The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (23 page)

“
Leeda!!!”

Louis’ attention went back
toward the backdoor as heard the deadbolt disengage. The iron
screen nearly exploded open as his large dog, Leeda, erupted from
house. She bounded up the stairs toward the patio where Louis was
standing – all one hundred and thirty pounds of her.

He looked back to see what
the rotten old man was doing, but he was gone, not a trace of him
evident he was ever there. Leeda came up to him, sniffing at him
frantically as if he were a pup, which distracted Louis the moment
she planted her large nose deep in his crotch.

“
Leeda baby, stop it!” he
muttered, trying to be serious though he dogs huffs and puffs were
tickling him.

Satisfied he was ok, Leeda
smelled at the ground and then bounded up the stairs to the higher
portions of the yard. Louis followed, but at a much slower pace,
reaching the highest and largest portion of the backyard more than
a few seconds after Leeda. He watched her as she traversed the
entire expanse of the yard, back and forth, inch by inch, in an
attempt to find some trace, any trace of the horrendous, little
man. Or so, Louis surmised.

Louis waited and gazed at
her for a quarter of an hour. A stray thought suddenly crossed his
mind and chilled him to the bone. So much so, he called for Leeda
once, then twice. When she didn’t respond right away, he turned and
ran back for the house, his eyes darting this way and that in fear,
hoping Leeda was following him.

How did that
thing
know my
name…?

He didn’t get far when he
saw it, lying atop the wall where the vile little creature had been
sitting. It was a cat. Well, most of one. Something had been eating
it, from anus to head, managing to make it halfway through the
feline’s body before discarding the carcass.

It lay there, limp in its’
own skin, a bloody mess that made Louis run headlong for his house.
He was no longer thinking of his dog.

Instead, he yelled for his
mother the entire trip.

~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼
}>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

Dirty Deeds

Sunday, November
21
^st
,
1:29 pm…

Tō-Jō… Tō-Jō… Tō-Jō…
Tō-Jō…!

The name was so catchy, it
was distracting. After a few hours of the continuous research, it
was downright annoying. Her difficulty with concentrating wasn’t
helping either. Half of the time, she’d found it hard to believe it
was the actual name of one of the most powerful generals in
Imperial Japan and later it’s Prime Minister, during World War II.
The other half, she found herself making up ridiculous rhymes with
the name. Each time, she went scatterbrained and lost focus. The
ordeal was costing her precious time.

He, Hideko Tō-Jō, was the
topic of her fall semester research paper for World History. It was
due the Friday before school recessed for winter break. She’d only
just begun to gather her source despite the fact the deadline to
have it completed was only three weeks away. This was unusual for
her. This wasn’t her typical approach to an assignment counting for
thirty percent of her grade. Usually, she would’ve been more than
half through her second draft and on the verge of putting the whole
thing to bed with only final polishing left to do. Apparently, not
this time. What made it even more aggravating, was she actually
liked history, so it wasn’t a matter of a lack of interest on her
part. She enjoyed reading about people from the past, who had done
both good and bad during their lifetimes. It made her feel more
connected with herself, her family and where they’d come from, down
the narrow current in the river of humanity…

Oh my god, I am really
losing it now
, she said to herself,
shaking her head to disrupt the wondering thoughts in her brain.
She shifted her position in the high-backed, over-stuffed, office
chair positioned before her desk, folding her legs before her. Her
thighs were pushed up her chest, her bare feet dug into the edge of
the seat. It being the afternoon, she had, a long time ago,
washed-up and showered. She had changed into an over-sized, pale
pink, cotton shirt and a pair of rose pink tights that clung to her
figure, showing off her curves. Not that she cared at the moment,
though. She was too frustrated with herself to care how she might
appear to others.

She’d eaten a late
breakfast of cereal and toast, so it wasn’t her stomach making her
mind fly off on wild tangents every few seconds. It was something
else. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, define,
although, she knew for a fact it was there. It was a nagging sort
of uneasiness or nervous energy that didn’t grow or diminish, but
persisted with vexing fortitude, interrupting her thought
process.

It was driving her
crazy!

She snaked out her right
arm and grabbed a hold of the wireless mouse. She used one over the
touchpad in the middle of the keyboard, because it gave her freer
range of movement. She began to click upon the various links
provided by the search engine she was using for her research paper.
She was hoping to find a comprehensive source that could provide
her with a high-level overview of her topic, give her ideas, and
allow her to drill down into the specifics of the man’s life,
accomplishments and atrocities. She was looking for something a
little
Wikipedia-ish
, but wasn’t having much luck. Most of the top links centered
around cable documentaries or music videos or, of all things,
mushrooms. What she needed was brief biography, maybe something
with a several first-hand historical accounts within it. She wanted
a clear perspective of the man.

She clicked on the “next”
arrow at the bottom of the page, the fifth page of her search
popped up on the screen when she felt two sets of tiny nails
lightly scratch at her dangling toes. She jumped and shifted in her
chair, not expecting to be touched on a personal part of her body,
peering down. Her shock dissipated instantly, as she laid eyes upon
her miniature Doberman Pincher, Daiquiri, who was looking up at her
with joyous expectation. Her entire body was trembling at the
prospect of Sophie scooping her up and placing her into her
lap.

