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Riley

Son of a bitch. The alarm, again.

Every weekend the same shit, and it’s much worse now that it’s summer.

I like my peace, and for the umpteenth time since I’ve been doing this job, I’m wondering why I’m still here.

The blips on the camera show three, no, five people. I don’t see everything they’re doing, or what they look like in detail, but I know the cams on the fence will hopefully have caught them better, and if they trigger one in the park, I’ll have pictures or a short video.

Not that it will help. I’ll print them, show them to Gauthier, who will look at them, sigh and promise me to extend a warning to the kids, and it will go no fucking where.

He can’t arrest them or charge them with anything, and I can’t press charges if they don’t damage anything. Most of the time, I’ll catch them before they do, so… The one time I was too late, sick with the flu and shaking my fever in bed, they threw stones and broke all the windows at the Manor, but these were wearing hoodies and masks and we never caught them. The alarm in the Manor is directly linked to the police and they ran away.

Probably not our usual crowd. They’re annoying little shits, not thugs.

Still, it’s my job. And incredibly enough in this time and age, there are still poachers placing traps on the grounds, and it’s my responsibility to protect this property, all twenty hectares of it.

Why would anyone want to own twenty hectares of woodlands, of grass and flowers surrounding the manor sitting there, uninhabited eleven months a year and then some is beyond me. But hey, it’s giving me a daily job, so…

Job that, for now, proves once again to be the bane of my existence. It’s the sixth time in a fortnight I have to intervene, and I’m not looking forward to tramping in the woods with the thunderstorm that’s coming. I link the cams to my tablet, tell Max to come with, chuckle at his sigh, and grab my windbreaker. If the forecast is to be believed, and Max, who hides under the coffee table as soon as he suspects the hint of a possibly upcoming storm, this one is gonna be a doozy.

I lock my door, curse, and text the police station my usual warning “Punks at it again, will keep you posted”, I wait for the also usual “Ok” from Denise, the night receptionist, before cramming my phone back in my pocket.

Biting the laser flashlight between my teeth, I click my Ipad on the handbar and climb on my mountain bike to find the punks. Usually, a few roaring curses from me and barks from Max, who, for a goldie, can be quite impressive, and loves to bark when I ask him to, are enough to chase the punks away. My cam shows me the blips, but instead of running as a crew as usual, these are running all over the place, in one, or duo, one blip following them from a distance.

I take the direction they seem to be, wondering what it is about, when a lightning blinds me for a second, and Max falters, whining. I urge him forward, telling him it’s all right, he’s a good boy, and he plunges on, with a reluctant glance that makes me laugh.

Despite the punks and my bad mood earlier, I love this, the fresh air, the ozone almost crackling, the wind starting up, the trees all around swaying, their whisper louder now, the smells coming up as if the night calls them to come to us, moss, wood, the very first drops falling on the dry earth…

I hear a shout not far from here, and see one blip on my right, quite close, the others four scattered, but slowly coming toward each other, I hear someone howling and a loud high laughter, and hurry in that direction. I see a red hoodie, a yellow one, someone with white pants jumping over ferns, and when they’re close enough, one of them spots my flashlight.

“Shit! Run!”

Laughing, and cursing, they run away, and I give Max one of his favorite orders. “Loud, Max.”

His tongue lolling out of his mouth like he’s having so much fun, his reluctance long forgotten, his voice incredibly loud and hard in the dark, Max obeys my request with gusto.

I don’t know if he could get aggressive, goldies are sweethearts by nature and this one doesn’t belie his sort. He’s friendly as fuck and prefers to show his belly for a good rub and snooze somewhere warm, given the choice. But a few commands, from the moment he was a pup, next to the usual ones, have always been enough for him to bark like the baddest boy, and show teeth, even growl. That, usually, who am I kidding, always stops people from looking for trouble any closer.

“Run! Fuck!”

One howls in laughter and I yell “I called the police!” to urge them a little. As soon as they’re on the other side of the fence, they’re not my problem anymore.

