CHAPTER 3 – Dog Days Are Over...
Waking up the next morning, I really didn't want to get out from under the warm blanket. I’m not sure I could walk anyways as both of my legs were asleep from Arthur laying over them.
Eventually, I lugged myself out of the warmth, hopped to my feet too fast and almost fell down, then started arranging the rest of our salvaged supplies on the sled, readying our exit.
I brought my head up from organizing items in the sled, I rubbed my eyes and had to do a double take.
So much had changed from the night before.
While there was still plenty of snow on the ground and it was a bit windy and chilly, the weather was clear and sunny. It felt almost 40 degrees warmer.
The trees were somehow beginning to bud as if spring were already here for weeks. What was most shocking though, they were about twice the size they were when I got home from work the previous night. It was as if a bigger, more dominant tree came up for a midnight snack, erupting from the depths of the earth to devour the puny trees like a Little Debbie snack.
"This—This is fucking crazy," I muttered to myself.
It was like stepping out onto a different planet, even wildlife noises had completely changed.
Rather than being super quiet and hearing only small birds here and there, it sounded like late spring on steroids.
The sound of several different chirps and singing birds invaded my ears, some of which seemed a bit too singsong. It was really unsettling to say the least. Some noises just sounded off, almost like a person trying to make a chirping noise with their mouth but couldn’t hit a high enough pitch causing their voice to crack. Along with what sounded like a human sized woodpecker on crack in the distance.
I imagine it would be deafening if I were standing next to it. The sound of chopping wood blasted over and over, like Superman had a splitting maul and was in a fight against a group of suped up Treebeards.
Standing there taking in the sights and sounds, I heard leaves rustling on the other side of the brush only a few yard away, since I couldn’t see what it was I decided to split and ran back into the house.
"I need a weapon." I thought aloud.
I went to the closet to grab the case my handgun was stored in. "Shit, What's next?"
The entire area where the gun used to be was blown apart, the shelf it sat on was non existent and the case was unrecognizable, shattered to pieces. I looked around for a few minutes but nothing. Apparently, it decided to blow up even though there was no fucking ammunition anywhere near it.
I couldn't even find a small piece of the case where I kept the ammunition in the kitchen, that along with the cupboard it was stored in were completely demolished.
Luckily and stupidly, I'm also a beginner in collecting medieval weapons. I tried Ebay bidding for about 2 boring hours a few years ago.
I ended up with a few over priced swords that I didn't think I would win the bid on. Unfortunately, I did, but more unfortunate, they were all trashed in the explosion, except one, and it was in rough shape to say the least.
"Goddammit, I don’t want to be the weirdo walking around the mountain with a sword on his back pulling a sled full of old dirty shit and canned beans!" I yelled at the world.
But it was better than dying, so I walked back to the living room to grab it.
As I bent over to grab the sword I heard chittering and the same small footsteps rushing around that I heard outside.
Before I could grab the sword from the floor and turn around to see what was causing this ruckus, I was hit on my left thigh.
I was hit hard enough to be thrown into a midair cartwheel.
It felt like Pedro Martinez threw a fast ball, but instead of a baseball, it was a bowling ball with deadly intention attached to it.
I landed on the ground head first cracking my neck.
Shattered glass from the explosion now stuck in random spots across my face.
One hoodie and pair of pants down as I had glass sticking out of my side like a porcupine.
I yelled for Arthur as I reached for the sword, struggling to get to my feet.
I managed to grab the sword but at the same time, I caught a glimpse of something moving faster than my eyes could track, it was about the size of a full grown cat flying across the room straight at me.
It hit me right in the sternum clearing out any breath I may have had in my lungs.
I slid across the floor, cleaning up more glass from the hardwood until I came to a stop with the loud crack of my back hitting the wall.
I looked around in panic, not seeing the culprit. I heard the chittering noise and some clicking in the distance, followed by Arthur barking in the kitchen.
I pushed myself from the floor keeping my head on a swivel. Then heard a THUD and a loud whine followed by another faint thud.
Not many things make me angry, but fuck with my dog, or my family, and that’ll do it.
I rushed to the broken end table at the other side of the living room. I grabbed it by the one still intact leg, raising it to use as my shield.
I sprinted toward the kitchen but was met in the hall on my way there.
At the other end of the dilapidated hallway I finally got a view of the insurgent.
"A fuckin’ CHIPMUNK!?" Not your typical cute little chipmunk either, it was the size of a large house cat with claws so overgrown they were the size of an actual chipmunk. The half moon claws looked uncomfortably long, like it hurt for the little bugger to stand in one spot for too long.
Its movements were twitchy and unsettling to look at.
Ugly little fucker. A putrid viscous fluid hung from its mouth. Behind the rot and decay it looked like the chipmunk took a knife sharpening kit to its teeth daily.
Above its head, a full red bar,
[Mutated Chipmunk—Rapid]
[Unbound Native]
"What the fuck does that m—!" Before I could finish my outburst, the little bastard flew into action, pin-balling down the hall like some sort of murder pinball version of Alvin.
I raised my end table and it smashed directly into the center of my homemade shield.
