Beta Raptor [Owen Grady]

one

Owen

It's midnight when I arrive back onto the property. I had gone into town a couple of hours ago to run a couple of errands: pick up building supplies, pick up parts for my bike, get beer. Just normal, boring crap. Turning off my truck, Stevie Nicks is replaced with the repetitive pounding of rain outside. It's been pouring non-stop these last few days, making work on the outside of the cabin much harder. If I wasn't so sick of it, I'd find it soothing, but at this point I just want it to stop.

Grabbing my coat from the back seat, I shrug it on and grab the things I had picked up in town. Gravel shifts beneath my feet as I shut the door of my truck and start towards the garage. I should get into the habit of parking in it, that's why I built the damn thing, but until I remember to do so I can't really complain. Unlocking the door and stepping inside, I'm greeted by a familiar loud bark. Feet scramble around the corner, belonging to the big ball of fur I call Steve. His collar jingles as he runs, panting as he barrels towards me and stops at my feet.

"Hey buddy." I chuckle, scratch the top of his head and behind his ears. "How are you doing tonight?"

Steve barks, nudging me with his snout.

"What?"

He barks again, walks in a circle, before darting across the garage to his and Buck's food bowls. They're both empty, so are the water bowls.

"Already? Didn't I feed you guys a couple hours ago?"

Steve snorts as I walk over to my workbench, setting down the stuff in my arms.

"Don't give me that shit. I've been busy."

Steve walks back and forth between the bowl and his bed before nudging the empty bowl. He whines. Thumbing through the contents of the hardware bag, I roll my eyes, flashing him a look.

"Can you give me a minute?"

He whines again, dropping his head to his feet. I groan.

"Fine."

Grabbing the bag of dog food I have tucked behind a couple of boxes, I walk over towards the bowls and pour enough for both of them to last them until the morning. That is, if they don't eat the entire thing in twenty minutes.

"There you go. Happy now?"

He wags his tail, digging into his food.

"Thought so."

Going back to the workbench, I turn and empty the hardware bag onto it, sifting between a couple of items before spotting the jerky I bought. It's not much of a meal, but given how late it is and the fact I haven't ate all day, it's enough to qualify as nutrition.

Next I open the package with the replacement camshaft and rod-bearing I picked up for my motorcycle. I've been meaning to work on it and get it road worthy since April, but since this spring was a busy one, I haven't had much time to work on it. Now that it's raining though, I could get some major work done and have it ready by the end of the week. If it stops raining I can take it on a drive before it gets too hot out. Maybe get my mind off things for a couple minutes.

That sounds like a great plan.

Grabbing a beer from the six pack I bought, I pop the lid off using the side of my bench and lift it to my lips. It's cold and a little shitty tasting, but it'll do. Taking a bite of my jerky, I grab the box of parts and head over to my bike, planting my ass on my stool and get to work.

An hour later I'm covered in a layer of sweat, motor oil and there's grease on my shirt. My third beer is sitting next to me. I'm buzzed, but not that much. It is, though, enough to get me humming along to whatever's on the radio. Well, until my phone blares loudly on workbench behind me, interrupting the iconic Eagles.