Animal Control

By Matthew Tansek

The Animal Control van rolled down the neglected streets at a

sluggish ten miles per hour casting a bright side-mounted spotlight down

the alleyways it passed. It was uncharacteristic for such a van to be out at

such a late hour in such a part of town, but the attacks that had been

reported were grievous and too many beds at Robingrove Hospital had

been filled. Mitch, the driver of the van hated this part of town, and with

each passing darkened alleyway hoped that he might catch a glimpse of a

dog. Hell, any dog would do that at this point he thought, just so long as

the press could see that they were trying. After all, it’s not like they could

cut the beast open and find evidence inside, like it was Jaws or something.

The dirty grey buildings that huddled unusually close together leached

away at his optimism, what little he had, and reminded him how far the city

had fallen. The van rumbled onward.

As the bright spotlight shot down the next alleyway a slight flicker of

movement caught his attention, and with a jolt the van was stopped. One of

the many problems with this part of town was that not even refuse

collection came all that regularly anymore. The yawning gap between the

two buildings with its overflowing dumpsters and heaps of shipping pallets

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provided more than enough concealment for whatever it was that had

ducked out of sight.

The Animal Control man took a step out of the truck and breathed

deep the polluted air. You never really got used to the smell that always

seemed to permeate this part of the city. Often, he would fantasize about

moving back out to the northern country where he had grown up. A place

where the buildings never towered more than two stories, and the warmth

of the setting sun came with a chorus of crickets. But that unfortunately

would take a lot of money, and Mitch, much to his repeated disappointment

had slightly less than a lot of money. Here in this concrete winter the cold

night was already turning the corridors into tunnels of icy wind and

shadow.

Mitch pulled a snare, his trusty set of heavy gloves and a flashlight out

of the truck. Turning, he thought he caught the sound of a single cough or

bark come from the second floor of the abandoned building to his right.

But neither flashlight nor straining eyes could reveal anything but the gaunt

aperture of a glass bare window. The Animal Control man sighed, feeling

less than delighted with the prospect of exploring the grisly cleft before

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him. Another day in paradise he thought clicking the flashlight on and letting the cold air blow away the fatigue and hone his focus.

The wind immediately abated as he entered the deeper gloom and

made him acutely aware of each rustle of his movements. Much to his relief

the stench from two rather beat up dumpsters was muted in the cold and

was only moderately revolting. A grunt brought his attention to a heap of

rotting shipping pallets that dominated the central space of the alley. His

flashlight beam swept over the scene and then suddenly caught the eyes of a

creature seemingly trapped amongst the heap on the far side. Mitch was

not new to this game, having worked with animals for most of his adult life

and was calloused to the sorry state dogs could descend to if left to their

own devices. Fur clumped with dirt or rotten from perpetual moisture,

bloodied or damaged paws, emaciated or sickly bloated bodies distorting

the true shape of the animal. Once he had even called out to collect an

animal that had suffered so severely from hair loss and some sort of mouth

infection that neighborhood kids thought they had seen a monster. But in

that case, as it was in every case, reality had been far more sad than scarey.

But in this case, the dog that Mitch now illuminated with his light seemed

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like it might have been the worst he had ever seen. At least the most

deviant.

It hunched awkwardly half under an overhang of the splintered wood

watching him with bulging yellow eyes that sat almost at the peak of the

head. Streaming mucus from the nose matted the rest of the visible fur and

clumped the hair in an almost reptilian fashion. The mouth, while pulled

back into a defensive snarl, was rimmed with bloated fish like lips and gave

the thing an air of putrid lunacy. A red collar squeezed tightly at the

animal's throat and was hooked at the buckle around a bent nail that

protruded from the adjacent boards.

“It’s ok buddy,” Mitch said soothingly carefully choosing his footsteps

as he moved around the debris, “you don’t want to be out here in the cold

do ya?”

It spat half-choked barks as Mitch grew closer.

Hefting the snare in his left hand, Mitch stepped closer to the animal

trying to ease the chord through the debris and around its neck. “Easy

now”, Mitch continued, setting the flashlight down and taking hold of the

snare’s handle with both hands, “You can’t be running around hurting

people, no matter how bad off you’ve got it.”

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Before the chord could be tightened the creature heaved hard to the

right sending a cascade of splintering wood down and setting free the collar.

“Damnit!” Mitch shouted, watching the animal scramble over the pile

and away towards the other open end of the alleyway. Mitch gave chase, his

jacket tearing as he blundered his way through. Fast little bugger Mitch

thought as he worked to keep up with the animal’s unusual hopping gate.

Up ahead a series of large heavily graffitied and overturned trash bins

blocked the route, and Mitch poured on the steam in anticipation of gaining

on his quarry; but something unexpected happened then. Upon reaching

the obstacle the animal lept hard to the left and launched its scrawny frame

nearly six feet into the air before contorting its body ninety degrees. It then

bounded off of the nearby building at eye level, clearing the cans and

continuing its flight without a moment's delay. Did that thing just

ricochet off the wall? It was then that Mitch questioned just what sort of

animal it was that he was after, and in his dumbfounded state failed his

own vault over the cans. He landed hard on his shoulder, catching the rod

of the snare between himself and the ground and felt it snap beneath him.

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Rolling, he flung himself back upright and kicked the remaining obstacle in

anger as he resumed his pursuit.

Mitch was far from a trained runner but an active life and the ghost of

youth worked in his favor even after taking a spill. He cleared the alley and

hastily scanned the area in the waning sunlight.

The other side of the buildings opened up to the lovely vista of a bent

down chain link fence which at one time enclosed the parking lot behind

the Burger Prince fast food restaurant that butted up to the rear of the

abandoned buildings. Mitch could see a couple of cars making their way

around the building and heard the crackling sound of the fast food intercom

taking their orders. Every second that ticked by Mitch knew reduced the

chances that he would find the animal and he did not want to be out here all

night if he could help it.

