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We didn’t speak for the rest of the ride home. Ethan played the radio to keep himself awake. I was too agitated to sleep and wondered if I would get any rest when I got home. We were an hour’s drive away from home, but the ride went more quickly than usual due to the late hour, the lack of traffic, and Ethan’s heavy foot. I was relieved when we turned off the road and made our way up the long and bumpy dirt road that led to the house. Ethan parked the truck as close to the back porch as possible and scooted across the seat to get out on the passenger’s side instead of having to face the ghouls that may be lurking amongst the trees.
“That’s odd,” I said. “The porch light is off, but the lights are still on in the house.”
“We’ll find out when we get in the house.” Ethan pushed me to the porch and shoved me up the steps and in the door. As soon as his feet crossed the threshold, he sprinted into the kitchen and hollered back at me, “Shelly probbly left the lights on for us.”
“It would make more sense to leave the porch’s light on.”
“Well, she ain’t exactly the most sensible person around, is she?”
Ethan had a valid point. I stopped to whistle at the guinea pigs before I entered the kitchen and noticed that they weren’t whistling back. “Ethan, turn the porch light on.”
“Why?” he said as he flipped the light switch.
“Oh, shit! The pigs are gone!” I shouted as I inspected their cage to see how they got loose.
“What? Are yeh sure they ain’t in their house?” I looked in the little wooden house that he’d made for them and shook my head. “They should be out here somewhere. They can’t get past a closed door. They’re probbly hidin’ behind yer plants.” He stooped to look behind the large potted plants that lined the porch. “They ain’t here either.”
“Their cage is completely intact. There’s no way they could’ve gotten out,” I said, and Ethan came over to double check. “Look, the corner’s pushed out.” I pointed at the screen in the porch door. The entire bottom screen had been pushed out. Ethan frowned for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders.
“We better go check on everyone.” He strode through the kitchen. I turned to follow him when Shelly entered. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eyes were swollen and red. “Oh God, Shell, what happened?”
“Where’s Thor? He didn’t come to greet me.”
“He’s gone,” she squeaked and moved closer to Ethan.
“What do you mean ‘he’s gone,’ and where are the guinea pigs?”
“I knew you’d be angry.” She looked up at Ethan and started to cry. “It wasn’t his fault. Jimmy didn’t do anything. Thor just went crazy.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I said. My temper was growing by the second.
“Well, the kids wanted to play with the guinea pigs for a while, so I let them bring them inside to run around the floor. Out of nowhere, Thor attacked Jimmy. I had to chase him onto the porch and shut the kitchen door. He pushed the screen out and ran off.”
“Bullshit! Thor would never attack anyone without provocation.”
“I swear it’s the truth!” she sniveled.
“You’re lying. There are no claw marks on that door or on the kitchen door, and you would never have been able to chase Thor away from anything if he was angry. He doesn’t listen to you, and you’re too weak to move him.”
“Take it easy, Heather,” said Ethan. “Yeh know Thor doesn’t like Jimmy, maybe with you gone he–”
“Don’t finish that sentence! Where are the pigs? Did Thor attack them too?”
“After Thor ran off, I opened the door to call for him and the pigs got out.” She was now pressing herself against Ethan.
“That’s amazing,” I said. “Guinea pigs, animals known for their stupidity, have enough sense to run through the house and out the porch door to escape. If one pig had the sense to do that it would be amazing, but all four of them is nothing short of miraculous. You’re a liar, and I’m not wasting any more time with you. I’m going out to my truck to get my flashlight, and then I’m going to look for my dog. If anything’s happened to him, Shelly, I will skin you alive.”
“It’s just a dog, Heather! You can get another one!” Her tone became venomous, and her overly distraught demeanor vanished instantly. There was an unfamiliar coldness in her manner.
“Wrong thing to say,” muttered Ethan as he moved Shelly behind him and put his hands up to act as a barrier between Shelly and me. “Just calm down; it’s not ‘er fault.” He turned back to Shelly and told her to go to bed and allow him to handle me.
“I need my keys, Ethan.”
“Yeh can’t go out there. It’s not safe. Remember what Carly said about animals gettin’ possessed and stuff. Maybe that’s why Thor went berserk?”
