by Amy Cross
When I eventually head back to Jon, I find that he's still sleeping. His head has tilted to one side, and a faint dribble of clear mucus has begun to run from one corner of his mouth. There's sweat all over his face, too, and still a little dried blood on his lips and chin. He looks sick, with pale skin, and I stop before I reach him, worried about getting too close. Still, I've never gotten sick from being around him before, and I remind myself that he needs me. Sometimes, he seems to feel better just when he gets to touch my flank, so I step closer and settle on the ground next to him, listening to the sound of his rapid but shallow breathing.
He'll get better.
He has to.
And until then, I just have to wait.
Suddenly I hear a faint rattling sound from nearby. I hurry to the top of the steps and look toward the trees, but there's no sign of movement. A moment later, I realize that the sound is coming from the burned bones, and I see that the wind has picked up slightly. I start snarling, just in case there's any danger, and I watch for a few seconds as Richard's burned skull twitches slightly.
Finally the wind dies down.
The bones stop moving.
I don't dare stop looking at them, though.
Just in case.
A few minutes later, I hear a faint creaking sound over my shoulder, and I turn just in time to see that Jon's head is moving slightly. His eyes are still closed, but after a moment they start to open. There's some kind of thick, yellowish mucus stuck in his lashes, almost gumming his eyes shut, and it takes a few seconds before he turns and looks down at me. I wait for him to smile, for him to say something that'll make me feel better, but he's simply staring at me with no hint of recognition at all. I'm scared now, but I can't run from him. Jon is my master and nothing can ever make me leave him, even if his expression seems somehow wrong right now. It's almost as if someone else is staring at me from behind his eyes.
“Hey,” he whispers finally, his throat sounding drier than ever. His expression changes, relaxing slightly. “Sorry, buddy, I think I...”
He pauses, almost as if he's forgotten what he was saying.
“I think I nodded off there.”
He tries to sit up, but the effort is clearly painful and it takes him several attempts. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a faint gasp as he looks around.
“What time is it?” he asks. “How long have we been sitting here like this?”
I watch him carefully, looking for some sign that he might be getting better, but if anything he actually seems worse. Warmer, too, and with even more sweat running down his face.
Finally, after a few minutes, he tries to get to his feet. He lets out several more pained gasps, but he keeps pushing until eventually he manages to stand, although he's having to steady himself against the wall.
“I need to sleep,” he mumbles, turning and starting to shuffle toward the door. “I'll be better after that. I just need... I need water, and I need to sleep.”
I follow as he heads inside, and then I watch him stumbling toward the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and starts drinking, and he doesn't stop until every last drop is gone, at which point he grabs another bottle and does the same again. Taking a third bottle, he hesitates for a moment, before leaning down and pouring some into my bowl, and then he starts drinking again, tilting his head back as he pours more and more water down his throat. Finally, as if his body can take no more, he lets out a spluttering cough and lets the plastic bottle slip from his trembling hand. Leaning forward, he gasps several times, and I see bloody water dribbling from his lips.
“I just need to sleep,” he says again, turning to me and forcing a smile. “Whatever this is, it's just some kind of flu. I'm going to be fine.”
He starts shuffling toward the bedroom.
“I'll be -”
Suddenly he starts swaying, and he takes a couple of quick steps toward the wall before falling and slamming into the bookshelf. He lets out a gasp of pain, and then he pauses for a moment as if he's trying to get his balance back.
“I'll be fine,” he whispers, heading once again toward the bedroom door. “I'll get better, Julie will come, we'll go home and everything will start getting back to normal. I promise.”
Chapter Fourteen
He sleeps for such a long time, I start worrying that he might never wake up.
Afternoon becomes evening, and finally the sun sets, bringing darkness. This time Jon isn't around to light candles in the window, so the cabin is plunged into darkness. I jump down off the bed, where Jon is gasping as he sleeps, and I make my way through to the main room, where I see that he left the front door open. Heading over, I look out onto the porch, but all I see is darkness, although a hint of moonlight is catching the edges of the charred bones.
And all I hear is silence.
Not just the kind of silence where there are a few background noises, but absolute silence. Maybe for the first time in my life, I can hear absolutely nothing. Not a single noise, in any direction.
Sitting in the doorway, I realize that with Jon asleep, I have to guard the cabin. There's still a chance that someone could show up, and I need to make sure I know who they are before I let them inside. Julie is okay, and I'd let her come through the door, but anyone else would have to wait outside. I'm exhausted, having barely slept over the past few nights, but somehow I'm able to stay awake and alert, watching the darkness and listening for any sign of life.
And then later, after several more hours have passed, I hear a bumping, stumbling sound from the bedroom.
Turning, I look across the dark room just in time to see a silhouette appear in the doorway. It's Jon, I can tell that, but the way he's standing seems different somehow, as if he's leaning heavily on the side of the door. He's not moving now, and instead he seems to be simply standing and listening to the silence.
“Harry?” he says finally.
Getting to my feet, I head over to him.
“Hey Harry,” he whispers. “I need... I need more water...”
