No Good Deed

Two wolves crouched snarling at each other beside the campfire. One wolf inky black and eyes icy blue, the other white as a fresh snow and amber eyes that betrayed a fiery rage. Their attention turned to Roman standing on the other side of the campfire, and then swept past him. He followed their gaze and saw a glowing trail of smoke growing from the woods. Roman found himself stumbling, running toward the glowing light. The house. The house was burning. He sprinted through the darkness leaping over stones and roots that seemed to grab at his feet as he ran. Finally he broke through the wall of the trees into the clearing where the house was an inferno. A scream of rage and frustration erupted from Roman’s lips. Out of the plume of smoke a raven dove at Roman. It began to grow in size as it closed the distance until it was the side of one of the 40 foot pines. The black eyes of the raven fixed on Roman. With a gust that forced Roman to his knees the wings of the raven encased him and the world was darkness.

Roman woke in nearly complete darkness. A single beam of early morning light escaped through the curtains of the camper. With a deep sigh, Roman rose from bed to face the day. Today was the day after all.

The early morning light glistened over the frost covered landscape of the Colorado Rockies. The surviving embers of a campfire betrayed by a thin line of smoke. A hidden dirt road leading through the pine trees to a glacial lake. A ’78 dodge pickup with faded red paint and a camper trailer overlooked the lake. The door creaked open as Roman stepped out of camper. A young man in his early 20’s, Roman would be handsome with his piercing blue eyes, lean figure with a clear strength and purpose to each of his movements, a result of months of hard labor. Handsome if not for the vagabond air surrounding him. Thin blue jeans - a patchwork of holes and t-shirt patches, the unkempt hair and beard and a crooked nose that at some time in the past had failed to be set properly. His eyes slid over the campsite and past to the lake, eyes pausing for a nearly imperceptible moment before he shivered slightly and rubbed his calloused hands together and stiffly moved to the the small remaining supply of firewood from the night before he stooped to breathe life back into the embers. First adding small pieces of kindling, smaller sticks, the flames soon licked the remaining logs greedily. This complete, Roman stood and ducked back into the camper momentarily before returning with a cast iron skillet in one hand, coffee pot in the other, bacon wrapped in paper, and a carton of eggs. Returning to the fire, he rested the carton ground and nestled the skillet and the coffee pot in the coals. From the paper, two thick strips of bacon he placed on the skillet. They hit the pan with a satisfying hiss. As the bacon began to cook, Roman rose and made his way towards the shore of the lake.

The surface of the lake was glass. He knelt viewing his untidy appearance with a grimace. Roman locked eyes with his reflection and unceremoniously plunged his head into the surface of the lake. With a gasp of air and a vigorous shake of his head that sent ripples across the lake, he scrubbed his bare chest with the dripping water.

He returned to the campfire just in time to flip the bacon and crack three eggs in the along side the bacon. Ducking back into the camper, he soon returned with a plate and fork, and a mug. Breakfast ready, he promptly inhaled the contents of the skillet and washed it down with the mug of now piping hot black coffee. Breakfast now complete he quickly tidied the campsite and hopped in the truck. The old dodge engine roared to life.

Roman followed the dirt road north following the shoreline of the lake until an A-frame house appeared, nestled amidst the towering pines.

Roman followed the dirt road south slowly making his way until he hit the main road leading into town. The windy mountain road was more akin to a wagon trail that had been paved over, which was in fact it was, and the truck soon crested a hill coming into view of the town sprawling in the valley below.

The truck rolled to a stop at his first stop of the day in front of the Frank’s Hardware Store. Roman grabbed the ball cap on the dash and fixed it to his head in an attempt to contain the wild mane of unkempt hair as he made his way to the front doors. Upon entering, Roman made his way to the counter where Leslie, the manager, was in a heated exchange, as usual, with Elliott Thompson, a large, sweaty, and imposing figure clad in his Sheriff’s uniform compared to the slight but feisty figure of Leslie.

“Elliott, for the last time I haven’t seen your dog and no one else in town has either, so it’s no use going and bothering everyone else about it. Besides, even if someone had seen it they wouldn’t be telling you about it after the scene you caused last week.”

With each word from Leslie, Elliott’s face grew more and more red until, like a pimple, he burst.

“Some fine town this is! I can remember a time not so long ago that the name Elliott Thompson was respected! And people knew what neighborly meant! Aww so I shot the last dog in the middle of the street! Fucker deserved it after he tried attacking me.”

Leslie spread her arms out in exasperation.

“I rest my case.”

Roman stepped up next to Elliott, who reeked of stale beer now that Roman was close enough to smell him. He cocked an eye at Leslie:

“Trouble Leslie?”

Elliott spun on Roman.

“What the fuck do you want Roman?”

Roman locked eyes with the sad excuse for a man in front of him, a hardness to his expression that denoted imminent violence paired with an inviting smirk as Elliott glowered at him, cheeks flushing a deeper color of red.

“Something I say amused you?”

Pieces of spittle flew from Elliots lips in frustration.

“No trouble here, Roman, Elliott was just leaving. Weren’t you Elliott?”

Roman held Elliott’s gaze for another moment before turning his attention back to Leslie.

