Nightwatch

Biohazard: part 1

Artwork by: Misha Bukharov

I wield the bag of dog shit like a weapon. Despite its loathsome stench this new habit provided a comfort this past week. Nobody in the neighborhood walked at night. Not since some kid found a body by the lake. Poor traumatized thing doesn’t come outside anymore. Dog owners even timed the nightly walks with the sun. Not me though. The sun left silence in its wake. A silence I craved, and I wasn’t going to let some asshole take away that from me.

My dog was the master out here, and she knew it. Guiding me towards whichever smell she deemed worthy of her inspection. I didn’t mind though. Unlike her, I got to go outside whenever I wanted. We scraped our way back up the main road of the community. Passed the pool. Just an hour ago the sounds of summer vacation were seemingly endless. Now the air was thick with quiet. We were almost home. Another walk through darkness survived.

Flash lights appeared down the road.

Shit, spoke too soon.

I straightened my spine and gripped the knotted poop bag. Murderers aren’t known to enjoy shit thrown at them, right? My dog is useless in terms of protecting me against a person. She thinks (rightfully so) that all humans exist to rub her belly. There were at least three people up ahead, and I only had one bag.

“Quick, Slim, I need you to poop,” I whisper.

I looked at her expectantly. Her only response was a tug in the direction of the bobbing lights.

“We really need to work on your hedonistic tendencies," I whisper again.

The lights pause. Measuring the darkness. Sensing me. I never carried a flashlight. It seemed like a beacon of vulnerability to me. Should I call out to them? Invite them into my air space. Make it easier for them to stab me?

A whine from Slim had me looking down. Her ears were pinned back and the butt was wiggling. A sign that she recognized the scent of the encroaching party.

“Jaz, is that you?”

Relief at the familiar voice lasted two seconds before my arm was nearly yanked from its socket.

“Hey David,” I called back, “Slim is coming your way!”

I drop the leash, and watch her take off. I felt silly still clinging to the shit bag, but it is what it is. Dogs poop, and HOA mandates us to pick it up. Which I always did, because nothing ruins your day more than tracking foreign feces through your dwelling.

I enter the splash of dim light on the pavement, and hold up a hand in greeting. Yips and whines of Slim’s appreciation were loud against the quiet surrounding us.

“You really should carry a flashlight Jaz. Especially with everything that’s been going on! I could have mistook you for a threat-”

“and announce my presence for the slasher?” I interjected.

David just quirked a brow and scoffed. As if I was the idiot endangering myself. I took in his companions and grimaced. The drones of the nightwatch stared at me with same exasperated expression. All while white knuckling their flashlights. The poor fools didn’t have a biological war weapon like me, and somehow still felt superior.

“C’mon girl,” I called to Slim, “with me.”

Slim rolled back to her feet, diligently nosing each hand before returning to me with a satisfied tongue wagging smile. Carla, co-chair of the HOA, wiped her hand on her jeans with obvious disgust.

“See anything interesting tonight?” I asked, figuring I should make an attempt at small talk.

The group exchanged glances with me, and suddenly I was in third grade again. Exclusion, like a familiar scent, once felt there was no forgetting just how alone you were. Before they could continue their silent conversation consisting of widening eyes and dipping mouths, I started to walk away. It wasn’t worth it. Whatever excuse they were going throw at me about confidentiality or tragic endings was as thin as my patience.

Carla grabbed my arm though. Tugging me back into the fold. I gave her a questioning look. The concern in her gaze had me searching the others. That’s when I noticed her hands, stained dark. The sweat shining on their brows. Their chests heaving. Finally I found David’s eyes. Pinpricks in the dark.

As always I end with the reminder that these are rough drafts. Not a first step, but a third with a marathon left in order to be book ready. This is a place where I hope you find merit in my ideas. See glimpses of my true talent. Fall in love with the process.

As always patreon is the place to help support the indie author/artist community I work with.