Page 1 of Chaos & Carnage
Chapter One
Demon’s van screamed in protest as I forced the pedal to the floor, racing through the night. The vets were just around the next corner. Only a few minutes away. A few minutes and the dog might make it. Beside me, Kinobi whimpered, blood shining in the streetlights that flooded into the van windows. Blood soaking into the seat beside me. Blood caked on the smooth fur of the dog dying next to me.
I saw the signage as I turned into the street. The big board over the offices stood in the row of terraced homes.Heaton Small Animal Practice. And the lights on the sign were off.
I pushed one leg out of the van before it had really stopped, simultaneously yanking on the handbrake and twisting the key, the engine spluttering, then stopping. Running to the doors, I banged hard. Seconds ticked by. Slowly. The dog losing blood on the passenger seat of the van with each one of those seconds. Fuck. I banged again. Harder.
Where was everyone? Why was no fucker answering? I could break in. The door was only PVC. It would cave inwards in only a few heavy kicks. But then what would I do? I had no idea how to stop the blood. How to pump more blood into the big dog’s body. Fuck! I Banged again, desperate and loud against the door, echoing out into the street and dissipating into a cloudless sky.
Something squeaked nearby.
“What the fuck are you doing? You know what time it is?” The man was angry. What little hair he had left sticking up at all angles.
“The vet! I need the vet!”
“Ring the number. They aren’t there all the time. You have to ring the number!”
“What number?”
“The one on the fucking door!”
The window overhead to my right squeaked again, pulled shut against the harsh cold of a cloudless night. And in front of me the number stood out on the glass. Big black digits, only just visible in the dull glow of the streetlight.
My fingertip slid over the phone screen. The dog’s blood smearing, the numbers not selecting. Fuck. I glanced over my shoulder, into the darkness of the van, knowing the thick shadow on the front street was dying with each stupid fucking second that I wasted. Come on. Come on. I tried again. Fuck. A two, not a four. I wiped my hand on my leg. Then my phone screen. This time, the numbers appeared as I brushed over the buttons. The phone purring against my ear as I pressed the button.
And it purred, and it purred, and it purred.
Then it clicked. The purr stopping, a whoosh of air and a sleepy voice.
“Heaton…” a hesitant woman started.
“I need a vet. The dog. Demon’s dog. It’s dying. Please hurry.”
“Demon’s dog? Never mind,” the woman was awake now. “Where are you? How far out?”
“I’m here at the doors.”
“At the practice?”
“Aye. Hurry. Please?”
“I’m on my way. What’s the problem?”
“I…I…she’s been shot,” I answered eventually. “There’s blood everywhere.”
“Ok. Listen carefully,” her voice had lowered. The sleep from it had cleared. “I’m going to be five minutes. But I need you to slow the bleeding. Get a cloth or a towel. Push it into the wound. You need to slow that bleeding to buy me some time.”
“I don’t have anything!” The tightness in my voice even surprised me. “I have nothing.”
“What are you wearing?”
“What? I don’t think…”
“A t-shirt? Or a jumper? Take it off and push it into the wound. Hold steady. I’m on my way.”
The phone disconnected. Silence descended around me like someone had dropped the sky on top of me, crushing, final.
Her words. The words of a stranger. Calm and confident. Commanding. I yanked my arms from the leather bike jacket, flinging it into the driver’s seat and pulling the white t-shirt over my head. The air assaulted my body. Icy tendrils stroking my skin, sending a shiver coursing through me. On the passenger seat, she whimpered. Light and pitiful. Demon’s first love.