“Is that so? Well then, my apologies Elliott, I wouldn’t want to impede the search of our most beloved lawman for…your new dog was it?”

Elliott scanned back and forth from Leslie to Roman and finally huffed.

“One of these days Roman I’m going to give you and everyone in this shit hole town what they deserve.”

And with that Elliott turned on his heel and stomped out the front door of the store.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it Roman, but you really should be careful of Elliott. He has a mean streak in him that you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of. Anyway, what can I do for you? Here to pick up that stove, right?”

Roman relaxed his shoulders as he turned back to the counter, and nodded, the dark hardened expression melting in an instant replaced by the good natured and the friendly demeanor.

“That’s right, the stove is the last piece to finish the house and just in time. Gotta pick Estelle up from the airport late tonight. Won’t she be surprised? she still thinks I haven’t finished the bathroom or the deck.”

Leslie smiled knowingly at the spark in Roman’s eyes as he spoke of Estelle and the house he had spent the last 9 months building in preparation for the child soon to come. They had gotten to know each other quite well as the months had gone by. Roman could have gone to Home Depot or Lowes or some other hardware store, but he had chosen this place, her place. Many times their discussions boiled down to the rightness of building something with your own two hands. The house was more than just a house. It was the life that he was building for himself and Estelle away from the city life he claimed was so consuming and deleterious to his shifted vision for how he wanted to spend his life.

“I’ll have Ned and one of the boys load the stove up for you if you’ll swing around to the loading dock.”

Roman grunted in response, and then cracked a wide grin. An ongoing joke between the two and side effect of spending so much time apart from people and conversation.

The boys loaded the stove into the bed of the dodge as Roman untangled the tie downs. The stove secured, Roman made his way to the gas station before heading out of town. As he pulled up to the pump he noticed a young couple, teenagers by the look of them, arguing over the popped hood of their beater car. The girl had neon purple shoulder length hair, threw the keys at the boy, dressed in all black, sweating and elbow deep in the engine bay, and strode into the convenience store. Roman chuckled to himself as he the pump clicked.

As he drove out of town his mind drifted. Listless thoughts of a deep and hollow longing. No words to fully understand both the endless emptiness and the fire that drives him forward. Impossible to satisfy the insatiable hunger and appetite that defines fire. A force of both creation and destruction, of life and death. A razor’s edge. The jagged ridge line of a mountain range; the way forward is a narrow path, rising and falling like a sine wave, either side of you and endless abyss and one misstep will be your absolute demise. The only way is forward, is to find balance and a fixed point to move toward. That point is ever changing and it is never enough to get to the closest point, as there is always another point to move toward. The difference between a knife being a tool or a weapon. They say that you have two wolves inside you and you are whichever wolf you feed. Wolves. Just like the dream. Roman disagreed. It is fire. The eternal fire that burns in all of us. The giver and the taker of life. Will you let your light smolder or burn brightly? The ones that find a way to keep a consistent flame are the ones that live longer. Burn too brightly for too long you will run out of fuel for the fire, and on the same token if you starve your fire of oxygen or fuel it will die.

His thoughts were interrupted seeing a dog in the middle of the road. Roman slammed on the brakes and swerved to the shoulder of the road just in time to miss the dog. With a deep breath and a quick glance in his side mirror he cautiously stepped out of the truck.

To say the dog was dirty would have been an understatement. Mangy to say the least, and short lines dried of blood covered the dog from head to toe. The dog stood staring, unmoving, a slight low growl directed at Roman as he slowly worked his way toward it. Roman paused, the dog looked familiar underneath the grime. Dark searching eyes stared at Roman. The dog hesitated for a moment and suddenly bolted past Roman. He spun as the dog darted past him and to Roman’s shock he watched the dog fly through the open door into the cab of the truck. Instantly the dog’s expression broke into a smile as it settled into the passenger portion of the bench seat. Roman blinked for a moment and then laughed. Apparently a deal had been struck. With that determined and a momentary hesitation he returned to the truck. The dog smiled and panted happily and made no further threatening moves toward Roman.

The sun had begun to dip below the tops of the trees as Roman followed the dirt road north back to the shoreline of the lake and past the lake until an A-frame house appeared nestled amidst the towering pines. He backed the truck up to the porch of the house and killed the engine. He opened the door to let the dog out of the truck, but it wined and remained lying on the bench seat. Roman shrugged. He disappeared into the house for a few moments returning with a dolly and a bowl of water. He placed the bowl on the floor board of the truck for the dog and then moved to the bed of the truck. The stove was soon removed from the truck and slid into place at the island counter of the expansive kitchen. Roman retracted his arm from behind the stove where he had secured the gas line to the stove, and stood with satisfied sigh. The house itself appeared to be an open layout, the exception of the north wall of the house that had a slanted wall to the ceiling matching the angle of the A-Frame. Behind which, the down stairs bathroom, laundry room/mudroom were hidden. A spiral staircase lead to the upstairs loft/master bedroom. It was tasteful and work of simple sophistication and almost built entirely by Roman.

