Illustration by Thom Futrell © 2006
Boner's Stand
by Boyd E. Harris © 2006
Illustration by Thom Futrell © 2006
Boner's Stand
by Boyd E. Harris © 2006
Jimmy Ray pulled the rubber band off the San Antonio Express News, unrolled it and there it was. The whole front page dedicated to the events that had literally shaken the world.
Yesterday a massive earthquake had impacted Central Mexico causing destruction and power outages from Argentina to Nova Scotia. But in Mexico it had been tremendous. Covering a third of the page was a low resolution photograph of a mushroom cloud blooming up over the Copper Canyon in the Sierra Madres. A horrific new volcano erupted and a fault line gave way, cracking Mexico City in half. It would be a while before they could estimate the death toll, though the Mexican President announced it to be into the hundreds of thousands. The report in the paper cautiously suggested the figure to have already reached the millions.
A similar occurrence was triggered in the South Pacific Region, not far south of Fiji. An eighty foot tsunami swallowed a string of Islands whole and destroyed entire cities on the coast lines of Australia and New Zealand.
Extinct volcanoes all over the world began to awaken and a powerful earthquake near Japan triggered critical mass at two separate nuclear power plants, killing over a hundred thousand instantly and exposing millions more to deadly levels of radiation. The futile attempt to evacuate the entire island of Japan caused panic and many resorted to rioting, doing anything they could to get out of danger's way. In a brave attempt, China, Korea and Russia bonded together with the U.S. to coordinate efforts. Sadly, reports claimed that most Japanese had been radiated to a point beyond hope of survival.
Boner, Jimmy Ray's scruffy mutt, lay patiently waiting for his Crunchy Bubba Nuggets, hoping breakfast wouldn't be forgotten again today. Yesterday, he missed his morning grub, as usual, because his master was often too sluggish in the morning to remember, but last night dinner was forgotten because of the terrible tragedy that kept Jimmy Ray glued to the TV set. The night before, well Jimmy Ray had just plain out forgot, and of course, Jimmy Ray didn't really care. Lately, he'd saved a lot of money on dog food as a result of his selective memory.
Jimmy Ray looked at Boner and said, "Hey loser, think I should call Paula today?" He folded the paper over to read the bottom half of the page.
Boner lay on the floor, chin pointing toward Jimmy Ray. His wiry brows bounced back and forth. He'd been called 'Loser' more often than his own name, so he wasn't sure it wasn't his actual name. He was just happy Jimmy Ray didn't have on his ass-beatin' or his mean-drunk tone of voice.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, Mutt. Frickin' useless."
Boner passed wind, keeping his eyes on Jimmy Ray, but staring off momentarily to divert the question of his guilt. It wasn't loud, but enough to be heard and smelled eight feet away. A bold response for such a timid dog.
"Loser. Yer' no good for nothin'. I'm not even sure I fed you yesterday. Howda' hell can ya' be fartin' with nuthin' in yer gut?" He shook his head and threw the paper on the table. He got up, poured himself a bowl of Captain Crunch and filled it to the rim with milk. His bowl rattled on the counter and he stood looking into it. Tiny waves worked their way outward from the middle of the bowl. It was an aftershock, the fifth or sixth of the morning, and Jimmy Ray was getting pretty used to it.
Sitting back down, he looked at his dog again and said, "Yer' worthless." He threw a wet, mildewed dish rag that hit Boner on the forehead and slipped off. Then he turned to his cereal. The shocks were still causing waves in the bowl.
Though it went unnoticed, Boner raised his scruffy lip, showing his sharp angry teeth for the very first time in his life. He followed it with a dull growl, too low to be picked up by his master across them room.
In the unopened paper on page 2-C, a small article showed a ranch in Wyoming, where a herd of cattle had over run the ranchers, killing all three Cowboys. In section 4-C there was an article featuring an incident at the Kansas City Zoo, where several animals had ganged up and mauled two zoo keepers to death.
Lost in this implausible day of news, were an uncountable number of violent attacks around the world of livestock on ranchers, wild animals on suburban families.
Pets on their owners.
###
Jimmy Ray opened the tail gate of the twenty-year-old rusted-out Ford and Boner jumped in. It was a rare treat for Boner to get a ride, but still he'd give that up, just for a meal. It had been damn near two days.
