Black Eyed Children (Black Eyed Children Series Book 1)

by Sara Clancy

  “We run the dogs through the tracks higher in the mountains where there is already some snow fall. This is just the winter camp. A little bit warmer and more protected from the winds.” Betsy said.

  “How far would it be to walk into town from the dog yard?”

  “Now? About two hours or so. Once the snow gets thick, it will probably be half a day. Definitely don’t try it when winter sets in. We get winds this way that will freeze you to death if you’re not careful.” Betsy said. “But in any season, taking a stroll around these parts isn’t all that advisable. There are a lot of saplings this way that draw in the deer. And where they go, wolves follow. If you decided to make the walk, be sure to take Bannock and the shotgun with you. Do you have much experience with guns?”

  “No, not much.”

  “I’ll teach you everything before I go,” Aaron said. “And we also have a few poppers. That’s just a special round built to make a loud noise but not do any real damage. It’s just to scare things off.”

  “Do you get a lot of wolves up this way?”

  This time, Betsy did turn in her seat. The slight movement from her stirred Bannock more than the heavy rocking of the vehicle.

  “There are a few local packs. You won’t see them much during the day; they’re shy by nature and the forest is too thick. But they do have a habit of trying to pick off chained dogs when they get hungry enough. Or trying to mate with them. Which is why we need you here.”

  “No cannibalism and no hanky-panky,” Aaron said.

  Ruby could see him checking the rearview mirror if she had understood it was a joke. He seemed pleased by her little laugh.

  “Wolves are smart,” Betsy continued. “They won’t go anywhere that would make them they feel trapped. The fence serves well enough to put them off, so they tend to go to one of the less protected dog yards. But it’s still good to have a person on the property. Light a bonfire now and then. Walk the perimeter. Pat the dogs. If they can smell a human about, they won’t risk it.”

  “Unless they’re desperate.”

  Ruby couldn’t tell if Aaron meant the comment as a joke or a grim warning. So she put on a polite smile and nodded once. Serious but still lighthearted, she thought to herself. She had no idea if she managed to pull the look off.

  “Do you go camping very often?” Aaron said.

  Ruby shook her head.

  “Well, this might be uncomfortable for you.”

  “The job ad did say that the dog yard didn’t have any plumbing,” Betsy’s words came out quickly, and she twisted around again to fix her eyes on Ruby.

  Ruby nodded. “I remember. You have an outhouse, right? It also said that your power came from a generator.”

  “The generator will work the lights,” Betsy said. “We have a few outdoor floodlights set up to illuminate the dog yard. Indoors, you’ll need to use the wood stove. We’ve got a whole bunch of firewood cut up ready and there should be kindling enough. Have you ever started a fire?”

  “Once, in Girl Scouts.”

  “We’ll show you that, too,” Aaron said.

  “Oh, look out to your right,” Betsy said.

  Aaron slowed the van down as Ruby shifted to see. Just beyond a row of young saplings, the ground dipped to create a slight hill. From where she sat, Ruby couldn’t see the edges of the lake, but the water sparkled well enough for her to see it beneath the canopy of waterweeds and lily pads.

  “That’s where you’ll get all your water from,” Betsy said. “We give it to the dogs and drink it ourselves, so I can promise you it’s clean. We have big jugs you can fill up and shove under the sinks. They’re pump-action like in a caravan. It’s only a short walk, but always take Bannock with you. Or use the van. The jugs get pretty heavy when full.”

  The van pushed over a large bump and continued down the road. Even with the windows rolled up tight against the cold, Ruby heard the dogs long before she spotted the clearing. The woods pulled back from the left side of the road to form a little meadow. A small cabin, barely any bigger than a shipping container, was pressed against the border of trees on the far left side of the clearing. A visitor’s area took up the middle. It was more than twice the size of the cabin and had a string of lights arching over the small wooden ramp that lead to the front door. It was the perfect setting for souvenir night photography.