Then suddenly another squawking bark rang out in the wind, and

Mitch zeroed in on the enclosed dumpster at the back of the lot. The old

concrete shell that housed the receptacle was falling into severe disrepair,

and although he could not see around it enough to know for certain, he had

a feeling that the animal he had been looking for had taken up behind it.

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With only the heavy duty gloves to protect him Mitch advanced

around to the front of the opening.

~~||~~

The tanks sloshed, the cages rattled and all manner of little voices

cried out in pitiful frustration as the truck that carried them approached the

rear of the little burger joint. The driver of the strange overloaded truck, a

veteran catcher, would have bet money that the Anura Hound would have

been nosing around a restaurant. What he didn’t expect to see however was

the epic struggle it was having with a uniformed man in gloves that seemed

hell bent on capturing the creature.

“You might want to rethink your strategy there son,” said the man as

he hopped out of the truck, “those back legs can leave one hell of a gash if

you’re not-”

“What?!” Mitch yelled over the grunting animal that had wriggled out

the headlock he had got it into, “just stay back, I’ve got this under control.”

The man laughed and turned back to his truck, and began rummaging

around in one of the large wooden boxes that flanked the rear bed of the

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vehicle. After a moment he returned with something in his hand, the scent

or sight of which seemed to spur the animal into even greater heights of

frenzy. A great kick with both legs into Mitch’s chest sent him falling

backward and the animal bounded off of the ground and in one quick

motion snatched the offered object.

Mitch pulled himself up from the ground panting. The man that

before him was older perhaps in his sixties with little twinkling eyes set

beneath curly greying brows that matched his curly greying hair. He wore a

jacket similar in style to Mitch’s but black instead of blue and marked with

a curious governmental seal over the breast that Mitch did not recognize.

“You’ve got a lot of guts to try and strong arm an Anura Hound son,”

the man said smiling a crooked grin and turning to observe the animal,

which tore vigorously at something that looked reminiscent of a giant insect

leg on the ground about fifteen feet away. “Just what were you going to do

once you had it under control?”

“That’s the animal that’s been hurting people,” Mitch repled stepping

closer, “are you with the city?” he asked gesturing toward the insignia, and

then in an attempt to save his clumsy interrogation said, “the name’s

Mitch.”

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“Nice to meet you Mitch, my name is Charles. And to answer your

question, yes. Although not affiliated with an agency out here on the fringe.

I’m one level in.”

“What?” Mitch replied after a moment's pause.

“Hey it looks like he’s come back around. It’s a good thing that

anything with a bit of Leptodactylidae in them have such short term

memories,”

The last bits of the black jointed object that the animal had been

eating disappeared between its rubbery lips, and after a moment of sniffing

it turned back to the men, plopping its bulbous hindquarters down on the

ground as it did so, watching them with a air of contentment.

“Lepto what? What depart- You mean that thing isn’t some kind of

dog?”

“Some people think there is some Canine in it, but believe me if you

ever saw one of these things fully grown you wouldn’t. Been trying to figure

out who’s got the Brood Mother for a couple of months now. Too many of

these baby ones keep popping up, or HOPPING up, get it?” Charles said,

laughing at his own joke.

10

Mitch made a perfunctory noise in acknowledgment of the pun,

further examining the strange man before him. His skin was dark and criss

crossed with faded scars, and although the man was shorter and older,

stood with a confidence about him usually reserved for military officers.

“There’s a tag on the collar,” Mitch finally said, the want to be helpful

somehow edging out his confusion and curiosity in the que of questions

that was building up in his head.

“So there is, none of the others had them. Might just be the break I

was hoping for,” Charles said pulling a leash out of the truck and striding

over to the animal who remained where it was watching the two men with

its wird bulging yellow eyes.

“I appreciate you doing the leg work on this one son, but I think it’s

about high time we start heading back.”

“No, wait. If that’s the animal that has been hurting people then I’m

going to need to report it, and you, and whatever it actually is. You said

that you were or wern’t affiliated with the city?”

“Yes, that’s right,”

11

Charles smiled as he hooked the leash to the collar and examined the

tag. “Do you want the chance to help capture this little guys mama? The

one that’s really been hurting people?”

“If there are more animals like this that are loose in the city, then

yeah. It’s my job. But-”

“Well then you had better ride along with me, that’s where I’m

headed, providing that this address on the tag is good, and I doubt you’ll be

able to find it on your own.”

Mitch stared blankly at the man leading the strange hopping animal

to the truck, and then his eyes fell on the other animals on the vehicle. The

truck was overloaded with cages and water filled tanks, mild yowling noises

could be heard coming from the interior. It looked like an old fashioned

pickup truck, the likes of which you might see adjacent to a roadside stand

in a warmer part of the country selling fruit. Iridescent and strange looking

birds fluffed up their feathers and squaked balefully in the cold while long

eel-like fish flopped about in long translucent tanks of water that ran along

the sides of the vehicle.

“What are all of these animals?” Mitch asked approaching the truck to

get a better look into some of the cages that were stacked high in the back.

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Beat up cat carriers and wooden crates with makeshift caged doors loaded

against one another bound down with great bundles of bungee cords.

“Just my latest haul. I wasn’t planning on heading out here to the

fringe, not exactly kosher to have these little guys cross levels, but got a tip

that an Anura Hound came through the Bishop street door.” Charles

opened the drivers side door of the truck and encouraged the animal on the

leash beside him to enter, which it did in a single jounty bound. “The

Kestrels don’t like the cold so it’s good that we managed to find him so

quickly.”

“You said your name was Charles? I’m having a hard time here.

