Indifferent
It was hotter than normal; an oppressive sort of heat that shriveled the grass and burned steering wheels. The roads weren’t too busy even though it was a weekend. Everyone was holed up inside with the air-conditioning running. Even the most resilient of children were tethered close to their homes.
A single car sped down the usually busy road; it was a mountainous, black SUV. The paint glinted like polished steel without a trace of the massive pollen in the air, the signs of a recent cleaning despite the desperate water restrictions in the area.
The driver was a middle aged man dressed in a smart suit. His first three buttons were undone and his maroon tie was pulled lose. He looked just like any other man heading home after overtime at the office with his ear plastered to the Blackberry in his hand. He talked animatedly, removing his one free hand from the wheel to gesture periodically.
During one of the man’s more violent arguments he moved both hands as his face drew to a dark scowl. Wrinkles in his cheeks extended his frown while his crow’s feet gouged deeply. He glanced around for a pen. He grabbed at one from under his seat managing to look up just in time to see a massive white dog in his path before his van slammed into its side. There was a high pitched yelp before the animal was forced over. The tires rolled over it with a crunch like breaking pencils followed by a squelch. By the time he slammed his truck to a halt the second tire had already bumped over its victim.
Cursing colorfully he pressed his foot back on the gas and drove off. He barely glanced at his side mirror to see the blob of white being surrounded by a pool of crimson. Apologizing to the person on the other end of the phone he continued on home. His SUV jolted over a set of railroad tracks a few feet away, just like the dog.
He could almost forget it ever happened.
The rest of the ride was uneventful. More phone calls, more deals. He pulled carefully into the driveway, parking beside the house. He moved into his house with a spring in his step and a whistle on his lips. Business had gone well. A little persuasion over the phone had ended in a deal better than any he had expected.
He grabbed a bottle of Dasani from the fridge, closing the door with his foot before collapsing on the couch. It was too hot for much else. The fan whirled lazily and the air conditioning was cranked but it was still hot, too hot.
Just as his eyes began to flutter closed and his head sliped further forward there came a loud banging on the door that jerked him awake. He rose slowly and forced the door open.
There was no one for miles.
The entrance to his house was splashed with red that was already swarming with ants and flies and all sorts of wriggling bugs. “Damn kids and their Kool-Aid,” he growled, slamming the door shut and locking up. He moved back to the couch with a flop. He wasn’t used to such a lack of energy, but the heat cocooned him and even as he fell into a deep sleep sweat was trailing down his brow.
He woke with a start though unsure why. There had been no noise or bad dreams just a sudden shiver working up his spine. Looking around, he was surprised to see his door wide open. “What the?” he started as he stood. He grimaced as he walked over to the door. Now it was smoldering in the house and the moment he stood his pooled sweat slid down his chest and hundreds of little droplets trailed down his back and front and tickled his thighs as they went.
It was pitch black outside, he noted, as he slammed the door again and moved to lock it. The door hit the wall and bounced back to smack him in the nose. The dead bolt was fully out, its metal glaring meanly. He scowled in pain and anger as he turned the bolt back into its shell and turned the handle of the knob to place the door into its place. The knob stood strong, it too was locked. He blinked in confusion as he carefully pushed he door closed and locked the dead bolt. It slid out with a click of finality. “Good,” he thought, “strange, but good.”
As he moved back to check the thermostat his bare feet crunched across the carpet. “Uck,” he scowled as he stretched his arm out and flicked on the lights.
The scene horrified him.
That red Kool-Aid had been splashed all over his carpet and millions of ants, flies, millipedes, roaches, and beetles squirmed over his carpet. He pursed his lips closed to stop from yelling. He had no real problems with bugs but not in his house and not with their guts coating his feet.
Now with light, he leapt over the pools of bugs and to his thermostat. The meter flashed a vibrant red as he opened the cover. 110 degrees it yelled at him. “What in the name of…” he gasped and turned the meter down to 60.
“What is going on here,” he snapped as he moved to the kitchen and scrapped the gunk off his feet with a wet paper towel. He pulled open the fridge once more and withdrew another bottle of Dasani. As the water reached his lips he realized his mistake and flung the water away. His lips burned but as the water spun across the floor and skidded to a halt against a counter, boiling water pored out with a hiss, cooking the bugs it reached and scalding the rest. His fridge had long stopped running and the smell of rotten food had started to ferment the air.
His hands were shaking as he scooted slowly back. That water would have left burns all over his face and down his throat. His lips already stung and boiled. “That’s it I’m calling the cops,” he yelled to no one as he found the house phone and dialed 911. The painful keel of static told him all he needed to know. He flung that away as well before pulling out his cell and dialed the numbers. The static greeted him again. Something was not right.
He flipped the lid of his cell phone with his thumb before stuffing it back in his pocket. The pile of wriggling bodies seemed to have grown in his living room, but he knew he had to get out. Get out now. Feet still bare, he skirted towards the door, barely letting his toes touch before continuing on. He received a few painful pincher marks for the journey, but he was home free now.
He seized the handled and flung his body weight back before registering that it was still locked. Panting in desperation, he fiddled with the dead bolt. He exhaled loudly as it slid out easily. The door stuck when he tugged like it always did, but in his hurry he struck it with his foot, feeling the door finally jerk inward. His toe was pounding so badly it took him a moment to observe the scene before him.
Standing before him was a massive white dog. The fur on its left had been plastered to his side and was flecked with gritty pellets. Its eyes where the most brilliant blue he had ever seen like a cloudless winter morning. It would have been pretty if the left eye was still in the socket, but it hung out on a thin jelly string that bounced with the dog’s panting, the socket was a pitch black cavern but there seemed to be something there. A flash of red, perhaps? The fires of hell, maybe? Blood dripped from its broken jaw like saliva and its skull, visible through its worn away fur, glared at him sinisterly.
“Oh god,” he gulped, stepping back.
The dog placed one paw forward.
“Stay, please stay,” he was crying now.
The paw fell with a click of claws.
“Don’t come any closer demon!” he shouted hysterically.
Bridged between the house and the outside, it leapt.
There was no time to scream.
The jugular closed with a squish.
Bones crunched.
Blood splattered an ivory maw.
The bugs feasted…
Tim jerked awake with a scream on his lips. His eyes where wide and unseeing for the longest time before he finally registered a few important facts. He was alive. He was sitting in his car. His business papers across his lap. He hadn’t even left work yet.
The stress of the dream just melted off of him, his shoulders slumped, his frown lessened, and the sweat on his brow cooled in the air conditioning. It was only a silly little dream. The parking lot was completely empty. There wasn’t a dog or insect in sight, and the bottle of water in his cup holder was ice cold.He shook his head with a half hearted chuckle and scooped up his papers.
It was definitely time to go home. Tim drove home down a different street, not because of the dream only because it was faster. He didn’t answer his phone only because the calls weren’t important. The car pulled along smoothly at the exact speed limit, only because there were cops in the area. Everything was perfect, the sun shinning and not a cloud in the sky.
It happened as Tim pulled into his driveway.
He never saw the dog coming.
-end-
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