  The visitor’s center walls were made of stained wood slats, and its roof was made of canvas, giving it the feel of a tent. Thin, carefully arranged gardens of wildflowers circled each building. While most of the plants had gone to ground for the season, the remaining few were enough to tell that they would be stunning in bloom. As they pulled up in front of the visitor’s center, Ruby caught sight of a shed that she assumed held the generator tucked behind its left corner. They parked and she spotted the outhouse hidden behind the right corner. That’s not going to seem like a very long distance in a snow storm, Ruby noted to herself.

  Despite the prettiness of the scene, it was the dogs that captivated her. She counted sixteen of them, all leaping around, their wild barks overshadowing the rumble of the van’s engine. Each one had its own doghouse and was attached to it by a long chain. It gave them room to move about but kept them from getting within touching distance of each other. The doghouses were old and worn, set on stilts and looked barely big enough for the strong, large dogs to curl up inside.

  She was still staring at them when Betsy got out of the van and opened up the sliding door. Bannock bolted out with Ruby, no less as eager, but far stiffer.

  “If you have time before the winter, you can paint up the doghouses. But each of them will need some new straw. That’s not optional. And you will have to change it over halfway through.”

  “Straw?” Ruby asked.

  “It’s for insulation,” Aaron said. “You have to keep in mind that these aren’t lap dogs. They’ve been bred to be outside. What you would consider freezing, they think of as a heat wave. The doghouses are small enough to keep in just about the right warmth for them. And also, gives them some protection if a wolf happens to come by. At least somewhere to hide until you come and scare it off.”

  He patted Ruby’s shoulder lightly and she guessed that he meant that as almost a joke. Which was a little reassuring. Having never seen a wolf in real life before, she wasn’t all too keen to face off with one. With quick little glances, she tried to take in the area and listen to their long list of information at the same time. When there was a pause, she asked the first thing that was bothering her.

  “I thought you said the place was fenced.”

  “It is,” Aaron said as he pointed to the wooden rails that formed a box around the dogs.

  They had used fallen logs and hadn’t done much to disguise the fact. The ‘fence’ consisted of two rails, with plenty of open space below both lengths of wood for even her to squeeze through. There were two main openings, one on the far side and one much closer. A curving dirt track ran the length between the two, separating the dogs into clusters, and she figured that the path was for them to run the sled through.

  “Wouldn’t the wolves just go in?” she asked.

  “Like Betsy said, they’re smart. They don’t like getting blindsided. It wouldn’t stop them if they really wanted in, sure, but it’s enough to give them pause. And really, that’s all you need.”

  Ruby looked up at him as she helped pull her bags free. “It is?”

  “Sure,” he said with a flash of teeth. “Wolves are just like any other predator. You don’t always have to defeat them. You just have to prove you’re too much effort for not enough payoff.” He slid the door of the van shut, his teeth still showing, pearly white in the sunlight. “Predators always go for the easiest prey.”

  Ruby nodded her understanding. It wasn’t exactly a foreign concept. In fact, she had seen it in action more than once. People often mistook her inability to tell when someone was lying for gullibility. Or stupidity. Freaks, weirdos, and creeps would all bypass her friends for a ch
ance to take advantage of her in one way or another. She had learned how effective even the disguise of defenses could be.

  The tour was quick, the instructions even quicker. With only a few hours sleep over the entirety of her three-day train ride, Ruby couldn’t quite remember anything they said, no matter how hard she tried. She kept repeating the instructions in her head, hoping for some of it to stick. The generator’s in the shed and she had to make sure to flip a switch before pulling the rip-cord to start it. Petrol is stored behind the shed, shielded by a little alcove. Use dry kindling to start a fire and add the sturdier wood once the flames have grown. Don’t confuse the red tipped poppers for the real bullets. Never shoot behind the animal or it will charge forward. It all jumbled into a mess of words in her head and that was before she was finally able to meet the dogs. By the time she made it through, her pants were covered with slobber and loose fur.

  It barely seemed like they had arrived and already she was being led back to the van. They were going to drive her back to get supplies and drop them off. After that, she would be on her own.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Betsy said. “I’ve made up a folder with all the information and instructions you need. You’ll be fine.”

