 "Plutonian Infractions"
(Excerpt)
by David M. Fitzpatrick
Every day, it’s the same old thing. I go
out in my truck and drive around, listening to the two-way, until dispatch
puts out a call. Then I go catch a stray dog or a homeless cat. If the day
is interesting, I get to move away from traditional domesticated
animals—ferrets are popular. Every now and then, something really exciting
comes along, like when a moose wanders into the city limits. I once caught
an escaped monkey. But those events are few and far between, and even then
not enough to bring much spice into my life.
Until yesterday. Yesterday made it all
worth it. If I never have another collar like that one in my life, it
won’t matter much to me anymore because I’ll have this story to tell for
the rest of my days. In the event something stranger happens—like some
alien animal control officer showing up and taking me in as a stray—I
figured I’d better get this one down on paper right off.
I was completely on the other side of
Evervale, near the jetport where I’d just collared a German shepherd in
need of a home, when the call was dispatched. Melanie’s rosy voice came
over amidst a little static, and I could hear her smacking her gum as she
talked. “Eddie, we got a live one,” she said. “Over.”
“A live one” was what we referred to as a
call that sounded so out of whack that it was likely a prank or serious
mistake. This was as opposed to “a wild one” which meant an out of the
ordinary call. Little did we both know how wild and not live this one was.
Well, it certainly was live, too…
“Yeah, whaddaya got, Melanie?” I replied.
“Big dog,” she said. “Wandered out of the
woods behind McGraw’s supermarket and into the Second Street playground.
The children were scared to death. They got out of the playground and
closed the two gates, so it’s trapped inside. But they think if it gets
antsy it’ll jump the fence with no trouble.”
“Sounds like just another big dog bit,” I
said. “Thought this was a live one?”
“Well, it seems like it from the way Dan
called it in.”
“Officer Dutton?” I asked. “He’s a cop.
How’s he calling in a prank?”
“Well…” She paused for a moment. “See, he
says… the dog has three heads.”
Well, that was different.
* * *
The park was a circus when I got there.
There must have been two hundred people by the Second Street entrance,
lots of kids but plenty of parents, too. I could see nearly that many on
the opposite side, at the back entrance behind the supermarket. Three
Evervale Police cruisers were here, two on my side and one on the other. I
pulled the van up and Dan Dutton met me at my window.
“Three heads, Dan?” I said with a grin.
“You’ll do anything to get my attention.”
His face showed no hint of an equivalent
grin. “No kidding, Eddie. Three heads and a tail like a lizard or
something.”
“Too many poppy seeds on your bagels?”
“I’m not kidding.”
I got out and grabbed my catcher’s
pole—you know, the long staff with the noose on the end. Great for keeping
roped dogs a good distance away while you get them in the van. Prevented
the vicious types from showing you what they thought of you.
“Don’t think that’s going to work,” Dan said.
I stared at him. “Why not?”
“Aside from the size of him,” he said,
“you only have one noose.” He led the way. I sighed with mild exasperation
and followed him. The crowd parted for us like the Red Sea for Moses and
up to the gate we went. Dan pointed into the park. “There he is. In the
jungle gym.”
It was one of those plastic things with
swings and ladders and tunnels and all sorts of things to keep kids
entertained all day long. At first, all I saw were the bright yellows,
blues, oranges, and greens of the equipment, but then something was
moving. I focused through many obstructions. Oh, it was big, all right; no
doubt about it. I couldn’t see what kind of dog it was, but it looked to
be the size of a small pony.
“Jeez, what is it?” I said. “Oversized
bull mastiff?”
“Eddie.” Dan grabbed my shoulder tightly,
getting my attention. I met his steely gaze. “You’re not listening to me.
The thing has three heads.”
I locked eyes with him for a long half
minute. He never flinched. I was beginning to believe him. I turned back
to the playground. All around me, rippling talk bubbled like water boiling
in a pot. The dog was moving—licking itself, I think—but was otherwise
still concealed.
“Give me a doughnut,” I commanded.
“Me?” Dan said innocently, reddening.
“Yeah, you. You have a doughnut in your
car, or one of these cops does. Someone get me a doughnut.” I wanted a
look at this thing before I pranced into that playground.
