Sitting upright, she closed her eyes and controlled her breathing. She concentrated on what she could smell and hear, filtering out one layer of input at a time. With some effort she was able to push out the vile stench. She removed the growing thunder of the paws of her pursuers. She removed the kennel noises and the wind in the trees, and the smell of the plants around her. She removed a car on a nearby road, the birds overhead, and the big happy German shepherd barking in the distance. She cursed the dog, thinking, No one cares about your stupid leftovers right now.
Eventually she was able to filter out even her own shivering, along with her fever, her babies moving inside her, and her angry bowels. She took a deep breath, swiveled her head, and rotated her ears for triangulation.
She smelled just what she was looking for.
Yes, She thought, That’s it…it has to be.
A long shot, but the only option with a remote chance of working. She took one final bearing and shot off as low and as fast as she could manage.
Alpha paused just long enough to note the prey’s location change, and with a tail flip he directed the hunters to fan out. They were close, and any of them could bring down this prey alone so there was no need to stick together. Pregnant prey will often fight back the hardest, but the hunters would converge quickly enough to end it without much risk.
He had guessed correctly and the prey had altered course when it came across a worn game trail. The pregnant dog had tried to gain ground by following the path. Alpha almost felt sorry for this kill, and was a little disappointed that the hunt would be over so soon. As with most captive animals they lose their senses for effective evasion and in unfamiliar territory this prey had picked the very game path that the hunters used. It would’ve had a better chance sticking to the less travelled scrub. Fun as that would have been, it would have just delayed the outcome.
The game trail, and the prey’s scent, led straight to the river. Just as Alpha was preparing to jump One Ear cleared it from the opposite bank and ran smack into him with a thud.
Both had been following the scent from opposite directions. How did we miss her? Alpha indicated as they circled each other. As they started to work out which one of them was wrong Weasel One and Weasel Two jumped into the clearing at the same time from different directions.
Each of the ugly brothers had lost the scent at the last minute but heard Alpha and One Ear colliding and assumed they had snagged the prey. The brothers were already salivating. They were ready to claim one of the unborn babies each for themselves, and hoped they were still alive.
Alpha postured silent orders and his hunters snapped quickly back on task. They bound off in four opposite directions to pick up the scent. He crossed the river and took One Ear’s path, and vice versa, to quickly narrow down who had followed the scent in the wrong direction.
In an instant all of the hunters picked up the scent again, and all of them circled back to the same spot near the river a few seconds later.
Weasel Two broke their strict code and started to yelp in frustration. Alpha’s look was enough to freeze him in mid yap, We don’t ever give away our position, he motioned sternly, And you certainly never let the prey sense your frustration.
The team regrouped, a little less polished, and broke into teams. They circled in wide arcs as the prey had obviously skipped her trail somewhere and was actively gapping her scent. It’s not often Alpha had encountered captive prey with that much savvy, but it happened. It was also possible this one just got lucky. Maybe the bad smell was giving them some trouble tracking her. He answered One Ear’s raised eyebrow by assuring her that must be the case.
After more than an hour of crisscrossing patterns and widening their search area Alpha chop-barked them back to the river.
They were now completely stymied and more than a little tired. His hunters were built to stalk, wait, and attack. This fever pitch searching was pushing the limits of even this crew’s exceptional stamina, and Alpha knew frustration and fatigue fed each other exponentially. They also led to costly mistakes.
Alpha had always taught them to leave a little in reserve. A hunter never knew what they were going to run into on the way home. It was getting very late and they needed to be far away from any of the human dominated areas before sun-up, and their own den was a long run from this river. Successfully living and feeding around humans came with strict rules. The coyotes may own the night, but there was no question humans owned the day.
Alpha tried to put a positive spin on the evening, explaining that it was a good hunt and wasn’t a total bust as they had flushed out two great turkey hiding spots and logged them for later.
Normally when they missed taking down their prey he had someone to blame it on. The team almost wished someone had made a mistake tonight. The hunters weren’t really buying his light attitude, and they weren’t surprised when Alpha suggested they head home but he was going to hang around for a while to see if their quarry turned up. They parted company and Alpha took up a spot on a knoll overlooking a long stretch of the river. As the hunters disappeared Weasel Two joked with his teammates about not wanting to be in this prey’s paws.
She was still alive, and that was no small miracle. The hunters had been so close they almost stepped on her a few times.
Staying submerged in the chilly river for hours with barely her snout out of the water had sapped her strength and played havoc with her already compromised body temperature. Exhausted, she had reached the point of having to remember to breathe and sputtered and coughed water several times, and then was terrified she had given herself away. She had gambled a few times when she felt the hunters weren’t close by and crawled out from under her muddy outcropping to warm up.
While out of the water she also laid down fresh dummy circles of scent trails. Her stench wasn’t hard to produce as she was messing wetly almost constantly, and still smelled of the vile slime. Although feeling she was physically at her end, her spirits were bolstered some. She had been successful so far and her pursuers had looped back to the same spot enough times to frustrate them. At one point one of the hunters stood directly above her on a little log footbridge that spanned the river. It was a big female, and her drool hit the water just past the tip of her submerged snout.