Jimmy Ray started to get in when he noticed Chuck Barnes's front door wide open, up the street. He drove over and pulled into Chuck's driveway. Leaving his truck running, he walked up to the trailer and poked his head in.
He yelled, "Chuck! You alive in here? Yer door's open." He chortled. "Alright, I'm gonna' turn the lock and close the door."
He closed the door, which pulled free of Chuck Barnes's mutilated body, which twitched quietly, as several nerve endings had not yet realized their fate.
Jimmy Ray returned to his sputtering truck, black exhaust billowing from the tailpipe, stopping momentarily to wonder if Chuck's German shepherd had escaped the wide open house.
Boner paced the bed of the truck, his nose bobbing upward, smelling blood.
Jimmy Ray pulled out of the dirt driveway and began down Cryer Creek Road toward the turnoff to Wimberly. He wouldn't waste such a great opportunity on a phone call to Paula. Suddenly these had become harrowing times. The world could be about to end. Texas hadn't seen a whole lot of damage from the Mexican earthquakes, but the sky was supposed to cloud over with volcanic ash by tomorrow. Paula would have to be emotionally beaten. It would be a time of weakness. A perfect opportunity to go in for the kill.
Jimmy Ray was forty-three and had never been married. She was to be his lucky bride, he hoped. The only reason his loser, good-fer-nuthin' dog was with him today and not tied up in the rear of his trailer in the 98 degree July heat, was because Paula loved dogs. He'd drive right on up to the Jacob's Well Café, and catch her behind the counter in her apron. He'd bring her out to the truck to show her his softer side for animals. She'd never seen Boner before and Lord knows what pity she might have for such a flea bitten turd like him. This would work for sure.
About three quarters of a mile down the road, Boner began to bark.
Jimmy Ray pounded on the side of his door. He yelled out the window. "Shut yer' trap, Dog. Do ya' wanna' ass-whoopin', do ya'?"
Boner cowered to the bed of the truck. He didn't like the word "ass-whoopin'." His emaciated terrier-type body was way too skinny to take many more of those.
Then Jimmy Ray saw what Boner was barking at. It was Chuck Barnes's German shepherd trotting down the middle of the road, ahead. Jimmy Ray held down his horn, yelling and screaming at the dog. "Frickin' idiot mutt!" The dog ignored him and continued its pace right along where the center stripe would be, if Blanco County had enough money to paint it. "'Bout as stupid as Boner, back there."
He passed the dog, swerving around it. The dog had a face full of thick, coagulated blood and meat hung from its teeth. It was carrying an odd shaped bone, covered in gristle and meat, maybe part of a jawbone of something. There were teeth and gums protruding from the strange item.
Jimmy Ray's eyes widened. His Skoal almost flipped out from under his lip as his drawn eyes sank deeper into their sockets. He shuddered and grimaced before turning his attention back to negotiate the bumpy road. What in the world had that critter gotten' into?
Other than the nasty appearance, the dog seamed normal and happy, as it went about its journey down Cryer Creek Road.
Boner sat up to look and Jimmy Ray yelled, "Sit yer' ass back down, loser. I'm not shittin' you. I'll whoop yer' ass good, 'ya piss-happy varmint."
Boner settled back down in the truck bed as Jimmy Ray turned onto Ranch Road 12. He sped the vehicle up, miraculously bringing the clunker to 20 mph over the speed limit. Time was a waistin' and neither he nor Paula were getting any younger.
The late morning sun caused heat waves ahead on the road as Jimmy Ray approached Devil's Backbone. Cedars and live oaks lining the shoulder obscured his view as he began the turn.
He glanced in the mirror at Boner, who was once again poking his head over the side of the truck bed. As he turned his attention ahead, a pack of dogs traveling in the middle of the road, startled him.
Jimmy Ray reacted by cranking the wheel. The truck swerved. His right tires swung into the gravel shoulder and then he made the ultimate mistake - he hit his brakes. The left tires caught hard on the pavement, while the right ones slid back onto the road. He overran one of the dogs, crushing its midsection and skull.
The other dogs in the pack watched, their teeth rising from blood crusted faces.
