Bitch: Puncture (book 2)

Finally, we were free.

Being cooped up in that truck day after day made my legs itch with anticipation. But I had no complaints about my treatment. I still didn’t like it one bit, the air always smelled of oil and slightly burnt rubber. Relying on some human to do the right thing just didn’t sit well with me. Too much experience with people doing the wrong thing I guess.

I followed her scent, floral and warm over the hill. Then she backtracked up the craggy rocky pile perched on the edge of a small cliff. I padded softly up. She sat atop the rocks sunning, her face directly into the clouded sun, her beautiful honey eyes closed.

She sighed at my approach, and looked over at me. I just got lost in those eyes. There was so much I could have said, I knew all the words that would have told her, and I also knew that my throat would not form them for me. Those words, forever locked behind my lips, locked deep in my heart. I whined softly in frustration. Sometimes when I looked at her I could hear those words as if I could speak, in a voice, a man’s voice that imagined would match with hers. I could still hear her voice in my memory. I could play it back and hear every nuance as she spoke to her dog at the clinic.

Now I realized that I missed her voice, that voice that she’d used to tell her dog how much she loved her. I wanted to hear her tell me that she loved me, but somehow I knew that I’d never hear her voice again. I blinked. She looked so sad and I wondered at the words that were stuck inside of her. A cool gust of wind ruffled the light fur on her face and she looked away closing her eyes into the sun. What would she tell me if she could? What would she say if I found a way to tell her how I felt?

I smelled her sadness. Floral and wet salty.

It rolled off of her in waves.

I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I would do anything I could to make her feel happy again. I wanted her to smell happy about me, it was as if I’d reminded her of some deep soul pain. I felt the sun come up my back and suddenly the clouds opened up. The rocks around me illuminated by the break in the clouds. She blinked at the bright sunshine and her smell warmed a little. I knew somehow she was a little less sad, but I didn’t know what I’d done. Perhaps it was just the warmth of the sun and she didn’t really notice me.

She jumped down with a sharp yip, moving sideways in that weird gait of hers. She hid at the bottom of the rocks but I knew right where she’d gone. She pounced on me playfully and we tumbled to the side. I rolled and was on my feet. She was covered in dead leaves clumped around from the melting snow. She sat and stared at me again. But I could tell somehow, she was happy again for a brief moment. I couldn’t help myself I breathed in a long breath, frozen in place and enjoyed the pure scent of her joy.

Then I smelled it. And the fear came rushing back. I knew I’d smelled it earlier, but the search for her had kept it at bay. Now I knew he was here.

Stinger.

I could even smell the coonskin cap he always wore, and the sweat of his excitement at the thought of finally getting his hands on his prey. And he’d been searching for us ever since we got away from him in that canoe and where she’d drowned his favorite hunting dog. He must not know where we were, because if he’d known he never would have approached upwind of us, unless he was trying flush us out. Which almost worked, my flight instincts were screaming at me.

Run, Run, Run. I was screaming inside. I knew he’d be too close to miss a racket we would undoubtedly make evading him. I wondered if he had a a drone in the air. I hadn’t heard anything. But I remained unconvinced.

She read my fear and froze. I motioned her to a nearby thicket. We stepped quietly into the brush. We didn’t have to wait long, Stinger drifted into the clearing at the bottom of the rocks. He was leaner and more sun burnt than I remembered. Course it had been the dead of winter the last time that I’d seen him. He wore a leather vest with shells for the hunting rifle he had in his hands at the ready. Sweat stains discolored his arm pits. His jaw had a hard edge to it and he stepped carefully. Suddenly his radio squawked. A group of birds rose startled from a nearby tree.

He looked around annoyed for moment and then unclipped the radio.

“What?” he grumped.

The crackly voice responded, “Stinger - come in.”

“Screw you.”

“Now Stinger. We are wrapped. Moving out in 10.”

“They’ve been here. I just need some time, uninterrupted. I need time and patience to do my job, and I can’t do it with you idiots trying to run things. You morons just get in the way.”

“Well feel free to share your opinions with Shen... in person. He’s on his way to Tango Four.”

Stinger grunted in frustration and chucked the radio as hard as he could off the cliff. He glanced at the ground where we’d been playing.

He spun and glanced around at the bushes the gun up, his eye in the scope searching. I didn’t even blink.

Stinger yelled, “I know you and that BITCH are here. And I swear to you I will find you and put an armor piercing slug right between your eyes. I promised you that you would never have her and you never will. The moment you stop running is the moment you die.”

A ratty sputter ran over head. A drone flew over and then over to where Stinger was, it dropped down almost to eye level.

He swung around gun leveled and shot it out of the sky. He put six more slugs into it on its way to the ground, pieces of plastic and metal flying off.

The hilltop was deadly quiet. Even the flies quieted.

“It’s just a matter of time. You hear me? A matter of time! And then I’m going to split her from groin to gullet and I’m going to pull out her organs while she watches me do it. And once she dies I’m going to cut off her head, stuff it and hang it on my trophy wall. You’re going to wish you’d killed her yourself like you were supposed to. Worthless fucking freak!

He roared in frustration and stalked back downhill.