Thor. Part 8

To make matters worse, Uncle Ted appeared to notice Thor's surveillance. Uncle Ted seemed to understand Thor better than the rest of the Pack. On the rare occasions when he looked directly at Thor, it felt as if he looked through him, to see Thor's very thoughts. Thor found the sensation unnerving. Thor and Uncle Ted went about their business as if they were invisible to everyone else, Thor secretly watching Uncle Ted, and Uncle Ted hiding his guilt from everyone else, and secretly watching Thor.

Uncle Ted had been doing things at night, too.

Thor stood watch at the kitchen window long after the Pack was asleep, listening to the sounds in the garage. He heard Uncle Ted cry out in his sleep and he heard him talk to himself when he was awake. Occasionally, Thor heard the metallic clink of handcuffs locking shut, though he had no idea what the sound was. Thor took to sleeping in the kitchen, as close to the garage as possible.

And now Uncle Ted was sitting with the Pack again, about to have another meal, further solidifying his position within the Pack.

Uncle Ted didn't go to work, like Dad; he was around all the time. Thor didn't like that either. If anyone should be around all the time, it should be Dad. Who did Uncle Ted think he was?

Teddy finally finished with the dog food and opened a can of cat food for Debbie. Kitty was Debbie's pet, but Debbie couldn't handle the can opener yet, so she did what she could - she spooned Kitty's food into her dish and put the dish on the floor for her. Teddy gave Thor his food, and he began to chow down as Mom herded the rest of the Pack into the kitchen for dinner. Debbie carefully put Kitty's food on the floor about ten feet away from Thor. Thor issued a low, whining growl, just to remind Kitty whose food was whose.

He'd had a problem with the cat over food a few days before Uncle Ted arrived, and the memory still rankled him. It had worked out all right (no thanks to Dad), but it was most unpleasant while it lasted.

The Pack kept the dog food and cat food together in a kitchen cabinet under the sink. The cabinet doors were held shut by magnets, not latches, and the kitten, in her tireless search for small dark places to explore, had discovered she could pull the cabinet door open with her paw. She grabbed the edge of the door and pulled, and the cabinet opened about a half inch before slamming shut again. She repeated the operation twice before she swung it far enough to stay open. The noise brought Thor into the kitchen just as she disappeared into the cabinet. Thor was aghast. He ran to the open cabinet and barked at the trespa.s.sing cat. Kitty had no idea why he barked. She backed deeper into the cabinet.

Thor lost it. The cat was cringing between his food cans! Something had to be done! He growled at her to get out, but she just scrunched herself deeper into the corner.

Thor's mind swam in confusion. It the cat weren't a Pack member, he'd simply kill her - no problem. Kitty might get in one or two painful scratches, but she would be dead before she could do serious harm.

But the cat was a Pack member. Violence was not an option.

Thor whimpered and whined, hoping Mom or Dad would hear him and come punish the cat for its criminal behavior. Nothing happened. He tried growling at the cat again, but the cat (who was just starting to relax) shrank back at the sound of the warning.

There was only one thing to do.

He stuck his head into the cabinet, turned it sideways and gently took one of his dog food cans in his teeth. He backed out, walked across the kitchen, and put the can on the floor at the farthest point from the cabinet, whimpering for help the whole time.

He returned to the cabinet. Kitty was still inside. He tried growling again (what else was there?), and the kitten dug in. He switched from growling to whining as he lifted the next can of dog food out.

He repeated the process about four times before Dad came in to find out what all the fuss was about.

At first, Dad couldn't figure out what was going on. He watched Thor remove a can, then looked in the cabinet to see what Thor was growling at. When he realized what was happening, instead of helping Thor, he fell on the floor laughing.

Thanks a lot, Dad!

Dad watched Thor empty the entire cabinet of dog food, a can at a time. Thor then removed a box of dog biscuits with extra care (but still managed to spill some on the floor). He growled extra loud as he went back to pick up the precious biscuits and drop them on the floor next to the box.

Dad finally intervened, but only after Thor had cleaned out all the cat food cans and started on the people food on the shelf above. Thor had looked to Dad the whole time, imploring him to step in and end this awful situation, but Dad just laughed. When Dad finally took action, it wasn't to help Thor, but to stop him from removing the Pack's food. He shooed Thor away and pulled the cat from the cabinet, then put the dog biscuits back in their box, and the box and cans back in the cabinet.

The very next day, Thor was distressed to discover the cat inside the cabinet again. But after a few replays of the incident (the kitten never did understand what was happening - she just enjoyed opening the cabinets and sneaking in), Dad got some tools from the cellar, worked on the cabinet for a while, and domestic tranquility was restored. Thor's faith in Dad leadership was restored.

Thor finished his dinner and strolled over to the kitchen table to see what treats he might pick up - and to watch Uncle Ted. As he approached the table, without warning, Uncle Ted tossed him a sc.r.a.p of meat.

