Mark Tufo - The End ....

So when Henry’s giant maw literally wrapped around Redneck's lower leg, I was just as surprised as Redneck was. The pain must have been intense, I watched as Redneck’s eyes began to bulge out. Dirt bag or not, he still had a knife and now realized he was going to need it for defense instead of fun. Henry snapped that man’s tibia and fibula, the cracking of bones was as loud as a percussion grenade in the small room. Redneck's knife came down, his aim blinded by the pain. I watched in helplessness as the knife arced down, Henry’s yelp of pain was all the proof I needed that Redneck had struck home.

“Gotcha fucker!” Redneck yelled as he fell over, the pain in his broken leg making standing a losing venture. Henry was bleeding profusely from a wound to his side. The redneck was slumped against the wall, knife still in hand. His outstretched arm would still be plenty close enough to finish the job. “Fucking ugly motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you now!”

‘Oh no, Henry’. I could accept a lot of things that a hard life had to offer. This was not going to be one of them.

Those were the last words Redneck Number One ever uttered. Not because he died, but because Henry ripped his jaw off. If that SOUNDS gross you should have been there to witness it. The splintering of bone and muscle as Henry tore into the soft flesh of the redneck’s face was gruesome. Teeth popped out of the redneck's jaw as Henry applied more pressure. When Henry shook his head, the bottom half of the redneck's jaw just came unhinged. Gristle, blood, teeth, and jawbone fragments flew around the room. A smear of blood landed on my right eye. Half the room became bathed in red as I desperately tried to blink, to no avail.

Two MP’s and my wife simultaneously made it to the doorway. To my wife’s credit she only retched half as hard as one of the guards.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 10 -

A half hour later we were all in Doc Baker’s house.

“How is he Doc?” I asked nervously.

“Mike you know that’s the fifth time you’ve asked me that question right?” The Doc answered.

I looked longingly at him.

He sighed loudly. “He’s fine Mike, and he’d be a lot finer if you’d stop bugging me and let me finish sewing these stitches.”

Henry hadn’t even required any sort of numbing agent so intent was he with the frozen hot dogs he was sharing with Tommy, I’m not even sure he knew somebody was working on his side. Nicole in between sobs couldn’t contain herself from wrapping her arms around the lovable mutt.

“See I told you it was worth saving him back at the house in Little Turtle.” I said to Tracy smugly. (Note to all men, wrong fucking time to prove a point!)

“Talbot, are you kidding me?” My wife shot back. “You and your daughter almost died tonight and you want to throw an ‘I told you so’ in my face?”

“Well I uh… had thought so. Not really so much anymore.”

Tracy glared at me.

“So are those hot dogs really frozen?” I asked Tommy in a vain attempt to thwart the hostility. Tommy ignored me like only someone who valued their own existence could. “Could use a little help here Tommy?” I begged

“Wanff a hoff doff?” He answered.

Henry took that as his queue and wolfed down the proffered frozen meat snack.

I turned my attention back towards Henry. The laceration looked nasty. Fourteen stitches later he was as good as new.

“Alright.” Doc said as he snipped the excess thread away. “I recommend as little movement for Henry for the next three days as possible.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem Doc.” I said. Henry had fallen asleep on the operating table with half of a frozen hot dog sticking out of his mouth.

We went back to the barracks. I had rounded up an old musty cot to sleep on, while Nicole got into the bed with her mother. Henry had never woke back up as Tommy had carried him back up to our room. I waited until I was sure everyone was asleep and then I sobbed silently. There were just so much pent up emotions looking for an escape. A big chunk was relief, relief that my daughter was physically ok. Emotionally, that might take a while. Relief that Henry was ok. I was going to buy that dog a cow tomorrow. Out of us all he seemed the least affected. If I’m being honest, I think a big part of my tears were of frustration. I had walked into a trap. I had almost gotten my daughter and my best furry friend killed. That was a tough thing for me to reconcile. The cot swayed under the assault of my cries. I was being as quiet as was possible under the circumstances. It wasn’t enough.

From the shadows came my wife’s voice. “It wasn’t your fault Talbot.”

I wanted to answer her. It’s just that my throat was closed off.

“Get some sleep Marine, we’ve all lived to fight another day.”

She was right, of course she was right, she’s always right. Now if I could just heed her words I’d be all set. Three minutes later I stumbled into slumber.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - JOURNAL ENTRY 11 -

It was sometime way after noon when I finally dragged my ass out of bed. Any movement more involved than scratching my nose sent excruciating bolts of pain radiating at the speed of fire from my shoulder outwards. If not for the fact that my bladder was sending an ‘imminent release’ warning to my head, I would have stayed in bed even longer. I might have cried a little (definitely some heavy moaning) when I reached over and grabbed my pain meds, Doc had hooked me up at his house last night when he had seen how bad I looked. I dry swallowed two but was not going to be able to wait the twenty or so minutes before they kicked in. I briefly wondered how ticked off Tracy might be if I just went where I lay.

Yeah, that wasn’t going to work, for two or three good minutes I rolled around trying to find the least pain inducing method to get up. None were significantly better than any other. I went with the band-aid removal method. Bad, bad idea. Isn't it always? I sat straight up and fluidly stood as quickly as I could in a vain attempt at daring the pain to keep up. The pain had no problem doing that and nearly sent me to my knees. I fought to keep my vision from reducing to a pin point. I steadied myself on the steel headboard, thankful for the cool touch of it. When the spears of pain subsided to small knives, I shuffled my way to the bathroom. Two minutes later I stood in the bathroom, bladder completely pressure free and bathed in a fresh coat of sweat. This simple bodily function had nearly wiped me out and yet as my first day out of the hospital it was world’s better than pissing in a bedpan. Not much is more degrading than having someone remove your waste and then make comments about it as they do so. ‘Oh someone’s not drinking enough water’ or my personal favorite ‘You had corn last night?’

Either I had been in the bathroom longer than I had thought or the pills were working faster than expected. The dull pleasantness of the buzz did its best to help me forget that my shoulder was knitting itself back into place. I longed to go back to bed but the mere thought of getting back out prevented me from doing that. I figured I’d go in the living room and sit in a chair and maybe pretend to read as the Percocets really went about their business. Let’s not kid ourselves, I was soon going to be high enough to watch a candle melt and enjoy the hell out of it.

Tracy and Henry were nowhere to be found. My olfactory senses were thankful for the latter although that dog always managed to put a smile on my face even if it was hidden under my pulled up shirt, the better to hide my nose. The timing was impeccable. My ass had just made contact with the cushion when a knock came at the door.