by Keohane, Dan
A bicycle whizzed along the path between them. Mabeli gasped in surprise and stepped back. Two more followed the first, one ridden by a young white woman in a tight riding suit, long blonde hair trailing behind. The other two were dark and equally as lean. They curved around the corner and were gone, the hissing of their tires fading towards the city. The two boys snickered from their safe vantage.
The old man squinted into the foliage. Young Mabeli was gone.
Mabeli felt the cold emptiness of this loss deep in his chest. He stepped through the mongongo leaves and stood in that spot of so many years before. Mosquitoes swarmed about his face. He ignored them.
The ground was damp in the shadows. Mabeli kicked a piece of trash under a fallen leaf. The air was green and lush. For a moment, he imagined himself back home among these trees, flushing out imaginary antelope, chasing them into the nets and trying not to think about his father.
He thought of Akujay now, what details he could recall, of his mother and sister, and Kalegi. All gone. Maybe they were here again. From where Mabeli stood, all was as it used to be, green and brown under the mid-afternoon sun. The Ituri in its splendor. He heard a car race past along the jungle road, heading east towards Kinshasa. Mabeli imagined the two boys were still there, waiting for the crazy old man from the store to emerge back onto the sidewalk.
If he stepped forward, however, perhaps he could follow what was left of the thread back to the lost people of his childhood. In any case, Mabeli knew, he would be returning home. He leaned on his staff and began to walk, letting branches slap against him and fall away. The forest blurred at the edges of his vision, like it had done that fateful day so long ago. Mabeli saw it as a good sign. He continued on, deeper into the forest, leaving the world of the Muzungu further behind.
— — — — —
About “Bark”
The next story is another original story for this collection. I affectionately refer to this one as Incineration in the Woods. Dares-gone-awry are such great fodder for horror stories. Maybe some day I’ll write more and make a new collection called Dares are Bad!
“Bark” is probably the most graphic of any of my stories, and originally that was my intention. You may not believe it after reading this, but by the time I finished with the version of “Bark” that follows, I’d toned it down quite a lot. I also have a version that takes place during the daylight. Long story. There is a vague but deliberate secondary theme in this one which I won’t explain, except to say that the names I chose for the characters were very intentional. If you figure it out, let me know.
There’s not a whole lot else to say about this one, except maybe Dares are Bad.
Bark
The rumors surrounding Bark were almost as big as the dog itself. Someone’s arm reportedly severed at the bicep. Human bones scattered across the doghouse floor.
The Newfoundland’s world was an oversized paddock, thirty feet by thirty feet, set back from the old woman’s nineteenth century Victorian. The surrounding chain link fence rattled in the wind that tore up the mountainside. Electric blood flowed through its veins, pumped from the small transformer half-hidden among the trees.
For the past five days the house had, by all signs, remained vacant since the old woman’s death. It stood as a looming shadow silhouetting the starlight. The yard was silent. The uncut Spring grass bent under its own weight. The woman had family, somewhere, who had been called in when she fell ill. Any attention to her property by the heirs was minimal.
At least Bark was not laying dead in his paddock, though the ground within reeked of feces. The doghouse, like its human counterpart, was a dark shadow in the middle of the pen. And it was big.
Tonight, three figures shifted among the tree shadows bordering Bark’s paddock, spirits bathed in the quicksilver light of the waxing moon. They knew they were alone on the property. There would be no witnesses.
David sat on the ground and slipped off sneakers and socks. Climbing the fence with any form of insulation was deemed “unfair.”
He took Robin Fae’s dour expression as concern. An illusion, David knew. Most likely she was worried he’d survive her dare and collect his reward. Which, of course, he would. He’d done his research.
Bark was in the dog house, asleep - or whatever coma monster dogs fell into at night. It was there. He heard it breathing from somewhere inside its lair. David pulled off the final sock, stood and smiled. It was a quiet, mischievous grin.
A few feet away, the fence hummed in expectation.
* * *
Robin Fae tried not to admire how good the bastard looked, and was grateful for the darkness. It masked any look of appreciation she might let slip. Early May and the guy sported nothing but a pair of jeans and white tee-shirt. New Hampshire blood ran thick. He didn’t even seem to mind the constant barrage of mosquitoes and May flies hovering around him. For her part, Robin wore an oversized LA Raiders jacket. One of the few reminders of what used to be “home” before her clan moved to North Conway a month ago. She’d be shivering until mid-summer at this rate.
The bulky jacket served another purpose - to keep herself as shapeless as possible. Not that it mattered tonight. All this guy had to do was scale the fence, touch ground, and clamber back over without being eaten. If he did that, he’d see plenty.
As if reading her thoughts, David smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll let you keep your socks on when I collect the bet.”
“You’d be done before I had time to take them off,” she whispered. “Besides, even if you don’t get your dick bit off by Bark, we’re not doing it here.”
David’s shadowed face darkened further, reminding Robin why the bet might have been a mistake.