Thor was startled by the sudden move, but his reactions were up to it. He lunged, snapping it out of the air flawlessly. His performance was awe inspiring, as always.

He hoped it would demonstrate to Uncle Ted the foolishness of contemplating any Bad behavior toward the Pack.

"My watchdog," Uncle Ted said sardonically.

"He's not your dog!" Debbie objected. "He's our dog!"

Uncle Ted laughed ruefully. "Oh, I know honey. That's not what I meant. He's your watchdog because he watches for you. But he watches me."

Dad looked at Mom quizzically. Mom gave him a look that said, "I'll tell you later."

Thor ignored the conversation. He could see there were no more treats forthcoming (the Pack was still eating, and except for Uncle Ted's oddball behavior, treats came after dinner only). He made himself comfortable on the tile floor, facing slightly away from the dinner table, slightly away from Uncle Ted, but keeping an eye on both.

Chapter 9.

Dusk.

Uncle Ted had been living with the Pack for almost a month now, and Thor was miserable. His relationship with Uncle Ted, once his favorite relative, could best be described as a truce, and Thor didn't have the slightest idea why.

Dad still wasn't aware how deep the tension between them ran, but he knew something was wrong. Mom was painfully aware, but for reasons she didn't understand, she hadn't spoken to Dad about it. Thor was aware of Mom's discretion and felt tremendously grateful to Mom for it, but like her, he wasn't sure why. He had no idea what was happening. He only knew that the longer Uncle Ted stayed, the less Thor trusted him.

And it wasn't just his feelings toward Uncle Ted that confused him; his feelings about himself were changing.

He used to enjoy the clicking sound his claws made on the tiled kitchen floor and the hardwood floor in the dining room. Now he hated it. It announced his every move, and made it difficult to shadow Uncle Ted without being obvious. And Thor's constant pacing from room to room was getting on Mom's nerves. Thor didn't like being a source of annoyance, but what could he do?

He did what he had to do. He did his Duty. He kept an eye on Uncle Ted. He paced nervously when he was stuck inside the house, and on the rare occasions when Uncle Ted wasn't on Pack territory, he sat in the lookout chair, staring at the street.

And now Uncle Ted was doing something at night; something more than just rattling around in his apartment.

He'd been getting more active every night for days, more fidgety toward sundown, and more eager to get away from the Pack before dark.

And every night Thor felt the Bad Thing come closer. The Bad Thing was always out there somewhere during the day, but it was very close at night. In the last few nights the Bad Thing was not only closer, it was bigger and stronger. Thor hadn't slept at night for the last three days, and his daytime naps were so long and constant that Dad was getting worried about his health.

He wouldn't sleep tonight either. Tonight, the Bad Thing was so near, Thor almost thought he could smell it. Tonight, Thor was frantic.

Uncle Ted had retired to his apartment at sundown, then left his apartment just after the sky became dark, as the kids were bedding down, and Mom and Dad watched the TV in their bedroom.

Uncle Ted walked down the stairs quietly, surrept.i.tiously, and he glanced back at the house as he went. Thor pulled away from the kitchen window and backed into the shadows of the kitchen as Uncle Ted looked in his direction, but he knew Uncle Ted had seen him. It didn't matter; Uncle Ted didn't have to catch Thor in the act to know he was under surveillance. They both knew their parts in this little play.

Uncle Ted walked quickly into the woods behind the house, wearing clothes Thor had never seen before; a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and running shoes. Something at his waist glinted in the moonlight; the handcuffs. Thor made a mental note of the sound they made, the distinctive, high-pitched jingle of metal on metal.

Thor watched him disappear into the woods as the moon began to rise. The moon had been getting brighter lately, and once it cleared the horizon, Thor would be able to see almost as well as if it were daytime. Thor's night vision was far superior to a human's.

But light or no light, once Uncle Ted disappeared into the woods, Thor had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. He didn't like it. He paced nervously from window to window, watching for Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted might circle back and approach the house from any angle.

Thor woofed quietly to himself. He'd learned, painfully, to refrain from barking at night. In the last few days, Uncle Ted had emerged from the apartment almost every night, always just as the sun was going down, and after the Pack was in bed. Each time, Thor had felt the Bad Thing come closer, much closer, as if Uncle Ted were calling it. Each time, Thor had sounded a warning, and each time Thor had been punished when it was discovered that the intruder was only Uncle Ted, going for a walk.

So he woofed to himself when he saw Uncle Ted leaving, and he woofed to himself in frustration when he couldn't see where Uncle Ted went.

But now he woofed to himself for another reason.

The Bad Thing was here.

It was no longer here-and-not-here, it was here. Now. He could feel its presence in the woods behind the house. It had finally arrived. And unusual emotion pa.s.sed through Thor, one he almost never felt: fear.

