He looked back to the rabbits in the corner. Sparky strolled over and checked the cage. There were easily a hundred rabbits inside, almost piled one of top of the other. Sparky turned and confirmed the men were still at the gate. He opened the cage door and moseyed away as the rabbits scurried.
Sparky returned to the truck and grabbed another few pieces of wood to bring inside. The moment he turned to carry them in, he heard one of the men yelling from the inside.
“There’s one over there, Christ they’re everywhere!”
“Who opened the cage?” called another voice.
Sparky dropped the boards. He followed the rush of workers into the building. The men had jumped the fence to get the rabbits that had fled in with the cows, and the cows were becoming very agitated. So far, so good.
The gate to the pen was unprotected. Sparky quickly undid the latch. The upset cows poured out of the opening. He turned to exit the building. The men’s attention changed to contain the liberated bovines, who were worth much more than the rabbits.
A hand fell onto Sparky’s shoulder. He froze in place. The fingers gripped firmly into his neck.
Chapter 83
“We need your help getting these animals rounded up.” Mark McTull said. His eyes were on the cows.
Sparky was thinking on his feet. “I’m getting the cow whistle.” He wanted to run.
“Cow whistle?” Mark asked confused. More cows streamed out of the market door. He charged at them yelling and clapping his hands.
Sparky jogged away and ducked down into the shadows beside the pickup truck. At Sparky's feet appeared a rotund grey rabbit. Back over his shoulder the men had headed off the rush of cattle and were guiding them back into the pen. Sparky looked back at the rabbit. He had not done enough damage to the operation. A few escaped rabbits were not enough for him.
“Psst,” Frank called from the other side of the pick-up truck.
Sparky could only see the mutt’s outline. “What is it?”
Frank stood up on his hind legs and made a kicking motion with his feet “Goat-Fu!”
Sparky turned around and looked at the men. There were only a few cows still loose, but the rabbits would take some time to round up. When he looked back, Frank was imitating Lotus style.
“You’re not going to get another chance!”
Sparky’s heart sank. The goat started toward the barn, intent on solving this with the fight he had tried avoid. In his haste he slammed into a piece of lumber sticking out from the tailgate of the truck, knocking the breath from his lungs. Pausing to get wind back, he steadied himself. Sparky rested his hooves on the truck a moment and centered his breathing.
When he retrieved his hoof, the mutated appendage was hooked to a set of keys. Sparky looked at the truck; it was a heavy-duty pick up. He looked back at the building; a somewhat frail looking wooden barn, not unlike the one on Oliver’s farm. A well planned collision would do a lot of damage.
“Frank, can you heard the cows away from that wall? I think I can take it out with the truck.”
The canine dropped onto his rear in protest. “Is sheep dog tattooed on my forehead? Why do I have to do that? You scurry around and bark; I’ll drive the truck.”
Sparky looked down at the dog with a flat face. Frank didn’t budge. Sparky leaned in a little and widened his eyes, expectantly.
“Alright, but after this I want to renegotiate my contract!”
Frank launched full speed at the barn. He dove through the fence posts, and sought a place to hide amongst the cattle. Sparky hopped into the front of the truck and turned the key. He shifted into drive and slammed the gas. The momentum caused the stacked lumber to crash to the ground.
The whole workforce had just re-surveyed the gate inside when the truck engine roared. The group rushed out of the building, all of them watched silently as the truck tore off.
Sparky wheeled the truck around with his hoof hard on the accelerator kicking up loose mud and grass. Frank started barking and bouncing to scare the cattle away from the eastern wall as he had been instructed. The cows were anything but stubborn about taking the canine’s direction and crammed to the far side of the pen.
Sparky revved the engine to pick up speed and then whipped the truck around lining up with his target. A few of the men started towards the truck, but were too far off to have a chance. Sparky took a deep breath and slammed the accelerator to the floor.
The workers split away, fearing for their lives as the truck blazed past spewing up pebbles and bits. Sparky braced for impact.
