Justin Peacock        Word Count:6301

jbpeacock@mail.com

Grim

by

J.B. Peacock

1

“Yeah mom. I'm just gonna work on my report, then I'll go to bed.” Bobby closed his bedroom door and flopped onto his bed. He let his back pack fall to the floor next to where he lay. His head spun a little, then the room stabilized. The pinner he and Jeff Mercer smoked a half hour before worked its mellow on him.

A touch to the remote brought the stereo to life. The discs in the changer settled and in a moment Bob Marley floated low from his speakers. He stared at the flag on his ceiling, the Jamaican flag with Bob's head emblazoned in the middle. The word freedom was written below.

“We Don't Need No More Trouble,” Jeff listened to the words and thought to himself. “Fuckin' A, man. That's the real shit.”

“Comin' In From The Cold” followed. “Natural Mystic” was on its heels. As Bobby lay there, he remembered talking to Jeff the night before. Same as every night, really. Talking about “real shit.”

Even at fourteen, Bobby knew that Jeff wouldn't know real shit if he stepped in it. Bobby was pretty sure he didn't know anything himself. Right now, all he knew was that he wanted a cigarette.

He put a jacket on over his flannel and pulled a gray wool cap down over his unkempt mop of brown hair. Carefully, quietly, he popped out the window screen and crept out to the edge of the roof. A moment later, he was down the side of the house and standing by the gate to the backyard.

He opened the gate. Amber street lights stretched the shadows in the culdesac. His house was one of four, an island of habitation in a sprawling would-be subdivision. Beyond their block was a tiny network of streets lining empty lots, their borders marked by rows of piled straw. Beyond the turned earth of unrealized prospects stood the forest.

Only a skinny patch remained on the west side of the main road. There were just enough trees left to separate his neighborhood from the next. On the east side was a thicker patch, a hold out that disrupted the development with a respectable swath of nature. Bobby thought it would be a shame to cut it down, to make room for more houses like his. He thought of a Yeats poem from English class that asked a human child to come away to the wilds. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one when he was around the corner. Then he began the dark walk to the road.

His breath formed icy clouds between drags on his Camel. Bobby saw a crystal fringe on the thin blades of grass in the drainage ditch on his left. “I hope this is the last of it”, he thought. Bobby was looking forward to putting away the heavy coat and beanie.

Two blocks later he rounded the corner and walked the length of the brown fence that blocked the neighborhood from the sounds of traffic. Not that there was much of that to begin with. At just after eight-thirty, the road was empty.

Ridgefield, Washington was a small town with big dreams in a down economy. Every week a new house went up for sale in the neighborhoods where the construction was finished. There hadn't been a building crew in his neighborhood for the better part of four months.

Bobby walked to the spot where the sidewalk abruptly stopped at an overgrown field and sat down on the curb. Across the street was a sloping patch of green trees and ferns that ran west all the way to the High School. He looked at the wet asphalt between his feet, smoking and thinking. Bobby took a drag as he looked into the darkness of the woods across the way.

The shadows played tricks on his tired mind. The weed made it easy to misjudge them. He stared at the shifting blackness of the ferns, focused on piecing together the motion that drew his eye. There seemed to be a real thing moving in there, but what it was he could not say.

A ripple in the dark leaves approached him. A solid thing emerged, though its shape was difficult to make out against the shadows. It paced the road and Bobby saw the creature was a medium-sized dog.

Bobby blinked. When he opened his eyes the dog remained, though its shape was blurred and hazy. He decided to call it closer, to see if he recognized it.

“Hey.” Bobby called, keeping his voice low. “Hey, buddy. Come 'ere.” The creature ignored him. He crouched and patted his thighs, feigning a playful excitement to entice it. “Come on. Good dog.”

The dog turned to face him. Its eyes were silver coins, but Bobby couldn't make out its face. It dog stayed where it was, staring. He called again. “Come on.”

Still it stared and Bobby met its gaze. Cold ran from the back of his head, where tension headaches begin, down his spine to his knees. The feeling went out of his legs. He dropped to sit on the sidewalk, his eyes never leaving the dog's.