He mentally shrugged it off, and it was gone. But for a moment it had really shaken him.

Thor stared out the window at the forest, where he knew the Bad Thing was. His hair was high on his back and a low growl rumbled in his throat.

He saw nothing.

But something was happening.

Something not good. The Bad Thing was out there, and it wanted to get at the Pack. He felt its evil as strongly as he felt the Pack's love, and he couldn't keep silent any longer.

He barked as loud as he could, steadily, relentlessly, determined to wake the whole Pack. They were in terrible danger.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Tom said angrily. He'd just been drifting into a pleasant dream when the barking woke him. "That d.a.m.n dog!" He listened for a moment until he was sure it wasn't going to stop, then really cursed as he threw off the sheets.

"Don't a.s.sume," Janet said quietly. She wasn't angry like Tom. She was frightened.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means remember the boy who cried wolf," Janet said. "We don't know what he's barking at, so let's find out first. Okay?"

"Okay," he said. "I'll find out what's up, then I'll kill him." He heaved himself out of bed, wrapped his wife's bathrobe around himself, and trudged off to find out what was freaking out the d.a.m.n dog this time. But on the way down the stairs, the urgency of the barking got to him, and he found himself seriously considering what Janet had said, and wondering if he shouldn't have some sort of weapon.

Thor's barks bounced off the hard kitchen walls and floor like a sledgehammer. He stood with his front feet on the kitchen door, watching the woods as he repeated his warning to whatever was out there. He barked so loud he didn't even hear Dad come down the stairs. But he felt the vibration of Dad's heavy steps on the dining room floor, and he darted to the kitchen door to meet him, glad to have finally wakened someone who could open a door.

But Dad wasn't glad to see him.

"Be quiet!" he shouted, barely audible over the constant barking. Dad squinted through the kitchen window at the moonlit backyard and the woods beyond, and saw nothing.

But Thor refused to stop. The danger in the woods was far more important than mere disobedience. He dashed to the back door, put both paws up, looked through the gla.s.s, and barked to show Dad where the problem was.

"Be quiet!" Dad said again. His open hand came down hard on Thor's rump. Thor got down off the door, feeling bad about his disobedience, but the sense of urgency refused to go away. He stood his ground on the kitchen floor, looked straight at Dad and barked at him.

Dad bent down to grab the loop in Thor's choker collar, but Thor backed away, stood his ground and continued to bark.

A look of concern crossed Dad's face and he looked out the window again. Still he saw nothing. By now, Mom, Teddy and Brett were on the stairs. Teddy and Brett were excited, as if they were going to a movie. Mom was terrified.

"Don't you go down there!" Mom told the kids. Brett stopped on the landing, but Teddy, as if imitating Thor, ignored her and kept going.

Dad wasn't sure what to do. This, after all, was one of the reasons he got the dog; to guard the family. But from what? Was Thor losing it? He looked out the window again, pondering the wisdom of letting the dog out. He decided to try silencing him once more.

"Bad Dog!" he shouted angrily, and walked to the cellar door, opened it and pointed in. "Get in there! Bad Dog!" Thor stood his ground and barked, then ran to another window, away from his angry master. He barked more warnings to the thing in the woods, looking over his shoulder at the family that refused to take him seriously. His throat was beginning to feel sore.

"All right!" Dad yelled over the din. He opened the kitchen door wide. "Go on! Get out!" Thor dashed for the opening, running low to avoid letting Dad snag his collar as he went by. And in fact, Dad tried to do just that. Thor had seen his intentions as clear as day, but it didn't matter now.

He was Out, and the only thing that mattered was finding and neutralizing the threat to the Pack.

Thor charged across the cool, silvery moonlit gra.s.s, leaped the little creek that separated the yard from the woods, and vanished into the trees. As he reached the point where he last saw Uncle Ted, he slowed to a fast trot, found Uncle Ted's scent trail, and followed it. It wasn't hard. The scent rail was strong with Uncle Ted's sweat, and strong with Uncle Ted's fear.

The woods were dark, much darker than the yard. The moon was still low in the sky and very little moonlight penetrated the tree cover. The shadows were deep and dangerous.

From time to time the sound of a twig snapping of a leaf rustling in the shadows made him stop, head and ears erect, ready for action. But the noises were just small animals; the Bad Thing was still in the distance. He pushed ahead and tried to ignore all but the most distant sounds.

Uncle Ted's scent trail followed a well-worn jogging path, but there were loads of small side paths running off the main trail. The small paths often ran under the branches of tall bushes, resembling tunnels through the foliage more than paths. They frequently led into large cl.u.s.ters of bushes that hid small clearings in their midst. Kids used these natural hideouts for all sorts of things, like smoking cigarettes and stashing girlie magazines. Thor had investigated plenty of them. He could run through them like a bullet in the daytime, but at night their shadows were too deep for even his eyes to penetrate well. Fortunately, Uncle Ted's trail didn't take a side path. He was too tall for them.

