BEWARE OF DOG

an EXTANT short story

Drool roped down either side of Enzi’s mouth. He cradled the peanut butter sandwich between his teeth, careful not to crush it. Or eat it. The latter proved the hardest; in fact, this was the most challenging thing he’d done in his entire life. The smell alone was exquisite, a flawless blend of sweet and smoky. And the taste? The sticky smooth concoction of salty, honey roasted nuts left no question as to why his ancestors pursued the path of domestication. And that was before they’d invented tennis balls. Temptation made his mouth water, but Enzi pulled his tongue tight to the back of his throat. This snack was not for him.

He trotted out the kitchen and off the porch. Evening shadows yawned across the yard, casting rivers of light and dark over the grass that tickled his toes. The thick summer humidity brewed a comfortable and lazy kind of quiet, yet Enzi didn’t slow his pace. Not when there were mouths to feed.

Crossing the yard, Enzi stopped at a raccoon-sized break in the fence. He nosed the sandwich beneath the remnants of the board and shuffled back a few paces, sneezing as he pawed dirt and debris off his muzzle. Every muscle drew taut with attention as he waited.

It didn’t take long. A bush rustled beyond the fence line and Enzi’s pointed ears perked. A round, grey face sniffed up from the underbrush. Black nose twitching, she inched forward, her tail curled like a spray of pine needles up her spine.

He didn’t move. At least, not until she did.

The squirrel darted out from the cover of the trees and grabbed the sandwich. In a single blink she’d pounced on it, half-carrying, half-dragging her bounty back up her tree.

Enzi bounced to his paws, white tail waving as four squirrel miniatures ventured bravely out to meet their mother. He stayed until she reached them, until they managed to tug and squish the mess of bread and peanut butter into their nest, before he padded contently back to the house.

He hadn’t made the sandwich, but he felt his generosity and restraint warranted a certain measure of pride. Natalie always left him snacks when she had to go, and in recent weeks they’d all gone to the squirrel. Well…almost all. She needed it more. And he did not crave another season enduring the relentless squeak of hungry kits.

Pausing long enough to lick out a burr from between his toes, the sound of wood splintering made Enzi’s head snap up. It came from the house, but…that didn’t make sense. He cocked his head, ears tuned towards the sound. Natalie shouldn’t be back until —

The kitchen windows flooded with light and Enzi launched forward.

She’s home! She’s back! She’s here!

His paws slid over the deck, nails scraping for purchase. He slipped once. His shoulder hit the ground, but he didn’t care.

Natalie was home.

However, after squeezing through the dog door tailored more for a Shih Tzu than a Shepherd, it was not Natalie he found in the kitchen. A man twice as large as Natalie’s father loomed over him. Ruddy cheeks capped impossibly broad shoulders, while two beetle black eyes darted from Enzi to something in the other room he couldn’t see. If the man’s size hadn’t stopped Enzi in his tracks, his stench would have. The brute reeked of sweat.

Enzi loosed a quick bark, more an exclamation of surprise than a threat. The man jumped, and Enzi did not miss the fear flash over his face.

“Eleanor…”

The sound of ripping fabric tore Enzi’s attention to the living room. A many-wintered woman splayed open the couch cushions, hardly sparing the big brute a glance. She could have passed for one of the feral cats by the park. A wild spray of grey hair crowned her head and her fingers were as knobbed as old branches.

“Take him outside, Rankin.” Her voice rang surprisingly strong, leaving no room for question.

A sheen of sweat glistened on the mountain man’s bald head. His fists opened and closed, opened and closed, until he took a single, hesitant step towards Enzi.

The dog’s mind narrowed with laser-like focus.

There were strangers in his house.

Lowering his shoulders, Enzi’s lips drew back in a snarl. Hackles spiked his neck and spine; his ears flattened against his head. The man stopped, beady eyes wide, and the rumbling growl in Enzi’s chest deepened.

“Eleanor,” Rankin wetted his lips. “I don’t think—”

Enzi lunged.

