The cliche that life flashes before someone's eyes as they face death was a load of bull. With her life hanging in the balance, Arryn only saw sharp teeth flying towards her in slow motion—no edited movie reel of the highlights of her existence. Fear imprisoned her thundering heart.
The force of the creature's paws ripped her off her feet, sending her toppling backward into the grass. A loud gasp escaped her lips as the harsh impact knocked the wind from her sails. Breaths escaped in shallow gasps.
Saliva dripped from the dog's mouth — the same cream-colored foam she saw with the deer. The warm droplets landed on Arryn, slipping down her cheeks in slimy trails. A rancid smell, like the scent of fish left out in the sun all day, radiated from the creature's mouth.
Bile burned at the back of her throat, her empty stomach threatening to empty its contents.
This was it.
Irony at its finest.
The day her life supposedly began would be the day it ended.
Would it be painful? Fast? How would her parents react? Would they be resentful at her for disobeying them? Or would they be too devastated by grief at the loss of their only child to place blame on something or someone?
Her fingernails scavenged the soil, desperate to find something to protect herself with—a stick or a stone would offer her a sliver of a chance. But the only object she found was the earth trapped underneath her fingernails—the same dirt her blood would soon water unless a miracle happened.
Black spots clouded her vision. No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't breathe. Only shaky wheezes came. Around her, the world spun like a carousel. She no longer felt in control of her actions. Someone else now held the strings.
The beast drew its head back, opening its jaws wide. Remnants of the last meal it ate lay wedged between the pointed daggers.
She closed her eyes.
Goodbye Mom and Dad.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, clenching a fist into the dirt.
A sickening crunch sounded above her. She tensed. Clutching the dirt harder, she waited for the pain to follow.
A heavy pressure fell on her throat, constricting her airway. Breath evaded her as the panic set in even further.
Adrenaline flooded her veins, dulling her senses to the agony she experienced. Wet heat engulfed her neck. Blood. Her blood. She refused to open her eyes. A scarlet bath was not how she wanted to remember her last seconds here on earth.
And just as suddenly as it came, the weight lifted from her body.
"Arryn! Arryn, wake up! Please. Please be okay," a voice desperately pleaded. Rough hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her violently.
Stars greeted her like an old friend. Lincoln popped into view, blocking out the night sky. Red, watery eyes met hers.
His bottom lip quivered. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was too late." A tear slipped down his cheek.
He eased her up into a sitting position, the world still rotating. Her hand shot up to her throat, meeting a sticky liquid that clung to her palm in thick stands as she pulled away.
Black. Black blood painted her palm like a canvas.
"How—" She stopped herself when she saw a golf club covered in black goop in Lincoln's hands. On the ground beside her, the labrador twitched.
Lincoln wrapped her in a hug, stroking her hair with his hand. "I almost lost you." He sniffled, pulling her even closer to him.
She trembled in his arms, tears trickling down her cheeks. The damp, sticky heat at her throat served as a constant reminder of what just happened. Even his comforting embrace couldn't mend the damage done. Nothing could.
Muttering, along with the sound of phone cameras going off, surrounded the two.
"Is it dead?" a girl asked.
"What's wrong with it?" a gruff voice followed.
"Is she okay? Arryn is her name, I think."
Absent of any warning, the dog shot up beside them, sending the crowd scrambling back. A dunking sounded as a few people toppled into the pool in surprise. With lightning fast speed, the creature lunged toward Arryn. Rough hands pushed her out of the way, sending her face first into the damp grass. A bitter flavor settled in her mouth as a clump of dirt slipped past her teeth and onto her tongue. The soil moistened into mud, clinging to every surface in her mouth.
She spit the muddy soil out of her mouth, flicking her eyes back to where she sat seconds ago. The Labrador had Lincoln pinned, viciously snapping at his face. He tried raising his arms to protect himself, but the creature grabbed a hold of his sleeve and shook violently.
His scream echoed.
Lincoln scrambled for the golf club sitting just out of reach. He wouldn't reach it in time. The creature was too powerful.
Snapping out of her daze, she dove for the club. Her arm throbbed, the movement stretching the bruised muscle. But she didn't care. Saving Lincoln was worth the pain.