With the cold came a sense of unearthly presence. This creature carried a weight beyond its shape. It gave Bobby the creeps. He tore his eyes away and started home.

As he walked, Bobby did his best to convince himself the dog was a figment of his imagination. The effort was successful enough that he chanced a glance behind him as he rounded the corner of the fence. The silver eyes of the shadow followed behind him.

Bobby picked up his pace and kept his eyes straight ahead of him. His block was two streets up. Between him and the safety of the lights were empty lots. He asked himself, “What could be less dangerous than empty lots?” He looked back over his shoulder.

The silver lights seemed to glide through the air, not gaining on him and not losing ground. The dog kept enough distance that Bobby didn't feel completely threatened. He realized it wasn't chasing him, but following him. He stopped and yelled, “Go on, go home!”

The shadow stared at him, not moving.

“Get! Go home!”

The dog remained.

Bobby turned back toward home at a jog. When he reached the streetlights he slowed and silently made his way into the house. As soon as he got into his room, he looked out the window and into the cul-de-sac.

There was no sign of the shadow dog. Relieved that the lights did the trick, Bobby laid down on his bed and read his book. It distracted him enough from the that he finally felt ready to turn in.

He went down the hall to brush his teeth. On his way back to bed, Bobby looked out the window one last time. Sitting in the yellow light on the curb below was the dog.

It was starkly outlined, with pointed ears and a fringe around its neck. Its snout was narrow and its bushy. Bobby couldn't see a collar, confirming that this was no neighborhood dog.

Looking down at it, its eyes on him, Bobby felt the same cold feeling run through him. He turned away from the window and got in bed, ignoring it. In his dreams, he found no refuge. The dog watched from the street all night.

Daylight came and brought with it the bustle of the waking neighborhood which banished the phantoms of the night. Some time in the night, sleep became restful as the cold of the shadow left him. Bobby was able to put the dog out of his mind until he met Jeff at lunch.

Bobby set his tray down on the table. “Dude! You're never gonna believe what I saw last night,” he said when he sat down in the plastic chair next to Jeff.

“Don't keep it a secret now.” Jeff was aloof, refusing to be drawn into Bobby's excitement.

“Last night I went out to the road for a smoke and I saw the shadows moving in the woods. At first I thought I was trippin', but then I see this dog. It had silver eyes and it was just staring at me. I tried to call it over, but it couldn't come near me. I got chills when I looked in his eyes.”

As he told his story, the hairs stood out on Bobby's neck. Talking about it was enough to draw whatever was behind the shadow to him. “It scared the shit out of me, man. I booked it home, but when I was going to bed, I looked out the window and it was just sitting there in the streetlight watching me.” Bobby shivered. “It was real fuckin' scary.”

“So. You saw a dog. It followed you home. Don't be a pussy, dude.” Jeff turned away and took a bite of his pudding.

“You don't get it man. It looked like a dog, but it wasn't.” Bobby leaned in close and put his hand on Jeff's shoulder. “I felt something when I saw it. It felt like I was floating in a dark ocean and there was something huge below me. It was only pretending to be a dog. Whatever it was, it felt big.”

Jeff shrugged Bobby's hand off. “Come on, man. Chill out. It was just your imagination and some good weed.”

Bobby was at a loss. He dropped the subject and ate his lunch. After school, Jeff asked if Bobby wanted to come over. He decided he didn't feel much like getting stoned and walked home instead. After dinner he did his homework, then played some video games before bed. Dreams took hold of him as soon as he was asleep.

He dreamed of a lighthouse, standing on a rocky cliff that jutted into the sea. Rain dumped in torrents from a dark sky. Lightning flashed and the thunder brought with it a howling gale of icy wind.

Bobby could see a looming shape in the distance, riding the gale toward him. Whatever it was, it was huge and coming fast. It hit the mud hard and slid, turning and rolling as it did. Bobby realized it was an uprooted tree as it slammed into him. The trunk hit him, dragging his legs under. Together they fell over the cliff and into the churning sea.

He struggled against grasping branches, fighting desperately to get to the surface before the water claimed him. The tree carried him deep, but Bobby finally managed to free himself. The branches gave and he drifted up in the dark for what seemed like eternity.