Caveman takes prize. Caveman keeps prize.
She hoped his dick did get bitten off.
David’s buddy Quince hunkered down and gripped a handful of tree roots. He was always grabbing something, as if without an anchor his excess energy would toss him away in the wind.
“OK, people,” Quince whispered. “It’s show time. Davey, give me five to work around the other side. When you hear me, move your ass. I’m cute, but I might not be little Barky’s type.” With that, he scurried through the trees, soundless, a mythical Puck looking for mischief in the White Mountains. He kept his flashlight low to the ground, raising it only when he stumbled into a bush or tree.
Left alone, neither of them spoke again. David knew there’d be time to get cozy later. After he did what he had to do, and if - when - Quince did his part.
Come on, dude, he thought. Keep your head straight one time.
He hoped the girl didn’t notice sweat trickling down his armpit. Not because of the fence. It was the dog that worried him. He closed his eyes and pictured Robin’s elusive body wriggling beneath him. It helped keep things in perspective. Of course, he wasn’t the only member of the senior class who craved a look under those impenetrable layers of clothing, vying for a peek when she passed in the hall.
Last month, when she first walked into English Lit during yet another mind-numbing discussion of Billy Shakespeare, David found his attention wandering from its usual fixation out the window. He’d stare at the exposed nape of her neck as she followed along with the lesson, catch the faint outlines of her shoulder blade, the strap of a bra. She never looked back, and this inaction spoke volumes to him. She’d known he was staring, girls always knew. The Bitch enjoyed the attention, and had come up with this ludicrous dare as an excuse, a chance to say “I didn’t give in, it was just a bet.” He knew the truth. She wanted to know what David Lysander had under his clothes as much as he wanted to learn what lay under hers.
* * *
Quince screamed. He fell to his knees, threw his head back and howled. The sound trickled to a slow, demented laugh. He stood up and looked inside the fence, squinting as if the act would lessen the gloom beyond. Nothing.
“Yoo-hoo. Mister Doggie - wake up!” Quince grabbed the chain link fence and rattled it. He
stopped when he realized there was no shock, not a speck of electricity coursing through him. What the -. He remembered the Bitch’s bizarre rule and kicked off his Nikes. He tried again.
A million invisible mice ran up his arms and tried to pry open his skull. Quince jumped back, waited for the spots floating in front of him to fade. The tingling in his arms slowly subsided as his eyes traced the thin feed wires interlaced with the links.
Davey’s going to climb that? he thought. There was too much juice —
Something big emerged from the dog house. Black fur glistened in the moonlight. Its head turned right. Davey and Robin were still out of sight, Quince hoped. The black thing sniffed, and the yard filled with a low rumbling growl. It looked to its left.
For a brief moment Quince and the dog stared at each other across the shit-cluttered paddock.
Then Bark exploded towards the fence. In the pale light its hind quarters looked too thin compared to the oversized head and chest, as if the creature was constructed of two halves of entirely different breeds of dog. But its disproportionate bulk belied its speed. Heavy paws padded on the dirt. Quince shouted as Bark slammed into the fence. The dog yelped and fell back.
Then, BARK! BARK! BARK!.
“Shit,” Quince said. “Shut the fuck up, man!” It was a startled reaction on his part. No one would hear.
BARK! BARK!
Davey emerged from the shadows and was now walking quickly towards his side of the fence. Quince forced himself to stare only at the dog. He couldn’t warn them about the fence without blowing the whole deal.
BARK! BARK!
They’d never hear him over the damned dog, anyway.
Bark stepped forward, remembered the fence. It paced sideways. Quince wondered if the dog had been fed since the old woman kicked off. The thought sent a small wave of pity, and dread, through him.
BARK!
At the fence, Davey didn’t reach for it as much as leap upon it like a crazed animal.
Quince shouted to mask the sound of his friend hitting the fence. He shook his head, stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. He stared the dog in the eyes. Big wet eyes reflecting meager light around it. Quince’s own shouts and meaningless taunts were drowned in a sea of BARK! BARK! BARK!
* * *
When David heard Quince he smiled and thought, What an idiot. He waited until Bark seemed appropriately preoccupied then walked forward.
He had to be careful where he hit the fence. Most important was to avoid the three copper wires running along the bottom, middle and top. The darkness wasn’t going to help him much with this. As soon as he was in the air, he would no longer be grounded and therefore safe. Apparently Robin had forgotten about birds sitting on power lines, even if the makers of the fence hadn’t. The copper leads were ground wires. If he hit one, the circuit would be complete - his body the breaker.
He leaped forward and hit the fence as quietly as possible. Nothing. Not even a buzz in his ears. For the girl’s sake, he took in a sharp intake of breath, released one hand from the links as if about to fall back onto the ground.
