The Shaking

Chapter One

To be fair Michelle did her share supporting the family working as a classroom assistant during the day and doing an evening job in the local chain convenience store: She needed to in order to help make ends meet, but still Ryan felt as if the responsibility for looking after Rusty had fallen unequally on him.

"Rusty!" Grace, his nine year old daughter who had come along for the walk, joined in. There was still no sight or sound of him which was no surprise as it was normal for the dog to go dashing off out of view when he was let off the leash, but he always came back - eventually.

Rusty was a naturally excitable terrier and Michelle's mum hadn't trained him that well to begin with, but recently he'd been behaving strangely, whining and barking for no apparent reason. At first the Bucklands thought he might have been ill, but whatever was up with him seemed to be affecting the other dogs in their neighbourhood as well. Even Squeaky and Fudge, Grace's guinea pigs, had begun having episodes of madness: Fighting and running around frantically one day; digging furiously at the straw in their plastic cage or refusing to come out of their toilet roll cardboard inner den the next. Michelle was sure the animals were sensing Mum's ghost (she was a bit superstitious like that) but the other dog walkers Ryan spoke to were certain it was something we humans couldn't sense, but our pets could. The thing was, what was making them so edgy? No one knew.

"RUSTY!" This time the dog's name was a short, sharp bellow. Still he didn't come bounding back toward them through the twilight.

"Grace love." Ryan tried to soothe his daughter. "I think we should go home for now and when Mum gets back I'll come back to look for him again; he's obviously run off a bit further than usual today, but he's bound to get bored after an hour or two, he'll get hungry, then he'll want to come home. Don't worry; he can't be too far away."

Grace looked and sounded unconvinced, huffing a childish sigh which said so much without needing words.

"If I can't find him we'll call the Dog Warden and put him up on the lost pets' websites: We'll get him back!" Ryan said with emphasis.

Three hours later, with Grace safely at home being consoled by Michelle, Ryan was back searching the Common. He shouted half-heartedly a few times; and shone his torch around the deserted park, now tinted a dim dirty orange by the glow of distant street lights. But it was clear Rusty was nowhere around. To be truthful Ryan wasn't that bothered if the dog never returned; Michelle and Grace would get over his loss in time, and Buckland would be spared taking him for walks every day.
Ryan called a final time, more for the sake of it than expecting any hope of success. Hearing no joyously reunited rustling from the undergrowth he turned for home. Maybe Rusty would be there waiting, but Michelle hadn't phoned to tell him so. If not, then too bad. He'd have to put his foot down with her about not getting a replacement pet; the savings on dog food and vets' bills would come in very useful with their family finances teetering on a permanent knife edge.

"Bloody dog..." Buckland muttered to himself as he considered how to break the bad news to Grace.

22.14.

Being free at night was a new and strange experience for Rusty. Up until recently he'd been happy enough to sleep indoors, but over the last few days the atmosphere had changed. He knew it; the other animals appeared to be aware of it as well; yet the people who had adopted him into their pack seemed blissfully ignorant. How could they not feel it? At first it had been a vague sense of unease growing over time; similar to what he'd felt just before his previous owner died, but now it was stronger, more insistent; the foreboding of imminent peril was almost palpable. He'd tried to warn his new family but they just couldn't understand. They lacked the senses to do so and the communication gulf between the species was too great to be bridged.