His head broke the surface and he gasped, sitting up in his bed. He looked around his bedroom, not recognizing it at first. Cold sweat stood out on his skin. After a moment, he remembered where he was and breathed easy. Orange light from the window drew his eye. Bobby knew what he would find if he looked out into the cul-de-sac.

He took a look and his suspicions were realized. There it sat, the shadow that pretended to be a dog. The thing masquerading as nothing.

Bobby stared at it for a minute, watching those silver eyes that were watching him. He went back to bed, but he could not forget it. Even his game couldn't distract him. His thoughts kept returning to the black shape watching him.

At one o'clock, he couldn't resist the draw and looked out the window again. It got up and began to walk toward the house. Though reason insisted this was a dog, what he felt from it was more like an oncoming freight train.

Bobby's heart leapt to race in his throat. The shadow walked slowly to the curb in front of the house. His eyes widened as it started up the sidewalk toward the door. It kept solid eye contact and Bobby felt it getting bigger, just like the looming tree in his dream. His ears popped.

Bobby was never so afraid. Panic reduced him to primal desperation, he did the only thing he could think to do to banish the shadow. He jumped in his bed and hid under the covers until the alarm went off.

Daylight once again banished the shadow. Bobby saw Jeff later that day and told him all about his dream and the dog. Jeff dismissed him again, but Bobby meant to prove he was serious.

“Twenty bucks, dude.” Bobby looked Jeff dead in the eye. “You come over to my house tonight and you'll see it.”

“Twenty, huh? Tell you what, for twenty I'll bring the weed. That way you won't take it so hard when you realize you're nuts.”

That night they sat in Bobby's room and played shooter games. The sun started to sink below the horizon and Jeff popped Bobby on the shoulder. “Hey, man. Let's puff.” Bobby reached under his bed and pulled out a cardboard tube stuffed with dryer sheets.

“I rolled a fatty.” Jeff pulled a joint from his shirt pocket. “Let's go to the road. Show me where you saw that dog.”

Bobby was hesitant, but he agreed. He felt better with someone else around. At this point, he would give up twenty bucks just to be proven crazy. At least then he'd know what this dog was.

They walked to the place where the sidewalk ended and looked across to the woods. “Over there,” Bobby said as he pointed. Jeff stepped out into the street.

“Come on. That's a perfect place to smoke this.” Jeff walked into the forest and Bobby followed.

The sun was down when they emerged. Bobby was chuckling and the dog was absent. When they got back to the house, Bobby said, “Let's play C.O.D.”

“Heh. You're a liar who owes me twenty bucks and I get to kick your ass at C.O.D. This is turning out to be a pretty good night for me.” Jeff smirked and Bobby hit him in the shoulder. “Tell you what, I'll give you a chance to make some of your money back. You get three head shots on me and I'll give you ten bucks.”

“It's on, motherfucker.” The pair played for hours. Periodically, one or the other would get up and steal a glance at the empty street below.

 Once Bobby glanced out the window and thought he saw a shadow move, but he watched for a minute and nothing appeared. After countless rounds of battle, Jeff declared himself the winner. Bobby was a little disappointed and very relieved. Jeff was disappointed too, so when he took the twenty dollars Bobby offered, Jeff extended him an olive branch.

“How about I turn this into a bag for you and you smoke me some tomorrow after school.” Bobby agreed and went downstairs to get them sodas. Bobby's mother was working late and the rest of the house was as dark as it was outside.

Sodas in hand, Bobby took the first stair and stopped. He felt the telltale cold and looked out the little, triple window at the top of the door. The dog sat out in the streetlight. Its gaze met his.

Bobby hustled upstairs and burst into the room. Jeff was zoned out on the game and looked surprised. “What dude?”

“The window! It's there, in the street.” Bobby rushed over and looked out. There was only the empty sidewalk and the streetlights. “Oh. Never mind. I was just seeing shit.”

“I know. Now come sit down and let me kill you some more.” They traded kills until Bobby's mom pulled in.

