the care taker and his dogs

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Holding the end of a small torch between his teeth, the burglar opened each dresser drawer and quickly rifled through its contents. He threw sweaters, blouses, and socks out of his way, all the while running his hands along the bottom and sides of each drawer, feeling into each corner. He imagined he would find an envelope with money in it, a little jewelry box, a key. He found nothing.

“Damn!”

He took the torch back in his hand and walked over to the closet door. He had already searched between the mattresses on the bed. He even searched under the bed. The only place left to look was the closet. Reaching for the doorknob he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he bumped into the closet door. Someone tall stood behind him in the dark room. His heart racing, he pointed his torch at the shadowy figure.

“Hey! Get that light out of my eyes!”

It was Vance.

          “Bloody hell!” Cameron said, switching off his torch, “Don’t sneak up on me!”

          “I wasn’t sneaking,” Vance said, “I thought you heard me.”

          “Why aren’t you keeping watch?” Cameron asked.

“I am keeping watch,” the taller man said. He walked over to the window and pulled the drapes back to look outside. “There! Nothing! There’s probably not a car within ten kilometers of this place.”

“What do you want?” Cameron asked.

Vance walked back over to Cameron. “I don’t know about this whole thing,” he said, lowering his voice, “That guy’s mad.”

“You better not let him catch you,” Cameron said, “Not up here talking to me.”

Vance shook his head. “Why did he have to go and kill the old guy?’

“You saw it yourself. He reached for his gun. It was kill or be killed, self defense.”

“One bullet is self defense,” Vance said, “One bullet and two to the head is murder.” He put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it. He turned away for a moment, looked at the door. When he turned back his voice faltered.

“Cameron, we could’ve knocked the old guy out. We could have tied him up.”

“He saw our faces,” Cameron said, “He’d recognize us.”

Vance shook his head, still not convinced. Cameron suddenly reached out and grabbed the taller man by the shirt collar. He pulled his face close to him.

“Listen to me,” he whispered, “You signed up for this. You knew somebody might get hurt.”

“Hurt, yes….. but killed?”

“It’s done now,” Cameron said forcefully, “It’s finished, alright? Let’s do what we came here to do.”

He let go of Vance, who stepped back, straightened his shirt. Cameron turned his back on him and opened the closet door.

“You better get back downstairs,” he said over his shoulder, “before Cole finds you’re gone.”

Vance left Cameron searching the bedroom closet. He walked out into the dark hall. A floorboard creaked beneath his foot. He switched on his torch and jumped when a light shined on him. At first he thought it was Cole. Then he realized it was only his reflection in a large mirror mounted on the wall. Feeling silly he found the stairs and quickly descended.

The old, rich woman who lived at the house was away for the evening, attending a social event, a party for a writer friend of hers. Several weeks before Vance had read about it in the paper. He told Cameron, because he knew his old mate burglarized homes to “keep up on his payments” as he liked to say. Vance wanted in on the action, but Cameron hesitated to introduce him to Cole. Finally several days before the night of the party, he relented.

“I guess I’ve got no one to blame but myself,” Vance grumbled to himself. He recalled their first meeting.

Cameron arranged everything. They met in a pub on the east side. Vance had heard of Cole, but never met him until that afternoon. When he got his first look at him, he realized he might have made a mistake. Cole had small, penetrating eyes that seemed to sink deep back into his skull. Thick, dark eyebrows underlined his receding hairline. He scowled at Vance, didn’t reach across the table to shake his hand.

Instead he turned to Cameron and said, “Why’d you bring this Nancy boy along?”,

Vance was smart enough to know to keep his mouth shut. Cameron stuck up for his old mate. He explained how Vance used to drive a taxi. He knew all the roads and alleyways. Cameron also spoke highly of Vance’s ability as a mechanic. But he didn’t mention Vance was an out-of-work mechanic.

“So now we need a chauffer?” Cole asked.

“This next place is big,” Cameron said, “We’re going to need a lookout.”

He went on to explain how he scouted out the old lady’s place recommended to him by Vance. The house was several kilometers from the nearest town out along an old country road. It sat all by itself up on a hill above a river. Cameron reported it looked ripe for the picking. He had seen some very nice furniture in the front room.

“And where there’s nice furniture…..” Cameron smiled.

“There’s bound to be money,” Cole smiled back. It looked more like a leer to Vance.

“The good news,” Cameron said, pausing to sip his beer, “there’s no alarm system.”

“Are you sure?” Cole asked.

“I tried to sell her one,” Cameron said, “explained all the benefits. She wouldn’t hear of it. Something about living in a good neighbourhood.”

Vance looked away. He had already heard this part of the story.

“What else?” Cole asked.

Vance looked back.

Cameron shrugged his shoulders. “There is an old caretaker. He’s got two dogs. But he lives out back.”

Cole smiled. “I’ll take care of them,” he said cracking his knuckles.

