May, 2016

“Tank! Bentley! Come here!”

Kimmie patted her hip, the collection of silver bracelets on her wrist clinking against each other like tiny, frantic wind chimes. A sudden burst of rampaging paws thumped from the second floor of her cozy, two-story villa. She listened, tracking their path as they tumbled from the bench seat in the upstairs study that overlooked the backyard, through the hallway, down the stairs, and past the laundry room. An instant later, two giant dogs tore into the kitchen, their paws clicking on the hardwood floor, their tails swinging without any care as to what they might knock over.

“You boys ready for a walk?”

They circled her eagerly, tongues lolling out and tails whipping back and forth. Bentley, brown and sleek, found a spot on the floor and sat back on his haunches while the brindle-coated Tank bounded back and forth between Kimmie and the back door. They were bullmastiffs, from the same litter, massive brutes with coats the color of burnt caramel and slate. Kimmie got them as puppies from a neighbor a few days after moving in, desperate for some regular company in this big, lonely house.

“Tank, sit!”

Tank planted himself next to Bentley for approximately two seconds before running back to the door, watching her expectantly. She pointed a finger at the dog, mock scolding him.

“You need to work on your listening skills, mister. But we’ll do that later. Let’s go run off some energy so you’ll stop bothering me all night.”

She grabbed the box of treats from the counter and immediately had both dogs’ complete attention. She poured a handful into a plastic baggy and placed it into her walking bag, along with a bottle of water, her phone, and a whistle. She unlooped the dogs’ leashes from the rack beside the door and latched them to their thick, studded collars. She made sure to get a firm hold before opening the back door. They bolted, their feet clattering across the wooden deck as they yanked her across the patio and past the small cow pen that nearly monopolized her backyard.

About half an acre of grassy field lay between the back of her house and the sprawling forest that covered the rest of her land, twenty-five acres of scenic, northern California real estate left to her by her aunt and uncle two years ago. The dogs dragged her along the well-worn dirt path that circled the edge of the pen and then up a short incline that led into the heart of the woods. Kimmie knew not to fight them this early into their walk and instead jogged behind as they loped into the brush. Fingers of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of tall pine trees, casting jagged shadows on the forest floor. Sunset would come in little less than an hour, plenty of time for a long run.

“You two are in for a treat today,” she said, eyeing the sloping path ahead. It split just over the crest of the short hill. The dogs veered toward the right fork without slowing but Kimmie held them up.

“C’mon!” She tugged on the leashes and clicked her tongue a few times to get their attention. “We’re going this way. We’re gonna mix things up!”

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She took them left, down a narrow, little-used path that led to a small field, and then up a rugged hillside to the southeast. Normally she took them farther west, out along the beach where they could run in the shallow water and bark at the slick-furred sea lions that popped their curious heads up a few dozen yards from shore. She’d watch the sun set while they played, then circle around in the dark to the two-lane road that led back to town, passing by her house on the way. But she wanted something a little more adventurous today. This other path had been calling to her since the end of winter, beckoning her to explore its twisted nooks and crannies. An explorer at heart, Kimmie had resisted that call long enough.

Besides, running up and down some hills would wear out the dogs that much quicker.

It didn’t take long to remember why she had avoided this path. The brush was thick and wild, full of brambles that stuck to her pants, and with thin vines and roots that grabbed at her shoes. Not to mention she spent half her time hunched over to keep overhanging tree branches from scratching her eyes out. But she soldiered on, because once Kimmie Blanco made a decision, she did not back away from it lightly.

The sky darkened, and Kimmie glanced at her watch. They’d already been out here for thirty-five minutes, more than enough time to wear out the dogs, along with her calves. She pulled on the leashes.

“C’mon boys, let’s–”

A white fox scurried across the path ahead. For a split second it stopped, its beady black eyes peering out at Kimmie over tufts of impossibly white fur. Before Kimmie could register how strange it was to see a white fox in this part of the country, it darted into the brush. Tank and Bentley sprinted after, yanking Kimmie forward until she fell face-down in the dirt. The leashes came free of her grip and the dogs disappeared into the encroaching darkness.

“No!” She clambered to her knees. “Tank! Bentley! Come here!” Sounds of the chase drifted farther and farther away. She got to her feet and brushed the dirt and grass from her clothes. “Stupid dogs.”

She jogged along the narrow path, tripping twice on the uneven ground. The sun had just begun to slip below the ridgeline of the western hills, blanketing the path in shadow. Fortunately, her dogs were not subtle, and she used their constant barking as a beacon. A few minutes later she found them circling the base of a rocky ledge, digging unsuccessfully at a hole underneath a boulder the size of a smart car, and growling at their cornered prey. They glanced at her for an instant before pawing at the ground and barking incessantly.

“Hey, dorks,” she held up the bag of treats and shook it, “look over here.”

Bentley immediately gave up on the fox and sat at attention in front of her, glancing anxiously at the boulder every few seconds. Tank was harder to tame. She walked around to stand over the hole, where Tank couldn’t miss her. She held up the treats.

“Tank! Leave the fox alone. Look. Look what I have.”

She shook the bag, clinking her bracelets together as she did to help get their attention. Both dogs watched her, but kept glancing back at the hole, waiting to see which one rewarded them first. She opened the bag and poured the treats out onto the top of the boulder, which was nearly shoulder-height. She grabbed a handful and held it up for both to see.

“Now who’s going to be good and get the first–”

Her words caught in her throat as something scaly snapped around her wrist. She jumped, startled, instinctively trying to pull away. But whatever had her only squeezed tighter. The dogs barked ferociously, both of them half crouched as if to pounce. She twisted to see a hunched figure standing on top of the boulder, its form muddied by the shadows of dusk. A wiry arm stretched out, ending in a large hand clamped around her wrist, pressing her bracelets into her skin. The figure’s features were obscured but she could see well enough to make out its coarse green skin, and unnaturally large yellow eyes.

The figure straightened, lifting her up by her wrist with inhuman strength. Kimmie gasped as her feet left the ground, kicking the air. The creature leaned forward, its yellow eyes narrowed, mere inches from her face.

Only then did she remember to scream.