“Bobby. Come help me with the groceries,” his mom called from the front door. He and Jeff brought in the bags. As he was on his way back into the house, Bobby saw silver eyes hovering in the darkness to the right of the car. He looked back at Jeff and was about to say something, but the eyes disappeared. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and sweat started to bead on his brow.

Bobby's mom made them bagel bites and the cold of the dog left him as he ate. They played Call of Duty late into the night and finally crashed. In his dreams, Bobby heard scratching at the door. He went down and opened it. The dog came in and trotted upstairs to stand over Jeff, who was lying sleeping on the floor. It let out a low whine. The dream faded to other things.

Jeff went home around noon the next day. “So, I'll probably have that around six. I'll hit you up when I'm home. You should bring your laptop so we can play WOW.”

Bobby called Jeff's cell phone when seven o'clock rolled around. There was no answer. He tried again at eight, but called the house after Jeff didn't answer again. His mother answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Soderburg, this is Bobby Kenning. Is Jeff home?”

“Oh, I haven't seen Jeff since he left to go skateboarding around two. Did you try his cell phone?”

“Yeah, he didn't answer. Will you have him call me when he gets home?”

“Sure, hon. I'll have him call you. Good night, Bobby.”

“Night, Mrs. S.”

Bobby didn't hear from Jeff at all. The next day, Bobby woke up at seven to his mother's knock. Tears were in her eyes when she came in. She explained that the police found Jeff late last night. He was skating home and died of a brain aneurysm.

Over the next two weeks, funeral arrangements were made. Bobby was there when Jeff's parent's buried their son. All the while he could not stop thinking about his dream, but told no one.

Wednesday of the third week found Bobby wishing he could smoke a bowl with his friend. He started to get weepy and decided he needed a cigarette to help the sadness pass. It was nearing dark, but at that moment, he could not have cared less. He went out to his usual spot.

A three-quarter moon was high in the sky. He finished his Camel and started home when the telltale cold washed over him. There was no fear this time, only anger. Bobby whirled on the thing and stalked over to it.

“Fuck you!” Bobby felt hot tears in his eyes. “You killed my friend!” The shadow only stood and stared. It's refusal to shy away from him angered Bobby further. “I don't give a shit if you take me too, as long as I take you out!”

He ran the last few steps, then aimed a kick at the dog's muzzle. His foot passed harmlessly through it. The dog sat, adding insult to Bobby's impotence.

The boy flailed with his fists and kicked again, but the dog was undisturbed. Finally, Bobby sat down on the curb. “Go ahead. Kill me.”

The dog came over to him and whined. It lay down next to him and put its head on his leg. Where it touched him felt warm.

Memories swarmed his mind, surfacing at the dog's touch. Bobby felt the fullness of his loss then. Forgetting his fear, he hugged the dog and cried. It laid still, soaking up Bobby's misery as only a dog may.

After a few minutes, Bobby brought his head back up. “Wh...,” he began. A hitch in his chest stopped him. He took a deep breath, then said, “What are you?”

The silver eyes looked up at him. Bobby sniffed and patted its head. He felt better. He lit another cigarette. He thought of laughing and smoking bowls and playing Halo in Jeff's basement. He held the cigarette in his right hand and with the left he stroked the dog's dusky fur.

He put out his butt. The dog rose, as if sensing what was on Bobby's mind. He stood up and the dog walked back to the forest, melting into the shadows. That night, Bobby slept better than he had in a month.

The next day was better too, until night and the cold. Bobby looked out the window and saw the dog, sitting in the streetlight again. An SUV turned down the avenue into the cul-de-sac and the dog disappeared when the lights passed over it. Bobby shivered and left the window.

He slept and dreamed he was floating in the sea again, just below the surface. He struggled to hold his breath, but he couldn't break through. His chest began to burn. Bobby couldn't hold out any longer and inhaled a deep breath. He expected a lungful of water, but instead got cold air. Something warm slid up next to him.

He turned and saw Jeff floating in front of him. His friend had the sallow look of a corpse. “Jeff?”

“Yeah, man. Sorry to bail on you. Everyone's got their time, ya know. It wasn't anyone's fault.”

“I thought the dog got you.”