In doing so I took the backside of the end table to the bridge of my nose, hearing a nice loud crack as it shattered. Blood poured from the wound in the center of my vision.
I tried to swing my cracked sword but the absorbed shock from my shield had me off balance and swinging wildly at nothing.
I did notice the chipmunk slows down after it attacks, as it’s falling to the ground it can’t use its ridiculous speed. However, as soon as its feet touch the ground it vanished in a blur of motion.
I called to Arthur, "Puck! You okay!?" I kept trying to push my way down the hall but every time I was knocked back. It was a slow and hard struggle to reach the kitchen.
His bark echoed through the hall, "Woof!"
Thank god he’s alright...
The chipmunk struck again destroying my makeshift shield, but I was ready this time.
I swung right to left with all of my might toward the little falling monster.
I whiffed.
I was a bit too slow from having to adjust after the shattering end table.
My sword hit something though.
It passed through the already broken drywall and lodged itself into a stud. I struggled to pull it lose. The chipmunk paused at the end of the hall watching me swear at the inanimate object hiding behind the wall. It knew it had me.
I swear I could see an evil grin on the little bastards face.
Right before it could charge, Arthur darted in from the side attempting to snatch the creature in his jaws but even he was too slow.
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It saw the attack coming and had to bail from the plan to end me.
We both lost sight.
I ran to the kitchen and I was nearly side by side with Arthur when it struck again.
Arthur flew across the kitchen spinning in the air. He must have spun a complete 720 degrees.
Seeing this enraged me and I threw my now half of a sword, followed by the wooden peg leg in my other hand at the chipmunk and I charged.
It returned the favor hitting me in my right leg this time.
My leg was sent into the air behind me, almost far enough to kick myself in the back of the head, but with one hand on the counter I managed to keep upright.
I grabbed the nearest thing, half of my favorite mug and threw it at the chipmunk.
I kept grabbing broken items, throwing them like I was the runner up to win the Cy Young award. Broken plate, colander, I think what was once my toaster or maybe my air fryer, hard to tell.
Another half of a shitty coffee mug, mason jar lid with some glass still on the bottom, spatulas and ladles.
As I was throwing around the broken items I collected throughout my life, the chipmunk pin-balled around the kitchen from wall to wall.
Tossing items to keep the little sum bitch occupied gave me time to think.
I kicked open the cupboard where I kept my pans. It didn’t take much considering it was hanging on by one screw halfway set on one hinge.
I pulled out a 2-quart pot and my wok that I haven’t used since the day I bought it.
As I stood back up to my full height, ready for battle, I was hit directly in the sternum, again.
It felt like I was hit by a car, all of the breath immediately escaped my lungs. I choked and gagged for air, before I knew it I was hit again then again.
How did I get to the bathroom?
The last shot I took mid air while trying to figure out up from down, I caught a glimpse of Arthur. He was back on his feet and rushing the chipmunk.
He leapt at the fucker front paws out like Superdog and he actually managed to get a swipe in as it was falling to the ground.
I could feel something different.
I brought my HUD on with a quick direct thought. Pissed at myself for not paying attention or bringing it up until now.
My health was below 30%, but I felt somehow invigorated, my breath came back much faster. The small cuts stopped bleeding and the fresh bruising turned yellow like it was there for days already.
I ripped my shower curtain into strips. I grabbed the loop handle on my wok with my left hand and squeezed it as tightly as I could. With one curtain strip held between my palm and the loop handle, and the stick handle placed against my forearm, I wrapped as fast and as tight as I could down to the stick. I twisted it back around the stick and pan and tied it off back up on the loop handle. I was thinking, buckler.
I think the aura I was letting off also affected Arthur because he managed to keep the chipmunk at bay long enough to let me finish preparations.
I lost the 2-quart pot somewhere mid flight across the kitchen Atlantic, so I grabbed onto the hose of my shower head and broke it off at the pipe to give myself a little play room.
I ran back to the kitchen as Arthur took another hit to his backside.
I yelled at him to get on the counter and wait as I swore at the chipmunk and slapped the wall with my new Macgyver Shield.
“Its time to end this fucker Arthur!”
Swinging the shower head in circles in front of me and continuously slapping the wall, I circled the room until Arthur was behind me.
My eyes never left the ugly little bastard as I said, "GET IT! GET IT!" Arthur raised up on his 2 back feet.
Then it struck.
The chipmunk flew through the air right at my chest again.
I managed to get the wok up in time but the blow shattered my wrist and hand as both handles went flying along with the dented pan.
That didn't stop me though, I swung the hose down right as it made its move, aiming where I assumed it would be when it slowed.
The shower hose whip struck true.
It corkscrewed around the chipmunk.
I snagged the shower head midair with my busted hand as it wrapped the belly, then pulled the chipmunk to the counter. I tucked the shower head under the backside of the hose crating a quick cheap knot.
I yanked tight in both directions with all the gusto I had.
I extended my arms and put my body into motion as if I were performing a judo throw on a full grown man, I brought the chipmunk overhead as it desperately struggled to get free.