He was a blur of white fur and teeth. The man was pure panic.

Rankin scrambled backwards, boots kicking wildly. One lucky blow caught Enzi in the jaw and he tumbled sideways, but he didn’t stop. He skidded around to the other side of the kitchen, gathering speed as a growl graveled out of his throat.

The man yelped and, in a desperate attempt of escape, tugged on the tablecloth Mrs. Merrick had laid out just that morning. It was covered in glasses, short and tall, and all clear as windows, and every single one shattered as the cloth carried them to the floor.

Glittering glass shot across the tile, biting into Enzi’s paws as he ran. Part of him sensed the shards digging deeper with every footfall, the swell of blood making his steps slick, but that part of him was not in control.

There were strangers in his house.

Enzi leapt again, an airborne missile aimed for Rankin’s throat.

The old woman came out of nowhere. She sliced at him with a metal stick and the last thing Enzi saw was a flurry of silver sparks before pain consumed him. The blow graze d his side, blunted by thick fur, yet his body was fire incarnate. He dropped like a rock, sliding through debris until momentum slammed him against the fridge.

A tingling burn seared his skin as though he’d rolled on hot coals. He yearned to writhe against it, to push his body into the dirt to staunch the pain, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t whimper. It took every ounce of will he had to maintain the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Rankin,” Eleanor snapped again.

Enzi knew the man came for him. He wanted to snarl, to close his jaws on Rankin’s flesh until he reached bone. Yet as Rankin warily scooped him up, it was all Enzi could do to bare his teeth.

Evening air rippled Enzi’s fur as his captor shouldered open the kitchen door. The house dropped away. Then the yard. Finally, the half-rotten walls of the shed rose up around him. It stank almost as bad as Rankin did. He dropped Enzi on the floor and pulled the door tight, locking the dog alone in darkness.

His stomach sank to the dirt. A quiet whimper escaped him.

He failed.

The pain receded slowly like a spring rain. The tingling ebbed down his limbs, the throbbing pulse in his paws weakened, but he didn’t move. What was the point? The strangers were in and he was out. He had failed. He’d let Mr. and Mrs. Merrick down. And if he was locked in the shed, who would bring the squirrel her sandwich tomorrow? And the next day? And the day after that?

And what about Natalie?

Bones, Natalie.

He sighed. The air tasted like damp moss and lichen, and not the good kind.

A rumbling disrupted the molded boards beneath him. It was low at first, so low that Enzi thought it nothing more than the ache in his feet. Then it spread to his legs. His chest. It vibrated the air around him, delivering a familiar sound to his drooped ears.

A motorbike thundered through the neighborhood. And its tires crunched the gravel in his driveway.

More strangers. Coming for his house. His humans.

Fury drove Enzi to his paws. He paced, listening as the motorbike stilled, letting the sting of every step fuel his rage. How many were there now? Savagely ransacking Mr. Merrick’s work? Laying siege to Mrs. Merrick’s kitchen? He trotted another four paces. His head rolled. His tail flicked.

That’s when he heard the scream.

It splintered the night like lightning, pitching well above the motorbike’s grumble to spear Enzi’s heart. He stopped, eyes round with fear, hackles slack with shock. That was no stranger’s cry.

It was Natalie.

And it was desperate.

Enzi saw red. He scratched at the shed door. He threw himself at it. Head, chest, shoulders met the half-rotten wood again and again, but the cursed thing didn’t budge.

Panting and sore, Enzi listened between batterings. She didn’t scream again. At least nothing loud enough to surmount the steady grumble of the bike. And the silence brought him neither comfort nor insight. Part of him hoped Natalie would cry out, if only so he’d know she still could. But most of him wished with every whisker that he never heard that sound again for the rest of his life.

Enzi planted his paws through the smear of blood and grime and launched himself at the door again. He squeezed his eyes shut at the last moment, tucking his head and rounding his shoulders and—

The impact never came.