“No. I just went down. I was skating and then I hit the cement. I looked around and I saw it, man. I saw the dog, standing in the bushes. It felt cold, like you said. It also felt right. I can't explain it. It came over to me and grabbed my hand in its mouth. Then there was nothing for a while.”

Bobby looked at his friend. Light was coming from somewhere up above, shining through the rippling water and distorting Jeff's face. “What's it like?” Bobby asked. “Dying, I mean.”

“There aren't words for it. It's a secret, one of the big ones. Truth is, it doesn't seem like much at all. You'll see.” Jeff smiled. “Spooky shit, right?”

“Fuck yeah.” Bobby said. “I went to smoke a cigarette last night and I saw the dog. I tried to kick it. It just sat there, then it came over and curled up next to me. It made me remember the good times we had. I don't hurt about it anymore and I think the dog took it away.”

“I know what you mean. The dog takes it from you when you cross over.”

“Does that mean..?” Bobby hesitated.

“No. There's something special about you and the dog. Trust the Grim, Bobby.” He looked away, then looked back. “It's like, natural death, but there are other kinds out there. Unnatural ones, poison things. I can't say more. I have to go now. There's something you have to do, Bobby. That's why it picked you. You'll know it when you see it. Goodbye, brother.” Jeff finished speaking, then drifted away into the dark water.

“Goodbye, Jeff. At least I got to say it.” His next breath was choking water. Bobby gasped and woke up in his bed. The Grim lay curled up at his feet.

The dog got up and walked to the window. Bobby couldn't keep his eyes off it.

“You're a good dog, aren't you?” It looked at him, then jumped through the window. Bobby got up and saw it walk into the streetlight and sit down.

“Grim,” he said. It stood up and walked into the shadows of the empty subdivision. He didn't see the dog again until the new moon.

Bobby was out in his usual spot for a smoke when he saw the dog come out of the woods. As it approached him the world took on a pale blue cast. Though the night was black, with the dog nearby it was suddenly easier to see. The dog turned away when it got within a few feet and took a few steps, looking back over its shoulder as if it wanted him to follow.

Bobby did. The dog took him into the woods. The trees and ferns were like black paper cutouts. A few yards down the slope, Bobby heard the sound of a man grunting and a woman's muffled scream. He crouched low in the bushes and crept forward slowly.

The dog led him forward to a hollow. A downed tree lay across it, partially blocking the shapes of two people on the ground. The man said, “Shut the fuck up! Ow!” A clear scream was stifled as the man's hand flew back over the woman's mouth. “You're gonna pay for that,” he said. Bobby heard the tearing of fabric and a muffled sob.

He crept around the side of the downed tree and saw the back of a man on his knees. A young woman kicked and flailed, trying to break free of the man as he struggled to manage her. A small electric lantern sat in the deadfall off to the man's right. Above the man, as if it were riding his shoulders, was a spectral form. It was gray against the artificial blue the Grim provided.

The ghost was man-shaped, dressed in the plated skirt and formed chest-piece of a centurion. Atop the form was an empty skull that seemed to be laughing at the woman on the ground. The specter leaned over the the woman, an incorporeal arm holding an equally immaterial sword at the ready, to drive it into his mortal host's victim.

Bobby looked at the silver eyes floating in the darkness of the ferns to his left. The grim looked at Bobby, then down at his feet. Bobby followed the dog's gaze and saw a heavy branch. He picked it up and hefted it. It would do the trick.

Bobby crept closer, getting his legs under him to jump down the hill. The man below him brought up a hunting knife from the ground where it lay next to him. The woman kicked again and the man drug the blade across her upper thigh. She cried out in pain. The ghost hovering over the man brought it's blade in as well. Though Bobby didn't think the woman could see the skull face leering at her, she quieted just the same.

The Grim raced forward, leaping at the ghost. It collided without a sound and both apparitions disappeared into the darkness on the far side of the hollow. Bobby followed, raising his club high and driving it down on the man's head. The man fell to the right, his blood spattering the lantern. Bobby swung down hard two more times, making sure the attacker lay unmoving in the dirt. Air still moved through the man's shattered nose and mouth, but he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

The girl lay crying, her shirt ripped down the middle. Bobby pulled off his flannel and put it around her shoulders. She buttoned it as Bobby said, “You're gonna be okay. I'm here to help. Come on, let's get you out of here.”