But Uncle Ted had a long head start. Thor had hoped to catch up with him right away, but the man was nowhere to be seen or heard. Could Uncle Ted have run through the forest in the dark? It didn't seem possible. Even Thor risked spraining or breaking an ankle if he ran too fast.

Thor picked up his pace until he was trotting as fast as he could without losing the scent trail. The trail left the familiar jogging path that ran along the edge of the woods, and turned in toward the forest's interior. Soon he was a quarter mile from the house, in unfamiliar territory, much farther than he thought the chase would take him. The new surroundings sent another surge of adrenalin through him that mingled with the exhilaration of exercise, antic.i.p.ation - and a touch of fear.

He both did and did not look forward to a confrontation with the Bad Thing. He knew the Bad Thing was a danger to the Pack, and he sensed that the meeting would be extremely dangerous, and yet the thought of fighting the Bad Thing aroused him.

At long last, he would fulfill his destiny and use his formidable strengths and skills to do his born Duty: Protect the Pack.

He didn't fear danger nearly as much as he feared failure.

Uncle Ted's fear-laced scent led Thor another quarter-mile into the woods, where it began to fade and another scent gradually took its place - the scent of the Wild Animal. Thor slowed down to check it out, but before he learned anything, a noise up ahead startled him.

It was a violent thrashing sound, accompanied by a low, angry growl. He knew immediately, deep in his gut, that it was the Bad Thing he'd dreaded for so long.

Thor stopped dead in his tracks and came to attention like a pointer. He held his head high and trained his ears in the direction of the sound. Nothing. He scanned the landscape for similar sounds from other directions. Nothing. If whatever made the noise heard Thor coming, it could try to circle around him.

Then the sound came again, from the same direction. The foliage around him m.u.f.fled the noises, so he went to the nearest tree and stood on his hind legs with his front paws high on the tree trunk, to give himself some alt.i.tude.

From his improved vantage point, he pinpointed the direction of the sounds. A struggle of some sort was going on, but it was stationary, and only seemed to involve one animal. Through the dark web of leaves and branches, he caught sight of movement in the distance. Something was shaking violently, apparently attacking a tree. Thor hopped down and cautiously crept toward the commotion.

His blood was charged with adrenalin, and the fur on his shoulders and neck stood high. He padded quietly toward the noise with his body close to the ground. His ears wanted to flatten against his head in the presence of danger, but he held them up through force of will. Crouched down as he was, he couldn't see more than a few feet ahead. He couldn't afford to miss any sounds in the dark.

The closer he came to the noise, the more he felt danger, and the more cautiously he proceeded. He was not there out of curiosity or a sense of adventure. He was there to defend the Pack, and he couldn't defend the Pack if he was dead.

Thor was well acquainted with ambushes. When he was a puppy, Teddy and Brett had played a game in which Brett jumped up and down on his bed, calling Thor and teasing him. When Thor ran into Brett's bedroom, Teddy sprang out from behind the door and tried to catch Thor's head in a pillowcase.

The game only worked once - Thor was a quick study. It had been years since they'd tried to ambush him like that, but Thor hadn't forgotten.

He picked up Uncle Ted's scent again as he crept toward the Bad Thing. It was disturbingly faint, and seemed to go straight to the Bad Thing. Thor thought Uncle Ted must have gone somewhere else, but when he tried to find where Uncle Ted's scent trail left the path, he came up empty. The fading scent of the path was the only trail. It didn't make sense.

As Uncle Ted's scent faded, the scent of the Wild Animal (which he now knew was the Bad Thing) got stronger. It was as if Uncle Ted had faded away and the Bad Thing had gradually appeared out of nowhere to take his place. The abnormality of the situation frightened Thor in a way that was unlike any fear he'd known before. It was not fear of death or injury or pain, nor fear for his own well-being or even the well-being of the Pack. A silent voice deep inside him seemed to say that what lay ahead was wrong. It was too strange, too different. More different than birds or cars or telephones or all the other strange things in the world.

It didn't belong here. Or anywhere else.

Fear heightened Thor's attention to his surroundings, and he noticed for the first time that there were no other sounds around him - at all. Small animals in the woods always made sounds, night or day. Even if they weren't nocturnal animals, they often scooted out of the hiding places when Thor pa.s.sed by a little too close for comfort. He'd heard them tonight when he first entered the forest. Field mice, birds, possums - they all made noise as they fled Thor's approach. But not here, not now. It was as if Thor and the Bad Thing had the forest all to themselves. As if all the other animals had felt the strange new fear Thor felt, but unlike Thor, they had no Duty to perform. Their instincts told them only to flee.