The dog seemed too transfixed on Lincoln to pay her any attention as she wrapped the club in her sticky palms. Raising to her feet, she readied her stance and took a hard swing. A high-pitched yelp let her know that she had successfully hit her target.
A snarl rang in her ears, the beast turning on her. Wine tinted foam mixed with the cream, seeping from the dog's jowls. An indent had formed on the animal's skull from where the club struck. Still, the creature advanced toward her, seeming angrier than ever.
The dog hunkered down, looking ready to pounce again. Malice lingered in its eyes. It wanted nothing more than to kill. Teeth flashed again. Horrible, bloodied teeth.
Arryn shuddered.
Placing one paw forward, the dog broke out in a run. Grass flew as the creature circled her, waiting to catch her off guard.
She swung, meeting only air. With a growl that sounded like a cocky laugh, the dog sprang at her.
A crack whistled through the air. The dog went limp midair, falling to the ground at her feet. A circular wound penetrated the skull, secreting the same black substance that covered her neck.
Austin stood in the doorway holding a small handgun. On his face, a bewildered expression lay as he stared at the dog in horror. Claire pushed past him, covering her mouth in shock as she saw them.
Sirens sounded in the distance. The crowd ignited into a blaze of whispers once more.
"I'm leaving. This party blows," a girl said, rolling her eyes. "Learn how to throw a party, Austin."
"Lincoln!" Arryn exclaimed, rushing over to him.
He was hurt and it was her fault.
Terror filled his eyes as he glanced down at his arm. Blood gushed from his wounds. The dark liquid quickly soaked through the cotton material of his jacket. His face contorted into one of pain.
"Why? Why would you do that?" she asked, kneeling down and applying pressure to the deep punctures. She could feel the wound beating like a heart under her shaky hands. "It was stupid."
Her hands made contact with his skin and he sucked in a sharp breath. "I couldn't let you get hurt. Not again."
"You're a stupid, stupid man Lincoln Mosely."
"You're alive. That's all that matters to me."'
"You could have been killed," she scolded in tears.
"You could have too. Besides," he paused, sucking in another breath, "I'm going to live."
"Arryn," Claire's voice pulled her back to reality.
"We need to get him to a hospital. Think you can help us up?" Arryn asked. With the adrenaline beginning to fade, the bruising on her chest decided it was a great time to announce its presence.
"Did... did that dog attack you?" Claire asked, helping Arryn get Lincoln to his feet. "I was inside and heard screaming and a gunshot."
Arryn's stomach twisted. Tears pressed against the dam she had built inside. She wanted to give in, but she needed to stay strong. At least for now.
"It was just like the deer, Claire. The foamy mouth and relentless aggression. Lincoln needs to be treated for rabies ASAP."
Arryn and Claire pulled Lincoln off the ground. His groans of pain protested against the movement.
"Looks like someone had enough sense to call 9-1-1." Lincoln nodded his head in the direction of the flashing lights coming up the driveway.
"Hallelujah," Arryn whispered, letting out a breath of relief.
Austin walked toward the three of them, his eyes wide. He gulped, twitching his fingers at his side. "W-was there a name tag on that dog?"
"Yeah," Arryn answered confused. "I think its name was Summer or something like that. Why?"
"Sonny?" Austin's mouth fell open, looking past them at the immobile dog.
"Yes. It was Sonny," Arryn confirmed, still feeling as if she was missing something.
"We buried Sonny three days ago. She's dead."
Arryn let out a gasp.
Lincoln followed with a scoff. "Austin. Lay off the beers, man. Dead dogs don't run around biting people."
Car doors shut in the distance as paramedics rushed across the yard.
"No. You don't understand. We found her dead in the yard—like she had been attacked by something. My dad and I buried her. We made her a little cross and everything."
"What is this, Pet Sematary? Cujo over there was living when it attacked me. Sounds like you need to lay off the Stephen King books and come back to reality." Lincoln grimaced, tensing up under Arryn's arm. "Now you might want to stash your alcohol before they bust you."
Austin didn't move. His horrified gaze returned to the lifeless dog. His genuine terror infected her. She believed him. After everything she saw, she believed him. Drunk or not.
Her gaze followed his, expecting the dog to pop up again and snag another victim.