I slammed it to the floor like I was trying to smash through the foundation of the ramshackle mess that I once called home.
It was too late for the vermin to escape.
Right as we hit the ground Arthur hit his peak and fell from the cupboard like a meteor with all of his doggy dog muscles landing on the chipmunks side.
A shower of blood and guts poured over us as he drilled his paws right through the side of the creature, excavating its insides all the way down to the cheap vinyl flooring of the kitchen.
I took a deep breath, "Well... That’s dead. Good job pup!"
I collapsed to the ground alongside Arthur and we laid there, both broken, bloody messes.
I pet his head and got behind his ears with my blood soaked hand.
I wiped my hand on the one semi clean area of my pants smearing the thick blood away, "Sorry bud, we'll get you cleaned up in a bit."
We sat for about an hour and I noticed my health bar was near max again.
"Well, come on Dookie!" I jumped to my bare feet, kicked the dead chipmunk and walked to the door.
I noticed Arthur shaking his head from left to right. “What, you don’t like that one dukester?”
“Grrr Ruff!” He proclaimed, shaking his head left to right.
“Alright,” I laughed, slipping my moccasin slippers on before stepping outside, “No more Dookie, but you are the Duke of Dukensberg so I’m not gonna stop calling ya Duke.”
“Woof!” He seemed to agree with my take as his bark sounded a little more agreeable and his tail slapped back and forth.
We went around the house, returning to the river where this started. The melting snow still soaked with the pink stain of blood.
We walked the river a ways until we were clear of the bloody scene. I poked around for a bit, realizing I didn’t have anything to defend myself with now.
"Haha jeez," I laughed as reality set in, all the money I spent on that kind of shit, swords, cool looking viking hatchets, wishing for an adventure to save me from my boring life.
Only to have it happen and realize it’s fucking horrifying and the fights aren't like they're explained in all of the books I’ve read or even somewhat close to the movies and shows I’ve watched.
They aren’t like the anime where people only get a few bruises. The good guy and bad guy monologue back and forth a bit then end up going their separate ways after a little fisticuffs.
No, they're basically torture.
Gruesome, painful and savage torture.
"How fucking dumb was I? I'm not made for this shit. I don't think anyone on the planet is capable of handling this shit. Maybe some psychopaths but not normal humans." Starting to hyperventilate with a trusted panic attack. I looked down and Arthur was at my side, head cocked to the side in worry, tongue lulling out of his panting mouth.
"I'm sorry buddy, I swear I'm getting it together. I—I just had to get that out." I reached my hand down and gave him a couple scritches on his head and he pushed his head against my leg. "Good boy Arthur, thank you."
“Ruff!”
"Now that I’ve come back down to reality, or whatever this shit is. It’s time to get you cleaned up!" I leaned over and put the pan into the river.
Yeah, the same pan that ran off on me while I was getting my ass kicked.
I filled it up and we walked over to a dry spot under the pines. I grabbed some kindling and returned to our spot to make a little Tepee then crumbled up some ripped paper bag for tinder. I pulled out the matches I brought from the house and started a small fire.
I heated the water up and once it wasn’t freezing anymore I cupped my hands and used a small amount to clean them up then dipped them again and splashed my face giving it a good scrub.
I used a spare flannel shirt to dry myself and wipe off the dirt and muck.
While waiting for more water to heat up I told Arthur I had a job for him, "I need you to find me a stick buddy, something sturdy that wont break easily, it needs to be about this big around, and as long as you can find but at least this long." I held my fingers up to show a circle about an inch and a half in diameter, and held my arms out to show about 4 feet.
"I need to go look for some rocks and I don't trust you not to eat them if you're by yourself," I joked as I reminisced on the memories of walks we took when he was a puppy. Arthur would always try to sneak eat quarter sized or even sometimes bigger rocks.
He ran off into the woods as I scoured the side of the river, grabbing a few different stones and a short hard wooden stick. I returned to the fire and took a seat to knap a few of the rocks I found into different shapes and sizes.
Arthur returned much more quickly than I thought he would have. He was somehow carrying 2 long branches in his mouth both about 7 feet long. He looked so funny trying to navigate through the trees. I couldn’t help but laugh at him, to which he responded with a weak and sassy growling whine.
I hopped up and went to help him.
"Good boy," I said as I took a cut up piece of the flannel that I turned into rags and wiped his head to clean up the mess. Next I went over his legs which were disgusting. My face was frozen in yuck as I cleaned bits and pieces of chipmunk guts that were still stuck under nails and between toes.
Once we finished cleaning up we returned to the front of the house.
Now mid-late day but the sun was still unusually high in the sky for this time of year.
I finished packing then sat on the stoop. I found some shoe string inside that I used to finish up my new home-made spear and a little hammer or hatchet depending how I swing it.
It wasn’t too sharp so I think I'll go with calling it my one handed hammer, although who knows what I’ll end up calling it in the long run.
I threw on a new shirt and some clean-ish pants and told Arthur, "Time to see Lily."
He spun in excited circles like he was chasing his tail, then suddenly stopped and looked at me with his tongue out and made a quiet yet excited, "Ruff!"