What do you mean bishop street door? What do you mean fringe? And

what kinds of birds did you say those were, Kestrels?” Mitch said

exasperated, hesitating to climb up into the passenger seat next to the

strange animal he until just recently was trying unsuccessfully to wrestle to

the ground. “Those don’t look like any falcons I’ve ever seen,”

“Ah! So you know your animals do you? I knew that I liked you. I’ll

do my best to give you the crash course, I sometimes forget that you lot out

here on the fringe don’t know much about how things work.”

13

The engine roared to life and jolted forward, accompanied by a chorus

of angry clicking and squeaking from the jostled animals in the rear.

“I used to be like you believe it or not, an outer worlder I mean, a

fringie,” charles began as he guided the truck down the vacant wind swept

city streets with disregard of any kind of traffic laws. “Was in ‘nam, that’s

where I first was exposed to critters that didn’t come from the jungles and

lands of the outer world. They aren't so regulated out there, in countries

like that I mean, not all of the doors are mapped and things can just come

through without anyone being the wiser,” He pulled hard to the right and

began heading towards the two towering apartment buildings that

dominated the eastern edge of the city. “Anyway, to answer your questions,

The Bishop street door is the local door to the next level in, this-” here he

gestured to the windshield and the world outside, “is the cusp, the

outermost shell of the onion. You follow me?”

Mitch stared at the man, and then down to the animal between them.

The dog-thing during the ride had turned around from facing forward and

was intensely investigating a dark shape in a bucket of water that sloshed

suspended on a peg just behind the two seats in the cab of the vehicle.

Everything that the man was saying was nuts, he knew that, but then again

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all around him were the most incredible animals he had ever seen. Perhaps I’m the one going nuts, he thought. But with curiosity getting the better of

him he simply figured what the hell, and held on.

~~||~~

The animal laden vehicle pulled around behind the first of the two

apartment towers, and Mitch was surprised to see that the whole back side

of the building was crowded with people. Leering faces in the light of the

headlights advancing towards them.

“My god, what are all of these people doing out here?” Mitch asked

feeling more on edge as the crowd massed around them.

“Outworlders like yourself aren't allowed through the door, which

makes anything that comes through it valuable. The whole arrangement is

corrupt, engineered rarity. These people are beggars and traders for

anything with the warmth of the interior still on it.”

Squaking of birds could be heard as the crowd began getting too close

for the emerald birds on the outermost cages. Charles put the truck into

park.

15

“I’m going to have to go open the gate, it’s just beyond the garage

door at the bottom of the ramp. Normally I’d trade something small and

get one of them to do it for me, but there's too many of them right now, they

all would want something. Here take this and drive off any of them that get

too close,” Charles handed Mitch a stout iron mallet from under the drivers

side dash.

Before Mitch could object Charles had dove out of his seat and began

sprinting down through the crowd towards the bottom of the ramp. Mitch

looked about him, sure enough as soon as Charles had left the vehicle the

horde had advanced even further, many hands reaching out toward the

tanks and cages, hungry to pull free anything that they thought they could

run off with.

“Hey now!” Mitch cried opening the door next to him and shouting at

the gathering crowd, “back off all of you.”

“Who are you then, the new catch?” said a deep voice with a

distinctive french bend to the syllables. Mitch turned to see a rather large

shabby man and a distinctly small shabby woman approach him from the

crowd.

16

“Can’t be a catch,” screeched the small woman, “look at his clothes,

he’s one of us fringies,”

The crowd seemed to hesitate, awaiting an outcome with the big man

or at least for Mitch’s attention to lapse.

“Gaston doesn’t trust new faces, and Charlie knows better. Pay the

toll,” the big man barked, bringing his shaggy head uncomfortably close to

Mitch’s face, a smell like pickled eggs accompanying him. “Gaston thinks

that maybe you’re a tricky one, a sneak through the door. Wearing clothes

to fools us.”

The sound of cackling laughter and shrieking of birds brought Mitch’s

attention back to the truck. Scrambling up the back of the truck the small

woman that had slunk behind the big man now was standing triumphantly

atop the pile of animal carriers. “They got them rabbits that taste like

cherries!” she cried brandishing something that glinted like a knife and

began pulling at the network of bungee cords that held the mass of boxes to

the truck.

Mitch shouted for her to get down, stepping up onto one of the long

tool boxes that ran along the side of the truck to climb up, but a big beefy

hand held him fast.

17

“Gaston likes the little cherry bunnies,”

Mitch gripped the mallet in his right hand and whirled around to

strike the big man that now held him. He didn’t know what exactly Charles

did with all of the animals he caught, but he doubted that their fate would

be better off with this bulbous bandit. These defenceless animals depended

on him, and so long as he was in charge of the vehicle he was going to do his

best to make sure that none of them got stolen.

The big man, swaddled as he was in a heap of mismatched clothing

and apparently possessing thick rubber like skin laughed as the blow

bounced iffectictually against his shoulder. A thick grey pink tongue

pressed through the gaps in his teeth as he grinned at Mitch. “Gaston gets

what he wants, Gaston owns this side of the door,” and with a short but

powerful arm the big man slammed Mitch against the side of the truck.

A series popping sounds preceded the clattering of cages as the

bungie that held up the string of birds was cut. Several of the beautiful

plumed birds exploded in feathered torrents from their breached

confinements, and those that did not were quickly snatched up by the

surging crowd.

18

The big man’s bulk pressed hard against Mitch pinning him in place

against the vehicle. The damp smell of mold and the disturbingly moist

fouled clothes made his gagging cries for help pathetic and small. Mitch felt

his knees buckling and he watched upward as the light of the darkening sky

grew smaller, a thinning line of light sandwiched between the truck and the

man who bore mercilessly down upon him.

“Gaston wonders how much they’d pay to get you back through the

door, lil’ sneak.”

And then something breached that line of light, something moving

between the truck and the man, and as it did so there came an immediate

relief of pressure. Mitch gasped at the fresh air and struggled to stand,

bracing himself against the door of the truck as he did so.