“Thor didn’t go berserk! She, or her brat, did something to him, and I will not let some superstitious paranoia keep me from getting my dog back! Now, give me my keys!”
“Fine, here’re yer damn keys!” He slapped them into my hand. “I’ll get my flashlight outta my truck and help yeh look for ‘im.”
“We’ll look for the pigs in the morning,” I said. “We’ll never find them in the dark.”
“Okay, but don’t yeh get ahead of me. I don’t like goin’ in there.”
“Like you have to tell me,” I mumbled as I walked to the edge of the woods. I shouted for Thor and Ethan joined me. We could neither see nor hear any sign of him, so we moved farther into the woods against Ethan’s wishes. I told him to go home, and I would continue looking by myself, but he wouldn’t leave me. The evening was unusually still as we traveled deeper and deeper into the pitch blackness.
“It’s so quiet in here, I can hear my own heartbeat,” he whispered. “It reminds me of...of...” and his voice fell away. “Holy shit! What the hell was that? Did yeh see it? Please tell me yeh saw it?” He pointed in the direction of a brilliant flash of white. It resembled a bolt of lightning but appeared to move with purpose, as if it were alive. It was a column of white that stood maybe seven feet high and was about three feet wide. It was surrounded by a thick, glowing, grey-white mist that hovered about two feet or so off the ground. It seemed to appear from out of the ground and hovered for a few seconds before it moved off behind some thick trees. Oddly, the light it cast didn’t seem to be reflected off of the dewy foliage. It seemed to begin and end with the column.
“Yes, I saw it, and I’m still seeing it.”
“What is it?” His voice was trembling with fear.
“I don’t know, but there’s only one way to find out,” I said and started to move toward it. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.’ Ever hear that one? It’s a good one to remember.”
“I have a better one. ‘Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.’ Thor could be over there, Ethan, and I refuse to give in to cowardice.”
We walked side by side toward the apparition. Ethan had a death grip on the back of my shirt, and was quietly chanting a prayer to St. Michael. “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him we humbly pray; and so thou, O Prince of the Heavenly host, by the power of God, thrust into Hell Satan and all evil spirits, who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen.”
We walked slowly in the direction of the apparition. Ethan walked with his eyes fixed on the glowing mist that was swirling around the trees only a few yards away. I continually scanned the surrounding trees with my flashlight to see if I could spot Thor or, perhaps, some kids pulling some kind of prank. When we reached about fifteen feet from the mist, we were assaulted by an overwhelming stench. It seemed a sickly combination of cheap perfume and decay.
“What the hell is that stink?” said Ethan.
“It smells like something died.” I felt a lump rise in my throat, and tried to shoo away the dreadful thoughts that accompanied it.
“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Ethan. “Thor wouldn’t be dumb enough to get close to that thing.”
“I can’t, that smell could be coming from a human body.” I tied to move forward, and he tugged a little on my shirt. “I’m a doctor. I have to find out what that is. There could be injured people back here.”
“The only livin’ things back here are us.” He pulled a little harder on my shirt. “And if we don’t get outta here soon, we’re gonna be makin’ that smell.”
“Come on!” I said through my teeth, and continued to press forward. When we reached about five or six feet from the apparition, it began to rapidly dart back and forth between the trees. It moved so quickly that it was almost a blur. The mist that surrounded it, however, looked to be moving toward us as if to form a buffer between ourselves and the column of light. It looked like a glowing pocket of shifting fog, but when I stared at it closely, it seemed more like a swarm of individual glowing balls writhing together. As it moved closer to us, a terrible pounding sound began to reverberate around us. It was impossible to tell from which direction it was coming. It was so loud that it made the ground vibrate. It was as if a giant was stomping its way toward us, but it didn’t sound like earth being pounded. It was more like an echoing metallic sound, like someone beating a brick wall with a heavy pipe, only the sharpness of the sound was muffled. Just when I realized that Ethan had let go of my shirt, I felt myself being picked up and carried away. He’d thrown me over his shoulder and was bolting back to the house. I shouted at him all the way back to put me down. When he reached the back porch, he dumped me onto the ground, and stood stooped over holding his knees and gasping for air.
“God damn! I need to start workin’ out again.”
“What the hell did you do that for?” I said as I rose to my feet. “And you tore my shirt, by the way.”
“A simple ‘thanks’ would be nice.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me onto the porch.