It was then Vance noticed a swastika tattooed on Cole’s right middle finger. He shivered recalling the look Cole gave him when he caught him staring at it.

In the end it was agreed for a share of the take Vance would be the lookout. They would also let him drive the old car Cole borrowed from his sister. It bothered Vance that they didn’t say for how much of a share. But he didn’t complain, at least not in front of Cole.

Vance reached the ground floor of the old house. He quickly looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no sign of Cole. He wondered what possessed him to leave his post and go upstairs to talk to Cameron in the first place. Cameron was right. If Cole knew he left, there would be hell to pay.

He slinked into the front parlor and peered out the window into the night. The clean, well-kept front lawn of the estate spread out before him like the fairway of a golf course, disappearing into the darkness beyond the light of a couple spotlights on the front of the house. A driveway ran right down the middle of the yard. It was empty, the way it looked the last time he checked. He looked at his watch. It was 11:57.

“Come on,” he thought, “How long does it take to rob a house?”

He figured he would have finished the job himself in ten minutes.

“Get in and out as quickly as possible,” he thought, “Grab something of value and beat it. Don’t waste time rifling through an old lady’s underwear drawers.’

To prove his point, he walked over to a little coffee table. He remembered Cole telling him not to touch anything. In the dark he could make out something on the table. He reached down and carefully picked it up. It was a smooth stone in the shape of an egg and a little brass stand to set the egg in. He ran his fingers over the stone. It felt expensive. He looked up to make sure he was alone. Then he quickly pocketed the egg, setting the empty stand back on the coffee table.

“Don’t touch anything…..” he sneered, “this is probably worth more than anything those two idiots will find.”

Vance walked out of the front parlor across the hall and toward the back of the house. He glanced at his watch again. It now read 12:01. He worried the old lady might come back at any minute. If she did, they had agreed on a plan. He was supposed to call to Cameron and Cole. When the old woman came in the front door, they planned to slip out the side door. Their car waited for them there, hidden in the shadows.

But after the way Cole brutally shot the caretaker and his dogs, Vance began to worry what would happen if the old woman really did show up. Maybe Cole wouldn’t want to slip out the side door? Maybe he had plans for the rest of the bullets in his gun? Vance didn’t want to find out. He just hoped the old woman didn’t return home until they cleared out.

Reaching the back of the house, he was suddenly startled by the sound of a slamming door. He heard swearing coming from down the hall, and he knew it was Cole.

“Bloody idiot!” he mumbled to himself.

Through a small window Vance glanced out the back of the house into the garden. There was only one spotlight on this side of the house, so it was mostly shadows. But something caught his eye. He squinted and put his face up close to the glass to get a better look. He thought he saw something….. someone…..

“Cameron! Cole!” he shouted, “Cameron! Cole!”

He heard footsteps upstairs hurry across the floor. Cameron came down the stairs just as Cole came running up the ground floor hall. Both of them carried gym bags. Cole had his slung over his back.

“Old lady’s back?” Cole asked.

“No,” Vance said. He pointed out the back window, “look out there!”

Cameron and Cole went up to the window and peered out into the garden. There was a moment of disbelief before either of them spoke.

“What the hell?” Cole asked nobody in particular.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Vance asked.

“And his two dogs,” Cole said.

“I thought you took care of him?” Cameron asked.

“I did!” Cole said with anger in his voice.

“You think he rang up the police?” Vance asked.

Cole ignored him. He handed his bag of stolen goods to Cameron.

“Go put all this stuff in the car,” he said. He reached under his shirt and took out his gun tucked into his belt. Vance stepped back.

“I’ll take care of him for good this time,” Cole said.

He left them and headed for the back door.

“What if he rang up the police?” Vance asked.

Cameron handed Vance one of the bags. “There’s no line out there,” he said, “I checked it myself.”

They quickly made their way to the side door where they first broke into the house. Cameron kicked the door, and it flew open, banging into the side of the house, breaking more glass. He walked over to the car.

“Open it up!” he said to Vance.

Vance reached into his pocket and found the keys. “We should just go and leave the old man alone!” he said fumbling with them.

“Hurry up!” Cameron shouted.

Vance got the boot of the car open. Cameron set both bags in and slammed it shut.

“Get the car started,” he said to Vance.

But Vance had walked over to the corner of the house. He peered around into the garden. He saw Cole strutting across the lawn toward the old caretaker. He bit his lip. Cole said something, then pointed his gun and fired. Vance jumped as the shot rang out across the yard.

“Get the car started!” Cameron shouted.

But Vance couldn’t leave the spot. He watched Cole shoot again and again. Bang! Bang! Bang! The shots rang out across the yard. But the old caretaker didn’t fall. He just stood there. As the echo of the last shot faded, he heard Cole cursing. He threw his gun. Then the caretaker released his dogs. They charged at Cole, leapt up on him, brought him down to the ground. Vance turned away.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cameron asked coming up behind him.

