John van Dijk - THE ZOO

"It wasn’t too hard to track you down." She replied dryly. She walked over to Happy and slid down beside him onto the filthy floor. "Is that thing loaded, Hap?" she inquired, gesturing to the 30/30 Winchester tucked between his legs.

"Hell, yes, Sam - ‘course it’s loaded." Happy snorted at such a ridiculous question, "Not much good if it isn’t."

Surprisingly spry, Happy jumped to his feet and started dancing a lurching waltz with the shotgun nestled tightly to his right cheek.

"I’ve got the world on a string ....... sitting on a rainbow ............

wrapped around my finger......... duh, duh,duh .... what a world ..... duh, duh."

Okay, stay calm. You can handle this, Sam thought. "So what are we drinking, Hap?"

Abruptly, Happy stopped whirling and reached behind himself to the window ledge.

"Meet Jack ..... my good, old friend Jack." There were only a couple of inches left in the bottom of the bottle. Obviously, Happy had killed off most of the Jack Daniels all by himself. This was going to take even longer than she had thought.

"How about a toss for me, Happy?" Sam smiled.

"Sure thing - sure thing, where are my manners?" he grinned amicably, handing her the neck of the bottle. "Anything for one of my favorite girls."

Abruptly, Happy’s mood swung to the other extreme. "Of course, I had another favorite girl, too, but she’s gone now."

In a voice beyond sad, Happy said, "Everybody always goes away, Sammy. You’re always left alone." Morosely, he shook his head. "Mark my words, girl.

Friendship, love ...... in time it all just gives you the illusion that you’re not all alone ...... but you are, no mistake about it. In the end, you’re always alone."

Happy, with his chin resting down on his chest by now, was starting to mumble drunkenly.

Sam put the bottle aside and took Happy into her arms. "I’ll miss Wanda, too. We all will." She tried desperately to think of something of solace to say. "It was just her time, Hap, that’s all."

He exploded. "Just her time? What the hell are you talking about?

Haven’t you been paying attention? It’s EVERYBODY’S time now. Annihilation, Sammy ...... we’re standing on the fucking edge of annihilation."

Happy dramatically punctuated that dissertation by passing out cold.

"You okay, kid?" asked Martha solicitously as she wrapped Sam’s shoulders in a heavy, yellow slicker.

Sam shivered. The wind had blown up an incoming gale and the evening air was thick with clammy mist. She automatically clutched the oversized slicker to herself. Everyone and everything all around her was now banked in an opaque film of fog.

"We’re in for one hell of a squall," Martha commented unnecessarily.

Sam turned to watch Fed and two other men hauling an anesthetized Happy none too gently from the lighthouse. Everyone had dispersed now. Gone on home to their waiting wives, suppers and beers. It was a disgruntled Mink Olenberg who’d been overheard to say, "Shit, we almost had us some excitement here."

Hours later Sam knew she was losing control of herself. She had wanted desperately to talk to Martha about it, but somehow, she hadn’t been able to find the right words. Martha had seen her home and safely settled with a warming cup of tea in her lap before she had reluctantly returned to her family.

There just hadn’t seemed to be any way to say, "Guess what? Per is either an angel or an alien ......... I can’t decide which," without sounding like a complete lunatic.

So instead, Sam had smilingly insisted to Martha that all was fine and let her go home.

With Happy so out of commission for the remainder of the evening, she had brought Spike home with her - for both their sakes. "Come on, good boy, you must be famished."

There was something comforting about the sound of the solid padding of the animal’s paws as he followed her down the foyer to the kitchen. The sidelights around the front door rattled loudly in a strong gust of wind. In the brightly lit kitchen, Sam opened a can of beans and franks for Spike, pouring most of it into one of her mother’s Spode dishes before placing it on the braided rug.

Picking up a tablespoon, she sat on the counter and proceeded to dig the remaining beans out of the can, licking the spoon thoroughly after each bite.

Companionably, the two ate their cold dinners in silence for a few minutes.

The lights only had to flicker once for Sam to know they would lose the electricity at some point that night. Perfect, she muttered, getting down from the counter and going into the pantry for candles. Much to her relief, she found a good stock compiled there. Even though everyone on the Island had been enjoying electricity for fifty years now, to this day no one really counted on it always being there - especially when they needed it.

Sam had placed the last candle into the brass holder when, after a final weak wavering of the lamps, all went utterly dark.

Automatically patting her jean pockets, she tried to locate her lighter. "Oh, great time to decide to give up smoking," she said outloud. Spike whimpered in agreement. Blindly rummaging about on the shelves, she located a half-filled box of kitchen matches. But before she had a chance to strike one, Spike was barking ferociously. Putting her hand on his back in the dark to steady him, Sam could feel his hair standing upright along the entire length of his spine.

"Easy, boy ..... easy," she murmured, stroking him gently. As much as it killed her to admit it, Spike’s sudden barking had spooked her. Barely daring to breathe, she stood stationary in one place, listening for whatever it had been that Spike may have heard.

The only sounds that came to her were of the heavy rain, wind and the anticipated creaking of an old house withstanding yet another nor’easter.

Nothing uncommon.

Emitting a sigh of relief, Sam turned to retrieve the matches she had dropped onto the table.

It was then that she saw him.

It was a form that was darker than dark. If he hadn’t been moving she probably wouldn’t have seen him at all as he silently approached the front door and lightly tried the handle. Frozen in place, Sam stood in the kitchen with a reassuring hand on Spike, staring down the unlit length of the foyer. Gently, she heard the door knob turning first this way and that. Then, nothing. Only silence. Straining to hear any movement at all, Sam waited.

Suddenly, Sam screamed as Per’s face was pressed tightly to one of the sidelights. She didn’t know if he could see her or not in the absolute blackness of the kitchen - and she really didn’t care. Some distant animal instinct she never knew she possessed screamed in her mind - RUN NOW.

Sam did just that. With Spike literally hard on her heels, she wheeled about and fled through the back kitchen door out into the obscurity of the night and pounding rain. Skidding clumsily off the slick back steps, Sam went down hard - right on her ass. She struggled frantically to get her footing on the drenched lawn. The unrelenting force of the wind tore her hair out of it’s braid and whipped it across her face. Somewhere over her head, she heard the agonizing crack of an immense branch as it was mercilessly severed from an aged oak tree.

Unsure of her sense of direction in the storm, Sam made for the gazebo. Once inside, she and Spike were able to safely camouflage themselves behind the thick screen of snarled bittersweet.

Shaking uncontrollably, Sam hunkered down in the dankness with her arm around Spike. She just needed to wait now. She had become so acutely attuned to the dog that she knew he was going to growl before he actually did. Spike sat back on his haunches, his head down, emitting a low rumble that slowly built in crescendo to an eerily high and mournful howl.