Roman returned to the campsite with the dog, hopped out of the truck, ducked into the camper and returned quickly with two slices of bacon in one hand, and two towels tucked under the other arm. He opened the passenger door and offered one of the slices of bacon to the dog. It was immediately inhaled. A grin flashed across Roman’s face and he used the second piece of bacon to lure the dog to the shore of the lake.

After some convincing and wrestling of the dog, it was smiling once again, clean and dry. The cuts had all been superficial, although Roman had noted that the dog’s left side and he was sure that the dog had been kicked. Not hard enough to break anything but hard none-the-less.

“Well it’s time to get out of here and get to the airport” he announced to the dog. The dog cocked its head in response, barked, and bolted back up the hill to the truck. It was sitting waiting for him when Roman finally crested the hill. Roman grunted, changed into some jeans about half as warn and a clean t-shirt.

The truck turned back onto the blacktop, man and dog, as the last light of the sun gave way to the night. The silent tranquility of driving settled over Roman, the dog now asleep curled up beside him. His thoughts wandered once again, part with anticipation of Estelle’s arrival, part still returned to the disturbing dream of the previous night as he came upon a car broken down on the side of the road. He pulled off to the side as he recognized the car from earlier that day. The teenagers from the gas station.

“Thanks for stopping mister” the girl with the purple hair called as Roman stepped out of the truck.

“What seems to be the issue?”

The boy came around from the front of the car. The glow of the cigarette bud casting a sinister glow to his features.

“All the lights started flashing and then it just died while we were driving! I just replaced the belt on it earlier. Piece of shit car.” He kicked the door of the car slamming it shut.

“Well, sound like it could be a bad battery or alternator. Otherwise you’re most likely looking at something electrical. I should have jumper cables in the truck.” Roman opened his door and reached behind the seat for the jumper cables when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to just in time to see the boy raising a short pipe above his head to strike. The dog let out a low growl from behind Roman. The boy hesitated just long enough in his swing for Roman to get part of his arm up. The pipe came down and connected with a thunk against Roman’s forearm and temple. He swung his good hand at the boy connecting with a crunch in his ribs. With a resounding thunk, the pipe came down a second time. Roman sank to his knees, head swimming seeing black spots, ears ringing. In an instant the dog launched itself from the truck and latched onto the boy’s face. His guttural, gurgled screams came in a blinding rage and pain as the boy was flailed about beating the dog with the pipe as it bit down harder into the soft tissue of his face. A crunch of bone, though whether it was the dog or the boy, Roman couldn’t tell. The purple haired girl screamed and ran at the dog. Her attempts to pull the dog free were hindered by the wild swings that now connected with her as much as the dog. The boy fell to the ground at the same time Roman stumbled to his feet. Headlights flooded his vision. Another car coming from town illumined the night. He heard a shout and suddenly the lights were flashing blue and red. The girl looked up, attempted to run, made it ten feet before she dropped and began convulsing on the ground, a wire trial sprouted from her back. This was followed by a gunshot. The boy, now made soft gurgling moans on the ground. Blood seeped onto the ground, the boy’s face and neck a mangled mess. The dog lay motionless beside him.

Someone was shouting at him. Roman became aware they were shouting at him. He looked up and realized it was Elliott. Elliott had shot the dog. The dog had saved him and Elliott had shot him. As if the missing piece of a puzzle clicked into place Roman realized, no, Elliott had shot his dog. The dog he found was Elliott’s.

“Roman? Are you alright? What in the hell happened here? Is that my fucking dog?”

Roman took a deep breath, blood trickling down his face, head still swimming. His response came through gritted teeth.

“Found the dog after I left town earlier. Pulled over to help them, the boy jumped me, dog stopped him before he killed me…had to be you didn’t it?”

Elliott looked at him quizzically, a stupid look on his face. He looked at the scene again taking it all in. The boy lay still at this point. Logan could almost see the gears turning in Elliott’s mind as he pieced things together. Elliott took in a deep breathe and then stepped over to the girl and began handcuffing her. He hauled the girl up and put her in the back of his truck and then lumbered back over to Roman.

“Look, I know you’ve gotta pick up your wife tonight. We don’t get along and I don’t see that changing but I don’t think this was your fault. That being said you should come down to the station to get cleaned up. I’ll get your statement tomorrow.”

The shock must have been apparent on Roman’s face because Elliott let out a half laugh.

“Let’s go before I change my mind. Can you drive?”

Roman collected himself enough to nod. With that the Sheriff lumbered back to his truck and began to pull away. Roman looked at the dog one last time. He knew he would have to explain it all to Estelle but he wasn’t sure how well she would take the addition of a dead dog in the bed of the truck. Gathering his resolve he decided. The dog was in the bed of the truck as he pulled up to sheriff’s office and made his way into the reception area.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged from the sheriff’s office in a clean, pressed shirt, bandaged head, and a blanket to cover the dog. Another strange gift of conscience or perhaps pity from Elliott?

Roman rolled up to the airport arrivals, and in a flurry of smile, shock, alarm, and finally comfort he wrapped Estelle in his arms. She muffled something against his chest and he released her just enough for her to poke her head up.

“I’m driving.”

He laughed and hugged her tighter.