Dan sighed and stalked back to his car,
returning in a few moments with a Dunkin’ Donuts bag. I snatched out the
plain glazed thing and handed back the bag. With an arm that has done this
sort of thing with stray dogs before, I long-bombed the pastry across the
park. The throw generated oohs and ahhs and a few cheers and giggles,
landing about ten feet from the plastic conglomeration.
The dog seemed to perk up. The crowd
silenced as if some invisible, aged teacher had just screamed for quiet in
the classroom. We waited.
The black form moved forward, and its
head peeked out between blue and orange. Just one head. It sniffed the
air, testing the scent of the doughnut beyond. All I could see was that
besides how utterly huge the thing seemed to be, the head was just
massive: black as night, with eyes that might have been red; but from this
distance I really couldn’t make out the details.
Then the second head angled into view. My
heart stopped.
“See?” Dan said breathlessly.
It took a step out, sniffing with two
identical noses. I felt my jaw slowly being pulled open by the force of
gravity and lack of muscle control. My mouth became dry cotton within
seconds. The beast turned its body to get a better angle to exit its
hiding place, and I saw the third head on the far side. It was also
sniffing.
“Mother of God,” I whispered, and like an
on switch being snapped, the crowd began to titter and bubble again. The
beast reacted briefly, perking up six ears towards us; then one head
turned the opposite way and checked out the commotion in the crowd behind
it. Evidently not feeling threatened, it returned is attention to the
pastry. It emerged from its cover and advanced on the helpless doughnut.
It was an absolute monster. Six feet at
the shoulder, no lie, and without a doubt the proud owner of not one, not
two, but three—count ‘em, three—canine heads sharing the expansive real
estate of one massive neck. It indeed seemed more like a mutated bull
mastiff than anything. Monstrous, hydraulic legs ended in feet the
diameters of dinner plates. The body was streamlined, clearly the most
muscular animal I had ever laid eyes on—no apparent fat was wasted in
comprising this thing’s body mass. The hindquarters were narrower, but
that’s only relative—they were still huge. The whole shape was much like a
bison, with a huge, humping, muscular back, sloping gently down to a
machine-like hind end. Its tail was black as its fur coat but, like Dan
had said, very lizard-like. It was half as long as its body, covered in
shiny, ebony scales, ending in a point like you might see on a caricature
of a pitchfork-wielding devil.
It did seem the beast had an owner. Each
individual neck was collared with a big, steel ring, and each ring was
chained to a massive, central collar—a thick, powerful band of steel,
glinting silver in the sun. Vicious spikes protruded from it, much like a
bulldog in a cartoon. And at its throat, attached to a big ring dangling
from the main collar, was a very big length of broken chain. Each of the
six or seven links was about the same circumference as my open hand, the
steel as thick as my thumb. It looked like Fido had escaped the yard.
“So what are you going to do?” Dan asked
me.
I watched as the three heads fought over
the doughnut. The middle head won and the doughnut was wolfed down in one
swallow. The beast didn’t return to its hiding place; it sniffed the air
and began to move slowly about the sandy area where the playground
equipment was located. “Heck, I don’t know. I’d say call the university or
something.”
“You’re the animal control officer for
Evervale,” Dan said, stating the obvious as if it had apparently escaped
my mind. “It’s your job to catch stray dogs.”
“Stray dogs!” I yelped. “There’s a limit.
This isn’t just any dog. This is like… Cerberus or something.”
“What?”
“Cerberus. The three-headed dog that
guarded the gates of Hades, the underworld, in Greek mythology.”
He considered it. “If that’s true, he’s
still a dog. And you’re a dog catcher. Go catch it.”
The crowd was getting uptight. The beast
was moving onto the grass, a bit in our direction. I was beginning to
worry about the people. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t in my job
description.”
“Think of it this way,” he said
nervously. “Every day, you chase down stray cats and loose dogs. Maybe
something mildly more exotic if you’re lucky. But how often do you have a
chance to shine like this, Eddie?”
He had a point, and I had to agree with
him; but still, I said, “You just don’t want to be the one to go in
there.”
“My guys are ready to shoot if
necessary,” he said. “We just had the idea that if we could capture this
thing, we should. And you’re the guy to do it.”
It made sense. I took a deep breath.
“Okay. Just be sure if you have to fire, that I’m not in the way.”
