The King's Highway (Days of Dread Trilogy Book 1) (4 page)

Sure enough, it went just as he remembered. On the west side, the houses faced the side streets that ran off the feeder. A few bonfires raged here and there, but thankfully burned far enough away from the road he followed that they never threatened to expose his position.

At the end of the feeder street, more useless vehicles jammed the bigger crossroad. To the east, the biggest fire he’d seen raged with maybe two dozen folks milling around it. That left Jackson no choice but to go west. At the bottom of an S-curve in the pavement, he spotted a dirt road illuminated only a moment by a moonbeam.

It led to a metal gate.

Ahead, another bonfire shown in the distance toward Beltline, a major thoroughfare, so he turned south again on the dirt road. He needed to go that direction anyway. If he had it figured right, the river shouldn’t be too much farther. 

Boggs heard them first. Then the wind shifted, and their stink filled his nose. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, but the old man patted his head.

“It’s okay, boy. I called them here.”

Boggs wanted to go meet the trio and get a look, see if his eyes agreed with his smeller, but being a good dog, he obeyed his master. He laid his head on his front paws and closed his eyes, but he’d keep track of the intruders’ progress. They followed the dirt road, turned after the creek, came closer along the big green space, then through the people area.

Hearing their chatter, he figured they were young humans. Soon after they slipped into the second barn, Boggs smelled food. The children talked softly with one another. He stayed vigilant until their breathing slowed. Sensing no danger, he decided to lay his head in the old man’s lap and catch a nap.

All the noisy birds bragging about a new day awakened him from his rest. He glanced at his man who seemed to still be sleeping and decided he’d take care of business. Maybe ease on over to the other barn and check out the newcomers, too, while he was up and about. He stood and padded softly toward the big double doors that had been left open.

“Don’t be gone long.”

He looked behind him. The corners of his master’s lips drew up and spread wide. His eyes twinkled, too. Boggs loved that look and the soothing sound of his man’s voice, but didn’t understand why he wouldn’t want him to get eyes on the intruders. Still, as commanded, he hurried back after lifting his leg a good long time next to a tree’s trunk.

In his rightful place again, he settled down and laid his muzzle on the ground next to the master’s leg. The old guy patted Boggs’ shoulders and rubbed his head a couple of times gently, pulling the near ear all the way out. It really felt good.

The new day got brighter by the breath, and he couldn’t imagine why his master wanted to stay any longer. Hadn’t he had plenty of rest? Instead of leaning against that stall wall, he should be ready to get up and eat, get going. But he eased his hand over Boggs’ side and tucked him into his leg nice and snug.

While he waited for the young newcomers to wake, a coyote slipped down the creek and crossed into the woods. He hated the mangy wild canines, but wasn’t allowed to catch them or even chase them off. The ways of men weren’t always easy for him to understand, yet he’d learned not to lean to his own understanding and trust the master.

After good light shone, the last two horses still at the stables came close to the other barn, but didn’t go inside or stay long. With the big lumbering beasts, old habits obviously died hard. Long as it had been since they’d been fed, the equine still showed every morning seeking a hand-out.

A body would think enough time had gone by to keep them from coming every sunup on the chance a human might be passing out grain.

Across the river, the report of a rapid string of shots echoed, but they sounded plenty far away. He couldn’t smell the gun’s smoke; so really no concern. The old man must have heard them, too. He rubbed Boggs’ shoulder a couple of times as if to reassure him everything was fine.

Didn’t he know that whenever he was in his master’s presence, nothing could ever be wrong?

The biggest of the intruders stepped out of the other barn, followed closely by the two smaller ones. Boggs stood.

“Easy now, my friend. Stay put.”

He glanced at his man who rewarded him with that look he loved so much then settled back down as told. Real quick, the trio came close. The old man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket then clutched it tight in his hand and held it over his heart. With his eyes shut, he rested his chin on his chest.

Spit dripped from the corner of his mouth, down through his chin stubble, then onto his shirt.

The three intruders reached the double doors.

