Thing Bailiwick Read online

  Thing

  Bailiwick

  A Collection of horror

  by

  fawn bonning

  ▪

  Copyright © 2015 by Fawn Bonning

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN-13: 978-1517166342

  ISBN-10: 1517166349

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended solely to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

  Cover design by Donediditmyself Graphics

  ▪

  Many of the following stories contain sensitive subject matter, language, and mature sexual situations unsuitable for younger readers. Intended for adults 18 and older.

  ▪

  Dedication

  For my sons Bo, Dakota, Colt, and Blue,

  four of the scariest things ever.

  ▪

  Table of contents

  Page 9. . D-Dog (Thing in the Road)

  Page 53. . A Murder (Things in Groups)

  Page 69. . Curveballs (Thing in the Closet)

  Page 103. .The Initiation (Thing in the Woods)

  Page 167. .Grace (Thing in the Confessional Booth)

  Page 177. . Bodark (Thing in the Storm)

  Page 235. .The Trophy (Thing Onboard)

  Page 287. .The Eleventh Hour (Thing in the Barn)

  Page 323. . Jacob (Thing in Her Conscience)

  Page 331. . Bug Man (Thing in the Van)

  Page 359. . Dark Horse (Thing in the Dream)

  Page 435. . Shrink (Things on the Shelves)

  ▪

  ▪

  D-Dog

  (Thing in the Road)

  Only a monster would do what I’m about to do. The thought of it sickens me. I feel numb. Not just my body. My mind. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to look down at the meat cleaver in my hand. I just want to go back inside, slip into my warm bed and fall sound asleep. After I do this, I probably won’t ever sleep again. I’m not a monster. I’m not. I’m just a mom who wants to protect her children. I don’t want to do this. I have to. It all started eight days ago. That’s when I first saw D.

  ~~~~

  He was standing in the middle of Hickman highway the first time I saw him. I was taking my boys to school and it was drizzling out, a frigid, slushy, just on the verge of turning to snow kind of rain.

  “What a stupid dog,” Donny grumbled beside me as I was forced to stop.

  “Out of the road, dummy,” Ty hollered from the back.

  I let out a groan. He obviously wasn’t an outdoor dog, one wise to the ways of the road. Even a few toots on my horn didn’t seem to faze him. He just stuck his nose in the air like he was trying to catch a scent.

  A red pick-up truck coming from the opposite direction slowed and eventually stopped when the dog took a seat smack dab in the middle of his lane to scratch behind an ear. I watched as the poor thing struggled back to its feet and shook its head, flinging water droplets and nearly toppling itself in the process. He was in rough shape. His shaggy black fur was wet and matted, and it seemed like he didn’t know which direction to take. Pretty pathetic, really.

  The driver of the truck didn’t seem to care. He laid on the horn and gunned his engine, causing the truck to lurch forward and the poor thing to scurry off to the side of the road with its tail tucked between its legs.

  The truck took off with a screech of tires. I went on as well. I was running late for work and still needed to drop the boys at the high-school. But the further I went, the heavier my heart felt.

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” Donny groaned as I pulled into the Hickman Baptist Church parking lot to turn around. “What are you doing? We’re gonna be late!”

  The gigantic cross on the church roof loomed large outside the windshield. “I can’t just leave him out there in the cold.” But immediately I was wondering just what I was going to do with him. If I could coax him into the van without causing an accident, that was. I would have to take him to work, call my mother from there. He’d have to stay in the van until she could come and get him.

  I was hoping he wouldn’t still be there, that someone else had picked him up.

  He’d wandered further up. I found him in a small grouping of houses set just off the road. He was sloshing through the puddles with his nose to the soggy grass, and he didn’t even bother to lift his head when I pulled in beside him.

  “Maybe he’s deaf,” Ty offered from the back.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” With the way he was acting, like we weren’t even there, it was definitely possible. He had his sense of smell, at least. He continued to sniff around. Seeming to find a choice spot, he squatted.

  “Oh, nasty!” Donny whined as a few squirts shot out.

  He hobbled forward a few steps, still in squatting position, and squirted some more.

  Great. He had the squirts. He was going to mess all over the van. He probably stank to high heavens. Wet-mutt-feces aroma.

  Having done his duty, he took a few wobbly steps, his nose to the ground, entirely ignoring the giant green van idling beside him, and seeming completely oblivious to the dreary drizzle and the saturated lawn. He was having trouble with his balance. He could be diseased, maybe even rabid, not to mention crawling with fleas and ticks. I could be putting my boys in jeopardy. And baby Caleb too, I thought, putting a hand to my round belly. And he was definitely in need of a vet. We couldn’t afford that. Don would kill me. We were still trying to rebound from Christmas, struggling just to put together enough for the electric bill before they shut us off.

  He wandered into a waterlogged yard and squatted again.

  It occurred to me that he might live in one of those houses. He was an older dog, hard of hearing, hard of seeing. Maybe he just wandered away for a few minutes. And even if it wasn’t his home, surely someone in one of the houses would spot him and see that he needed help.

  Convincing myself that he would be fine, I gave the horn a couple of toots to alert the people in the houses, then turned around and went on about my business. I refused to look at the cross when we passed by the old church. As it turned out, the boys were just ahead of the bell and I was only five minutes late for work.

  Even so, it was a decision that didn’t sit well with me. It gnawed at me all day. As I served up pancakes and eggs and hash browns, it was eating away at my insides. My hormones were going haywire, thanks to little Caleb, and I even shed a few frustrated tears. I was a mess.