“Get off of Gaston!” the fat man cried, groping with his stubby arms at

the frog like dog that had launched itself though the open passenger side

window and latched itself onto the big man’s face tearing fiercely into the

man’s exposed flesh.

Mitch glanced back up at the bed of the truck and saw the small

woman pull the dark form from the bucket of water through the window

behind the cab. It’s skin was black and smooth like salamander with a thick

19

tadpole like tail out the back of it, but the frame, face, legs and head all looked more like a cat.

“Cutie, cutie, cutie!” she cried, beaming at her new prize, completely

ignoring the cries for help from her gargantuan counterpart.

Then the drivers side door slammed, and Mitch saw that Charles had

returned. Although he couldn’t make out what he was saying through the

din of the excited crowd and the roars of pain from the flailing man he got

the jist- get the froggy dog thing and get back into the truck.

Tossing the mallet into the bed of the truck and taking hold of the

squirming animal that was now raking wounds down the front of the big

man with its large clawed back feet, Mitch gave a great heave. A tuft of the

man’s reeking beard pulled free, clamped in the mouth of the animal, and

Mitch without a moment to lose hurled them both into the passenger side

of the truck.

“I told you to keep them off of the truck!” Charles shouted as he

slammed down the accelerator. Behind the truck Mitch caught the sight of

the small woman supine and twitching on the rapidly retreating ground

behind the truck.

20

“Did you do something to that woman?” Mitch asked as the incline of

the ramp removed her from view.

“ I didn’t do anything. The woman had a Teslion in her hands, I don’t

know what she expected to happen. Look, I was hoping to give you a bit

more of a warning, but just hold on tight when we go though.”

“Hold on? To what?” Mitch said, searching around the cab for any

kind of a hand hold.

The truck bounded past the stragglers of the crowd that waited at the

base of the downward ramp, and as the truck passed through the aperture

that once was barred with the garage door everything was plunged into total

darkness.

Mitch thought the whole scene was so strange and surreal, backlit as

they were by the doorway of dim light that was diminishing behind them. It

was as if they were driving out across a flat floor in a massive darkened

warehouse. Charles repeated himself about holding on, and then braced

himself with both hands on the wheel. Mitch could only see darkness ahead

of them, and wondered just what it was that he had got himself into.

~~||~~

21

Suddenly the truck felt like it had collided with something, and

although Mitch was holding on tight to the handle of the door, bracing as

best he could against the unknown, when the moment came his grip

faltered. Howling torrents of wind seemed to spin up out of the blackness

below and tear him free from the car somehow, so that he felt like he was

spinning through starless space. End over end, groping helpless in a

limitless void. Primal spasmodic fear took over as Mitch wildly sought for

anything solid to grab hold of, anything he could glimpse that could use to

orient himself, a thread of rationality in a hurtling hell of confusion. Then

suddenly his hands laid hold of something in the dark. It was smooth, like

touching a soft dress, and as he gripped it he suddenly was aware of more of

it around him. His experience shifted from one that was of falling, to one

that was of sliding. Huge swaths of fabric in the dark seemed to be catching

his falling body and gently slowing his velocity. It was hard to tell how long

had passed, for each instant in a moment of fear seems exaggerated. A

colorful glimmer appeared below him too, and to the relief of every fiber of

his body he glided on a colorful silk fabric slide down into what looked to be

a tall courtyard.

22

Mitch’s eventual depositing on the ground was less than graceful,

stumbling over his feet he landed face first on the hard crumbling

cobblestones of the court. He bolted upright, bewildered, and could feel the

sting in his nose and trickle of blood over his lips where he had hit the

ground.

The space around him was both magnificent and oddly disquieting. It

was as if he were standing in the hollowed out shell of what used to be an

apartment building, perhaps one of the ones he had been next to before he

and Charles had gone through the door. From countless points all over the

sides of the interior structure were affixed great sheets of colorful silk.

Huge sweeping sheets of blues and greens, cascades of red bundes poured

lavalalike out of the points where the windows dotted the exterior, all

colelecing down toward the court which he found himself standing in. The

only sound that met him was the feint burbling of a foul looking fountain.

“Hello,” Mitch said aware of how muted his voice sounded in the silk

laden gloom of the strange space. “My name is Mitch, I’m with animal

control, is anyone there? Charles?” But only the light burbling of the water

sounded back.

23

It was quite beautiful, the contrast between the rough stone and the

colorful silks. The air however was stale and gave the feeling of being in a

tomb. The fabric fell in such quantities that it was hard to see if there were

any doors or points of egress for the space, and as Mitch began stalking

around he had the distinct sense that he was being watched.

Mitch continued to call out and wander, and as his ears grew more

acclimated to the space there was another noise he became aware of far off

above his head. He stopped to listen and thought it was as if there were

nests of baby birds crying out in little raspy voices all over the upper spaces

of the cavernous space, although he could not see through the colorful

layers to see them.

Figuring that calling out would remain fruitless, Mitch began to head

toward the nearest wall. There must be a door or a window I can use to

get out of this place. If I can see city center I’ll be able to get my bearings

enough, Mitch thought pushing his way through the soft veils.

Then the hushed noise of sliding silk brought Mitch’s attention

toward the corner of the space. Small outward dimples appeared in the

fabric as if someone were running their fingers along the sheeting from the

other side.

24

“H-hello,” Mitch said. There was something about the way the finger

points moved, graceful and slow, taking their time to let their presence

known. He watched it uneasy, unsure if he should call out to it again or

scamper and hide away in hopes of not being noticed. His indecision held

him until a figure appeared, graceful and feminine. At first he wasn’t sure

he had even been noticed or heard, its eyes, indeed the whole top of the

figure’s head was covered in a dark purple and black fringed veil. Its

motion carried it out toward the fountain, where it seemed to cast a glance

down at the murky waters in contemplation.