“We could’ve found out what that was,” I argued as I followed him into the kitchen and watched him open and close cabinets, and root through the refrigerator until he found something to snack on. He tossed me a small container of orange juice, chugged his down, and then opened a second and sat down at the table with it.
“We already know what it is...or at least I do,” he answered sharply.
I sat down across from him. “Demons again, right?”
“After what we just saw, yeh still don’t believe?”
“I believe we saw something, I just don’t know what it was. Maybe it was some kind of magnetic energy. I did feel my skin tingle and the hairs on my neck stood up.”
“That’s called fear, Heather! Somethin’ was tryin’ to tell yeh to get yer ass outta there!”
“I liked it better when I was bigger than you. Did you feel nauseous too?”
“Yeah, who wouldn’t with a smell like that?”
“Oh God, Ethan, my Thor is out there with that thing.” A lump rose again in my throat, and my eyes were rimmed with tears. “And my Nicky, I haven’t been able to find him.”
“Don’t be silly, Heather. Nicky’s fine, a turtle’s no use to a demon.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand in a manner that suggested the impracticality of a demonically possessed box turtle should be obvious. “We’ll go lookin’ for Thor tomorrow, after we round up the guinea pigs.”
After spending what was left of the night staring at the empty bed that lay on the floor next to my own bed, I decided to dress and go downstairs to look around for the guinea pigs. I met Ethan in the hallway.
“You’re up early. It’s only five o’clock.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I just need to get dressed, and I’ll be down.” I went down to the kitchen and, after stopping myself from pouring a bowl of water for Thor, poured myself a bowl of cereal instead. Ethan came in a few minutes later. His arms were loaded with a pile of my father’s old rifles, and he had one slung over either shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
“I ain’t goin’ back in there without a weapon.” He carefully laid the guns on the table and removed the two from his shoulders. “I don’t remember these, they look old. Are they any good?”
“Those are Dad’s Enfield’s. They’re the ones we weren’t allowed to touch when we were little.”
“Okay, I’ll put those back then,” he mumbled as he gently laid them on the table. “Oh, I remember these! They’re the old .22’s we learned with. They’re in great shape.” He picked one of them up and inspected it. “I’ll set these aside for the kids. Yer still takin’‘em out?”
“Yes, but I’d like to look for Thor first.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll probbly come back on ‘is own and then we won’t even need these.” Ethan reached for another rifle. “Ahh, I remember the Winchester.” He lifted up the lever-action .44 with a walnut stock and inspected it fondly. I, like my father, tended to prefer bolt-action rifles, but Ethan liked lever or pump-action rifles. There were six or eight lever and pump-action guns in my father’s collection. Out of all of the rifles my father owned, the .44 Winchester and the pump-action Remington 30/06 were Ethan’s favorites. The two remaining rifles that he brought down were a bolt-action .338 Winchester, and a bolt-action .270 Ruger. “Yer so lucky yer dad did this stuff with yeh. If my mom and dad had ever found out that I was sneakin’ over to yer house, they would’ve killed me. Especially if they knew about the guns; they hate guns.”
“Mom didn’t like them either, but she never stopped me from learning how to shoot as long as we didn’t go hunting–which we never did. Dad didn’t like to hunt, and you know how I feel about it.”
“Yeh probbly want the .270, right?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go walking around with guns, someone could get hurt.”
“I’m not goin’ out there again unless I’m armed. Alright, I’m leavin’ the .270 for yeh and the .44 for me. I’ll put the rest back.” He picked up the remaining guns except for the .22’s and headed back upstairs. “Oh, by the way, do we have any ammo?” he shouted from the hallway. I got up from the table and walked to the doorway to shout a reply. “Only for the .22’s!” The sound of his stomping footsteps was his only reply, so I picked up my empty bowl and walked over to the sink to wash it. A few moments later, Ethan returned carrying four boxes of rounds for the .22’s.
“How did you find the keys to the cabinet so easily? I didn’t think I was quite that predictable.”
“The one gun cabinet was open. Yeh must’ve forgotten to lock it.”
