isn’t dead. What a horrific thing for Cody to have discovered. No girl her age should be finding bodies. “Cody, why don’t you and Chance head back to the AC.”
She doesn’t answer; she’s fixed on the EMTs working with the boy. He’s not dead, and Adam pats Cody on the shoulder. “You probably saved this kid’s life, you know.”
“It was Chance. The dog, I mean, not luck. He heard the other dog barking and knew what was going on.”
“He’s a clever boy, yes.”
“What about the other dog? What’s going to happen to him?”
“I don’t know, Cody.” This isn’t actually true, because Adam does know what so often happens to dogs like these, not a breed, per se, but a type, pit bull. Vilified. This one is a true “red nose,” his nose and his coat color almost the same shade of reddish brown. And Adam suddenly recalls seeing this dog and this boy before, at the crosswalk. “I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise you that.”
“You folks want to wait outside?” The police officer shoos them away from the scene.
“Sure. Do you need us anymore, or can we go? I need to get this girl home.”
“I’ll need a statement, but if you’re in the area, you can just stop by the station tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Adam will spend the time calling his contacts in the pit bull rescue community. Now for the hard part. “With your permission, we’ll take that dog.”
“I don’t think so. He’ll be impounded, sir.”
“He’s not a useful witness. And hardly germane to the situation.”
At that moment, the EMTs hike the gurney to its wheels and roll the boy out of the house. The dog sets up a pitiful wailing, balancing himself against the short chain so that his forepaws paddle in the air.
The officer touches his weapon again.
“He’s upset. He’s not being aggressive.”
The officer looks at Chance, who has moved back to Adam’s side. “That one yours?”
“Yes.”
“You look too well dressed to be in a dogfight ring, but I have to ask.…”
Adam shakes his head, smiles. “No. Quite the opposite. I’m a rescuer.” He’s never defined himself that way before, and it feels kind of nice. “I work with rescues. For dogs like him.”
“I’ll put in a call to our ACO and he’ll pick the dog up.”
Cody is steps away from the frantic dog. “Mr. March, we can’t leave the dog here. What if the animal-control guy doesn’t show up till morning? It’s freezing out.”
Adam is face-to-face with the police officer. “I can’t stay and I don’t think you will. Let me take him for now and the ACO can pick him up from me. Or I’ll drop him off at the shelter.” Adam knows all too well what can happen to a dog in a shelter without an advocate, and he has no intention of making good on his promise. “Look, Officer, I’ll take responsibility for the dog.”
Adam can see the debate raging behind the officer’s eyes, his better nature at war with his sense of protocol. “Give me a minute.” He steps out of the building, presumably to call in to his commanding officer.
In the minute the officer is away, Adam steps slowly toward the dog, admonishing Cody to keep away. The dog may not look as fierce as he did when they came in, but he might snap out of panic at the touch of a stranger.
Chance is all excited, doing his happy dance, as if to say, Look what I found!
“Hey, fella. We’re your friends.” Adam takes a knee, puts out a hand. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” Repeats those words over and over until the dog sits, and, in a dumb show of capitulation, extends a paw. Adam reaches back for the leash, which is still in Cody’s hand. She gives it to him. He clips it to the dog’s choke-chain collar, unfastens the clip to the chain bolted in the wall, gets to his feet. As Adam expected he would, the dog plunges toward the open door. It takes all of his strength to hold the frantic creature back. The short, compact dog is extremely strong, and Adam feels a kinship with the old-time whalers on their Nantucket sleigh rides. He plants his heels against the tug and the dog complies. He wriggles into a submissive posture, throws himself against Adam’s legs, but all of his attention is pointed toward the ambulance.
* * *
I was so excited when Adam showed up in that house. Look what I found, I said over and over. Look what I found! Adam is a smart guy; he quickly surmised the situation and took charge. I like that about him: Whenever there’s a problem, he finds a solution. Whether it’s to scratch the itchy spot on my back at just the right time, or bring a sad and confused dog into our lives, he’s the guy you want.
Adam shares more words with the other man, the one who stands stiff with authority, and I can hear the tension winding up in his voice, so I do what I have been trained to do, what I love to do, and bop him in the side of his leg with my head: Hey, slow it down, bud. Adam’s hand finds my ears and I absorb the anger out of him into my body. I lick his fingers. His tone sweetens, and in the next moment, we and the dog are free to go.
I don’t mind sharing the backseat with my new friend. He’s a little skeptical about getting in, but I show him how. My shinbone is on the seat, and I will admit that my being a good host does not extend to giving away this special treat, so I quickly shove it onto the floor, out of his reach. He shrugs, as if he’d no interest in it, and neatly packages himself into a curl. He has put his trust in us. In our good intentions. He is immediately asleep. I curl up, too, in such a way that our backs, of an equal length, touch.
* * *
Mosley is standing in her way as Cody dashes into the building. His glasses are off and his eyes are at half-mast. She can smell the weed on him.
He doesn’t let her pass. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. March’s dog found a guy OD’d in one of those houses across the river.”
“Jesus. OD’d? Bad.” Mosley gives her a droopy smile. “So, where’s my phone?” Quick as anything, he has her forearm in his hand. “Go get it back from him.”
“I just have to pee, please.”
“And you didn’t help clean up.” He has this weird expression on his face, like he’s saying one thing and meaning another. “Bad girl. You’re not living up to our deal.”
“I gotta go. Really. Please.” Cody yanks her arm back, runs for the stairs.
In the rest room, she locks the stall door and sits, the relief in the rush of urine bringing tears to her eyes. She’d nearly wet her pants out there. She’d been anticipating that someone might challenge as she chased the dog into the house, some creepy denizen, but she’d never expected to find what she did. In the first second, she didn’t realize what the dark shape against the wall was, and then in a stomach-sickening lurch, it resolved into human form and she did.
At least, this time, it wasn’t someone she knew. This time, the collapsed doll of a human being might survive. Not like her father.
Cody lingers in the rest room long enough that she’s pretty sure Mosley will have wandered away. She hears Mr. March’s voice calling her; he’s probably wondering what the heck happened to her.
“I’m coming.”
Cody pulls herself together, washes her hands, then washes them again. She’s okay now. She zips up her coat and goes up the iron stairs at a trot.