by SJD Peterson
Something slammed into Richard’s back and sent him flying forward. He flailed ineffectively, trying to grasp something to stop his fall, but he only grasped air. He lost his hold on Albert’s leash, putting his hands out to minimize the damage, but he’d waited a second too late. His chin hit the unforgiving concrete sidewalk. Pain shot through his head. He instinctively rolled and grasped his face. Warm wetness oozed between his fingers.
“I am so sorry. I was pushed. I didn’t mean to hit you.” Richard glanced up to find a portly elderly man looking down at him with a horrified expression on his face. “Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?”
Richard struggled to sit up. The world spun. His gut roiled sickeningly. “I’m not sure. Give me a minute.” He held pressure on his wound, and stars danced in front of his eyes. He took several deep breaths through his nose and let them out through his clenched teeth. He willed down the bile that had risen up into his throat.
“I’m sorry. Please, let me help you,” said the distressed man, his wrinkled face pale and drawn. He clutched a cane in one hand.
Richard knew it had been an accident from the sincerity of the man’s apology, the proof etched in his features. “I’m okay. I think.” A couple more deep breaths and he forced himself to stand. It was difficult while keeping one hand on his chin, but he managed. His legs trembled, but he locked down on his knees. For a few seconds falling again was a real possibility, but he willed himself to calm down and, after a few more ticks of the clock, was able to assess the damage with a relatively clear head.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. The scrapes on his palm stung, but he ignored that and released the pressure on his chin just long enough to add the cotton material to help staunch the flow of blood.
“You’re pale. You might want to sit down,” the elderly man suggested.
“You look a little pale yourself.” Richard found a small smile for the concerned gentleman. “Honestly, I’ll be—”
The screech of tires and a sickening thump sent instant dread throughout Richard. Albert? He looked down, frantically searching the surrounding area for his dog. His heart sank. Albert wasn’t there. “Albert!”
Ignoring his own wounds, Richard rushed toward the accident. He shoved his way through the crowd of people a few yards ahead. A small white car had come to a halt. With a sense of terror, Richard made his way around to the front of the car, and his heart stopped dead in his chest.
Richard was paralyzed with fear. He couldn’t do anything but stare at the small dog with the bright red leash wrapped around its body as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. A couple of bystanders squatted down next to Albert, and it finally got Richard moving. “No. No. No. Don’t touch him!” Richard screamed.
He knocked a guy out of the way and fell to his knees close to Albert. He tentatively reached out and laid a trembling hand on Albert’s chest, profoundly relieved to feel the rise and fall. He was breathing.
“He ran right out in front of me. I didn’t see him.”
Richard ignored the woman. Nothing, no one mattered in that moment but Albert. He was breathing—much too quickly, but he was breathing. Richard didn’t see any open wounds, but his back leg was twisted into an unnatural position.
Dr. Dunkle. He had to get Albert to the vet. He’d know what to do. The world around him disappeared—no sound, no movement, nothing but Albert. Tears streaming down his face, Richard pulled off his jacket and carefully wrapped it around Albert. The dread increased tenfold when Albert didn’t so much as flinch when Richard lifted him up off the asphalt. He’s breathing. He’s alive. Richard had to hold on to that. He couldn’t lose it. Albert needed him.
“Does someone have a phone? I need a phone. Please!” Richard called out to the crowd. Several people responded, and suddenly a phone was held out to him from a teenage girl. Richard gently but firmly held Albert against his chest. He relayed the number from memory. As soon as he was sure the young girl had dialed the last digit, he said, “When they answer, let them know what’s happened and that I’m on my way.”
Without waiting for a response, Richard turned and raced toward the animal clinic, the crowd parting for him. Fortunately the vet’s office was only a few blocks away. He was lucid enough to know he’d make it there quicker on foot. He heard someone call out his name behind him, but he ignored it. He concentrated on the path in front of him and getting his precious cargo help.
He rounded the corner and ran down the sidewalk, a million thoughts going through his mind. What if by moving Albert, he’d done more harm? Should he have secured his neck? Should he have called the vet and had him meet him at the scene? Question after question filled his head, but he kept running. It was too late to worry about any of them.