The biggest one, still a boy but getting close to full grown, stepped inside and stared right at him. The next, a female about shoulder high to the oldest gave Boggs a look similar to his master’s, turning her lips up and showing her teeth in a friendly sort of way. The smallest, a mid-size fellow almost as tall as the female, stepped out from behind the other two.

Boggs bared his fangs, but the old man applied the slightest pressure to his side, so he closed his mouth and laid his head down on his paws, keeping a wary eye on the interlopers.

“Hey, mister, you okay?” The big one stepped closer.

“Don’t go near them, Jackson.” The girl grabbed hold of the boy’s shirt sleeve. “I don’t think that dog wants you to. Besides, something’s wrong with the old guy.”

But she must not be in charge of him because he didn’t let her keep him back. He pulled his arm away and took another step toward Boggs and his master. “He looks dead; may have some food though. Or clean water we could use.”

The hang-back smallest one scooted apart from the other two then stopped short of Boggs with his open hand extended. “Hey, there, boy. You a good dog?”

The old man pressed his hand into Boggs’ fur ever so slightly.

Easing closer, the boy talked in soothing tones. Boggs looked away and kept his place next to his master. When he faced the little fellow again, he stretched his neck a bit and sniffed the hand stretched toward him.

Then the female stepped up behind the boy. “Don’t, Coop. That is one big dog. Looks like he could tear your hand off if he was a mind.”

The small one paid no attention to her. She must not be his master either, or else he was not a good boy. The smallest eased his hand ever closer, palm down, until he placed it softly on Boggs’ head and petted him. “There now.” He turned back toward her. “He could, but he won’t.” He faced Boggs again with one of those pleasant showing-his-teeth expressions. “He’s a good dog. See, Sisser?”

The bigger one, Jackson she called him, stepped beside the old man and put two fingers against his motionless master’s neck. “I don’t feel a pulse; maybe he had a heart attack or something.”

“Poor old man. I hope he was a Christian.” She pointed toward his chest. “What’s he got in his hand there?”

Jackson eased the crumpled paper from the lifeless grip and opened it.

“Nothing I guess.”

“What’s it say?”

“Nothing. It’s weird. Has a bunch of letters and numbers, but they don’t make any sense.” He turned back to the man. “The old guy sure does look familiar for some reason.”

“Here, let me see it.” The girl held out her hand and took the paper. “What do you think they mean? All these numbers. You think it’s some kind of code or something?”

Coop nodded toward Bogg’s man. “Does he have any food?”

For the next bit, the big one carefully rifled the old man’s pockets. “A compass! And here’s a cool hatchet on his belt. Help me get it off, Coop.”

The little boy joined the effort and pulled out a knife from the master’s pants pocket. “He’s got lots of good stuff. Can I keep it?”

“That’s just gross. Y’all shouldn’t be touching him! And it’s stealing, too.”

“McKenzie Michelle! You’re such a girl. He won’t be needing any of this stuff.” Jackson showed his teeth and closed one eye real quick at the one called Coop. “If you don’t want to watch, take a look around the barn and see what you can find.”

Took all Boggs could do to keep from objecting. She found his master’s water bottle and his neatly stacked pile of canned meals, including the ones with the great smelling fish inside. He hoped they’d give him one, but he wouldn’t beg. He hadn’t begged since he was a pup.

“Here’s a good green blanket. A bit itchy maybe, but it looks plenty warm.” She stepped outside the far end of the barn. “Hey, Jackson, there’s a cool fold-up skillet out here where he’s been cooking.”

The big one went and loaded all the cans into his pack while the little guy continued pilfering through the master’s pockets. Jackson took a sip of water, studying the man’s face. He held the bottle toward the girl when she walked back inside. “I know who he looks like! That new neighbor back at the apartments, remember?”

“Yeah, he does! That guy Mom sent me and Sisser to give him those cookies she’d baked.”

McKenzie traded him the skillet for the water bottle. “He does. Yeah. Wow. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was his brother.” She took a sip and handed the bottle to the little one.

“How do you?”

“How do I what, Coop?”