The truck tore through the unreinforced sidewall. Sparky’s path carved a huge hole. He steered out of his course. More than have the wall and supports on the eastern side had been shattered. The truck front end had held together perfectly.
Sparky looked back. The cows were already dispersing into the field. He turned around just in time to see a large tree directly in front of him. There was no time to change course. The metal crunched together as the truck smashed into the tree, forced to a halt.
The workers had found their way to their feet, dusting themselves off. Confusion was exchanged in several glances. One after another they marched over to check the status of the driver. Mark McTull in the lead. His blood heated as he crossed the distance. Alive or dead the driver was in for an ass kicking.
Mark lifted the handle on the door and it swung open. “What the hell are you…” The scene shut him up. Sparky lay against the wheel, a deflated airbag underneath his head. His eyes closed.
“What in god’s name?” Mark gasped.
“It’s the creature! I read on the papers!” Earl's face went white.
“Earl, you don’t read nothing but them crazy tabloids.” Trevor tossed in.
“That’s where I read it, the Canadian Menace! Half goat half human,” Earl knew it sounded foolish. “Were-goat!”
The men all stood there, seeing no alternative. This goat had stolen the truck. It had driven it through the barn to free the animals, and then crashed into a tree.
“Maybe it’s a costume?” Trevor asked.
Mark studied the creature’s odd hands. Costume was still more probable than Earl’s crazy tabloid fueled idea. “Let’s get it off of him.”
Mark stepped forward and reached in. Frank sprang up in between the man and the truck cab. The intimidating barking held the men back. The canine was at a loss what to do next, but he would be damned if any of those grubby cowhands would get his goat.
“Damn it all, somebody get some jerky or something,” Earl was sweating with eagerness to confirm his discovery, knowing that he would be rich from the reward. He swung his foot at the dog to scare him off. Frank didn’t give way.
The passenger side door opened. When Frank turned, he saw Mark climbing in the other side of the truck. Frank tried to jump into the cab, but slipped on the step. The man wrestled Sparky out of his prone position slumped over the wheel. Sparky’s grey overcoat fell away into the floorboard. The group was speechless.
Frank jumped up and snapped at the man. A sharp jolt knocked him aside. It was followed by another steel toed kick to his side. The blow took his wind and he rolled over, another kick. He scurried away a few more feet, too winded to bark.
Frank retreated as the men congregated around the cab door. He watched helplessly as the man laid Sparky on the ground.
“Well hell boys, looks like we are going to be rich! Earl I don’t know that I’ve ever believed a damn word you’ve said before today.” Mark poked at the still body on the ground.
“Is it alive?” Earl clambered closer to see any signs of life.
“Don’t think so, poor thing must have died on impact,” Mark put his hand on Sparky’s chest. It was not swelling with air.
Trevor pushed one of the goat’s hind limbs with his foot. No response. “Yeah, it’s dead.” he nodded.
Frank’s insides became cold. His heart skipped a beat. His deepest instincts took hold. For
a moment, all that could be heard in that field on that early Halloween morning was the lone howl of a Belgian Groenendael.
Chapter 84
Reilly was staring at the limp body of the lady he had shot only a few hours before. Valerie was slumped down in one of the office chairs. Her head drooped over. He had just gotten the final okay from Dr. Fudge to dump the body. It was a fairly standard procedure for him.
Wake up. Check in. Make breakfast. Check in. Kill his rival. Check in. Dump the body. Check in.
It was a little monotonous, but it did save him the effort of thinking on his own. He appreciated the simplicity it afforded him on his yearly performance reviews. He wasn’t paid to think, he was paid to act. And his most recent actions were going to smell soon if he didn’t get rid of her.
Reilly was still wearing his gloves, still holding the pistol, and every so often still humming his tune. Happy to be rid of her.
“It’s such a relief.”