Another lightning is followed by a clap so loud my teeth shake, and Max whimpers, but still, barks and runs at my side.

Another clap, Red hoodie falls, they’re not laughing now, shouting curses to one another, before Yellow hoodie calls out to them. “Wait for me, don’t leave me behind!”

Only shouts and curses to answer them, before the yellow spot catches up with them, and indeed, jumps over the fence. I let Max bark a while longer, to make sure they’re really gone and not planning on jumping in again as soon as I turn my back, and the cam at the front gate shows them running in the direction of the town.

Good.

BOOM. This one is so loud it has to have hit something close by, maybe one of the antennas on the other side of the road, and I’m blinded again for a second.

I turn to talk to Max, expecting him to panic, but he looks at me, something strange in his eyes, softly woofs twice, then barks and takes off.

“Fuck!”

I hurry behind him, wondering what the hell is going on.

BOOM, another flash and a roll of thunder so deep it makes my eyes vibrate. But Max isn’t running in panic back home, he’s rushing into the woods, his bark loud and clear when I call his name, one quick glance behind me.

I must be turning mad, because it looks like he urged me to hurry my ass up before going back to his running. Big fat drops start to fall, ice cold on my head and hands. I’m glad I took the time to put my windbreaker on and the tablet in a transparent case, some kind of diving equipment to keep it waterproof. My tablet… There, almost at the edge of my screen, a small blip. There’s still someone there, but it’s not moving. And we’re heading right to it.

“Good boy, Max”

I swear to God, he understands, and barks twice again, the second sound drown in another rumble, but this dog usually hiding when the wind gales get too loud amazes me, by looking back at me, like he’s impatient and telling me to stop fucking diddling. I grumble, “Yeah, yeah, coming already”. In truth I’m not grumpy, I’m bamboozled, he’s never done something like that. With a sound that seems to answer my mumbling, he surges on, not waiting anymore and disappears between the trees. Doesn’t matter, I know where he’s going. The fat drops are steady now, some curtain of rain so thick I have to wipe my face and eyes every two seconds.

The blip is right in front of me but I don’t need it anymore. I guess I know where the lightning fell earlier. A thin birch is still burning, smoldering branches falling in the ground before the pouring rain dozes them, the trunk still standing tall like a giant size torch. I grab my phone already when Max starts barking like mad and yelps in pain. I already know, and call 112 before I’m even in front of the kid, lying unconscious on the floor. I understand Max’s last yelp of pain now, he is pulling a thin burning branch from the kid’s face and whines, pawing at his mouth. I call Jonas, run to them, check Max’s nose and mouth quickly, before looking at the kid. He’s pale as a corpse, burns on his face, his eyebrows singed. A thick branch lies next to his shoulder, and his arm is hanging in such a weird angle I don’t even dare to touch him. His pulse is there, erratic and light, and the skin on his neck is wet and ice cold. I zip my windbreaker off and put it on the kid. I see him twitch and think he’s waking up, but a rumbly noise makes me turn my head. Max is growling, pulling at the heavy branch lying on the kid’s leg. The kid whimpers, and I lean closer to his face, wincing at the smell. This boy is drunk. The sound of the rain pouring on us now is deafening, it’s lucky the foliage above us keeps his face reasonably out of the shower. He mumbles again, softly. “No, no, please, don’t hurt me, I’ll be good”, and before I can stop him, he moves his bad arm, like he’s trying to protect his face. He screams and whines in pain. I hurry to shush him, brush his hair from his face, gently, but he’s out cold now.

A beeping sound alerts me that someone is at the gate, and I type a command on my Ipad to open it and close it behind the ambulance, fire department and, finally, Jonas’ car.

I pat Max’s head, who amazingly lies down and puts his head on the kid’s good leg. “Stay there, Max.”

I hurry back on the main path, laser flashlight blinking green as a beacon for the help to come and join us.