The Influence(90)

Where the ideas for the paintings had come from, and why she had done so many, she did not know—and that frightened her.

Feeling nervous, she walked over to the paintings, pulling forward the ones in front so she could see those behind them. Ten! She’d painted ten of them over the past few days. Jill had not realized that she’d done so many. She had never worked so fast in her life, and the fact that such prolificacy had gone entirely unnoticed by her was disconcerting. Especially considering the subject matter.

“Jill.”

In the silence of the house, she clearly heard her name spoken aloud, though where the voice was coming from she couldn’t say. It sounded strangely high-pitched, like someone speaking on helium, and it was accompanied by a truly obnoxious odor, a combination of rot and fecal matter that made her think of a decaying corpse.

“Jill.”

It came again, and this time it sounded as though it was coming from outside. Frowning, she walked over to the window.

Puka was on the other side of the glass, looking in at her, and she jerked back, crying out. The dog was standing on his hind legs, front paws against the window. His fur was gone, as was much of his flesh. Dirt, burrs and twigs were stuck with dried blood to red musculature and white bone. In the burned face, that one crazy eye still rolled around, while sharpened teeth grinned hungrily beneath the exposed nasal cavity.

The mouth opened, closed.

“Jill.”

Screaming, she ran around the butcher’s block, through the kitchen to the back door, intending to dash over to Shan Cooper’s and take refuge inside his house. But Puka was already rounding the corner, walking on its hind legs (it was now an it, not a he), the way a person would, and she could see that wild rolling eye and that terrible white grin even from this far away.

Dogs were not designed to walk upright, so Puka’s steps were slow and awkward, and Jill ran in the opposite direction, screaming. “Help! Help!”

She sped through the side yard to the front of the house, running into the middle of the cul-de-sac while simultaneously checking out her neighbors’ driveways. Shan Cooper’s El Camino was gone, as was the Porters’ Explorer. But Tim’s pickup was in the Russells’ carport, and she headed directly across the street as fast as her legs would carry her. Gina’s Kia was not there, but she and Tim never drove together, so the odds were that Tim was home.

He wasn’t.

She stood, screaming and crying on the Russell’s front porch, banging on their door, jabbing the button for the bell, but there was no response, and when she turned around, she saw Puka crossing through the center of the cul-de-sac, still standing erect.

“Jill!” the dog called out. Its voice was louder now, though just as high-pitched. She could hear it all the way over here, above her own frantic crying.

Desperate, Jill ran around the edge of the circle back to her own house. There was no sidewalk, but there was a dirt trail, and she passed over two driveway entrances on the way to her own, when she suddenly knew what she had to do.

The dog was already turning around in its disturbing, awkward way.

She ran up to her front door. Had she locked it or not? Not! She opened the door, grabbed her purse from the spot next to the couch where she’d dropped it, and was already fumbling for her keys as she carried the purse back outside and hurried over to her van. It, too, was unlocked—thankfully—and she got in and locked the doors as she rummaged through her purse, finally finding the Econoline’s keys. Glancing at the side and rearview mirrors, she didn’t see Puka, which meant that the dog was either in back of the van or in her blind spot, and she shoved the key in the ignition, started the engine and threw the vehicle into reverse.

There was a crash and a bump, and as much as she had once cared for Puka, she hoped that she had run the dog over. Tires squealing, she backed the van all the way over to the Russells’ house across the street, feeling a sense of relief as welcome as it was horrific when she saw the bloody body crumpled at the edge of her own driveway. Just to be on the safe side, she shifted from Reverse to Forward and ran over the dog again. Then did it one more time for good measure.

She didn’t want to see the result of her efforts, but she had to make sure Puka was gone for good, so she got out of the van and walked back. What had once been a dog and had then become a monster was now a flattened mess of blood, guts and bone on the edge of the road. She got close enough to verify but not close enough to see details, then hurried back in the house, locking the door behind her. She wasn’t about to pick up the body, but she couldn’t just leave it there, and when Shan or one of her other neighbors came home, she’d have him take care of it.