He lifted her up and placed her corpse over his shoulder, immediately feeling the blood of her wounds soaking into his shirt. He groaned and dropped her lifeless body on the floor.
“This is a new shirt, too!”
He kicked her corpse, “You couldn’t just die in peace, could you?”
There was a knock at the door. Reilly waltzed over, taking care to step on the fallen lady. “Who’s there?”
“It is Vero. Let me in, I need to speak with you, Reilly.”
Vero worked in the lab with Fudge, odd that the doctor sent a messenger versus a phone call if there was something more to discuss. Reilly cracked the door, “Yes?”
“The doctor wanted me to come with you.”
“Huh?” He had just been on the phone with Dr. Fudge, nothing of the sort had been mentioned.
“He sent me down from the lab. He wanted to make sure you didn’t need any extra help. Maybe, carrying things?”
“No, I’ve got it. You can head on back.” Reilly held the door firm.
“Look,” Vero collected himself as best he could. “He was very specific and I don’t mind getting dirty at all. Anything you need.”
Reilly stiffened his lip. “Vero? I handle these things best on my own. I don’t need the help.”
“What’s that on your shoulder?”
Reilly looked at his bloody shoulder and then back at the man in the doorway. “Steak sauce.”
Vero responded with a quizzical look. “On your shoulder?”
“Well, yes, you startled me when you knocked on the door and I spilled my breakfast everywhere.”
Reilly sized up the technician. Scrawny. Pale faced. He must have been one of the doctor’s more reclusive aids, Reilly didn’t recognize him. He didn’t need help. But the doctor had sent him. He was not paid to think.
“Come on in.” Reilly released the door.
Vero held back his shock seeing the blood-soaked body on the floor. He forced back the reflex in his throat.
Reilly looked around the room for something to clean himself with. There was nothing in the office. He would need to make a stopover at the bathroom down the hall.
“You wait here. She won’t move or anything. Just make sure no one else pops in.” Reilly marched off, shaking his head. He closed the door behind him.
“Absolutely.” Vero was alone, staring at the corpse. He had spoken with her only a few hours ago. She had been in much better health. Something in the doctor’s plan had led to her death. He was sure of it, but that wasn’t his business.
Cautiously Vero cracked the door. The hallway was clear, faint sounds of water trickled through from the bathroom down the way. He rushed back to the desk and picked up phone dialing from memory.
The line kept ringing and went to voice mail.
“This is Vero. I have something much bigger than fraud here, boss. I need to know what to do. I’ll try and reach you when I can.”
He dropped the phone down as Reilly re-entered.
“Who was that?”
“The doctor, he said that he wanted me to accompany you on your person dumping.”
Reilly shrugged. Reilly pulled out two heavy black trash bags and handed one to Vero.
“Wrap her feet up.”
Vero shivered at the thought of touching the dead body. “Her feet?” He could not control the beads of sweat forming over his brows.
“Yeah, just past her ankles, her feet.”
“Oh.”
Vero leaned over and slid the bag over Valerie’s pumps, avoiding contact with her cold skin.
“Don’t be shy about it, she didn’t even have feelings when she was alive.” Reilly had already wrapped her top half.
With great care, Vero pulled the bag by the top up her legs. The bag slipped from his fingers and her feet slammed into the floor. Vero jumped back.
“Christ, you’ve not done this much,” Reilly took over and finished up.
Reilly gripped the woman’s shoulders and nodded down to her feet. “Go on, pick her up.”
Vero reached out and wrapped his arms around her feet. The bag crinkled as he did. Slowly the two men raised her from the floor.
Reilly sniffed. “You head down first, I hate going backwards.”
“Where are we going?” Vero was now pouring sweat; he was in over his head.
“I’ve got a truck in the back ready. Take the stairs.”
Vero turned his head back and started out of the office, dead feet in hand.
Chapter 85
Frank watched from behind the crowd. The men were playing with Sparky’s arms and legs. His eyes watered. His howl became soft and gentle changing to a light cry. Loneliness set in. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his paw.