Blessedly, the door to the clinic was unlocked, and he rushed in. He spotted Amanda, the vet’s assistant. “It’s Albert! He’s been hit by a car!” Richard shouted.
Amanda rushed around the counter. “Bring him to room one.”
“Richard.”
Richard looked over his shoulder to find Tikron standing behind him with a concerned expression. Richard shook his head; he didn’t have time to explain. He took Albert to the exam room just as Dr. Dunkle was coming in through the door on the opposite side of the room.
“Let’s get a look at him,” Dr. Dunkle said. He patted the stainless steel table.
Richard hesitated for a heartbeat, not wanting to let Albert go, afraid he’d never feel his warm little body against him again. He pushed past the fear and reluctantly released his firm hold on Albert and gently laid him on the table.
Dr. Dunkle unwrapped Albert from Richard’s jacket. He put the ends of his stethoscope into his ears and the opposite end against Albert’s chest, then his stomach. He then ran his hands over Albert, pushing and poking. Through it all, Albert didn’t move. Richard’s hope was fading fast. Albert’s broken leg should have had him howling in distress. It was horrible that Richard wanted to see his beloved pet reacting to a painful touch. But as selfish as it was, he needed some reaction, some sign of fight. Please wake up. Please.
Dr. Dunkle cocked his head and studied Richard. “It’s not his blood you’re covered in.”
He’d been so consumed with getting Albert help, he’d forgotten all about his own injuries. He reached up and touched his chin. It was no longer actively bleeding. “I fell. How is he?”
“His pelvis is crushed. Both back legs suffered traumatic injuries. His stomach is slightly distended, which makes me think we may have some severe internal injuries, but I can’t be sure without getting some X-rays.”
“Do whatever you need to. Just help him,” Richard implored.
“We’ll do what we can,” Dr. Dunkle assured him.
Heart in his throat, Richard reached out and ran the tip of his finger over the soft fur of Albert’s head. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his nose. “I can’t lose you. Come back to me,” he whispered.
Richard held it together until Dr. Dunkle and Amanda left the room with Albert, and then he lost it. His knees gave out, but before he hit the ground, strong arms wrapped around him. Now that the adrenaline was no longer surging through him, he gave in to the fear and grief and sobbed. Tikron held him without saying a word, silently giving his strength to Richard.
Richard didn’t care how weak he might appear. He didn’t care about anything in that moment but Albert. He cried for the pain Albert had gone through as well as his inability to take away that pain. He’d never felt so helpless in his life, and he continued to sob until there were no more tears in him.
“He’s going to be okay,” Tikron whispered.
Richard pulled out of Tikron’s grasp and, holding on to the edge of the exam table, stood on trembling legs. “You can’t know that.”
“Yes, I can.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Tikron moved up close again and laid his hand on Richard’s shoulders. “I just know.”
Richard wished he h
ad Tikron’s confidence, but he simply couldn’t muster it. “You didn’t see him, didn’t feel him.” He choked on a sob. “Just…. Just….” He swatted at Tikron’s hand. “Just leave me alone.” He wrapped his arms around himself to keep from shaking apart. He started pacing the small room.
Tikron backed up, watched with concern, but said nothing further. Smart man. Richard was barely holding on, and the last thing he needed was empty promises. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he spent it climbing the walls, one minute pacing, the next staring out the window, seeing nothing. One minute choked up, the next, numb.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Dunkle returned, and the expression on his face caused Richard’s heart to sink. “I’m sorry, I don’t have good news.” He pointed to the chair in the corner. “Have a seat.”
Richard took a seat as instructed, gripping the hard plastic until his knuckles went white. “I don’t care how much it costs or what I have to do.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t anything you or I can do. Albert’s suffered a lacerated liver and major trauma to his brain as well as several broken bones. The most humane thing we can do is not allow him to suffer any further.”
