Thousand: Three Hundred Ninety-Four

dog’s eyes dilate. Something is reflected across the curve of the wet surface. The dog tenses but doesn’t move. Bernie watches the thing reflected in the dog’s eyes as it expands. He listens to the strange whuffling thumps that might be footfalls. Gasps and grunts at every thump as though there were faces being punched. Then two shotgun blasts. A scream. Is that his name again? The engine chokes then roars. Glass breaking, metal squealing. Gigantic tires gripping, spinning. The engine goes from roar to shriek. The dog lifts his head, ears perked. Bernie thinks he asks the dog a