“They got him!” Vance said, “The dogs got him, Cameron.”

“What are you talking about? Get in the car,” Cameron ordered.

But Vance started to back away, shaking his head.

“Get in the car!” Cameron shouted.

He tried to grab hold of him, but Vance was quicker. He dropped the keys, turned and ran.

“Where are you going?” Cameron shouted after him. He watched his old mate run away across the yard.

“Idiot!” he said, knowing full well that Cole would beat Vance to a pulp for running off. “He’s going to put you in the hospital!”

He walked over and picked the keys up off the ground. He peeped around the corner of the house, expecting to see Cole running up. Instead he saw the caretaker still standing in the middle of the yard. Where the hell was Cole? He noticed the caretaker’s dogs a few feet from the old man. They were on to something, viciously biting and snarling. Cameron squinted in the dark. He saw arms flailing, legs kicking.

“Jesus,” he said.

He watched unable to move until the struggle stopped. Cole had stopped moving. The dogs trotted back over to the side of the caretaker. The old caretaker turned and faced in Cameron’s direction.

“He can’t see me,” Cameron said, “How can he see me?”

The caretaker pointed and the dogs started running toward Cameron.

He ran for the car. Quickly he climbed in, shut the door behind him, and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared into life on the first try. He shifted into gear and hit the pedal to the floor. Tires screeching, the car lurched forward. He shifted into second gear as the car raced out of the shadows around the corner of the house. In a few seconds it reached the long driveway. He shifted into third. Holding the pedal to the floor, the car accelerated madly.

“It’s too late for Cole,” he said, “Too late. There was nothing I could do.”

He looked back over his shoulder. He saw the dogs racing across the lawn, chasing after the car. For a moment he thought they might catch him, but he shifted into fourth and the car started pulling away. Looking in his rearview mirror he now saw them falling behind.

“I’ll get away,” he told himself, “I’ll get away!”

As he approached the road, he let up off the gas pedal. He needed to slow down to manage the turn onto the main road. But then he saw was someone standing right in the middle of drive just before the gates. At first he thought it might be Vance. He started to roll down his window. But he stopped when his headlights shined on the figure.

“Aw Christ!” Cameron muttered.

It wasn’t Vance. It was the caretaker.

He pushed the gas pedal to floor and accelerated, heading straight for the old man. Honking the car horn, he shouted, “Out of the way! Out of the way!:.

In the moment before the car struck, Cameron turned his head and shut his eyes, bracing for the impact. But there was none.

“Did he jump out of the way?”

He took his foot off the gas and turned to look back over his shoulder. The caretaker and his dogs were in the back seat.

Down in the woods Vance heard an explosion. He stopped to look back up the hill. But he hesitated only for a moment before starting down toward the river again. He stumbled through thick underbrush, smacking his shin against a log. He twisted his ankle, stumbled. The next thing he knew he found himself sprawled on the ground. He got back up, started running again. A branch smacked into his face. He tried to head straight down the hill, but like a pinball he kept banging into something that sent him reeling back.

“If I can only make it to the river,” he told himself, “Please let me make it to the river.”

A couple times Vance thought he heard something in the woods behind him. He looked back, but he couldn’t see anything in the darkness. He kept running, tripping over tree roots, cutting his face and arms on branches he couldn’t see. Finally the ground leveled out. He reached the bottom of the hill. He could hear the rushing water now, just ahead of him. His leg muscles hurt. He pushed himself on. The next time he stumbled, he fell into mud.

Vance felt it thick and pasty on his hands. Its acrid smell was in his nostrils. He picked himself up, stumbled forward. A few steps later, he splashed into water, He had reached the river. He waded out from the bank, trying to keep his balance on the slippery stones beneath his feet. Slowly the river wrapped its chilly waters around him. He shivered. His body began to grow numb. He kept wading deeper into the river until it swallowed him up and carried him off.

An hour later on the verge of exhaustion, Vance climbed out of the river. The water had been chilly, but when the cold morning air hit him, he felt what little energy he had draining away. He needed to find someplace warm. As quick as his legs would allow, he scrambled up the embankment. At the top he found a picnic shelter and a sign. The sign read “Keep dogs out of the river” in big letters and “By order of the City Park Commission” in smaller letters below.

He laughed. Tears came to eyes. He had made it. The river brought him all the way back to the city. He knew this area, the river park near Hastings. He used to work in this area. He knew a coffee shop not far away. He started walking. He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He knew it would be soaked, but he wanted to see how much money he brought with him. But instead of his wallet his hand found something smooth.

He pulled it out. The stone egg! Just at that moment the sun breached the treetops. The first rays of warm sunshine gleamed down on him. In the morning light he could now get a better look at the stone egg. It was completely black, smoothed and polished so he could see his reflection in it. It felt cold in his bare hand, like holding a snowball. Vance looked up. He suddenly stopped in his tracks. Not fifty yards in front of him stood the caretaker and his dogs.

The End