“Excuse me,” Mitch said following at a distance, finally deciding he

had better try and find help in this strange place rather than hide away and

rely on his own devices. “my name is Mitch, I’m with Animal Control. I

was here with a man named Charles and I seem to have got myself

separated.”

The figure in response merely turned slowly and looked upon him

with its veiled face, silently. Much of the fabric that it wore was sheer, and

although the majority of the figure was obscured in the dark folds of the

dress it wore, the curves of the youthful and lithe figure beneath could be

gleaned.

25

“Excuse me, can you help me?” Mitch said again stepping out into the

center of the space, “I don’t seem to be...well I don’t seem to be in the right

place I guess.”

“It is fortunate that you came,” a raspy feminine voice said slowly

from behind the veil, “it grows more and more infrequent that an

outworlder has the courage to step through the doorway.”

“Look, um, I don’t know how all of this works, and quite frankly I

think you and all of this may be just figments of my imagination, but I was

with a man named Charles on a truck full of animals. We were attacked

and-”

“Who you are and what you were doing is irrelevant my dear,” The

figure said stepping closer to Mitch and extending a draped arm, “you have

arrived at the house of silk, and here you will stay.”

“Stay?” Mitch said backing away and resuming his scans for a

doorway or opening to escape, “No I don’t think so, although rest assured

that your hospitality will be reflected in my Yelp review. Maybe there a way

out that you can point me to?”

“I am the keeper of the house. I have said that you will stay,” Her

voice changed as she spoke, seeming to join a chorus of many small voices

26

from above, “The house of silk is the home for your kind. It is your only

home my dear.”

“Nope. I have a home and it’s not here I promise you. Now if you

could show me to the door miss, I’ll not take up any more of your time,”

“You will struggle, it is not dignified for the keeper to deal with one

who struggles. How I long for the days of noble acceptance.”

“Struggling? Who’s struggling? I’m just looking to-”

Mitch’s words were cut short as the strange veiled woman cried out in

her chorus voice.

“Look I didn’t mean to upset you, I just need to find my friend

Charles,” Mitch began again, but then heard the sound of the baby birds

once more, louder now. “You know what? I’ve decided to find my own

way,” Mitch said, and ran.

Bounding and ripping at the ensorcelling silks, Mitch moved as fast as

he could, feeling with his outstretched hands through the fabric for the

walls that enclosed the court. The veiled woman behind him continued to

cry out to the ever growing clamour of whatever it was it was above them

until finally Mitch’s hand caught hold of a corner leading to a passage.

27

Tearing his way through he could hear what sounded like hundreds of little

voices crying out and descending down behind him.

The passage beyond was incredibly dark and although he had the

strong desire to run as fast as he could away from the strange and

frightening woman he knew that if he tried he would end up running into

walls, or down a deep hole, or worse. With his arms outstretched he

stumbled forward, hoping to find another doorway or some filtered light

from a covered window, anything that he could break through or throw

open and escape. He wondered how he had come to be in this moment,

after all it was only a few short moments ago that he was in his truck

looking for a dog. Perhaps he had fallen asleep, he wondered, he had been

working long days and chalking this all up to some sort of nightmare was

seeming more and more plausible. He hit his head on a low cross beam and

wondered if pain like that could be felt in a dream. He could have sworn

that something huge had scuttled by him in the corridor up ahead, but as he

approached he could see no doors or opening where something could have

moved.

Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP! Mitch thought as he continued to

move forward. Around him he could hear the little voices crying out again,

28

growing louder as they were catching up. Then he saw it, a small point of

light no bigger than the lead of a pencil shining out from the wall ten or so

feet in front of him. Instantly Mitch was at the light, tearing away at the

obscuring silks until he was bathed in the glorious light of the sun. The

silks had covered almost completely a window to the old apartment

building that he found himself in, but unfortunately for Mitch the window

was also covered in thick iron bars bolted to the walls.

“Nooo,” he said without even knowing he had spoken and wrenched

with all his might at the bars. They did not budge. The world outside was

dazzlingly bright, cast in emerald from a canopy of leaves overhead. The

area around the building he found himself in looked to be overgrown with

tall wispy grasses gone to seed and gnarled dead branches covering the

ground. Mitch stood agog; the change in season seeming to be somehow as

unexpected as everything else he had seen.

Then Mitch saw something that gave him hope again, just beyond the

grasses and the edge of trees was a road, and on the road framed in the

overgrowth and foliage was Charles’s truck.

Mitch didn’t know where Charles was, but with every ounce of

strength he possessed he reached through the bars and beat against the

29

glass. The truck on the far side of the clearing was not moving. The driver side seat lay bare and Mitch wondered if Charles was somewhere looking

for him, or worse had gotten lost somewhere like he had. Repeated

slamming produced large web like fractures in the glass, and blood began to

trickle down white knuckles as he beat against the transparent surface.

Somewhere in the corridor behind him Mitch could hear a kind of

muffled shouting, and in his immediate space he was aware of something

moving through the veiling fabric. For a moment he feared it might be the

huge thing that had scuttled past him just moments earlier, but felt less

sure it as it grew closer. A man’s grunt could be heard in the darkness

ahead, and Mitch’s heart leapt with relief.

“Charles is that you?” he called out, ceasing his beating of the window

and moving toward the source of the noise.

From the light of the window a figure could be seen coming through

the colorful layers, and as Mitch approached and tore his way through to

get to the figure he suddenly doubted that this was in fact his friend at all.

Hesitating in the darkness Mitch watched in growing apprehension the last

layers pulled away.

30

Before him a figure loomed, it’s flesh appearing to be grotesquely

inflated save for where its joints were.