He sipped a drink then held his hand out and poured a tiny bit into it. “Know better. You said if you didn’t know better. They really could be brothers.” He offered the water to Boggs. He lapped it off the boy’s salty palm even though he wasn’t really thirsty. But he liked this fellow.

“I guess so.”

The big one put his pack on then stood. “We should get on out of here.”

”What about breakfast?” She passed the water back to the big one. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Coop piped up. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s just go, we can eat later.”

She looked at the man, and her shoulders shivered like trying to shake water off. “Fine with me. I say it’s a great idea to eat far away from the dead guy.”

Coop kneeled beside Boggs. “What about the dog? We can’t just leave him all alone.”

“Sorry, Bro.” Jackson shook his head. “We don’t need another mouth to feed.”

The girl frowned at the little one. “Especially such a big one! No telling how much it would take to fill him up.”

“Anyway, he’ll never leave his owner. You’d have to drag him away.” The leader turned and walked away.

McKenzie Michelle pulled on Coop’s arm. “Come on, now. We’ve got to go.”

He rubbed Boggs’ head again then walked backwards. At the door, he patted his leg. “Come, boy.” He whistled a funny weak sound. “Come on with us.”

“Stop it, Cooper. Leave him be.”

As they left the barn, the boy waved at him then turned and joined the others.

Go with them, Boggs. Keep them safe.

He looked at his man. He hadn’t heard the words with his ears, but in his heart, and it made no sense. Why would he ever leave his master? The old man patted his shoulder real easy, gently pushing him toward the door, then took his hand away and laid it in his lap.

Go on now, boy. They need you.

Boggs rose and followed, but stayed back out of sight from the children; maybe his master would call him back. He tracked them with his nose for a ways then realized they headed to a bad place. He quickened his pace and came even with them, but far enough up-creek side for them not to see him.

For some strange reason, men and their children had no sense of smell. That fact had served him well during the times he had no master. But he put the thought away. Once again, he was on his own except that he had a job to do.

The children stopped, and he belly crawled until he got eyes on them. The biggest boy held the stickery wires—one up with his hand and another down with his foot—and the other two crawled through. Boggs waited until the one called Jackson climbed over then cut through the underbrush, staying even with his new pack, but still out of sight.

Why couldn’t they at least sense the danger?

Hate hung heavy on the morning air.

“Go-o-o awa-a-a-ay.”

The trio stopped. All three looked in the direction of the warning. The girl pointed toward the tree where the brute stretched the rope that tied him to its limit.

Good, they spotted him.

Boggs eased closer. The Rottweiler barked another ferocious command then lunged toward the children. His rope stopped him. As the kids neared the barn closest to him, the big bad dog backed away then charged toward them again. This time, the rope snapped in two, and he sprang for them at a power run.

Oh no! Boggs leapt forward. His paws barely touched the ground. He angled toward the young ones. The biggest boy swung off his backpack. He held it out as a shield. The girl screamed to the top of her lungs and ran, dragging the smallest one with her. The Rott closed the distance then lunged toward Jackson.

The boy blocked him, but the bully sank his teeth into the canvas. He hung onto the cloth growling and shaking it.

At the last breath, Boggs propelled himself onto the mutt. He knocked him away from the boy. Catching a good hold of neck flesh, he rolled the Rott—and himself in the process. Boggs stopped on his back and raked his extra dew claws up and down the brute’s belly until the blood flowed free.

“Stop! Let go-o-o. I give.” The bigger dog whined.

Boggs pushed off his weight and rolled to his feet. “Get then. Away with you.”

The Rott ducked his stump of a tail and slinked off without a look back.

Boggs watched until he disappeared then faced the bigger boy. He liked this one they called Jackson, brave and willing to fight to protect the smaller ones. Most kids he knew, even bigger ones, would have run. He sat on his haunches and looked into the boy’s eyes, wagging his long, full-curled tail.

Well, now that Boggs had set the big dog straight, his master should be calling him back. The Rott must have been the reason the kids needed him. He trotted over beside the smallest one who rewarded him with a big hug.