It was a long-standing habit of mine to keep all of my father’s military collectibles under lock and key. I even kept all of the cabinets and most of the footlockers covered with canvas cloth. I was especially cautious now that there were two children in the house. Before Shelly and Jimmy arrived, I had shown Emmy many of the interesting gadgets that my father had collected over the years. She was as fascinated with them as her own father had been when he was a child. I thought I’d locked everything up when we were finished, and I was angry with myself for being so remiss.
“I still don’t see the necessity of traipsing through the woods with rifles.”
“We were caught off-guard last night. It’s not gonna happen again.”
“What are we going to do with them, Ethan, shoot holes in the mist?”
“That ain’t what they’re for,” he said testily. “I want to have some backup in case we run into some maniac out there. We’re gonna need some other stuff for that mist, or fog, or whatever that shit was.”
“Let’s find the guinea pigs before we do anything else, okay?” He stopped to put the boxes of rounds on top of the refrigerator and followed me outside.
“They usually run straight for the nearest shelter,” I said as I stooped to peek through the small holes around the bottom of the porch.
“I see one!” he shouted, and I walked around to the other side of the porch to see him lying on his stomach and peering through a fair-sized hole in a very rotted plank. “I think the rest might be in there too, they tend to stick together. I’ll pull this plank away and yeh can scoot under and try to catch ‘em.”
“I don’t know how well I’ll fit under there.”
“Yeh’ll fit a lot better than I will.”
Ethan pulled a three-foot-long section of wood away so I could crawl under the porch. “I see them. They’re all under here, but they’re at the other end. It’s not easy to move around in here.”
“Crawl over to the other side, and I’ll bang on the wood and help yeh chase ‘em to the openin’.”
“Okay,” I replied and he grabbed my ankles to shove me further under the porch. He moved me so fast that I didn’t have time to turn and smashed my head on a large rock. “Ouch! Lighten up; you just shoved me into a rock!”
“Sorry!” he shouted back as he peeked under at me and laughed. He banged on the outside and pushed sticks through the holes to move the guinea pigs, but I couldn’t maneuver well enough to keep them all together. I didn’t have enough room to get up on my knees. Every time I tried to get some leverage, I hit my head on the floor of the porch.
“They keep getting past me! I can’t turn fast enough!”
“Alright, come on out!” he shouted and I backed out of the tight space, covered in dirt. “I’ll send the kids under.” Both Jimmy and Emmy were awake, fully dressed, and itching to get under the porch after their escaped critters.
“You guys are up a little early,” I said as I stood up, slapping the dirt from my clothes.
“Yeah, we couldn’t sleep,” answered Emmy. “We were wonderin’ if yeh found Thor?”
“Not yet,” I said. “What about these pigs, do you guys think you can catch them?”
“Yeah, we can get ‘em,” said Emmy with an enthusiastic nod from Jimmy to back her up.
“Okay, they’re in the far corner, over there,” said Ethan as he pointed in the direction of the pigs. “Emmy, you’re smaller, so yeh crawl to the corner and chase ‘em over to Jimmy.” Emmy nodded her head and Ethan turned his attention to Jimmy. “Jimmy, yeh catch ‘em and hand ‘em out to Heather.” When both children agreed that they fully understood their instructions, he lifted his hand to salute them. “Okay, men!”
They stood at attention, saluted him back, and shouted, “Okay, sir!” They both giggled as they squirmed under the porch. I had to laugh when Ethan started to hum the theme song for the old television show “Mission: Impossible” as we waited for the kids to score a catch.
In just a few seconds Jimmy shouted, “I got one!” and I stooped to take her from his hands.
“Thank you, Jimmy.” I handed the first catch to Ethan who held out the bottom of his t-shirt to use as a pouch to carry the pigs. In less than ten minutes, all four pigs were sitting snugly in Ethan’s temporary pouch, and the children crawled victoriously from under the porch.
“I told yeh we could get ‘em,” said Emmy casually as she dusted off her clothes.
“Good job, guys,” I said, “but before we put them back, we have to do a tick check.” All four of us sat on the floor of the porch, each holding a guinea pig. Ethan held Minnie, a rough-haired smoke-grey guinea pig with a patch of black on both ears. Jimmy held, Bumble Bee, an aptly named short-haired guinea pig with large black and yellow patches. Emmy held, Candy, a rough-haired multi-colored guinea pig with red, brown, white, yellow, and grey patches. Lastly, I held, Boo-Boo, a short-haired, mostly reddish, guinea pig with a white face and a small black patch around her right eye. “Sit them on your laps with their faces pointing to your feet. Now, from the back up, very gently lift their fur and look for anything dark or moving. Some ticks are really tiny, they look like little black dots.”