  ~~~~

  I looked for him on my way home from work, scanning the sides of the road, hoping, praying he wouldn’t be lying there in a mangled mess. He wasn’t. I was right. He must have lived in one of those houses. Or maybe someone had taken him in. I wasn’t the only one in the world with a heart. I pictured him curled up on a cushy red and white checkered dog bed while his master, an older man in overalls and an undershirt, was snoozing on the lazy boy beside him and snoring as the TV played reruns of The Andy Griffith Show.

  I slept pretty good that night. I haven’t slept well since.

  ~~~~

  I saw him the next morning on my way to the school. He was just this side of Hog’s Creek Bridge, laid out flat on his side.

  “Oh, no! Dammit! Damn! Goddammit!”

  “What?” Donny asked, pulling out his earplug.

  “That black dog,” I forced out past the lump in my throat. “He’s dead.”

  “Bummer,” Donny said, before stuffing the plug back in his ear.

  “Total bummer,” Ty agreed from the back.

  When I passed the c
hurch and the gigantic cross, I started to cry. Why hadn’t I picked him up? He was helpless and I just left him there to die. I knew he didn’t live at those houses. He looked like he’d been wandering around for weeks…months…years. He was wet and matted and cold and hungry and sick and weak, and I just left him there. Just drove away and left him.

  I cried on all my breaks that day and whenever I had a few minutes to dwell on it, hoping my customers didn’t notice my red, puffy eyes. Maybe they chalked it up to hormones because they were generous with the tips. I didn’t really care. I was a monster. A big, fat, heartless, soulless, selfish monster. That poor pitiful creature had suffered. I could have saved him. I hated myself.

  It was flurrying by the time I got off work, flakes the size of silver dollars fluttering down. It was beautiful, but somehow made me feel even more ugly inside. My eyes misted when I passed the church and there was a heaviness in my chest.

  I slowed as I approached Hog’s Creek. I was hoping maybe someone had seen him lying there and taken pity on him, maybe even picked him up and buried him. Surely I wasn’t the only person in this sorry town with a heart. But he was still there. Snow was beginning to accumulate, stark white against his black fur. My heart sank. He looked so alone. So very alone, unloved, unwanted.

  I lie awake that night, thinking of all the things I should have done, would have done if I was a decent, caring person, which obviously I wasn’t. I was a sorry excuse for a human being. I didn’t deserve to live.

  ~~~~

  I didn’t want to look as I drove by the next morning, but my eyes had a mind of their own. I hated seeing him like that, lying there all alone on the side of the road in a snow heap. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.

  Donny shook his head. “Quit kicking yourself. The dog is dead,” he said without bothering to take out the earplugs. “We can put it writing, if you want. Put a sign up. Dead dog ahead.”

  Ty thought that was pretty funny. He chuckled from the back seat. “Dead dog ahead, dead dog ahead,” he rapped, bobbing back and forth.

  Donny joined in, dancing in his seat.

  “That’s not funny.”

  “See ya later, D-Dog,” Donny threw over his shoulder.

  I moped that day at work. Caleb was pressing on my bladder and my back was killing me. But I poured coffee with a smile and served up omelets and waffles just as efficiently as ever, playing the part of the dutiful, diligent waitress. My customers didn’t know they were being served by a monster. They had no idea.

  It was about halfway through the day when I decided I was going to give him a proper burial. I’d get Ty to dig the hole in the back yard and, on the way home from basketball practice, I’d get Donny to help me load him into the van. Donny was gonna gripe. But D-Dog looked to be about sixty, seventy pounds. Probably more frozen, being dead weight and all. I’d bring an old blanket to wrap him in, and with Donny on one end and me on the other, I didn’t think it would be a problem getting him to the van.