He got on the radio to all the cops and
relayed instructions. I hiked my butt up onto the white wooden fence and
swung my legs over, and into the park I went. The crowd let out a subdued
cheer—more a collective murmur of increased volume—and a few clapped
halfheartedly. I gripped my catcher’s noose and took a step forward.
Cerberus took immediate notice and
stopped in his tracks. Three heads turned to face me. They sniffed the
air. What the Hell was I doing? What the Hades was I doing?
I moved carefully forward. Cerberus
regarded me curiously, but didn’t seem too concerned; so I took another
step. Then another.
He went back to sniffing around the
grass, moving a bit to my left.
I was sweating, certainly. I was scared,
definitely. The university, seeming a better choice before, was suddenly
being replaced in my mind by images of the National Guard.
I moved slowly, carefully, not wanting to
startle him but wanting him to be aware I was coming. He still didn’t seem
to care. I kept moving, lifting my feet and trying not to drag them across
the grass. I stepped carefully over a cover to a water main. Stray dried
leaves dogged my path, and I concentrated on not crunching any of them.
He was taking another step towards my
left, but abruptly turned ninety degrees and took two steps almost
directly toward me. I froze in place. Behind me, everyone shut up. He
sniffed the ground with one head, sniffed the air with the other. The
third, the one in the middle, looked up at me. The middle head sure looked
like it wanted something more than a pastry for lunch.
I hadn’t realized how far I had come. I
was only about twenty feet from Cerberus, and a quick glance back showed
me to be over thirty from the gate. I was deep inside enemy territory now.
It regarded me quietly with that head
while the other two continued sniffing. I could see beyond any doubt that
the eyes were as red as burning embers—no whites, no irises, no pupils,
just flaming red orbs in deep, bony sockets. Thin tendrils of smoke curled
up from each of that head’s nostrils.
Then it did something I’d seen many times
before. The ears atop its head perked up, as if listening, and it tipped
the middle head to look at me. The eyes scrunched a bit. It was looking at
me the way any puppy does when it’s curious about something. Heck of a
puppy. It was interested, and was reacting in typical dog fashion. This
meant that aside from its immense size and triple cranium, it was, for all
intents and purposes, nothing more than a big pup.
This gave me a surge of confidence. I
began moving again, stepping carefully forward. I moved my catcher’s pole
from beside me to hold it and its dangling noose out before me. I sighted
on the middle head through the noose, like looking down the scope on a
rifle. The beast didn’t flinch.
“Nice doggie,” I said aloud. “That’s a
goooood boy.”
It cocked its head the other way. Its
mouth opened a bit and a red tongue lolled out the side a little. Panting.
“There ya go,” I said, feeling beads of
sweat rolling down my forehead, my cheeks, my nose. I blinked saltiness
out of my eyes, tasted it on my lips. I was just six or seven feet from
the thing now and I stopped moving. The pole would reach from here. After
all, it was no bigger than a horse, and I’d roped one of those before.
“Just stay right there, big boy,” I said
soothingly. “We’ll leash ya up and go for a little ride…” I had no idea to
where we would ride, and then it occurred to me that this thing was huge.
It could probably go through the van like a fastball through aluminum
foil; and what made me think he didn’t have ten times the strength of an
average horse?
Then I realized something else: my noose
was too small. I froze when this hit me. The noose was good-sized, indeed,
but I could clearly see there was no way I could slip it over the thing’s
head. It could go around a Saint Bernard’s, or even a horse’s, but
Cerberus’ head was wide and thick and… and it had three of them anyway.
I didn’t move. It studied me carefully
for a few more moments, and then the tongue retracted into its mouth. The
jaw lowered and the head tipped up, and all I saw were rows of bright
white teeth. All of them very sharp. Saliva drooled out of the corner of
its mouth, just like a Rottweiler.
“Oh, crap,” I said, because I certainly
had landed myself in a proverbial pile of it.
“Eddie, what are you waiting for?” Dan
hissed behind me, loud but restrained, as if to sneak it by Cerberus.
“Rope it!”
“The noose won’t fit!” I hissed back,
equally moronically. Even if it did, the thing wasn’t likely to give up
without a fight. Forget the horse analogy; this would be like roping a
bull by the horns and hauling him back under my own power. It wasn’t gonna
happen.