Where there should have been a door, Enzi tumbled tail over ears into the yard. The musky stink of the shed was replaced with notes of jasmine and honeysuckle. Rolling to his feet, he rounded on the only other warm body in the yard.

They were ready for him.

The man’s dodge sent Enzi careening through open air. His claws raked divots in the grass as he channeled the momentum into another attack. Instead of leaping again, he dove for the legs, only to have his teeth snap loudly together, his mouth empty. The newcomer was fast and, beneath the hum of adrenaline in his veins, Enzi sensed something almost…familiar. He’d done these steps before, this dance of lunging and dodging.

“Enzi!”

The sound of his name gave him pause. Head low and hackles high, Enzi hesitated long enough to look closer at the man. Close enough to realize he was still a bit of a boy. The height was there, his muscles toned, and he even had a slight fuzz of facial fur, yet his stance lacked the self-assurance only years could bring. Adrenaline froze his snarl, but Enzi’s tail waved once in recognition; he’d known Leo since puppy-hood.

They blinked at each other.

“I couldn’t stop her,” Leo choked out the words, gesturing to the house. Its windows were dark, every light extinguished, and any sound inside was swallowed whole the idling pop of the motorbike.

But Natalie needed him. She was his, and he would not lose her. Never her.

Enzi sped towards the house. Clearing the porch in a single bound, he squeezed through the dog door before forcing himself to a full stop in the kitchen.

Darkness engulfed him. For several blinks, he couldn’t see a thing. And though the bike was quieter now that he was inside, the hammering of his own heart obscured any useful data. So while every cell in his body itched to move, he stilled.

He closed his eyes and, with a ragged inhale, his panting eased. On a long sigh, his pulse settled. Blinded, Enzi’s other senses magnified. A soft breeze through his whiskers whispered that cool air blew through the vents. No power outage; the strangers turned out the lights. He caught faint remnants of Mr. Merrick’s cologne. His mouth watered at a passing aroma of Mrs. Merrick’s morning casserole.

Enzi eased open his gritted teeth, drawing the air over his tongue. He tasted old charcoal and the metallic zing of blood. The biscuit he hid beneath the couch a few days prior. He could smell the strangers, too. They reeked of sweat and antiseptic, of bleach and peroxide, with a stomach-churning note of roses. It was disgusting, but easy to track.

Opening his eyes, Enzi found his world of color turned to grey. Shades of black and white and deep evening blues exposed the mess made of the Merrick’s house. Couch cushions lay gutted, their fluffy entrails piled like snowdrifts in the living room. Frames were shattered, their photographs torn. Mrs. Merrick’s potted plants laid upended, and every single cabinet in the kitchen gaped. Their contents splayed over the tile, wooden doors ripped from their hinges.

Rage viced Enzi’s chest and he fought it, staring at the puddles of broken glass surrounding his feet. While anger may lend him strength, a mad dog is a wild dog. Reckless and unthinking.

Natalie needed better. She needed every ounce of the dog he was trained to be. Powerful. Steady. A well-aimed arrow.

A creak sounded from somewhere above him and Enzi cocked his head. It was the groan of wood underfoot and it had been cut short. Whoever moved had stopped. Whether they’d been alarmed by the sound or stilled by some other reason didn’t matter to Enzi.

He waited. Patient. Still. When the creak sounded again, he was ready.

Upstairs. Hall. Between the second and third bedrooms.

Enzi stalked towards the stairwell, every paw placed with care. Avoiding shards of glass and debris, he moved like a ghost through the ruins of his home. A vengeful, blood-streaked ghost.

The stairs proved the most difficult. He wanted to bolt up them, to corner his prey in this heartbeat, this breath. But the blood on his paws made the polished wood slick. At best, the strangers would hear the click of his nails if he tried to run. At worst, he’d slip and hit every stair on his way down. So he maintained a painfully slow pace, his belly low for balance and breathing slow for control.

All of which he nearly lost as soon as he reached the top.

Natalie was right there.

Slung over Rankin’s shoulder, her fists beat against his broad back. A shout smothered to a squeak in her throat, and every few seconds one of her feet swung into view as she tried to kick her way free.

