Richard Laymon - Tread Softly

"We're gonna take it to a vet," Rose said.

The man raised his eyebrows. "You want to put that in your car?"

"No — "

"Yes! We have to, Mom. Please."

"Honey, it's dead."

"No, it's not!"

"Looks pretty dead to me," the man said. He sounded a bit amused. "I'm no authority, but the way its guts are spread around — "

"Stop that!" Alice snapped.

"Sorry. I didn't. Tell you what. If you really want to take it with you, I'll give you a hand. Let's not mess up your car, though. You want to hang on a minute, I've got some Hefty bags out in the garage. Go ahead and open your tailgate. I'll be back in two shakes."

Alice stood mute while he hurried away. She didn't want the awful thing in her car. But she felt trapped. She couldn't drive away without running over it again — not unless she first dragged it out from under the car. Besides, Rose would never forgive her.

She supposed that she did have a certain responsibility for the poor creature. She couldn't blame herself for killing it — she'd been driving under the speed limit and it had stepped out right in front of her and nobody could've stopped in time. But she had been the one to kill it, even if it weren't her fault. As much as she hated the idea, she supposed that hauling its corpse to a veterinary hospital would be the right thing to do.

Let them dispose of it properly.

They could leave it here for the Department of Animal Regulation to pick up. But other cars might. Maybe the man would move it out of the road.

Hell, she might as well take it. Make Rose happy. Unless she was mistaken, there was a veterinary hospital on Wilshire, just a block from their dentist's office.

She saw the man striding down his driveway with a garbage bag and a shovel. A shovel. "Get in the car, honey."

As the girl obeyed, Alice took the keys from the ignition and stepped to the rear of the station wagon. She lowered the tailgate. Hearing a car behind her, she rushed to the driver's door and shut it. The car swung into the other lane. Alice looked down so she wouldn't see those inside the car as it passed. She was relieved that it didn't stop. Once it was gone, the road was clear.

"You sure you want to take this thing?" the man asked. "I could drag it over to the curb, have the pound come for it."

"No, that's all right. My daughter — "

"Yeah. Kids. You're always better off going along with them. Hey, they're usually right anyway."

He spread the plastic bag flat on the pavement, its edge an inch from the blood puddle. Standing on it, he put on a pair of garden gloves. He spread his feet wide, pinning down the bag, and dragged the dog forward by its front paws. Horrified, Alice saw that some of its insides stayed behind, as if glued to the street. She gagged and turned away. She heard crinkling plastic, then the raspy scrape of the shovel. "There y'go," the man said. To the dog? "You hanging in there? Ma'am? You all right?"

Alice nodded.

"Do you think you can lend a hand? We don't want the bag to tear."

"Of course," she muttered. She faced the man, and tried not to look at the dog. "What should I do?"

"Let's drag it to the back. If you can lift that end of the bag a bit, take some of the weight off. "

She stepped around the man. Crouching, she grabbed the edge of filmy plastic. The man lifted his end and waddled backward, dragging the awful load. The dog was very heavy. To keep from looking at it, Alice focused on the man's head. Though he appeared no older than thirty, his black hair was thin on top. That explains the beard, she thought: balding men often wore beards.

Finally, they reached the rear of the station wagon.

"Lift?" he asked.

"I'll try."

"Got a good grip on it?"

She adjusted her hold. "Okay," she said.

"Now."

They lifted. She felt the plastic stretch as if melting over her fingertips and knuckles. It spread and tore, but then the weight was gone, the dog supported by the tailgate.

The man crawled into the rear of the wagon. He tugged the bag, sliding the dog in after him. Turning away, he climbed into the backseat and left through a passenger door.

Alice shoved the tailgate shut.

"Okay," the man said. He plucked off his gloves and picked up his shovel. "All set. You can probably get someone at the vet's to take it out for you."

"Well, thank you so much for helping." She wondered if she should offer him money. That would be embarrassing, especially if he refused. "We really appreciate it."

"Anytime," he said, and made a wry smile. "Hey, if it pulls through, let me know."

Sick, Alice thought. "I will," she muttered.

Then the man was walking away with a sprightly step, the shovel over one shoulder. She half expected him to start whistling like one of the Seven Dwarfs.

"Hurry, Mom," Rose called.

She climbed in behind the steering wheel. The girl was on her knees, looking over the back of the seat toward the dog. She was sniffing, dabbing at her nose with a wad of blue Kleenex. "Turn around and strap yourself in," Alice said. While Rose sat down and fastened her safety harness, she buckled herself in and started the car.

She drove forward slowly to the end of the block. At the stop sign, she checked the intersection carefully before proceeding.

"Drive faster, Mom. Please!"

"There's no hurry," she said.

"Yes there is!"

On the front lawn of a house just ahead, a boy in overalls was cavorting with a cocker spaniel. Alice watched them as she approached. Thank God it had been a dog, she thought, and not a child. That was too awful even to contemplate. What was wrong with the mother of this boy, letting him romp unattended in the front yard? The spaniel suddenly made a lunge toward the road. Alice shot her foot to the brake pedal, but the dog stopped at the sidewalk, wheeled around, and scampered back into the yard. Sighing with relief, Alice drove past.

The steering wheel was slick under her sweaty hands. She let go, one hand at a time, and wiped them on her skirt.

The shopping trip, she decided, was out of the question. After this ordeal, she was in no condition to face the supermarket. It could wait, or Arnold could go. Either way, she had no intention of leaving the house again today. When she got home, she would shut herself up in the bedroom with the new Sidney Sheldon book and not come out until.

From behind Alice came a low, rumbling growl. The back of her neck prickled.

"It is alive!" Rose blurted joyously, starting to turn around.

In the rearview mirror, Alice saw the German shepherd, forepaws on top of the backseat, fangs bared, bloody saliva hanging in strings from its snout. With a raging snarl, it sprang forward. Rose shrieked. Alice jammed on the brake pedal. The car lurched to a stop, throwing them both into their harnesses, slamming Alice's forehead against the steering wheel. The dog tumbled onto the cushion beside her, its entrails slopping down after it, teeth snapping shut on Rose's wrist as the screaming girl tried to unbuckle her safety belt. It released her wrist and lunged at her throat.

Alice fumbled with her own buckle. She flung the straps aside and threw herself onto the huge beast, hooking an arm around its neck as Rose cowered against the door and shrieked and tried to hold off its snapping jaws. Alice squeezed the thick, furry neck in the crook of her elbow. She shoved her other hand into its mouth, cried out as the teeth tore into her, but clutched the snout and pulled it toward her, away from Rose. Then she was falling backward, the squirming dog heavy on her chest, the teeth still grinding into her hand. "Rose!" she yelled. "Get out!"

The dog writhed and jerked, trying to roll but unable to free itself from Alice's grip. If she let go, she knew it would flip over and go for her throat. Her hand was afire with pain, her fingers weakening, but still she held on.