She had been hunted before by some of the nastier rogue packs back home. She had also been pursued by humans. Neither were like these predators. Living in the human’s cities she had never run into anything like them. These were the real deal. She had hunted for food herself a few times and was an amateur at it. She was awed by their tenacity, cooperation, and stealth.
One of the wild dogs was still around. She thought it was the bigger male, but he wasn’t giving away enough to place his position accurately. As she sat motionless in the water trying to pick up any sign of him she could feel her strength draining away, and her shivering rattled her teeth. She pushed away another urge to bolt.
Just a few more hours, she thought, They just need a few more hours.
She continued heading upriver, hugging the bank and staying under the overhanging scrub. Willing one paw forward at a time, she made steady progress through the cold river but she was still having bouts of fading in and out. Fever blurred her vision and her stomach was a mass of hot coals. The little ones inside her moved and argued, and she felt horrible for what she was putting them through. At least the river had washed off her own filth and most of the vile coating from the kennel.
She peeked out every so often to sample the air and get her bearings. She was definitely getting closer to the smells and sounds she had picked up earlier. It was her only chance, but it was a slim one. She wouldn’t know how slim until she got closer. She paused submerged in the river. She’d have to leave it and cross the open ground in front of her to get there, and she would also need to avoid the killer who was still stalking her.
She rose out of the water, stopped, and fought back her panic as she lowered back down again.
Alpha stepped into the water
for a quick drink, and to cool his undercarriage before calling it quits. As soon as his hunters left he had tried to triangulate the prey’s scent again, working back and forth frantically along the bank. He was pretty sure she was on the move, but he just could not find her correct trail. He had figured out this pregnant dog’s cunning ruse was no accident. It had been many years since he had hunted game this clever. He sank into the cool stream a little more, relieving himself and submerging the scent. The air was warming as the sky lightened. Once the sun came up it was going to be a hot day.
She froze and steadied herself, mentally and physically changing from flight to fight mode. Gathering her hind feet below her she readied to spring, and chose a bite target just below the male’s jaw. The predator had come silently out of the brush and strolled into the water right at the spot where she was hidden.
She got her first good look at him, and he was far bigger than she imagined. He was also solid muscle, and looked to be a truly impressive killer. It would have been a tough fight even at her peak, but as weak as she was now she would be lucky to get in one shot. She backed into the reeds, slipped farther beneath the water, and waited. She felt a warm flow of water pass by her. He had to know she was there, he was almost on top of her. Ugh, she thought, Do these predators toy with their prey by peeing on them?
Alpha stopped, listened, and sniffed for a few seconds, ears rotating, sampling. She was here, but at the same time he picked up nothing new he could use.
He exited the river, shook off the failure of the evening and headed for the den. Tomorrow was another night of hunting. The woods were only so big, and on the rare occasions his prey evaded him he usually ran into it again. He could hit and miss on the hunt, but his prey needed to escape every single time. The Alpha knew the odds were in his favor.
Chapter 13
Ben Hogan was up like a shot. He could hear Mimi puttering in the kitchen and he could smell tea. His tummy started telegraphing, Please send down egg-in-a-cup and some soldiers.
He tossed on his whatevers and went to the bathroom. Mimi would not serve him anything if he was not at least splashed and combed which he accomplished in one motion, stopping just long enough to admire his shiner.
It was Saturday morning and when staying at the farm that meant there was plenty of trouble just waiting to be gotten into as soon as the sun was up. There were also chores, but Mimi and Papa had always made them fun and he was usually cut some slack after making a good effort. Truth was he enjoyed working around the farm and after some initial complaining often did more than was he was asked.
Ben crept past his Mom and Dad’s room, went silently downstairs, and slipped into the kitchen. Kelcy would still be sleeping on the couch in the living room, which she preferred to the small bedroom that was made up for her down the hall across from the pantry. Mimi was already in her working clothes and standing at the sink cradling her cup of black tea, which Ben knew would have one sugar and a spot of milk. She was staring out of the big kitchen window box and Ben watched her for a long moment. She’s probably thinking about Papa, he thought.
He snuck up behind her. As he formed his fingers into claws and picked a spot on her waist Mimi said in her always cheery voice, “How about a lovely egg in a cup and some soldiers?”
“Yes please,” Ben said as he dropped his claws and fell into a kitchen chair. He was never able to scare Mimi. His mum would jump a mile with a snake, and even a medium size spider in the shower sent his sister into hysterics. He could even get his dad on occasion by hiding under the stairs at their house or in the back seat of his car, but Mimi was his greatest challenge. He had tried every manner of surprise attack and creepy crawly but was never rewarded with anything more than the smallest flinch. Ben was pretty sure she had been special ops in the war, or perhaps a secret agent.
Egg-in-a-cup was a hot, soft-boiled egg smashed up in a coffee cup with a little butter and the perfect amount of salt and pepper, and Mimi added a little American cheese to Ben’s. His mother tried to use some cheese with a funky name that was also good, but not Mimi-good. Soldiers were a toasted slice of bread cut into long strips so they could be dipped into the buttery, eggy goodness. Ben was not much of a tea drinker except when having pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, and would usually go for milk instead. Mimi would question Ben’s lineage when he refused tea, saying, “You should be riddy, you’re surely no Scot o’ mine, lad.”