Its flesh protruded in bulbous lumps and everywhere upon its surface

great welts and sores could be seen, as if from hundreds of envenomed bites

or acidic stings. It’s face was perhaps the most putrid thing of all, lolling as

it came forward from side to side in an idiotic fashion, choking out

unintelligible sounds between constricted laborious breathing.

Mitch wailed in terror and turned to flee, but as he turned he noticed

something that stayed his feet. Peering in through the window illuminating

the advancing foe was the face of Charles, his hand cupped at the glass.

“In here, help!” Mitch cried dodging aside a heavy bloated limb that

swung out at him from his advancing attacker with surprising ferocity. In a

straight up fight there was no doubt that the huge figure before him would

triumph, but with a weapon perhaps he could level the playing field.

Another meaty blow fell with titanic force down upon Mitch catching him in

the coulder and sending him with jolting pain down to his knees. The great

attacker moved with slow deliberate action, its pulpy body jiggling in

swollen heavy movements, and now above him threatened to come down in

an avalanche of bone splintering weight. Mitch’s hands groped at the

31

rubble of the corridor and found a large loose chunk of what used to form

part of the cobblestone. Jumping to his feet Mitch caught another heavy

blow to the side, but held firm the concrete in both hands over his head.

Adrenaline fueling his desperate action Mitch struck with crazed repeated

motions with his improvised weapon. The stretched and bulbous face of his

attacker first stretched, then burst like a colossal pimple on impact, sending

the reeking contents of it spurting out in great milky geysers after each

successive impact against its face. Any normal creature would have

succumbed to such an attack, but only after the bones beneath were

pulverized beneath Mitch’s frenzied attacks did the limbs of the giant cease

their futile flopping about.

“You down there Mitch?” called charles from the corridor by the

window, its glass and bars having buckled and broke from his repeated

kicks.

“Yeah, I’m down here,” replied Mitch, struggling against the urge to

puke.

Charles cautiously made his way down the darkened corridor and

around the body of the fallen attacker. “You really should have held on

tighter to the truck son.”

32

Mitch wanted to tell him to go to hell, but instead he said, “We need

to get out of here I think.”

“Right you are,” said Charles helping the other to his feet and to the

smashed out window.

“What was that thing Charles? You need to tell me where the hell I

am,” said Mitch as they made their way across the overgrowth and to the

waiting truck.

The yellow eyed dog-thing greeted them with excitement as they piled

in.

“You’re lucky to be alive, not many outworlders manage to survive

getting snared in the house of silk.”

“Yeah, what was that place?”

“All these buildings around here,” Charles pointed the whole lot of

structures in the area as he started the truck and they began making their

way down the rather bumpy dirt road. “All of the ones you see draped in

the silk sheets, there part of her domain. I say her, but really I should say

their domain. They guard our doorway to the fringe and keep those damn

thieves out. Gah, Stu is going to have my ass for losing those animals. If we

don’t find this little guy’s mama, it might be curtains for my career.”

33

Mitch looked out the windows of the truck at the strange world

around him. It was as if they were in some sort of jungle, or at least a jungle

that had reclaimed part of a city. Mitch couldn’t tell which city he was in

though, as all of the landmarks that he would have been used to seeing in

the area were nowhere in sight. Just the ragged ivy colored brick structures

and decaying girders of what once were larger buildings.

“So am I in some sort of alternate dimension or something?” Mitch

finally asked, trying hard to convince himself that things were as crazy as

they seemed to all of his senses.

“Another dimension, no. Your world is still up there, carrying on just

as it always has. We’re now one layer in, still planet earth, still rotating

around the sun, just one layer in. Get it?”

“Not really. If we are inside the earth how can I see the sky?”

“That’s the question that boggled my mind for years. I had a guy tell

me how it worked once, how we are out of phase with the rest of the

material up there. But really the only practical answer to your question is

that things just look a bit different when you are down here. Have you

noticed the color of things?”

34

“Yeah, though I think my eyes have gotten used to it for the moment.

I thought it was the trees, everything seems more green.”

“Yep, it’s a side effect of the light filtering down through the fringe.

Changes colors as it goes, and gets dimmer. You go four levels in and it’s

almost completely dark. At least to our eyes. Well here we are, the address

on the little guy’s collar.”

The animal control truck pulled up in front of a modest looking brick

structure, the kind of thing you might see adjacent to an old gas station.

Squat, one story with high windows all plastered over with something on

the inside.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Mitch said stepping out of the truck and

wincing in pain.

“No it does not. Reminds me, one time, I guess it must have been

nearly ten years ago by now, I had to corral a whole hive of Honey Snakes

out of a ice cream cart. Sometimes it’s crazy what you find within a benign

exterior.”

Mitch just gave Charles a defeated shake of the head.

“What’s wrong? Surprised that we have ice cream? Don’t be, you’d

be surprised at how similar things are down here.”

35

“No Charles, the look was for the snakes.”

“Yeah, well those things are no joke.”

The two men skirted the perimeter of the structure. It seemed to

Mitch that the whole area looked to have been abandoned for some time.

Garbage was piled up against the front doorway, paper notices wedged

between the broken storm door and the interior one. The concrete was

cracked severely all over the area, but particularly bad in front of the little

brown building, with fairly large shrubs poking out nearly four feet high.

“Doesn’t look like anyone home,” said Mitch as they came around to

the back of the building, “maybe the address is wrong or something.”

“Yeah maybe, but the collar is connected with this place somehow.

We should go in and make sure. Let's take a look at some of those letters by

the front door and see who it is that is supposed to be living here.”

Out of all of the foreign looking envelopes of odd sizes that were held

between the two doors there were really only two that seemed to be official

enough to be taken seriously.

“Here we are,” said Charles pulling out one of the official looking

epistles and examining the name on the outside, “looks like this place is the

36

residence of a Mr. Sanzo. Failed to pay his tax allotment in full too,

tsk-tsk.”