Richard blinked. Dr. Dunkle was speaking English, but he might as well have been speaking a foreign language, because Richard wasn’t comprehending a single word. He glanced back and forth between the vet and Tikron, waiting, hoping one of them would help him understand. “I don’t understand,” he finally admitted.
“Albert is going to die regardless of what we do. I’m suggesting we put him to sleep,” Dr. Dunkle said gently.
“Excuse me, can I have a private word with Richard?” Tikron asked.
Dr. Dunkle nodded. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Thank you,” Tikron said. He waited until Dr. Dunkle shut the door behind him before he turned to Richard. “I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
Richard glared at him. “I’m supposed to trust the same guy that just assured me everything would be okay? I told you, you couldn’t know that. It was bullshit!” His voice rose as panic and pain settled in as the gravity of the situation weighed down on him. “He’s not going to be okay. He’s going to die. You lied to me!”
“I know it’s hard to believe me over a veterinarian. But if you’ll just go along with my suggestion, I’ll prove it.”
Richard gawked at him, his chest so tight he could barely speak. “You’re serious? This is not a time for smoke and mirrors. My dog is dying and you want to play games!” He was going to shake apart, and he couldn’t take in a full breath. My dog is dying. The room swayed. Strong hands held his arms, steadying him.
“I’m not playing games, Richard,” Tikron said softly but firmly. “Dr. Dunkle is suggesting you put Albert to sleep. He’s given you no hope. I’m giving you another option. I can save Albert, but not here. I am giving you what Dr. Dunkle can’t—hope. But you have to make that decision now. Albert is running out of time.”
Richard stared at Tikron, considering what he said. In the end he realized he had no other choice. If he didn’t put his trust in Tikron, Albert would surely die. He wasn’t sure if Tikron could change the outcome, but at least there was a sliver of hope, and he had to hold on to that. It was all he had. He found himself nodding, because really, what else could he do?
Magic is everywhere
Chapter Fifteen
AFTER assuring Dr. Dunkle that he was sure of his decision, Richard carried a bundled-up Albert and a syringe filled with morphine out of the animal hospital. His were steps heavy but his path was clear. He was surprised to find the crowds were no longer filling the streets. He supposed it didn’t matter—not much did. Tikron laid his hand on the small of Richard’s back, encouraging him forward.
“We need to hurry,” Tikron whispered.
Richard glanced up at Tikron, and suddenly calmness settled down over him. He wasn’t sure of the source. Either part of him trusted Tikron or he was giving up, accepting the inevitable. In a haze of grief, Richard allowed Tikron to lead him back to Richard’s apartment. Once inside, Tikron tried to take Albert from him. Richard tightened his grip.
“It’s okay, I promise,” Tikron said gently.
Richard hesitated for a few clicks of the clock, watching Albert’s shallow breathing. His little dog still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he was alive. Even with his grave injuries and the doctor’s lack of hope, the little guy was still holding on, still fighting. The least Richard could do was give him a chance, no matter how small. Richard reluctantly allowed Tikron to take Albert from him.
Tikron took Albert and gently laid him on the couch, then went to his knees next to the sofa. Richard wrapped his arms around himself, scarcely breathing as he watched Tikron open the blanket and lay his hands on Albert. He looked up at Richard, then nodded toward the opposite end of the couch. “This is going to take a while. Sit down before you fall down.” He then turned his attention back to Albert and began chanting in a language Richard didn’t recognize.
Tikron wasn’t far off the mark. Richard was shaking so badly there was the very real possibility he would fall. Before that could happen, he took the seat indicated, watching Tikron and Albert carefully. He had no idea what was going on or how rubbing and chanting were going to help Albert, but he couldn’t look away. So many things Tikron did couldn’t be explained, and if he could give Albert back to him, he’d never question the reasons behind the strange events again. He’d accept them. Accept Tikron’s claims he was a warlock. Hell, he’d sell his soul to Tikron if the man could give him another day with Albert.
Before long Richard’s eyes grew heavy, the low rhythmic chant lulling him. The adrenaline from earlier was now completely absent, leaving him drained. His eyes burned, getting heavier. He blinked several times, the images of Tikron and Albert blurring until everything seemed dreamlike, surreal.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow he drifted off and fell into a fitful sleep.