The truck continued its swerve to the left side of the road, running off the shoulder. Jimmy Ray began to turn back in and saw the Devil's Backbone guard rail approaching. He hit it dead on, lifting the right side of the vehicle over it. He ran along the guardrail for several seconds before his right tires fell back on the left side. The truck slid another twenty feet coming to a stop on the edge of the cliff overlooking Devil's Backbone.
The truck's front tires hung over the edge of the cliff and the front end teetered. Jimmy Ray looked out his window and saw nothing but trees two hundred feet down. He carefully leaned over to the other side and looked out, only to see the same thing. He turned around to the center window in the back of the cab and slid it open. He was about to crawl through, when he saw Boner, staring at him from the back, with one paw on the tailgate.
"Hey Boner," he pleaded nervously. "Stay boy. Be a good boy and stay."
Boner's tail winced and then wagged with caution. He pulled his paw off the tail gate and dropped his head. The tone of Jimmy Ray's voice was pleasant. Something he hadn't heard in a long time. Boner turned and raised his head. His scraggly tail began to thump the side of the tail gate.
He began forward to his master and Jimmy Ray's voice became sharp. "No! No!"
Boner stopped, confused. His tail froze.
"Stay there Boner." Jimmy Ray lowered his voice again. "Yer a good boy!"
Boner sat in place at the tail of the truck.
Jimmy Ray began crawling through the window. Trying not to become too anxious, he pleaded with the dog. "It's okay, boy."
The pack of dogs approached from behind, barking and howling at Boner.
Boner looked at them and they stopped. He looked back at his master, who was halfway through the window.
"Be a good boy, Boner," Jimmy Ray begged. "Jimmy Ray here thinks yer' a good boy."
Then something began to shake the truck. Jimmy Ray looked all around, confused. Another aftershock, ill-timed, further threatened the truck's balance on the cliff's edge. Jimmy Ray panicked and began kicking his legs frantically, trying to find something with his feet to help push him through the tiny window. As he fell through, he turned and saw Boner's angry teeth pointing directly at him from the other side of the truck bed. The truck continued to shake and began to slide over the edge.
If a dog was capable of a smirk, that's what Jimmy Ray saw next, just before Boner turned and jumped over the tailgate.
Boner didn't look back to see the truck flop over the edge of the cliff.
The aftershock settled and Boner meandered over to his new friends, sniffed a few crotches and allowed them to return the favor. After a few minutes, the pack began back down the middle of Ranch Road 12 and the new member, the only one without blood on his face, began to follow.
Just as Boner was about to catch up, he heard groaning from the bottom of the cliff. All the dogs stopped and turned their heads. Boner worked his way to the edge of the cliff to look over. At the bottom lay Jimmy Ray, looking up at him, blood oozing from a barely recognizable face onto his Lynard Skynard t-shirt, and his right arm and both legs were bent backwards in their joints. He was lodged under the passenger side of the crushed truck that lay on its side.
Jimmy Ray moaned, "Boner, don't leave me."
Boner walked along the ridge for a hundred feet or so and found a gradual grade leading to the bottom.
He looked at the blood-crusted faces of his new friends. He was still different than them. He turned back to his master and descended to the resting place of the mangled truck.
Jimmy Ray looked up at Boner with friendly eyes of relief.
Boner inched closer. This time he made sure Jimmy Ray could hear the dull growl rolling from deep within his chest and through his increasingly visible fangs. It was time to prove his worthiness as a new member of the pack, and more importantly, it was time for his first meal in damn near two days.
The End
"Boner's Stand" was written in July, 2003, one and a half years before the strike of the devastating Asian tsunami.
I peddle ice cream by day and horror by night. This is my 24 hour assault plan to dish out the chills.
In August of 2003 I joined R.J. Cavender's Horror Library and became Terrible Twelve Author #13. Gotta' love that number. Recently I became the operations manager for the Terrible Twelve Authors of the site and the fiction the Horror Library presents. I am currently a senior editor for Dark recesses press PDF print magazine, and I am the publisher of Cutting Block Press, which is scheduled to release the Butcher Shop Quartet novella anthology in the late spring of 2006.
My work has appeared in Horror Express Magazine, Maelstrom One Anthology, NFG Magazine, Thirteen Magazine, Insidious Reflections, The Lightning Journal, and will soon appear in The Morbid Fantastic online magazine and the Horror Library Presents print anthology.