Enzi was close enough to jump up and nuzzle her, but as badly as he wanted to, it wouldn’t do either of them any good. There was only one way she was walking away from this. He needed to get Rankin to drop her. He needed the taste of Rankin’s blood in his mouth.

The trick would be making sure it wasn’t Natalie who ended up between his teeth.

Crouching so low his fur brushed the floor, Enzi let out a low, rumbling growl. The power of it vibrated his entire chest, and satisfaction sung in his veins when Rankin froze at the sound.

It was all the opportunity Enzi needed.

He snapped at the man’s thigh and flesh broke between his bite. Then there was only chaos.

Rankin howled, turning so swiftly that Enzi turned with him, jaws still locked. Beneath the screaming, he heard the blunt thud of Natalie’s body hitting the floor and he felt more than saw her scramble towards the stairs. And then there was only Rankin.

Enzi released him, retreating just enough to absorb Rankin’s agonized expression before he went for the throat.

Rankin blocked him and Enzi’s mouth filled with the man’s forearm instead. It didn’t bother Enzi in the slightest. He wasn’t picky. He bit hard before shifting and locking down again. And again. A violence broke from him that he never knew he had. The ability to bite accompanies any creature with a mouth, and though he’d been trained to protect Natalie, trained to do exactly this, he’d never tasted the need to inflict so much damage. He never thought it would be so deliciously satisfying. Vindicating. Powerful.

This brute had put his hands on Natalie, and Enzi brought him to his knees.

It was only Natalie’s call that snapped him out of it, that grounded him back in his desecrated home.

“Enzi!”

He half-slid down the stairs in his haste, leaving Rankin writhing in his wake as he chased Natalie out the front door. Pouncing ahead of her, victory made Enzi buoyant as a buoy as he licked his human from neck to forehead. He bowed playfully at her feet and spotted another figure scurry from the house.

He’d forgotten about the old woman.

Enzi’s bow evolved to a crouch. Lips drawn, he watched Eleanor square off to face him, pulling that silver stick from her back. She didn’t look afraid and a growl curdled in his belly. He would not stand for that.

She spun the staff between them and, though Enzi knew Natalie ran for the bike, he couldn’t focus on her. Not even when gravel flew as the motorcycle tore from the driveway. Because as that metal stick began to spin, it also began to hum.

He didn’t hear it, not really. But he felt it. Power condensed around the staff like static on a rug. Like lightning in a storm.

Enzi did not want that stick to touch him again.

Yet he would not cower. Snapping his jaws for good measure, Enzi planted his paws and faced the woman head on.

At least, until Natalie shouted for him. His name drifted on the wind, and without a second thought, Enzi turned his tail on the stranger and sprinted.

A single glance confirmed the woman stayed behind and Enzi’s chest swelled with pride. Tongue lolling, ears back, his paws stung with every smack against the pavement, but he didn’t care. Not even the odd figure of Natalie and Leo shrinking in the distance, speeding out of sight entirely, could even remotely dampen his mood.

Natalie was his and he was hers. She was his home; he would paw after her anywhere. And if he was lucky, there would be other squirrels.

As for his own well-being, whatever scars he’d earned were more than worth it. Enzi never thought he’d hurt a human being in his life. And, so long as no one else laid a hand on his human, he never would again. But knowing he could? Knowing he could be his worst to protect his best friend?

Well, that made him feel like a very good boy.  

Thank you for reading BEWARE OF DOG, an EXTANT short story from the unique perspective of our favorite fictional canine companion. This is merely the tip of the EXTANT iceberg - the moment Natalie is wrenched from her home and put on the path to discover her latent powers, her parents’ secrets, and a conspiracy to tilt fate. You can find EXTANT through your favorite indie bookstores, your amazing local library, and a plethora of audio platforms. Kindle readers click here.

All secrets must surface. Welcome to the Coelacanth Project - you’re about to question everything.

Happy reading,

SN