“And judging by the state of this place and the accumulation of letters

we can be fairly sure that he has not been home for some time, the oldest

ones are dated more than a month ago.”

Charles grunted an agreement and opened wide the storm door,

sending the letters spilling out at their feet. “Mr. Sanzo,” he said pounding

with the palm of his hand against the door, “We’re here from Animal

Control.”

There was no response from the interior, only the strange off key

notes sung out from the one remaining emerald bird on the truck to break

the silence.

“Well now what?” asked Mitch examining the growing discolored

bruises up and down his right arm from where he had been struck by that

bulbous creature.

“I tell you what, that little guys momma,” charles gestured back

towards the cab of the truck. “She’s gonna be big and dangerous, it’s not

something in good conscious that I can leave on the loose out here. Let’s

37

get him out of the truck and see if he acts like he knows the building, if he does we will at least be fairly certain we haven't got the address wrong.”

“Alright, but you’re the one holding the leash. That thing in the truck

is not on the best of terms with me.”

The Anura Hound sat unmoving as Charles approached the passenger

side of the truck. It sat unmoving as he opened the door and reached for

the leash. It sat unmoving up until the point the Charles gave the leash a

slight tug and the outside air could filter through to the animal's nostrils,

and then like a shot it lept towards the building. Bounding with an

explosion of excitement and frenzy; the animal bucked against the leash

nearly pulling itself over backwards in its attempt to get at the building.

“Hell’s bells son, grab the leash!” shouted Charles while doing his best

to wrap the leather strap around his arm.

At first the two, straining with the leash between them managed to

pull back the scrambling animal, but when the leash snapped all hope of

restraint vanished and the slavering beast bounded within seconds around

the back of the building.

“After him!” Charles shouted scrambling back to his feet.

38

Mitch was the first around the back of the building in pursuit, feeling

intensely that he had spent far too much of his time that day chasing that

animal. Around the back of the building a second rear door could be

spotted, but before Mitch could even attempt at getting his hands on the

creature it catapulted itself through one of the transom windows and

vanished into the interior.

“Well that’s not good,” Charles said coming up to meet Mitch around

the back of the building, “but that behavior is pretty proof positive. I’d be

willing to stake my reputation that the mother is in there somewhere.”

“How do things work here, do we just let ourselves in? Or do we need

a warrant or something?”

“Yeah you’re right. Better play this one by the book. Let me see what

they want me to do. Give me a sec, let’s see if this phone still works.”

Charles dusted off his pants as he spoke and began making his way to the

pay phone in the front of the building. Mitch doubted that the old thing

would even work, but let the strange man continue his work. If Mitch was

hallucinating all of this it was so vividly real, and painful, that he figured

that his best course was to ride it out and let whatever would happen,

happen.

39

After a minute of fussing Mitch could hear from his position at the

rear of the truck that Charles had managed to get in touch with someone on

the old payphone.

“Hey Stu, It’s Charles. No… But it’s not all bad news...Listen, so the

AH lead us to the broodmother...yeah I am aware...no there is nobody

around, should be no unexpected injuries...no, no I have some help

here...yes animal control, different office...I’ll give you a call back when it’s

done.”

“So what’s the plan Charles? I’ve already had a hell of a day, but I’m

willing to see it through.”

“Thank you son. We’re going to gear up and find the mother in there,

she’ll be big and nasty so we will have to use the tranq spear.”

“The what?”

Charles rummaged around in the back of the truck for a moment

before brandishing a large metallic rod with a strange apparatus on the

end.

“The chemical goes in here,” he said pointing to the wide end of the

cylinder near the tip, “then you screw in the needle and you're good to go,”

he squeezed a handle towards the bottom of the rod that looked a bit like a

40

bicycle break which triggered two small protective coverings to slide aside and a stout looking bladed needle to protrude out the end.

“Don’t you people have tranquilizer rifles?”

Charles smiled, “sure we do, but you can't get those little needles to

penetrate the hide of a full grown Anura, believe me I’ve tried.”

Mitch frowned, the more he learned about just what it was they were

planning on doing the worse he felt about it. Perhaps when this was done,

the dream would end.

With quite a bit of difficulty the two men managed to pry their way

through the rear door of the building. They had to use the rear door, since

the front entryway felt as if it had been braced from the inside by

something.

“Lead the way son, your eyes and reflexes are no doubt better than

mine” Charles said handing him the flashlight from his belt and the large

tranquilizer spear he had in his other hand.

A large set of shelves had partially fallen and blocked the door from

opening more than ten inches or so, forcing Mitch to squeeze through and

feel quite trapped once he had done so. The interior of the space was an

41

absolute mess, with all sorts of things scattered over the floor and pasted to the walls with an acrid smelling fluid.

“Do these things make nests?” Asked Mitch gesturing with the end of

the spear to the gunk on the walls.

Charles squeezed in behind him, “yeah, through I think I would call it

more of a cesspool than a nest. Pretty nasty stuff. Don’t get it in your eyes.”

The two advanced into the building, moving slowly and as quietly as

they could. All sorts of furniture lay in ruined heaps on the floor, broken

spindles and splintered wood poking through the heaps of paper and cloth

that lay strewn about. Mitch illuminated the clear path through the rooms

that had been formed when everything else had been pushed aside.

Passing through into the next room Mitch stopped short. “I think I’ve

found Mr. Sanzo.”

Poking up from a particularly foul smelling heap of debris was the

clear remains of a human hand. The flesh along the arm gleamed ghostly

white in the electric light with ropey strands of the grey-green fluid

cascading down from it to the floor.

42

“And that would make this a crime scene now,” said Charles a matter

of factly, “for the love of God don’t touch anything, investigators on this

level get real upset when you do.”

The two men had only stepped backward a pace before something

huge stirred from beneath the mound of debris in the room, causing the

hand to wiggle.

“Hells Bells, I think it’s-” was all Charles had time to say before the

entirety of the heap rose up and came crashing down upon them.