“What do we do?” Dan hissed.
My mind raced. “Call the university. Tell
them we need moose tranqs.”
A retreat made sense now. I was a bit
dejected about doing so. I was scared, sure, but being able to look like
some kind of hero would have been great. But common sense and my instinct
for self-preservation prevailed. I took a step backward.
The other two heads reacted. All three of
them snapped to attention, eyes wide, mouths open, teeth showing. Drool
slavered everywhere.
I took another step backward.
One of the heads, I don’t know which one,
began to growl. Low and guttural, like a background bass sound on a
stereo. It wasn’t a good sound. I guess I didn’t expect it to sound like
happy wind chimes, and I didn’t imagine any sound it could make would be
good. I had a feeling that even if the thing started giggling right then,
it would scare the shit out of me.
I took another step backward, holding the
pole straight out in front of me. Another head began to growl along with
the first.
“Eddie!” Dan hissed. “Get out of there!”
“I’m trying,” I said in a whisper only I
and Cerberus heard. I moved backward two quick steps.
The third head joined in, a chorus of
growls. It took a step toward me. I swear I felt the ground shake when the
paw hit. The heads were lowering, the neck angling downward. A hunter on
the prowl. I had misjudged the curious head-cocking.
I back-pedaled two more steps, three,
four. The pole bounced before me, maybe ensuring our separation in my
mind. Cerberus advanced another paw. Another one.
I double-timed it. My feet spun beneath
me. I judged I was almost to the gate. He was still advancing, a bit
faster now. The growls were louder, stronger.
And then I tripped over the cover to the
water main.
I went over backward with a surprised
yell. I lost the pole, which managed to pitch forward, and I landed on my
back.
Cerberus leaped into the air and I
screamed. Luckily, nobody heard me, because something on the order of
three or four hundred people all started screaming and yelling and
hollering at the same time.
He landed right on target—on my fallen
noose pole. One massive paw landed on it, holding it down, and the three
heads attacked it with a terrible fury. They howled, snarled, and roared,
rending the wooden thing to splinters. I should have jumped up and run,
but all I could do was lay there, stiff as a board and eyes wide, and try
desperately not to fill my pants.
The crowd was still going crazy when he
finished destroying it. Then he turned his heads to look at me. He was
mere feet from me. His six eyes blazed in contrast with his shiny black
fur and sharp white teeth. Slavering, he growled and advanced another
step. That middle head never stopped focusing on my very likely
delicious-looking face. The flanking heads dipped down to my feet and two
mouths opened. I felt hot saliva hit my exposed shin. It burned like acid.
Still, I couldn’t move.
The crowd was going wild now. I realized
at that moment that I was going to die at the mouths of a mythical beast;
and how would that look as a eulogy to my mediocre life of chasing after
stray animals?
The beast drew back a bit, throwing all
three heads up in the air and letting loose with a trio of blood-curdling
howls that seems to echo straight from the netherworld itself. Then it
reared up on its hind legs and for a painful moment it was silhouetted
against the bright sun behind it, towering over twelve feet in the air.
Screaming, crying, roaring, the sound of my heart beating horribly in my
ears: all this I heard at the last.
And then there was a new roar, louder
than the beast, but it was a word booming as if from the heavens, and one
I didn’t understand.
* *
* * * * * *
*
Certain death was already in Eddie's
imminent future... but someone perhaps worse than Cerberus just showed up
in the park...
To read the whole story, visit
www.JourneyBooksPublishing.com and order a back issue of Amazing
Journeys Volume 1, Issue 2. |
My kids came home one day with a stray dog
they'd found wandering the park. Of course, I chastised them for
approaching a dog they didn't know, but the thing was friendly enough. Of
course, he was absolutely monstrous. A mongrel, to be sure, he looked more
like a pony than a dog. All I could think of was Cerberus, the dog that
guarded the gates of Hades in Greek mythology... except this dog only had
one head, not three like in the myth. Then I wondered about Cerberus:
sure, he was a mythical beast, but a dog is a dog is a dog, and sure, he
was chained up at the gates... but sometimes chains break, even massive
ones, and what would happen if a magical, mythical beast like Cerberus
escaped? Well, he'd do the same thing any other dog would do: go far away
from his own house for a nice jaunt.