  “And we’ll pop back in tomorrow morning before we leave town,” Aaron said. “This way might be a bit daunting, but it’s the most efficient way to see what you haven’t figured out yet.”

  Ruby nodded and forced a confident smile that she hoped looked somewhat convincing. Despite her little bubble of panic, it was comforting to have Bannock nibbling at her fingers, insisting on another scratch. As they neared the van, she noticed for the first time that they weren’t at the end of the road. It curled around, the forest swallowing it up and giving the illusion of a dead end.

  “What’s down there?”

  Betsy’s shoulders jumped. “Not much. Peter Martin’s place is about three miles down. Another dog yard. He might drop in and check on you from time to time.”

  “Do I have any other neighbors?”

  The question made both of them laugh as they climbed into the front van seats. Ruby supposed that served well enough as a ‘no’.

  ***

  The night didn’t fall. It rose.

  Creeping first amongst the tree trunks, it swirled and gathered across the ground before climbing higher. Unfamiliar with the roads, it took her twice as long to make the trip back to the dog yard. Ruby had grossly misjudged how quickly the darkness would come, or how thick it would get. She had just enough time to park the van, stack her suitcases by the cabin door, and put the groceries on the step before the sun began to sink behind the treetops. Fumbling with the generator, it took her almost twenty minutes to turn the floodlights on. The harsh white glow made the yard look surreal as she set about feeding the dogs.

  There were seventeen dogs if you counted Bannock, and each one of them had a personalized ratio of kibble to water. She was relieved to see that each doghouse had a name plaque. It made it a lot easier to follow the feeding instructions. This too took longer than she had expected, and there was an ache brewing in her joints when she finished. The next task on her to-do list was to clean the yard. She was grateful that the process included a shovel and wheelbarrow rather than plastic bags and hands. After days of sitting still, the exercise felt as good as it did painful, but she was glad when the task was done.

  Sweat glistened across her brow, freezing just as quickly as her body produced it. And while she roasted under her jacket, her fingers and toes had steadily been reduced to ice. Flipping through the pages of the binder, she found that there was only one task left for the night. She had to move two of the dogs to the playpen. It wasn’t just a fully fenced in paddock; this one was made of actual metal links. Aaron had explained that it gave the dogs a chance to stretch their legs and socialize. The Cobalts had worked out the roster for the coming months, and Ruby checked it three times as she tried to find the corresponding dogs, Snow and Fire. Snow, as her name suggested, was pure white like Bannock, except she was a giant puffball with legs. Fire was black, with a white face and belly. Ruby figured out why he had been given that name when she had filled his bowl. The dog had one hell of a temper. Not vicious, exactly, but quick to growl, not too happy to see her coming close, and seemed to like trying to trip her with his chain.

  As she waited for the dogs to finish up, she stretched out her back and glanced up at the sky. It was impossible to see much of anything beyond the glare of the lights. So it was only as she looked around her that she saw how completely the night had swallowed the world. It was as if the floodlights had clawed out a stop of reality from the black nothingness. Everything beyond that razor fine line was gone. Glancing over her shoulder, she found that she could only see the side of the visitor’s tent closest to her. The other half had disappeared into the night and she couldn’t even see the shadow of the cabin beyond that, even though it was only a few feet away.

  Suddenly, she felt the cold. It ravaged the sweat she had worked up and made her fingers ache. There was a calm to the night that she wasn’t accustomed to. No traffic or alarms. Nothing to stir it but the wet sounds of the dogs eating. Every so often, she thought she could hear a twig snap. Or dead leaves crunching as something moved through the undergrowth. But the sound was always lost under the noise of the dogs before she could pinpoint where it came from.

  “It’s just rabbits,” she told herself. “Maybe a bird.”

  Hearing her voice helped to steady her, but it didn’t stop the quiver at the bottom of her gut. She couldn’t shake the knowledge that something could be watching her from beyond the ring of light, and she would never know it. Shaking her head, she decided that it was time to finish off her nightly chores and go indoors. She just needed one night to settle in, that’s all. This new sense of paranoia would disappear once when she was familiar with the area.