The men had mostly ignored Frank since the mutt had dropped back.
Trevor stepped closer to the dog. “Hey Matt, is that dog crying?”
Matt eyed the dog for a moment, not believing that any dog he had ever seen had cried. “That’s not right,” he commented, walking away from the dead goat.
As the two men hedged closer to Frank he waved his paw at them, “Leave me alone! Can’t you see that I’m in pain?”
The two men’s mouths nearly hit the ground.
They exchanged hostile looks.
“That there dog is mine!” Trevor yelled.
“No, I saw him first,” Matt insisted.
The men at once came to blows. Their coworkers rushed over and peeled them apart.
Matt had a trickle of blood running from his nose. “It’s my dog!” he screamed.
“I saw him first!”
Frank corrected himself at the sight of the men’s rage and returned to acting like a normal dog. The others hadn’t seen the reason for the fight. The two men in the dispute remained hesitant to give up what they had witnessed to the other men, fearing that the others would only share in their greed.
Trevor lunged, but was held back. “The dog is mine!”
“No mine!”
“I saw him first and there’s nothing you can do about it!”
“Well I went for him, you didn’t do nothing!” Matt’s nostrils flared.
“Damn it, you’re such a filthy liar. Just like your damn mother!”
“I’ll rip your legs off for that!”
“The dog is mine, gentleman," Sparky stood a good distance off. The two men fighting had been just enough distraction to allow him to recover his hat and coat from the truck. Even with his disguise back in order; he was relying heavily on the last moments of night to mask him. The circle froze, staring at the stranger in the long coat.
“Do I know you?” Mark asked. There was too little light to be sure what he was seeing.
“No,” Sparky extended his arm and flipped out Basil’s badge, keeping his hoof discrete. The glint of brass put the workers on guard. “Basil Lain, CBI, you mind telling me what you’re up to out here?”
“Uh, well.” Earl wasn’t sure where to begin. He took a step back from the dog.
Frank s
tood up and trotted over to Sparky’s side, hiding his excitement to look the part of an official police dog as much as possible.
“Well, yeah, we just got vandalized by this here goat." Mark's annoyance was clear. "Then we saw these two idiots fighting over this dog. Then you showed up.”
Sparky nodded. “A goat and my dog? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. I got a herd of cattle running loose on account of this goat. Then he crashed my truck here into a tree.”
“That’s a pretty farfetched tale.” Sparky shook his head. “You get horses on motorcycles out this way, too?”
“I tell you, if I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes; I’d think it crazy too.” Mark motioned for his boys to keep quiet, not sure what the special agent was even doing there in the first place. “What brings you out this way?”
“I was nearby and got a tip about a disturbance out this way. I expect that you boys have been drinking too?" Whether or not they would believe his attempt, Sparky was doing his best referencing all he could from the borrowed novels from old lady Kettle’s house. “I’m going to need to call in and get an investigation started. I’m going to need to take all of you into custody until we sort this out.”
Mark could only see red. “Are you kidding, we're the victims! It was this damned goat.” Mark pointed behind the group. His workers dispersed revealing an empty patch of grass beside the damaged truck.
“What goat?”
The men turned, the body was gone.
Trevor spoke out, “How could he walk away when he’s dead?”
Sparky stepped forward, pushing his bluff. “Wait? Who is dead? Are you saying someone was murdered?” Sparky reached into his pocket.
The group went silent. They were unsure what would come out, handcuffs, a gun, but Mark began to worry that with no goat they were all about to be in trouble. His own rap sheet wasn’t one he wanted brought up.
“I want my lawyer,” Earl moaned.
Mark elbowed Earl in the stomach, “Shh! Look sir, we don’t want no trouble now.” The morning’s events wasn’t adding up, and he wasn’t about to get hauled in to the police station to sort it out.
Sparky was brimming with pride, his plan was holding together. “Why don’t you tell me what really happened?”