***
A buzzing awoke him, he cursed at its intensity, sporting a killer migraine. Koll wondered if he had breathed too much chloroform, he needed to be careful, too old to survive overdosing himself. The dog slumbered on the table, its snout hanging off the edge allowing a long trail of slobber that slipped from its mouth overnight to trickle onto the floor.
The clock near his work bench, where his tools lie in wait, said it was nine in the morning, he had slept in, getting up past sunrise was abnormal for him. He rose to strip out of his work clothes, already predicting that he’d need to run upstairs as quick as he could. Nude he walked over to a writing desk adjacent his bench and switched on a single Closed Circuit Television monitor, it worked with one hidden camera above the front door, and from it he received a good view of the crown of his neighbors head, almost hand in hand with a cop.
“Who is it?” he said with a frown, feigning ignorance.
“Koll, it’s Henry, my dog has seemed to have disappeared. I was wondering if you had any idea what might have happened to him.”
“You woke me," he said, sounding as old and unhappy as he felt, “I haven’t seen or heard from your dog since you let it in last night.”
Henry hesitated, the cop stepped forward, “We would still like to ask you a few questions.”
Koll rolled his eyes, “Of course, you’ll have to be patient, I have to find my robe and make it…” he almost said upstairs, “downstairs without killing myself.”
He ignored the reply turning from the monitor, hanging on the wall at the base of the stairs he found his extra blood red night robe, something he wore after the deeds where done, after he cleaned up but was not ready to relinquish his surroundings. With another glance at his sleeping dog, it was his now, he made his way upstairs.
Once the wall was secure, he stepped out and shut the closet, pushing the junk up against it in case the cop found reason to search the house. The cop might check the closet, but by the time he’d pull aside all the trash he’d be too tired, or too agitated, to check what was a normal two foot closet.
Koll opened his door, stepped out into the warm night air, and closed it behind him. The cop seemed surprised to face an old man, his neighbor had disappeared.
“Mr. Kerensky?” Koll nodded, though that was not his original last name, it was the one he’d gone by for the last few years. “Your neighbor says you where not too fond of his dog.”
Koll smiled a grin full of white well kept teeth, “Fond of an animal that barked every second of every minute of every hour of every day of the week? It was a nuisance, I am not the only one to have complained about the mutt.”
The cop shrugged, “You have no idea what happened to it?”
Koll searched his memory, he couldn’t remember closing the gate, if he kept straight it’d be an open and shut case of the dog running off. The cops involvement seemed odd, a family friend or actual family, “My dear officer, if you are insinuating that I, a malnourished feeble old man, wrestled a two hundred pound dog of pure muscle out of its yard, I’d call that ridiculous and insulting. I’d never steal and I love animals, even dogs, but I think I can be forgiven for not liking this one. Tell me, at what time did it disappear?”
The cop looked to the side, “Not sure sir, sometime during the night.”
Koll’s brows scrunched, “Night? You sure?” he waited for the officer to nod, “I’m positive it was an inside dog, only out when no one was home. Never in the middle of the night.”
The cop nodded again, “Henry said it became restless and was tramping around the house, so he put it out. He called it a rare occasion.” The officer closed a small notepad he had brought with him “Well, thank you sir.”
Koll had taken note to how the cop called his neighbor on first name basis, he nodded his acceptance of thanks and turned inside. In his living area he glanced out the window, the two men seemed to chat a little, before both turned to their vehicles and left, he wasn’t sure if it was for the day, or to search for the lost mutt, but it would provide him the time.
The basement called for him, it was time, with no idea how long his neighbor would be gone or if the cop might return he needed to finish quick. He could feel himself become excited again, a tingle lit his old arms, adrenalin pumping where it didn’t often go, his obvious excitement in his pants pulling an almost dangerous amount of his blood into it, stealing it from its usual job circulating oxygen.
Back in his basement the dog was standing on the floor, it wagged its tail against the table at the sight of its new master. That was fine, it couldn’t move with its head held like that, which might give him more freedom. He stripped nude from his robe, his wrinkled veined old man at full attention, ready for what was coming next. On feet that glided too soft and quick for his age in excitement he slid over to his tools, eyeing the two he grabbed last night.
A quick pop of the eye would create a new hole to explore, but there was a problem with that. The dog was quick, and fierce, no matter its kindness there was a great chance the beast might take his manhood before he could fuck it’s mind into oatmeal.
He rummaged through his pouch for a needle and thread, he wanted that socket now that he imagined it, and if he could get this dog to shut its mouth he’d have his way. But even that might be too dangerous, the beast was too mouthy to mess with. He’d have to drown its passion, to make it lethargic, willing, unable to fight back, and that’d make today a day of long arduous torture, ending with a few damaged organs.
For that he grabbed up the fair sized kitchen knife, a few select non deadly cuts, it was faster than a scalpel. Though messier it’d get the job done, and it was less intimate allowing him to stay an arms length away and reach in to stab it.
Bark, he turned, jumping at the noise from the suddenly too quiet dog. An odd sense came over him, the dog’s bark excited him, but not in the way he wanted to be excited.
The tingle in his arms felt less like pleasure now and more like pain, as someone had placed them in a vice, his heart beat hard against his boney chest. Looking at himself he found his old man comatose to the world, he turned for the phone by the monitor, but as he did the world didn’t stop spinning.
He hit the floor, coughing at the dust he brought in with his struggling breath, and reached for where he thought he dropped the knife. He gripped the handle and pulled, and it pulled on his chest. His hand came back soaked in his own blood. Koll put his face to the cool dirt ground, the resting places of his victims since buying the property, and breathed the earthy scent in another ragged breath.
The dog started again, bark, bark, bark, never ending, never stopping. He wished for it to, he prayed for it to stop, he cursed the damned thing for its annoyance. But it was the last thing he heard as he drifted towards his final slumber, bark, bark, bark.
Dead Ends Page 8