Both children giggled when the pigs started trilling. “Why are they makin’ that noise?” asked Emmy.
“‘Cause it tickles,” answered Ethan. “Check ‘em real good. We don’t want ‘em to get sick.” He looked at me and asked, “Ready for the belly check?”
“Yep,” I replied and scooted closer to him so he could hold up Minnie for me to lift the fur on her belly. I turned to the kids and said, “Remember to always support the bottoms of any animal you pick up. If you just let them hang, it could hurt their backs. Okay, Minnie is clean.” Ethan leaned over to put her back in her enclosure.
“You want to hold Boo-Boo for me?” We repeated the inspection on her. “Boo-Boo is also clean. Okay, Jimmy, your turn.”
“Ow, she bit my finger,” he said as he pulled his hand back and plopped Bumble Bee back onto his lap.
“That’s the first rule of animal care, Jimmy. Animals bite, even when they love yeh. It’s just the way they are. Did she break yeh open?” Ethan took hold of Jimmy’s hand and inspected his finger. “No, yer alright, just a little pinch.”
“Put your fingers behind her front legs instead of under her chin,” I said as he gingerly picked up his nippy little charge. “She’s clean too.” Ethan held the top of the enclosure open for Jimmy to put Bumble Bee back.
“Okay, your turn, Emmy. My God, that pig’s fat!” I blurted, taking in Candy’s considerable girth.
“Yeah, I know. She eats a lot,” answered Emmy. While I was checking for bugs, I felt around her belly and turned to look at Ethan who easily read the look on my face.
“She’s pregnant, ain’t she?”
I nodded my head. “They sold me a pregnant pig!” With that statement both children jumped to their feet and started cheering.
“Hey, take it easy!” Ethan roared as he stood to take Candy out of Emmy’s hands and gently set her down with her cage mates. “Be careful, yeh could hurt ‘er babies. Now, don’t pick ‘er up anymore.” Both children agreed that they wouldn’t handle Candy anymore, and Ethan gave them a final warning to cement the decree in their minds. “I mean it, guys, she’s off limits.”
“Okay, Dad, we won’t pick ‘er up. We promise,” said Emmy and Jimmy gave his usual nod of agreement.
“How many do yeh think she’ll have?” said Ethan.
“Feels like three, maybe four.”
Ethan rubbed his hands together and chanted, “We’re gonna have babies...we’re gonna have babies...” which started the kids jumping and cheering all over again.
“You’re worse than they are.”
“Yeah, I know, but baby guinea pigs are so cute. I can’t wait to see ‘em. Okay, how ‘bout yeh make breakfast, while I go change my shirt. I got Minnie pee down the front of me.” He held his t-shirt away from his body to show a fair-sized yellow stain.
“How do waffles sound?” I asked and received another round of cheers. “Wash your hands first.” They both ran into the kitchen and pulled a chair over so they could wash their hands in the sink.
“Are we gonna be shootin’ these today?” asked Emmy, looking at the rifles on the table. Jimmy just stared at them in wide-eyed awe as he pulled the chair back to the table and sat down.
“Well, these two,” I said as I moved .270 and .44 to the other side of the table, “are mine and your dad’s. You’ll be using those two.” I pointed at the .22’s.
“Me too?” asked Jimmy.
The shock of him asking me a direct question stunned me into silence. I looked at him blankly for a second before I stammered an answer. “Uh...yeah, you too, but I want to look for Thor first.” My answer was greeted with a round of high-five’s before Emmy thought of another question.
“Which one was my dad’s?” Emmy knelt on her chair and leaned over the table to inspect the guns more closely. Both rifles had wooden birch stocks, but one was a shade lighter than the other.
“The lighter one,” I answered while whipping up the waffle batter.
“Then that’s the one I want,” she said, laying her hand on it to stake her claim.
“How many waffles do you want?” Both children answered “four.”
“Four? That’s a lot of waffles. Do you think you can eat that many?”
“We always eat that many when Dad makes ‘em,” said Emmy.