  When the dogs finished eating, she made one last check of the binder. She was definitely supposed to move Fire and Snow. Aaron had shown her how to handle the dogs when moving them from one place to another. How to grip their collars and pull them up, so only their hind legs were on the ground. She had thought it looked cruel, but he had assured her that it didn’t hurt them, and that since they were working dogs, she’d soon lose control of them if they were on all fours.

  For all his gusto, Fire let her unclip him easily enough. Her air numbed fingers curled tightly around his thick collar and she pulled him up. Fire grunted, the sound becoming choked off and hissed. Guilt sliced through her and she let him down, allowing him to practically drag her towards the playpen. It was undignified but quick and worked well enough in the end. He was pushing hard against her leg and she opened the chain-link door. When there was just enough space for him to squeeze through, he did so, almost forcing her off her feet in the process. Quickly closing the door, Ruby dusted her hands off, breathed some hot air onto them, and went in search of Snow.

  The living puffball sprang from the muddy earth to the top of her doghouse and back down. Over and over, taunting Bannock as he raced around her. Getting her off the leash was simple enough and once again, she didn’t have the heart to lift the dog onto her hind legs. With an excited yelp and surge of pure muscle, Snow leaped forward. Ruby was yanked off her feet. Her fingers slipped free of Snow’s collar as she slammed against the cool earth. The night broke out into a chorus of crazed snaps and yelps, drowning out any trace of silence as Bannock’s paws narrowly missed stomping her head. Ruby snapped her head up in time to see Snow springing off into the unbreakable darkness, Bannock close on her heels.

  Panicked, Ruby hurled herself onto her feet and sprinted across the yard. The well-trodden ground gave way to patches of grass as she passed between the outhouse and the playpen. Then saplings barely bigger than twigs that surrendered the ground and gnarled bushes with needle-like barbs slashed across her thighs as she pushed past. She was a good few yards beyond the ring of light when she realized what she was doing. Staggering to
a stop, she glanced around, straining to see into the darkness that had rushed to meet her.

  In places, the foliage of the forest opened up enough to allow the glow of the floodlights to follow her. It lit up small patches, creating outlines of tree trunks and creeping branches, catching the small traces of moisture that lingered in the air and creating a hazy fog that loomed around the canopy. The moonlight managed to weave around some of the more barren branches, but even their combined efforts could not fight off the shadows. Night clung to the forest floor, hiding the details of the world from her sight. It played tricks on her mind, creating shapes that crouched in the corners of her vision but disappeared when she turned to see them. In the distance, the dogs still bellowed and howled, their sound the only point of reference she had. If they were to go silent, she wouldn’t be able to find her way back.

  But while it grounded her, the noise hid the sound of anything nearby. As she stood there, the chill of the air working through her layers of protection to find her bones, she could swear that she heard something move through the underbrush. Not constant. Just a crunch of dead leaves every so often. Creeping around her. Coming closer.

  Ruby swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Bannock! Snow!”

  The dogs continued to bark, any one of which could be her fugitives. Something shifted through a bush just beyond her sight and her body froze. All the possibilities of what could be lurking unseen flooded into her head. Slowly, she inched her foot back.

  “Bannock!” she called again, louder than before.

  Her heel had just hit the earth, completing her first step backwards, when the world went silent. The baying of the pack didn’t pitter out as they lost interest. It stopped with a cluster of yelps and left her alone in the crushing silence. Never in her life had Ruby heard silence like that. Consuming. Stifling. Like a tangible thing that bore down upon her and filled her with every breath.

  Ruby’s knees locked into place and she froze. There was a voice in the back of her mind that was convinced she would lose all sense of direction if she were to turn now. That without the dogs to guide her, she would end up going the wrong way. With staggered breaths, she tried to calm herself. But the more she soothed the wild thought that she would get lost, the more room there was for a new feeling.