Mitch fought for breath under the deluge of shattered furniture and

shredded carpeting. Straining he threw himself free and got to his feet,

wrenching the spear free in the process.

Somewhere to his right there was a groan from Charles, and before

him the broodmother.

It was like a huge bloated toad with and elongated crocodilian like

maw that grinned and snapped with hooked teeth. A layer of garbage from

the room coated it’s hide, so that you would almost think that it were an

animated heap, save for the great saucer-like eyes atop it’s head, just a

slight shade darker than its offspring. As it turned Mitch got a better idea

of the sheer size of it, God, the thing must be eight feet across. He

43

wondered if he would be fast enough to make it back out the rear door

before it pounced on him.

Planting his feet on top of the pile Mitch squeezed the handle to

deploy the needle at the end of the spear and found it to be jammed. The

protective shields that were supposed to come away when the handle was

depressed must have been bent.

“Damnit Charles,” Mitch shouted at the direction of the moaning,

“Charles this thing is going to eat me, and you if we don’t do something

fast-.”

The creature crouched and a great brown tongue rolled out of its

sizable jaws. It didn’t seem to have claws from what Mitch could see, just

large nubby rounded fingers at the end of squat powerful limbs.

Mitch kept the useless tranq-spear between him and the beast and

tried again to spot Charles in the debris at his feet. He had just spotted the

leathery brown arm of his friend when the creature made its move.

Hurtling forward the great toothy maw opened wide, tongue extended

like some great slimy tendril. The end of the spear entered the cavity

between the creature’s jaws, but despite Mitch’s best efforts to thrust it into

the fleshy pink at the back of the throat it was directed upward and collided

44

with the roof of the creature’s mouth. The sheer weight behind the lunge

send Mitch sliding backward struggling to remain on his feet. Then a snap

and splintering sounded as the jaws closed on the handle of the weapon and

destroyed it.

Mitch dodged a clumsy rubbery arm as the creature chewed and spat

out the remainder of the weapon upon the floor.

“Charles!” Mitch shouted again, searching the ground for anything he

could use to defend himself and wondering if his colleague had

inadvertently been trampled by the beast. He used the remains of a file

cabinet drawer to crudely deflect the next sweeping bite, and make his way

around the beast to the front door.

The caustic odor of the creature was almost overwhelming, and stung

his eyes. If he could just buy himself some time, just a second or two he

could undo the deadbolt on the door and be able to run away. He watched

the thing as it crouched again, and bellowed a strange baritone challenge.

~~||~~

45

From his vantage point under the debris Charles had seen how close

Mitch had come to getting killed by the creature, and while the last thing he

wanted was the young man’s blood on his hands he knew what the greater

good would be if they could stop the animal. He inched his way covertly

from beneath the animal, and found that he was not that far from the

remains of the tranq spear that the animal had discarded. He just hoped

that he could get the injector to function.

~~||~~

Mitch waited for the beast to come at him, to try again to snatch him

with that terrible reeking tongue, he would try and go under it, grab for the

lock and wrench it open before the animal could try for a second lunge. He

waited, but the moment never came.

The broodmother crouched and bellowed, its jaws opened and then

all of the malicious clarity in its eyes vanished. It wobbled for a moment,

and then collapsed, melding back into the heap of detritus that birthed it.

46

For a moment Mitch stood there dumbfounded, not sure what had

happened and what he should do. He heard a groan again from the floor on

the other side of the animal.

“Charles?” He waded around the bulk of the thing and finally located

his friend, the silver fragment of the tranq spear still gripped firmly in his

left hand and embedded in the underside of the animal. “Are You alright?”

“This one is a damn big one. Don’t know if I’ve ever seen one this

size.” Charles said standing slowly, “Was beginning to think that maybe we

had made a bad decision coming in here. But honestly, its better we

neutralize the animal before they send in the goons with the guns to just put

her down. Endangered you know.”

“Let’s see if we can get this front door working before she decides to

wake up.”

“Nonsense. I gave her a full dose, so I’m guessing she’ll be out for a

while. We’ll need to locate the smaller one before anyone else arrives.”

Mich had forgotten about the small lizard dog in all of the comotion.

“This is still a crime scene through right? I don’t want to mess up anything

for an investigation looking for-” Just as he was speaking he spotted the

animal, trotting back to the truck outside as if nothing had happened,

47

plopping down into the seat that it had made its own over the events of the day.

“Seems like it’s taken a shine to us.”

“That’s how it goes with these critters. Fiercely territorial, which is

why people keep them around to guard their homes, but create almost no

personal attachment to anything. You could be locked in a life and death

struggle with the thing’s own mother and it doesn't give a damn.”

Mitch wondered at the sheer alienness of the animal compared to the

dogs he had known his whole life. It would be almost like keeping a

crocodile around, and he wondered how you kept such an animal from

seeing you as a threat in its own territory. He looked at the corpse of Mr.

Sanzo and got his answer.

The two men made their way back to the truck and began cleaning the

stinging mucus from their skin with rags that Charles produced from a

hatch in the truck bed.

“You know, I had thought that the dream would be over once that we

had dealt with that thing. That I would just wake up in my truck with only

the foggy memory of any of this,” Said Mitch.

48

“Nah Son, the dream ends when I drive your butt back through the

doorway and deposit you back on the fringe. It ends when after years of

wondering if it all was real you convince yourself it wasn’t. It ends when

you turn down my offer.”

Mitch stared at Charles, the twinkling in his eyes behind those bushy

grey browse seemed to have intensified in the setting green tinted light.

“Your offer?” Mitch asked.

“What would you say to transferring to a different animal control

office? It would be the same work, same crappy pay, just one level in.”

Mitch looked down, if all of this was real how could he refuse. He met

Charles’s gaze, “yeah alright, I’m in.”

49