Who am I to tell them no? “Hey, guys, can you tell me how the guinea pigs got out?” My tone was purposely casual.
Emmy looked at Jimmy, who shook his head “no,” before she answered. “We don’t know.”
“Did they run out with Thor, maybe?”
“No, they were in their cage when we went to bed. I don’t know how they got out,” replied Emily.
“Were you in bed when Thor ran away?”
“Yeah, but I heard some bangs and then a scream, so I got up.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jimmy reach over and touch her arm as he whispered, “We’re not supposed to tell.” But Emmy kept talking.
“I asked Shelly what the noises were, and she said it was the door slammin’ shut when Thor ran out, and then when she ran after ‘im, and then again when she came back in. Then I asked ‘er what the scream was, and she said it was ‘er because Thor bit ‘er when she tried to pull ‘im in the house. She said it was a secret because yeh’d be really mad even though it wasn’t ‘er fault. She looked out yer window to see if she could see ‘im, but he was gone.”
“My window? In my bedroom, you mean?” I was a little puzzled as to why she would need to be in my bedroom.
“Yeah, she was comin’ down the hallway when I got up. Yer not mad at ‘er, are yeh?”
“No, I’m not mad. But let’s make it our secret, okay? If she doesn’t know you told me then she won’t get upset.” Emmy agreed and Jimmy looked relieved. “And here are your waffles. Can I get anything else for the Lord and Lady?”
“Orange juice, please” said Emmy, attacking her waffles, “Jimmy too.” I poured two glasses of orange juice and placed them on the table. By this time, Ethan had found his way back to the kitchen.
“Are you going to eat?”
“No, I have to go to the store. Gimme that empty milk jug, would yeh?” He pointed to the empty gallon container that was sitting on the counter, waiting to be recycled. I reached over and handed it to him. I was about to ask him why, but he answered before I could get the question out. “I’m gonna get some holy water and some ammo for the guns.”
“Holy water and ammo? I’m not sure those two things should be in the same sentence.” Ethan ignored me and strode purposefully out the door. He was on a mission. “Do you need any money?” I yelled as he jumped into his truck.
“No, I got yer credit card!” he hollered back. Just as I started after him, the kids yelled that they were finished and wanted to get outside with the rifles.
“What did you do, inhale them?” They laughed as they handed me their empty plates.
“Can we go outside now?” asked Emmy, still chewing on her breakfast.
“Yes, but leave the guns on the table. I’ll bring them out after I’ve finished looking for Thor.”
“We can help yeh look for ‘im.”
“You and Jimmy stay close to the house and look after Shelly. Clean the guinea pigs’ cage, and make sure they don’t get out again.” Emmy was disappointed; Jimmy looked relieved.
I walked to the refrigerator and reached up for the boxes of rounds. All four boxes were new, but I noticed that one of them had been opened and was missing a few rounds. I stared at it for just a moment; then I picked up the .44 and the .270 and headed upstairs with them. I heard the kids scramble outside as I trod up the stairs. I put the guns back in their cabinet and made sure it was securely locked. I rooted through my dad’s footlocker at the bottom of my bed. I pulled out my grandfather’s old Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife and clipped it to my jeans at the small of my back, and covered it with my t-shirt. I relocked the footlocker before I headed back downstairs. This time I put the keys in my pocket. I tested the locks on all four gun cabinets and the various storage chests and footlockers that littered my spacious third-floor bedroom. I had planned on using the former sitting room on the first floor as a presentation room for my dad’s collectibles. They would remain in my bedroom until the house’s interior was completely restored, and I could display them properly. I walked over to the window that looked over the side of the house facing the driveway. I peered at the mouth of the dirt road that disappeared among the trees and thought of Thor. Ethan and I assumed that he’d run into the woods, parallel to the driveway, in an attempt to follow my truck. This was the most logical direction for him to go since he accompanied me on my drives to work in the mornings. It was usually along this road that he and I walked, and where I often took a morning run. He was less prone to picking up fleas and ticks than if he and I walked through brush. Thor rarely ventured off the acre of mowed grass that surrounded the house. He never chased little animals, unless it was to identify an injured one, and he disliked getting his long coat caught on the many snagging shrubs of the wooded area.
