Smoke got in his eyes and he cursed himself, drawing the attention of his faithful pooch. He tossed aside the cigarette. On cue, the faint jingle and clicking paws drew up close in the dark, and a wet nose nuzzled its way under his arm.
"Hey there Jasper, I'm not done yet. I'm just an idiot, that's all."
Smoking while hunched over his drawing was never a good idea. He closed the sketchbook on his pen and set it aside, ruffling the golden brown scruff atop the mutt's sturdy shoulders. Jasper was the best dog he'd ever met, hands down. From the first moment he came home the pup had exhibited a cool demeanor that gave the impression that he was thinking. Indeed Jasper had proven a most intelligent animal. They had made a strong connection early on, in the days of Kelly's business trips and before the kids. Jeremy had always thought of Jasper as his first child. Jasper clearly had a similar mindset. It had only taken about a week for his training to be complete. With no experience in the area of raising a puppy, his first pet having grown into adulthood long before he had, Jeremy spoke to the puppy in common English, as if to a human being. He explained the world around him as if to a child. Jasper was an apt pupil, and at times even from the beginning it seemed as if the dog could comprehend what was being said. Anytime anyone was talking about him, no matter how vague the reference, Jasper would come to attention. At first he would snap his head around to look at the speaker, but over time the looks became more sly and subtle, but never went away. If he hadn't always been such a warm and affectionate pet, looking after the children as they multiplied and grew and and being a good sport with them when they teased, the intelligence would have been something eerie. As it stood, the golden-eyed dog of unknown heritage was simply a bonafide member of the family.
Jasper pushed forward and leaned his rear expectantly against Jeremy. He obliged by vigorously scratching the shedding fur, gathering up hair and tossing it aside to be used in birds nests everywhere. Under his fingers, he felt the fur rise sharply and a low growl escape Jaspers chest. Suddenly Jasper bolted for the front door, scratching and whining. This was an unprecented behavior. Shocked into motion, Jeremy rose quickly and crossed the porch. The whining was desperate now, the pawing so violent that he had to push Jasper aside to open the now ripped screen door. The dog scurried inside, quiet now with his tail firmly tucked. Jeremy guessed that he was headed for his Fourth of July hiding spot, his head tucked under the basement sofa.
"That's just great. Busted screen door and a loony dog."
He went back to the big white rocker he'd thrifted a few years back, when an order to do community service became a career in the non-profit world. Rifling through the ash and old butts beside the chair, he found the discarded cigarette and lit it. A pungent odor struck him and made him gag. It was a distinct smell, one that brought back clear memories of a different career, one that never got started but lent some significant experiences to his life. In one of his paramedic school clinicals (a sort of ride-along, on the job training for those entering any medical field) he had been posted in the University Hospitals ER. He helped to treat a man with severe bedsores, ones that had carved holes through the man's legs and rear end so deep you could see some of what what going on inside of him. The smell of rotting flesh that had oozed from those sores hit him hard now, and the images associated with it resurfaced. He blinked his eyes and tears welled up in them. They were burning! He clutched his hands to his face and stifled a scream. He stood and crashed into his cooler footrest blindly. Stumbling with his hands extended, he found the latch to the front door and crashed inside. Kelly would know what to do. He screamed, half in pain, half in a desperate cry for help. The burning sensation was spreading. There was acid in his mouth and fire in his nostrils. Why wasn't she answering? He heard the crunching metal sound of a car accident from outside and in a moment of clarity thought to wonder why there had been no accompanying sound of screeching brakes. Then he heard them. At first he couldn't get past the searing pain in his head enough to be sure, but he concentrated hard. In times of great stress, deep rage or serious injury, Jeremy bit his tongue. As the unmistakeable sound of screaming from dozens of neighborhood voices reached him, he almost bit it off. There was a loud thump from deeper in the house that anyone who has raised kids could tell you was a child falling on the floor. Then the little high pitched screams started. Jeremy pitched himself up from the floor, or would have if his hands hadn't slipped on the hardwood. Through his blurring vision, he saw red streaks. His palms, held up before his face, were covered in blood. He touched his face. The most disturbing sensation happened to him before he fainted, that of his fingers pushing into the flesh of his cheek as if into warm cottage cheese.
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Yikes! Shit got real that time! I know nothing of chemical warfare, so I was not attempting to mimic symptoms of any known threat. Merely following a morbid urge. They're all dead Dave.
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