He helped her up and she leaned against him. Blood stained her jeans at her right hip, oozing in a dark stain down her leg. Bobby tore a strip from her ruined shirt and used it to stop the bleeding. “Thank you,” she said as her sobs subsided, “I wish I could have killed that son of a bitch myself.”

“I don't think I killed him, he's just down for now. I live nearby, we'll take you there and I'll call the cops on the way.” Bobby looked back at the dark lump on the forest floor before putting the woman's arm over his shoulder and helping her up the slope to the road.

When they reached the asphalt he stopped to call the police. He put the phone back in his pocket when he was done. “There's a pack of cigarettes in the right pocket of that shirt. Will you get them?” She did and he offered her one. He lit it for her when she put it in her lips.

“Thanks,” she said.

When they got back to the house, Bobby opened the door. “Mom,” he called as he helped the woman to the stairs. “Mom!

Bobby's mother appeared at the top of the stairs. “Bobby, what's wrong? Who's this?”

Bobby told his mother the same thing he told the police on the phone. “I was smoking a cigarette, up on the main road, when I heard her scream. Some guy was attacking her in the woods. I clubbed him and called the cops. He's still out there, but the police are on their way.”

“What? Oh my god!” His mother came quickly down the steps. “Honey, are you okay?” The question was directed at both of them, but she didn't wait for an answer. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Bobby, will you help her into the bathroom?”

Bobby helped the woman to sit on the toilet. He left when his mother came in and she shut the door behind her. He went to the living room to look out the front window.

 The preternatural light left his vision when he left the forest and he halfway expected not to see the dog again. Bobby was not sure what more purpose the Grim could have for him, but he checked to see if the dog was sitting in it's usual spot just the same. Sure enough, the Grim sat sentry in the yellow pool of light. “Good dog,” Bobby said under his breath.

The sounds of running water and unintelligible conversation came from the bathroom for a few minutes before the door finally opened. Bobby's mother retrieved a skirt she thought would fit the younger woman. The three of them sat at the kitchen table until the police arrived.

She told them her name was Amber Fulton. She was walking home from her aunt's house when the guy came up walking behind her and dragged her into the woods. She explained that she'd nearly freed herself almost a dozen times, but he kept getting the upper hand.

Bobby showed the officers where he heard Amber scream and where he entered the forest. They radioed for an ambulance and brought him back to the house where he gave his statement. The paperwork showed no mention of the attacker's demon or the shadow dog. They were not details Bobby felt he should share.

The police took Amber down to the station in a squad car to press charges. When Bobby and his mother were finally left alone, she looked at her son. “Cigarettes?” She waited for him to explain himself and when he was silent, she said, “I know what you and Jeff were into and that's bad enough, but cigarettes?”

“Hey, tonight they may have saved a life,” Bobby said and smiled.

“Uh, huh. Regardless, I don't like it.” His mother hugged him. “Oh...what you did tonight was very brave. I'm proud of you.”

Bobby went out the front door and sat on the porch steps. He smoked and watched the ambulance lights flashing against the tall trees until it drove away, thinking about the violent ghost clinging to Amber's attacker.

He felt good about himself for the first time in a while, maybe since his parents divorced. The dog came out of the shadows around the side of the house. It curled up next to him and became solid once more, laying its head on his lap and looking up at him. “Good boy,” Bobby said. Perhaps it was a flight of fancy, but he thought the Grim's look said, “You too.”

Two days later, Bobby was sitting in his room playing video games when the doorbell rang. He opened it to see Amber holding out a folded skirt and a flannel shirt. She was strikingly pretty, especially now that there were no dead leaves in her hair and she'd regained her composure.

“Hi, Bobby.” Amber smiled. “I just wanted to return these and say thank you to you and your mom for your help. Is she here?”

“No, she's working. I'll tell her you dropped by. You're welcome. That's from both of us. Are you doing alright?”