I thought about the description of the events that Emmy gave me. There was no way Shelly could’ve run in the house and up the stairs to my bedroom before Emmy got up, so she must’ve done something to Thor from up here. I stepped out onto the narrow wrought iron walkway that surrounded the third floor room. It was an odd addition to the house that looked like it belonged among a castle’s battlements rather than on a fancy Victorian mansion. I walked around to the back of the house. Although I had tested the sturdiness of the walkway when I moved in, I hadn’t yet cleaned the dust, leaves, and bird droppings that littered it. I noticed some fresh prints in the dust, but they weren’t clear enough to tell if they were shoe prints. What struck my attention most vividly was the broken spider web. This was the reason that I didn’t open or go out the back window onto the walk. There was large black and yellow garden spider that had spun a very intricate web, which was attached to the iron rail on one side and the window on the other. Spiders have always fascinated me and this one was unusually large, about two and a half inches long, and I didn’t want to break its beautiful web. As I was looking for the spider, smudges on the window caught my eye, and I gave them a close inspection. They were small fingerprints, though not small enough to be from a child. I was sure that they wouldn’t have been from the children as I made of point of showing them the spider and her web so they wouldn’t sneak out and accidentally fall off the walk. I looked down to see if Shelly had come outside. When I was satisfied that she was still in the house, I went back in and unlocked one of the footlockers. I took out an old rope ladder and secured it to the part of the walkway that overlooked the driveway-side of the house. I set the bundle on the walk, close to the wall, and covered it with a few leaves. I went back inside and fished out two canvas backpacks. I stuffed my night-vision goggles, a folding knife, and a wooden baton in one pack, put it under the bed, and relocked the footlocker. The other pack I took with me. I went downstairs and found Shelly in the kitchen.
“Would you mind taking the kids canoeing? I’d like to go look for Thor again.”
“No, I don’t mind,” she answered coldly.
“Why can’t we come too?” asked Emmy.
“Because your dad thinks that Thor might be sick. If he bites one of you, you could get sick too.” I hoped the lie would cool Shelly’s temper a bit. I didn’t want the kids with me in case we encountered the apparition again, but I was also concerned about Shelly’s behavior. She’d been fine with the children so far, but I was unsure if she was capable of being violent with them. As long as she thought that they weren’t a threat to her twisted mind she was unlikely to harm them, or so I hoped. I was afraid that Thor could be suffering with a wound or even that he could be dead. In either case, I wanted to prove if Shelly had actually done anything and, hopefully, get her the help that she desperately needed.
“But Thor wouldn’t bite me!” protested Emily.
“If he’s sick there’s no telling what he’ll do. I want you to stay here with Shelly where it’s safe.” I was stern, so she reluctantly gave up the argument. The evening I spent with Ethan’s friend, Carly, was also swimming around in my mind as I made my way across the yard. I was beginning to wonder if her explanations could actually be possible. I didn’t want to leave Thor out there to face that thing, whatever it was, all alone. I was also concerned that, assuming Carly’s suggestions of possession was actually possible, Thor might be in a fierce frame of mind. I was well aware of the potential damage that an animal his size could do, and I was concerned about him coming back to the house. A two-hundred-pound St. Bernard dog could easily break through the solid wood doors of the house, and the children would be totally powerless against him. No, if it came to it, I would rather have to euthanize him without the children seeing or hearing it. I went to the garage and rolled up one of Ethan’s canvas drop cloths and stuffed it into my backpack. I thought if I found Thor alive, I could put him on the drop cloth and drag him home. This time I headed for the acres-deep patch of woodland behind the house. I scanned the length of trees at the edge of the clearing for any sign of Thor’s presence. I found a few rust-colored droplets on the grass about three feet away from the trees, and a few more on the shrubbery. I looked back toward the house for any sign of Shelly observing me. I didn’t see her outside, but she could easily observe my movements from a window. I looked up and down the trees, inspecting them for any signs of gun fire. I couldn’t find anything and was about to move on when a glint of something shiny caught my eye. I looked at the base of the tree that was sitting just behind the blood-stained shrubbery and found a perfect .22 caliber bullet embedded in the bark. If it had penetrated any farther, I would never have seen it. I pulled my knife from its carefully concealed sheath, dug the pellet out of the tree, and dropped it into the front pocket of my jeans. I returned my knife to its sheath and went looking for my injured dog.