  I gave a solemn nod to the cross on my way home from work that day, and my heart didn’t feel quite as heavy when I passed him. I had a plan. I would place him in the ground beneath the majestic maple tree where he’d rest in peace till the end of time. I’d place flowers on his grave. I’d ask for forgiveness.

  ~~~~

  The snow was coming down pretty good by the time I left to pick up Donny from basketball practice, so I was right on top of D-Dog by the time he came into my headlights. When I saw him, I almost lost control of the van, nearly slamming into the concrete pillars that spanned the bridge. I think I used some foul language right about then. I don’t have total recall, but I’m pretty sure I may have even dropped an f-bomb or two.

  My heart was racing so fast, I actually felt light-headed as I went up a ways and found a spot to turn around.

  I remember slowing to a crawl as I crossed back over the bridge. I remember pulling off the road. I’m not sure how long I sat there gaping out the window with my mouth wide open. It was pretty dark and the snow was really coming down, but I was certain. It was definitely the dead dog. He was standing not far from where he’d been laying for two days straight. His head was hanging low and his legs were splayed for balance.

  Once I broke out of my shock, I moved pretty quickly for a fat lady. There wasn’t any traffic on Hickman Highway at that time of night, so I grabbed the blanket and jumped out to scoop him up. He was pretty heavy, but my adrenaline was pumping. Plus, my big belly acted like a nice little shelf to prop him on.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay, boy.” I was trying to put him at ease even though he wasn’t struggling, not one bit. The poor thing was cold and stiff.

  My heart was hammering away as I did a U-turn and headed back to town. I glanced over my shoulder to where he sat between the two bucket seats in the back, his head hanging almost to the floor. “It’s okay, boy. You’re safe now. You’re safe. I’m gonna pick up Donny and then we’re gonna get you home, get you nice and warm. Oh, I can’t believe this. I thought…I thought you were…”

  I began to cry right about the time I was passing the church. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t believe he’d laid there all that time alive, car after car after car just whizzing on by. Not that anyone would’ve stopped to help if they’d known. No one in the freaking town had a beating heart.

  ~~~~

  “What the… Is that the dead dog?” Donny asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Watch your mouth and get in. You’re letting the cold in.”

  “He looks like crap,” he said as he climbed in and pulled the door closed. “And he smells like crap, too.”

  “Yeah? You’d smell like crap after being dead for two days.”

  As I pulled out, Donny buckled himself in and twisted around for a better look. “Oh, my God! He’s got icicles hanging from his ears.”

  I stretched my neck to peer into the rearview mirror. “The poor thing. I can’t wait to get him home, get some warm blankets on him.”

  “Where’s he staying? Not anywhere near my room, I hope.”

  “I’m gonna block off the laundry room for tonight. I’ll call the vet tomorrow. It’s gonna cost a fortune, being Saturday and all.”

  “Do vets see dead dogs?”

  “Don’t know. We might have to pay a dead dog fee.”

  ~~~~

  “Holy crap! Is that…”

  “Yes, dorkus, it’s D-Dog,” Donny said as he slung his gym bag to the couch. “You can put your eyeballs back in your head.”

  “Help me out, Ty,” I said as I carried him through the living room. “I need a dry blanket.”

  I set him gently next to the pile of dirty towels in the laundry room, and he sat as he had in the van, his head hanging. It was almost comical the way his front feet slowly slid on the linoleum floor until they were splayed wide.

  Not comical, I decided. Pitiful. I squatted before him, not an easy feat with me being big as a house. He was so weak. He couldn’t even open his eyes. “You poor, sweet thing,” I said, feeling the tears well.

  Tossing aside the soiled blanket, I plucked a towel from the pile and began to dry him gingerly, trying not to topple him over in the process.

  “Here’s a blanket, Mom.”

  “Thanks, Sweetie. Throw it in the dryer for a few minutes, would you.”

  Ty did what he was told. He always did. Then he squatted down beside me. “Jeez, he’s messed up.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s been laying on the side of the road for two days.”

  “I thought he got hit by a car.”

  “So did I, but…I don’t think so. He’s not injured, not that I can see, anyway. Just near frozen. His ears are like ice,” I said as I gently blotted them with the towel.

  Ty leaned close. “Hey, boy. I dug your grave, buddy.”

  His only response was a slight wobble.

  “Is he deaf?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Should I get him something to eat
?”

  “Yeah. Here, hand up, please,” I asked, and he obliged me, pulling me to my feet. I gave his hair a tousle. He hates that, but it’s a habit I can’t break. It’s his silky blond hair. He got that from my mom. He got her brown eyes too. “I was thinking that leftover roast in the fridge. Tear it up real good, okay. I don’t know how good his teeth are. And mix in a can of gravy. And mike it. Not too hot. About thirty seconds should do it.”

  “Okay, will do,” he said as he trotted off.

  Throwing the damp towel and blanket in the washer, I pulled the warmed one from the dryer and draped it over the pitiful thing, gathering it snugly about him. Stepping back, I studied the bundled form, one too cold to shiver. “Please live,” I whispered. “Can you hear me? I hope you can hear me. I want you to know…how sorry I am. So, so sorry. And I want you to know that you will never be hungry again. You will never be cold again. You will never be alone again. And—”

  He lifted his head weakly and opened his eyes.

  The gasp caught in my throat, nearly choking me.

  There was an opaque film over both eyes. He was blind, then. Leaning down, I gently caressed the top of his head. If he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, at least he could feel that he was loved.

  He settled himself down at last, lowering himself cautiously, inch by inch. Resting his head on his paws, he closed his eyes.