“
What do you want, Mi-Ma?”
asked Sophie, using her pet name for the dog, her voice dripping
with saccharine, knowing full well what the toy dog
wanted.

The tiny canine pranced on
the tips of her dainty paws and let out a quick, high-pitched bark
as if she were telling Sophie precisely what she intended, her
little body quivering with anticipation.

“
Do you want mama to pick
you up?”

Again, the dog danced
about and barked.

Sophie smiled, her eyes
watering at the adorable sight of her small, intelligent pet. She
reached out toward the dog, and immediately Daiquiri leaped into
her open palms. Sophie hoisted her onto her lap, letting her legs
unfurl, her feet resting back on the ground. Daiquiri licked her
hands and arms so fast there was little Sophie could do to stop
her. The canine’s tail wagged almost as fast as a hummingbird’s
wings fluttered. Then, just as quickly, the dog lay down and placed
its little head on its forelegs, breathing heavily out of its
nostrils a few times. As her breathing slowed, she looked up at
Sophie out of the corner of its’ left eye, imploring the girl to
pet her.

Sophie stared back into
her dark, bulbous eye, her smile widening a bit. “How come
you
always get what you
want, you little brat?” she asked, her voice making the dog lift
its head toward her. Its’ fore paws flexed against her legs as its
tongue flicked out, giving Sophie what she surmised was a long
distance doggy kiss. Sophie grabbed the dog’s small head in between
two hands, scratching either side of her chin and planted a quick
smooch on the top of her snout.

Her cell phone
rang.

“
Holy
shit!” she yelped at the high-pitched warble she’d set as the
phone’s current default ringtone, immediately regretting
that
decision. She
realized, a second later, it wasn’t that particular tone she had
assigned her incoming calls, but rather, a specific one she’d
downloaded for her friend Jasmine Rios, a fellow team member of the
Cheer Squad.

She reached over the mouse
where her phone vibrated and jangled, picking it up and sliding the
LCD screen upward with her thumb in one fluid motion, answering the
call.

“
Jasmine, what’s up,
girl?” she began amicably. “Why are you calling me this early on a
Sunday, isn’t this your recovery day from Saturday night?” She
couldn’t help herself. Jasmine was a notorious party
animal.

“
Ha, touché,
Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes,” replied Jasmine in wispy tones, taking the
bait.

Sophie giggled, twirling a
lock of her near-white hair with a finger. “Ha, ha, aren’t you
‘Freak that Came Out at Night’?”

“
Whatever, Sandra Dee!”
came the lightning quick retort.

Sophie couldn’t stop
herself and laughed out loud. It was a game her and Jasmine played
all the time. They exaggerated their reputations to ridiculous
heights to see who would get the better of the other. It seemed
Jasmine had won this round, at least in Sophie’s eyes.

“
So, seriously, girl
what’s up?” she asked her friend scratching the top of Daiquiri’s
head, the dog enjoying the attention from her lap.

“
Hey, have you been
watching TV?” asked the other girl, her voice suddenly serious,
which confused Sophie right away; the change of topic was drastic
enough to illicit concern.

“
N-no,” she started after
a moment’s hesitation. “I’ve been trying to get this stupid
research for my World History class in some semblance of order. I
haven’t been able to keep my mind on it. I guess I’m a little off
my game today.” Then she mulled over the question a bit more.
“Why?”

“
Maybe you should turn it
on. The TV I mean, not your brain,” Jasmine said the last part in a
rush, a trace of concern creeping into her tone.

Sophie frowned. “What for,
Jaz? I really need to get at least the preliminary stuff done for
this paper today or I’m gonna be way behind.”

“
I think you should take a
break… and turn on the TV, Sophie.” The directness of her
inflection was so unlike Jasmine, Sophie couldn’t ignore her
plea.

She let out an exasperated
sigh, pushing herself from her desk, grabbing Daiquiri under the
belly. She stood and made her way to the small thirty-two inch LCD
TV she had perched on her dresser. She snatched up the remote
laying in front of it and turned on the TV. “What channel?” she
inquired.

“
The news channel,”
replied Jasmine, sounding distracted through the phone as if she
was paying more attention to something else.

“
Dude, there are like a
thousand news channels, which one?”

“
Oh, sorry,” giggled
Jasmine, “The local one, the one that comes on in the early
afternoon.”

Sophie punched in the
correct number and waited as the digital cable feed reoriented
itself to the correct frequency. Her eyes narrowed as she watched a
reporter talking into the microphone in her hand. The background
appeared familiar to Sophie, though she couldn’t quite place it at
the time.

“…
here at the scene of the
crime, where a local teenage boy was found dead alongside of the
road some hours ago by a jogger -.”

“
What’s this about, Jaz?”
questioned Sophie, even more dumbfounded than before.

“
It’s about James, Sophie.
James Henley, Jr., you remember him, don’t you?” It was the other
girl’s turn to express aggravation.

The name struck Sophie
like a slap to the face.
Of course, I know
James Henley. What the hell was this girl talking about?
The kid had been stalking her for nearly a year
now.

“
What about James? What
has this to do with him?” Her voice grew an edge to it.

“
They are talking about
him. He was found early this morning, Sophie.

“
He is dead.”