“Much better now that I know that fucker is going from the hospital straight to prison. He was lucky I didn't have my shotgun. I'm on my way to buy a .38 right now. That's never happening to me again.” She was quiet a moment, then asked, “Do you have a minute?”

Bobby stepped back and opened the door wide. “Sure, come on in.”

He led her to the living room. Amber sat on the couch. He asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“No thanks,” she replied. Bobby sat down in the chair. Amber continued. “I wanted to clear something up. I've been dreaming about what happened, and a lot of people have been asking questions about it. I've replayed it over and over in my mind and something doesn't add up. From what I remember, there is no way you could have heard me scream unless you were already in the woods, but you said you heard me from the road. With that bastard's hand over my mouth, there's no way you could have heard me. How did you know I was there? Why were you in the woods that night?”

Bobby swallowed, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. Seeing his discomfort, she said, “I told the cops I got his hand away from my mouth once before I actually did, so they don't have any reason to come looking for holes in your story. I want to know for my own reasons. Did you see him drag me back there? That's all I can think. I'm still glad you did something.”

“No, god no! I would have called the cops sooner. It was the dog.” Bobby blurted it, then knew there was no way out.

“What dog?” She asked.

“You're gonna think I'm nuts, but I've been seeing this shadow dog for the last month or so. It just came out of the woods one night when I was smoking on the sidewalk on the other side of the fence.” Bobby pointed in that direction. It felt good to get it off his chest.

He told her about the terrifying unearthliness the Grim emanated, how it chilled him and made his hairs stand up. He explained about Jeff spending the night to see it, how he died and about talking to him in the dream. Finally, he told her about the dog leading him into the woods to find her.

“After Jeff died, it came over to me and laid down next to me. It put its head in my lap and it was warm. That's when I knew it wouldn't hurt me. Jeff said it wanted me to do something and I think saving you was what it wanted me to do.”

“You're right. That does sounds crazy. Why would it want to save me? I'm just a regular person, I don't do anything special.” Amber didn't buy Bobby's story all the way, but the coincidence of him finding her and his having no reason to lie about it didn't support her suspicions of dishonesty.

“I don't know why it does what it does, but it's got an agenda. I think it was more about the thing your attacker had in him.”

Bobby told her that the dog somehow made him able to see in the dark. “The world was blue, but brighter. The forest looked like it was construction paper cutouts, but I could see everything. The Grim led me to where he dragged you and I saw some kind of ghost riding him.”

“You saw a ghost? What did it look like?” Amber's eyes were wide. Something deep within her responded to this idea, as if she noticed something while he was attacking her. This perception never actually became a thought, but waited beneath her awareness and now latched on to his words.

He described the armor and the skull face, how it held its sword to her neck while the man cut her. Amber shivered visibly. “I was paralyzed. I wanted to fight back, but I was riveted to the spot. He seemed bigger, like he was dwarfing me, or looming over me.”

“That's what the dog wanted. It wanted to stop it, not necessarily save you. Oh. Sorry.” Amber jerked as if slapped when he said this, but she didn't seem upset. “How come you call it 'Grim'?”

“Well, that's what Jeff said in my dream. It's a kind of death, but a friendly kind, or something. A right kind. That other thing with the sword and skull face, I think it was violent death, or maybe just one kind of wrong death. Maybe there was a time people knew the different kinds, but they all got mixed into the same thing.” Bobby was having trouble forming this idea. It prompted questions, but he had no idea how to begin to answer them.

“Maybe you're right. I dunno. I have a lot to think about and I should probably get going.” She stood up and he led her to the door. Bobby opened it. She stepped to the walkway, then turned. She asked, “Who do you think decides what death is right or what death is wrong? Who's the dog's master?”

Bobby thought about this for a moment. “I don't know. Maybe some day I'll find out. I wouldn't mind seeing it again, as long as it's not coming around for my mom or something. Actually, I'd rather see it than another kind.”

“Well, thanks again Bobby. You're a weird kid, but I would be a lot worse off without you. Your secret is safe with me. Tell your mom thanks for me, too.”

“I will, take care Amber.” He said as she walked to her car. She got in and waved goodbye. Bobby closed the door behind him. It was a good long time, but he did see the Grim again.

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