“So mister man, what do you feel like tackling today?” Mimi asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well those wee Toggenburgs aren’t going to feed themselves,” Ben said in his best Papa voice.
Mimi turned to face him, and Ben was sure he saw just a hint of sadness. Mimi was never sad. Not ever. He had seen his Mom break down to her knees and even his Dad had cried a river of tears in Ben’s presence but he never saw Mimi ever waver, not even a little. At Papa’s funeral Mimi was puttering and cooking and greeting people with a smile and a warm hug. Ben thought it was like Christmas done in black.
A small cloud had certainly crossed her face but it disappeared quicker than it came, and she cracked that warm smile again as she checked out Ben’s black eye.
“It’ll always be a wonder to me how you wee boys heal so bloody fast,” she said.
What had been an angry purple patch around his eye that reached almost to his temple had shrunken to a dark spot just above the lid. The rest had faded to a hint of red. On his chin was a small slit of dark scab poking out from under the butterfly band-aide.
She watched him inhale his breakfast. As she ran her fingers through his hair to fix his feeble attempt at brushing she said, “Looks like you and I are going to be having breakfast together more often. You okay with moving away from Boston, little man?”
“Yeah,” he said as he wiped the remnants of egg out of his cup with his last toast finger, “It’s all good. I’ve beaten up all the bullies in town so I’m looking forward to seeing just how tough your South Shore ones are.”
“I’m sure they’re already quaking in their galoshes,” Mimi said with a smile. She took his empty cup and plate, and then added, “Mr. Watt is going to need de-wormer in his breakfast, and don’t let him spit it out.”
Ben downed his milk and set the glass into the sink. He stopped and gave Mimi a big hug. Looking up at her he said, “You got it. Thanks Meem, love you,” before dashing out the back door.
As the screen door closed behind the boy Mimi fished around in her junk drawer for a pair of scissors. Kelcy came down the hallway, shuffling the walk of the undead as she yawned and scratched. Without makeup her wounds looked worse than the night before. She plopped down in a chair and dropped her head to the table, resting her bad cheek on her raw knuckles before she could catch herself. “Ow,” she said.
Mimi grabbed the newspaper from the sideboard table and pulled up a chair opposite her granddaughter. “Cuppa?” she asked.
“Yes please,” Kelcy said into her hand. She opened one eye from under her hoodie and scanned Mimi and the scissors. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just clipping some coupons for your mum,” Mimi said. She carefully cut out several of the garish ‘SPECIAL SPECIAL’ coupons from the Chinese restaurant and stuck them all over the fridge with magnets.
“Nicely done,” Kelcy said. She shot up her hand for a high five, and said, “Ouch,” as Mimi slapped it on her way by to fill the kettle for tea.
Ben hosed out the food bowls and filled the water trough before he noticed the goats and the chickens weren’t present. He could hear them clucking and jostling inside the shed that served as their house. Normally they would come to greet him, and then scramble for position when the food bowls were being rattled.
Mr. Watt finally poked his head out from the open shed door but didn’t come down the small ramp. He was the lead goat and a bit of a local celebrity. Born on Mimi’s family homestead in Scotland, Mr. Watt was just a kid when he was brought to the states after Mimi’s mom died. Importing a small ruminant h
ardly seemed worth the hassle but Mimi was funny about stuff like that. Watt was Mimi’s maiden name and Mr. Watt was named after her father.
The old goat was a gentle soul and seemed to enjoy his dual citizenship status. He greeted visitors happily, especially children, with a formal bow followed by a friendly head butt to the groin.
Ben called to him like Papa would have and Mr. Watt tentatively approached. The boy gave him a few pats and in a deep voice said, “Here now Mr. Watt, what’s all this about?”
The big goat finally calmed and crashed into Ben’s midsection with a hello bump, and the other goats and chickens slowly spilled out behind him. After a few minutes of watching the chickens pecking and the goats grunting he noticed they were still nervous and mostly ignoring their food, and they were all staying well away from the shed.
Ben debated getting Mimi, or maybe even waking up his parents but he had made a promise to Papa a few months before he died that he would try hard to never be afraid of anything. Not the woods at night, not the dark basement, not bullies, not anything. He closed the pen gate behind him and ran to the barn.
Ben rummaged for a moment and found Papa’s unused plastic safety googles, well used work gloves, and the long-handled rake. He ran back to the pen and moved cautiously towards the shed. Probably a snake under there, he thought.
The old goat shed sat in the center of the large fenced pen. A large chicken coop was built onto the side of the shed, and the roof extended to cover it. It was built up on cinder blocks and looked like the next winter Nor’easter could knock it down. Papa and his brother Hamish had built it long before Ben was born, and although it had been recently painted the clapboard exterior was warped and the trim boards had some rot. There was an old pipe running up the side of the shed that carried power from below ground to a flood light tucked under the eave. The flood light socket was the ancient ceramic kind, it was cracked and the wires were hanging out.
Spot and Smudge - Book One Page 5