Feigning a massive internal struggle he reached up, as close to the top as possible without hitting either the ground wire or pole running along the top of the fence. Like its counterparts stuck into the ground every eight feet, the top pole was a primary grounding rod. The third rail, David thought. Getting over it would require a sizable leap. No way Bark wasn’t going to hear that. Still, he’d be back over before the mutt could even turn around. David wondered what Quince must be thinking, since he hadn’t let him in on the deception. His friend never had a very good poker face.
* * *
“Yaaaa, sucker!!! Bite this!” Quince thrust his pelvis forward and Bark slammed into the fence again. A pained yelp, followed by BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!
The boy danced in a tight circle, careful to prevent the dog from moving too much left or right, risk it seeing Davey who was nearly at the top of the fence already. He tried to ignore the tiny voice relegated to the back of his mind, Bark probably hasn’t eaten in almost a week.
“Boody boody boody,” he whispered, puckering his lips for a kiss. Bark wanted so much to chew his head off. Easy to read a dog like that, he thought.
BARK! BARK! BARK!
“Bark! Bark! Bark!” Quince echoed. He wondered why the old lady hadn’t snuffed this monster a long time ago and gotten a Pekinese like other people her age.
BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!
“Bite Me!”
* * *
Robin knew what the fence was like. She’d tested it herself to gauge what David would have to endure. She’d been able to hold her finger to the links no longer than a couple of seconds.
A barrier that potent shouldn’t be legal. Still, knowing the jerk wouldn’t get more than an inch or two off the ground gave her courage to suggest the bet. If nothing else, it might stop his incessant staring in class, turn his gaze down a few notches. She’d insisted the dare be carried out tonight, before either of the boys had a chance to check out the juice for themselves.
Watching David reach the upper links, she was certain no normal person could have lasted this long. Meanwhile, his retarded friend kept distracting Bark with his own unbridled hysteria. Robin Fae no longer felt the scales tipping her way, watching this boy - willing to fry his brain for a quick tumble. She surprised herself by becoming more aroused the higher he climbed. Just before everything went to hell, Robin wondered if maybe New Hampshire wasn’t such a bad place to live after all.
* * *
OK. Have to make this quick. David sagged down on his weight, preparing both to pull himself up and over in a single heaving swing, and to add to the dramatic play we was undertaking. It needed to look as if he was about to fall, unable to take any more pain. Yea, right. Keep wishing, bitch. He sagged further, then tightened his muscles and pulled upward.
He didn’t make it. David landed flat-bellied on the pole and draped over the top of the fence.
* * *
Quince saw his friend reach the top. He’d done it - climbed what amounted to a small mountain of electricity. Robin had to be fucking impressed. At the moment, however, Davey seemed to be stuck at the top.
BARK! BARK!
“Yea, yea!”
Bark paced side to side, never taking his eyes from him. Good doggie, Quince thought. Just keep looking at me.
In a pang of envy and still shoeless, Quince reached with his right hand and curled two fingers around a link. It must have been his overactive imagination the last time. Electricity coursed though his arm, hitting his brain, squeezing his eyes.
Still he tried to hold on.
As in a dream he saw Bark lunge, the flash of teeth, no yelp this time but a quick retreat. When the world came back into focus, Quince was sitting on the ground, crumpled and dazed.
The dog had just pushed him off the fence.
“What the hell did you -”
The pointer and middle fingers of his right hand were gone past the second knuckle. They erupted like a volcano, spewing inky blood down his arm, onto his leg, dripping to the ground. All he could do was whimper, then scream.
* * *
Every nerve, every pore in David’s body begged him to let go and fall back. But hanging midway over the fence, he didn’t know which way “back” was. A numbing blanket spread along his belly, up his arms and legs, into his head. It sucked his balls into his throat.
Let go, his brain screamed. Fall. Do SOMETHING.
The dog’s paddock blurred below him, melted into the screaming form of Quince beyond. The scene fuzzed into a spotty mesh of colors which bled away to grainy black and white. David wondered if his eyes were melting.
Something sizzled in his ears. He tried to throw himself off, but his body had fallen asleep. All he could do was rock himself back and forth. At least he thought that was what he was doing. The world turned upside down. Through the blackness filling the corners of his vision, David watched the ground slam into his
face.
The unrelenting assault on his senses cut out. Bright spots lingered around him like moths. David’s numb legs bent over him, dragging him sideways. His face twisted against the dirt and the world kept spinning. The moths scattered. He saw ground, fence, trees, finally sky.
Everything stopped. Bright, bright stars overhead.
* * *
Bark chewed on the bones and gristle from Quince’s fingers, then licked blood from its muzzle.
Thump.
The dog turned, saw David lying within the fence. Normally, caution would tug at its instincts, forcing the dog into a slow circle as it growled in warning.
The blood in its mouth sang, More there. More there.
Bark swallowed and trotted towards its meal.
* * *
David couldn’t move or turn his head. He saw nothing more than the million pinpricks of light above him and heard only the rustling of the budding trees outside his vision. Then he felt it, the rhythmic thump, thump of Bark’s heavy paws running his way.