He takes a few stumbling steps through the darkened room, before bumping into one of the chairs and almost falling.
“I think you should stay outside for the rest of the night,” he continues. “I don't want... I don't want you getting sick. I think there's blood in the bed, and I don't want you to...”
He pauses, and I can hear his labored breath in the darkness.
“You have to stay well, buddy,” he says finally. “You can't come on the bed, okay? Not right now. Not until I'm better. It's for you... It's for...”
His voice trails off, and a moment later he starts stumbling toward the kitchen. I wait and watch as he grabs another bottle of water, which he drinks quickly, and then he drinks two more. Finally letting out a gasp, he starts coughing, and it takes several minutes for him to get his breath back. Turning, he starts heading to the bedroom again, and I follow.
“No,” he says, stopping and looking down at me, “you stay out here. Please, Harry, I don't want you to... Please, I can't make you sick. Whatever this is...”
I let out a faint whimper, to let him know that I'm still here, but suddenly he reaches down and takes hold of my collar with a trembling hand, before turning and leading me toward the open front door. I try to pull back, but I don't want to struggle too much so I decide to follow, figuring that maybe we're going to sit together on the porch.
“There,” he says once we're outside, letting go of my collar and stepping back through the door. “Just for one night, buddy. Just until I'm better, to keep you from getting sick.”
With that, he shuts the door.
I immediately hurry over and scratch at the wood, but I can hear Jon stumbling away now, heading into the bedroom. Panicking, I let out a series of barks, to remind him that he's made a mistake, but a moment later I hear a gasp and a squeaking sound, which I know means that he's slumped back down onto the bed. I run around to the glass door that leads into the kitchen, but it's shut.
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sp; I bark again and scratch at the door for a few more minutes, before hurrying along the porch and making my way around to the window that leads into Jon's room.
I stare up at the glass for a moment, before barking yet again, and then a few more times until finally I start whimpering instead. He must have fallen asleep and forgotten that I'm out here, but I have to find a way to get inside so I can sit with him and make sure he's okay. I bark a few more times, hoping to wake him, and then I head back around to the front of the cabin and start scratching once again at the door.
The wind is picking up now. Black bones are rattling in the grass.
Chapter Fifteen
By the time the sun comes up, the cabin has been completely still and quiet for several hours.
I'm still on the porch, watching the front door and waiting for Jon to come and let me back inside. He's probably still asleep, but I'm certain that he made a mistake when he left me out here during the night, and soon he'll wake up and realize that I'm supposed to be with him on the bed. For as long as I can remember, I've always slept at the bottom of Jon's bed. That's just how things are supposed to be, and it's wrong for me to be out here when he needs me. I don't care if he's sick, I just want to be with him.
So I wait.
And I wait.
Later, once the sun is high in the blue sky, I get to my feet and wander around to the cabin's other side. I'm hungry and I need water, but there's no way I can leave the cabin. Jon will feed me as soon as he wakes up and opens the door, but as I sit and look up at the bedroom window, I realize that there's still no sign of him.
Finally, hoping that he'll be able to hear me, I start whimpering, while my wagging tail brushes against the boards.
Several minutes later, I let my whimper become a little louder, accompanied by a few half-woofs, while still staring at the window and waiting for the first sign that Jon is awake.
Chapter Sixteen
Night falls again. I'm still out on the porch, and I'm starving, but all I can do is wait at the door for Jon to finally come and let me in. Occasionally I start barking for a few minutes, although I'm too weak to make a lot of noise. I need to conserve energy.
My nose is twitching, though. There's a dark scent drifting out from the cabin, curling under the door. I start whimpering again.
I can smell death again.
Chapter Seventeen
Suddenly there's a loud crashing sound from inside the cabin. Having waited out here for hours and hours now, I immediately get to my feet and stare at the door, and sure enough the sound is still there. Jon's moving about again.
It's still dark out here, but I step toward the door and claw at the wood, while barking to remind him that I'm out here.
And my tail is wagging furiously.
He's back!
Everything's going to be okay again!
From inside, there's the sound of glass breaking. It's almost as if Jon has suddenly woken and started stumbling about, crashing into the furniture, but at least he's alive. There's still a stench of death drifting out from under the door, but that must be coming from something else inside the cabin. For now, I take a couple of steps back and start barking again, while wagging my tail as I wait for Jon to come and get me.
For the next few minutes, however, all I hear is the sound of him bumping into things. He's obviously still not well, but at least he can come and sit with me for a while, and give me something to eat and drink. All I can think about is the moment when the door is going to open again, but finally I realize that it doesn't sound as if Jon is coming any closer. All the bumping and crashing sounds still seem far away, as if he hasn't made it out of the bedroom yet.
Hurrying along the porch, I head around to the spot beneath the bedroom window and immediately start clawing at the wood and barking to get Jon's attention. A moment later, however, I hear a loud thudding sound and the wooden wall shudders slightly, as if something slammed into it on the other side. I step back, whimpering slightly, and I pause for a moment before barking again. Jon has to be able to hear me, so it's only a matter of time before he comes out and everything is back to normal.