Heart hammering, lungs burning, he ran through the park, chasing Albert, calling to him, but Albert kept running. Richard pushed his muscles harder, sweat rolling down his temples, down his spine. However, no matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn’t catch up with Albert.
Something bad was going to happen. He didn’t know what or how he knew, but he felt it in his heart, in his very soul. He had to catch Albert. Had to. But it was no use. No matter how much he willed his legs to move faster, they simply wouldn’t follow his commands.
In the blink of an eye, the bright summer day turned dark, black as night. He lost sight of Albert but kept running. Faceless people stepped out of the darkness into his path, knocking him off-balance, forcing him to shove through the growing throng. One, two, twenty, countless numbers until it was a crowd keeping him from Albert.
Hands clawing.
Muscles straining.
Helpless.
Hopeless.
The people merged into the blackness until there was nothing but it left. No hands, no bodies, no sensation, nothing, only blackness and despair.
He’d failed.
A warm, wet sensation against his cheek pulled Richard from his slumber. He opened his eyes, then blinked them several times. Obviously he wasn’t fully awake yet, because there was no way he was seeing what was in front of him.
Albert licked his cheek again, then barked.
Richard sat there stunned. He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, didn’t even blink, afraid the dream of Albert would disappear.
Albert nudged Richard’s hand with his nose and barked again.
“You’re not going to give him a pet?”
“What… I….” Richard jerked upright, suddenly wide-awake. He glanced back and forth from Albert to a smiling Tikron. “What did you do?”
“I told you, you can trust me.”
Richard reached out and tentatively touched the top of Albert’s head, afraid the vision would disappear. The dog nuzzled against his hand, his soft fur ti
ckling Richard’s palm. Albert felt real, but Richard struggled to grasp what he was seeing and feeling. “How is this possible?”
“Magic.”
“Impossible. There is no such thing as magic,” Richard whispered.
“Nothing is impossible if you believe.”
“I’m dreaming. I have to be, and if I am….” Richard scratched Albert behind the ears. He choked up with the thought. “When I wake up, he’ll be gone.”
Tikron moved to sit next to Richard, putting his arm around him. “You’re not dreaming. Albert is not an illusion, nor is he magic. He’s healthy and as perfect as he was before the accident. I healed him.”
Richard heard the sincerity in Tikron’s voice, saw the proof of his words in front of him, yet he still couldn’t accept what he was seeing and hearing, and so he waited—waited for the vision before him to disappear. But Albert continued to lick him for a few more seconds, and then he settled down on Richard’s lap. He yawned, let out a huff of breath, then closed his eyes. Richard rested his hand on Albert’s back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing and the strong heartbeat beneath his palm. He went through one explanation after another as to how Tikron had miraculously cured Albert. He dismissed each and every one. There wasn’t a single logical explanation. He also couldn’t explain the starry night, dancing squirrel, or instant transport from sidewalk to apartment.
As crazy as it sounded in his head, Richard’s heart knew the truth. Magic is real. It was curled up on his lap. He ran his hand up and down Albert’s back. The heaviness in his heart lifted with each stroke against Albert’s fur. Everything he’d ever believed in—numbers, equations, calculations, statistics, all he’d been taught, based his life on—weighed down on him, crushing him until he could scarcely breathe. Part of him tried to hold on to the knowledge he’d acquired, not willing to give up his previous convictions. Logic and new possibilities battled, war raging between his brain and his heart. He stared down at Albert, continued to stroke the warm soft fur, and rationalization waned in the face of what he had witnessed, what was warm and real snuggled against his lap. Richard couldn’t dispute the facts. What he thought he knew, his previous beliefs, didn’t matter. Albert was alive. With that realization, Richard’s heart continued to swell until he was sure it would burst out of his chest. It was the strangest damn sensation. Then, as if someone—Tikron—had opened a door, light streamed in, infused him, and he suddenly felt lighter than he ever had.
