Dreams, Memories, and Reality

Chapter 2-2

Philip stretched, flexing his fingers which were getting tired from all the typing he’d been doing. He’d finally gotten a handle on the story he was writing and had spent most of the day at his computer turning thoughts into words on the screen. He needed a break. Rolling his shoulders to loosen them, he saved his work and then pushed away from the desk.

A knock on the front door had him muttering about intrusive people who came by when it was supper time, but he still went to answer.

“Any news, Oliver?” he asked without preamble when he saw who was there.

“That’s what we need to talk to you about,” Oliver Delaine told him. “May we come in?”

With a nod Philip stepped aside, waving them to the sofa. Officer Clark sat, taking out his notebook, but Oliver declined, pacing across the room before turning to look at Philip.

“There are some…inconsistencies between what you told us and what we found, Philip.”

“Such as?” he replied, leaning against the wall, arms crossed as he watched the two officers.

“First off, the blood isn’t human. As closely as can be determined it’s animal, possibly from a deer or a cow.” Oliver looked at Philip in question.

“That’s impossible. How would an animal, any animal, be able to take my clothes, and why would they? And…” He blew out a long breath when he finally realized what Delaine was implying. “Now just a damned moment here, you’re thinking that I set this up for some reason? Why the hell would I do that? And what about the window, it wasn’t broken by some animal crashing through it.”

“Exactly,” Officer Clark said, looking up from taking notes. “There was glass inside and outside of the house. Did is suddenly occur to you that it had to be on the inside and you tried to rectify your mistake?”

Philip rubbed his forehead between his fingers, trying to figure out what was happening here. Finally he said, “The way you found it was exactly the way it was when I got home. I don’t care what it looks like. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Philip,” Oliver said quietly, moving to stand beside him, “if you were trying to, well…” He hesitated.

“Well what?” Philip asked when Oliver didn’t continue.

“Trying to bring attention to yourself in a way that would make Kingston sit up and take notice…” Oliver’s voice trailed off again.

“You have got to be kidding! If I never see that son of a b***h again it’ll be too soon.” Stalking away from Oliver, Philip whirled around, pointing a finger at the door. “Out, now, both of you.”

Oliver sighed, opening the door. Officer Clark stood, joining him. As they started to leave he turned back, saying with a sneer, “It’s illegal to file a false report. If…when we prove that you did, I’ll be back.”

“f**k you and the horse you came in on,” Philip replied, crossing the room to slam the door closed after them. “I…damn it,” he growled as he paced the room.

Barnabas watched him and growled softly, too.

Philip smiled tightly. “Agreeing with me? Tell you what pooch, let’s go take a run. I need to work off some of this anger before I do something stupid.”

Grabbing Barnabas’ newest leash, he waited until the dog stopped dancing with excitement and snapped it onto his collar. Then, after putting on his jacket and dropping a pistol into one deep pocket, just in case, they headed outside. He decided to go up the road away from town, away from any temptation to go tell the two policemen exactly what he thought of them right now.

Philip had found from long experience that keeping up with Barnabas was about the best workout he could get as the dog loved running. Often a run went off the beaten path when Barnabas scented some small animal and decided to give chase. Tonight seemed to be the exception to that rule, to Philip’s surprise. Maybe Barnabas understood somehow that it was Philip that needed to race for once. Whatever the reason, they reached to top of hill in record time.

Pulling to a stop to catch his breath, Philip looked up at the night sky, letting the view of stars and the moon calm him, taking away the last vestiges of his anger.

When Philip found a large rock to sit on, Barnabas came up, resting his head on Philip’s knee, his tail wagging furiously when Philip scratched behind his ears. They stayed like that for long minutes, just enjoying the calm night. Then, suddenly, Barnabas’ ears flattened and his hackles rose as he let out a growl.

“What is it, boy?” Philip asked, looking around for whatever had the dog on edge.

Barnabas strained against his leash, his eyes glued to the tree line ahead of them. Philip couldn’t see anything there but he trusted the dog’s senses.

Standing, he said, “Shall we go look?” hoping it wasn’t the rogue wildcat that had Barnabas up in arms.

Keeping a tight hold on the leash, not letting the dog pull him along too fast, Philip followed him into the trees, glad for the fact that the moon was almost full so that there was at least some light. A few minutes later he was ready to call it quits despite Barnabas wanting to go on. Whatever it was he was after seemed to want to stay ahead of them, out of sight rather than attacking. Then he saw a flash of movement far ahead of them as whatever it was moved through a shaft of moonlight.

That’s not a squirrel or a raccoon, he decided, hoping it wasn’t the wildcat or even a bear. He made Barnabas slow down but let him stay on the trail of whatever it was.

The going got rougher as they moved higher up the hill. Even though the trees were thinning some, the ground was now becoming rocky and the brush denser. Philip heard something growl angrily. He quickly pulled Barnabas to a stop and gripped his muzzle to keep him from growling back. Whatever it was up there, was climbing the cliff ahead of them. It wasn’t small. He took the pistol from his pocket, thumbing off the safety, before letting Barnabas keep tracking it.

* * * *

He heard them coming. Smelled the beast and the biped. He had been reckless, coming too close to them as they rested, fascinated by the male. He recognized his scent from the house and from what he now wore.

The beast had known he had been there watching, just as other creatures did when he was careless and let the breezes blow his scent to them.

When the male and the beast had come after him, his first instinct was to stop and face them. They would be no match for him. Then he had reconsidered. He didn’t want to harm the male, but knew that if the beast attacked, the male would also.

So he moved rapidly ahead of them, leading them away from the crevasse that was his haven. The ground grew rougher, the small coarse plants tearing at what he was wearing. He growled, pulling free of one that had snagged his clothing too tightly.

Soon he was high enough above the male and his beast that he felt it was safe to veer away toward his crevasse. If they were able to follow, he knew he could defend himself there.

Haven. He had reached it. Stopping to listen and scent the air, he found no indication that they had been able to keep up with him. He slipped inside, out of the light of the moon, into the depth of the darkness that filled the crevasse. There he crouched, every sense alert.

Just when he was certain he could relax he heard a slight sound like what he made when he stepped on dried foliage. One of the small creatures who lived nearby he wondered—or them. He tried to find their scent, but the breeze blew the wrong way if they were there, carrying any scent away from him rather than to him.

Inching closer to the crevasse’s entrance he sniffed again and listened intently. There—they were close. Too close. He could hear the soft inhale of breath as the male saw the opening, darker than the surrounding rocks.

The scales on his digits lengthened into claws and he felt his fangs elongate as he readied to defend himself. He didn’t want to harm the male, but if he had to, he would—and live with the regret afterwards.