But as the sun starts to rise in the distance, there's still no sign of him.
If anything, the crashing sounds from inside are getting louder and more persistent. I'm still barking, but I'm also starting to think that maybe Jon isn't able to get to the door. Whereas earlier I was relieved to hear him moving about, now I can't help noticing that he sounds as if he's struggling, and moments later I hear him thudding against the wall several more times. I pause, and now there's a very faint grunting sound coming from the other side of the window, almost as if Jon's snarling.
Jon doesn't snarl, though.
He never snarls.
I don't know why I'm hearing a snarl, but I tell myself that it must be some kind of mistake.
Heading back around to the front of the cabin, I start pawing at the door again, dragging my claws through the wood in the hope that Jon will hear and realize that he has to let me inside. I can still hear a series of loud, heavy bumps, and he seems to be stuck in the bedroom, but I know that once he understands that I'm out here, he'll definitely come and look after me. He must know that I haven't eaten in over a day, and that I need water. I trust Jon more than I trust anyone else, even if it's taking time for him to come to the door.
But no matter how loud I bark and how furiously I scratch at the wood, several hours pass and he still doesn't come to fetch me.
***
I don't know how long I've been clawing at the front door now, but I've started to wear several deep grooves into the wood and my throat is sore from all the barking. The sun has risen high and my legs are starting to ache, but I know I have to keep trying. For some reason, Jon still doesn't seem to realize that I'm out here, so I have to get his attention.
I can still hear him banging around in the cabin.
He hasn't stopped once. He's been awake for hours now, but he still doesn't seem to have left the bedroom. If anything, the banging and crashing sounds have been getting louder, almost as if he's becoming more and more furious. I can hear him grunting, too, although he hasn't spoken once, at least not using any words that I understand. Instead, he seems almost to be on the floor, as if -
Suddenly I hear another, closer bump, and I realize he seems to have finally made it through to the front room.
I bark several times, to make sure he realizes I'm here, and then I sit whimpering for a moment. He'll come and turn the handle soon, and then the door will swing open and I can go inside. I'll be able to eat and drink, and then I can sit with Jon while he gets better. Everything will be okay, so long as I can just get into the cabin.
As I wait, I realize I can hear him coming closer. It sounds like he's crawling across the floor, which seems strange, and a moment later I hear him bumping against the other side of the door.
I reach out and paw at the wood.
Suddenly something heavy slams against the door, startling me so much that I instantly step back a few paces. He hits the door again, as if he's trying to force it open, and I can hear a low, persistent snarling sound now. Looking down at the bottom of the door, I can just about make out his shadow. I'm picking up Jon's scent, too, but it seems to have changed somehow, as if some part of him is starting to turn rotten. As he continues to push against the wood, however, I realize that maybe I can see him now if I go to the glass door, round at the far end of the kitchen.
Hurrying along the decking, I stop at the glass door and look into the cabin.
Sure enough, Jon is on the floor, still throwing his weight repeatedly against the front door. He looks frail and weak, as if he's lost weight, and there's dried blood all around his injured ankle. After a moment, however, he looks this way and I see that his eyes have blackened slightly around the edges, while the whites have become a dull yellowish color. He stares at me for a moment, before hauling himself around and trying to get to his feet. When that doesn't work, he half-craw
ls, half-stumbles toward me, although he quickly falls and lands against one of the chairs, knocking it over and crashing hard against the bottom of the kitchen counter.
I watch with a growing sense of concern as he reaches out and digs his fingernails into the floorboards, and slowly he starts crawling this way.
Wagging my tail in an attempt to make him happier, I realize that although this is definitely Jon, something seems very different about him now. The glass door makes it harder for me to pick up his scent, but as he edges closer it's clear that the flesh on his face seems to have somehow shrunk slightly, as if it's clinging more tightly to his bones, while his mouth is hanging open with dried blood all around the edges. I've seen him when he's sick before, but he's never looked this bad, and as he reaches the mat on the other side of the door I have to fight the urge to turn and run.
Suddenly he lets out a dry, pained cry as he slams his fists against the window, causing the glass to shudder.
I instinctively step back, while keeping my eyes fixed on him.
He lets out another snarl as he slams his fist against the glass. Staring into his eyes, I can't shake the feeling that somehow it's not really Jon looking back at me. He's never been the kind of person who gets angry easily, and he's definitely never been angry with me before, so I don't know what I should do as he hits the glass over and over again. I can't think of anything I've done wrong, but it's almost as if he really wants to hurt me. I turn and start walking away, before turning again and watching as he tries to sit up. For some reason, he seems to be having trouble with his legs, but finally he starts throwing his body against the glass, and he doesn't even seem to care that he's damaging his face. In fact, he hits the glass so hard, he quickly crushes his nose and causes a trickle of blood to run down to his lips.
Not wanting to see him like this, I turn and head back around to the front of the cabin, although then I stop again. I can still hear Jon shouting, but it occurs to me that if I go back and take another look, he might suddenly be better.
