Ernesto was coming back, he was, Héctor knew he was. He had just gone up to the train station to get help then he would be back and everything would be alright. He sucked in a harsh wet gasp, his arm tightening around his stomach, he just had to wait a little longer, Ernesto was bringing back help then they could get him to a doctor.
He trusted his best friend, it would be alright. Just wait a little longer.
He opened his eyes, weakly peering about, why did Ernesto take his guitar with him? … And he had calmly walked away? But he supposed his friend was just trying to keep a level head, he was strong man he wouldn't let himself panic in a situation where being frightened would make things worse.
He was coming back.
He had to wait.
But it hurt so much...
He pulled his legs in, curling up on himself where he lay on the cold stone road. The first thing he was going to do after he had been seen to by the doctor was go give a very loud and angry complaint to the restaurant they had eaten at that evening, what had he had that felt like it was ripping his stomach apart? Then right after that he was on that first train home, he wanted nothing more of this place, he wanted his Imelda and Coco, he wanted to go home.
How... How long had Ernesto been? It seemed to be taking a long time considering the train station was right there?
It was fine, just wait a bit more. Every things fine.
He whined as the pain only seemed to be getting worse, rolling onto his side and looking towards the station. Please come out, please come soon. It hurts.
There was movement in the corner of his eye and he turned his head towards it with the beginnings of a relieved smile on his lips, until he saw what it was.
… That wasn't his friend.
He felt his blood run cold at the site of a small pack of dogs staring at him, they looked rough, thin and very savage. The leader dog stepped forward, its muzzle in a wet dripping snarl and growling low in its throat. They looked famished.
"No..." he whimpered, trying to shrink back from them, but he didn't have the energy to roll over let alone get up and run. They stalked closer, teeth and eyes shining with bad intentions. "No... no please" his heart fluttered in fear, his chest moving with his quick breath.
The first dog lurched forward with a snarl, the others close behind and he screamed, long and loud when it crushed its teeth down into his left shoulder.
Hit it! Push it off! Go for its eyes! He slapped his right arm up to try to fight it off when the second dog attacked, snatching the arm with its jaws and snapping down by his elbow, he screamed again when he felt bone shatter. The third latched into his thigh, standing across his legs so he couldn't lash out and kick them.
Oh god, oh god he was going to die here. He was going to die here killed by wild dogs, where on earth was Ernesto?!
Please come back! Please!
Save me!
His screams didn't stop, the sounds echoing down the street and rattling in his chest. The first dog unlatched its jaws only to clamp back down in the junction between his shoulder and neck, closer to his throat and it viciously shook its head, wrenching him and blood spilling down his front. Paws pressed down on his body, their claws shredding into his flesh and teeth crushing bones.
There was a barking, a growl then the first dog was being ripped away from him, its teeth tearing as it was yanked back. The two other dogs moved to help the leader, turning away from him as the three of them growled at the intruder. A little hairless scrappy thing was snarling at the pack, standing its ground against the bigger animals.
Héctor closed his eyes when the leader lunged at it, the other two following, he was in so much pain, everything hurt so much and he wanted it to just end already. He spluttered out a cough, his throat dry and wrecked from screaming, and he curled himself as tight as he could, dragging his broken arm across the bloodied stones to be cradled against his chest.
Ernesto? Where did you go?
Why didn't you come back?
… Just a little longer...
He could do nothing but listen to the sounds of a dog fight, snarls and yelps of pain, teeth and claws sinking into warm flesh and bones. That stupid little dog, poor thing didn't know what it was getting itself into.
He blearily peered out, his eyelids heavy to see that little dog on top of the leader ripping its throat out and with one last savage jerk of its head the larger dog squealed one last time and went still. The other two dogs looked at the winner when it turned to them, their leaders blood slathered across its face before they retreated and ran off together down the street.
Once they were gone all the aggression disappeared from the dogs body, hunching down into itself and it looked at him, limping over past the dead leader and whimpering. A cold bloodied nose touched his cheek and a long tongue licked apologetically.
"... Hey... hey amigo..." Héctor breathed, somehow finding the strength to lift his hand and rub its ear, the only one it fully had left with its other hanging off held by a shredded flap of skin "...Gracias" The poor little thing had taken a beating, bites and scratches littering its hairless body and it seemed to be dragging one leg behind it. The dog wobbled then laid down with him, curling up to his chest and pressing his nose under Héctor's chin, whimpering in pain.
The sweet little thing had risked its life to save him but now it seemed it was a little too worse for wear, the wild dogs had hurt it badly.
Just a little longer...
Ernesto was coming, they would be alright, help was coming.
Please...
Héctor pulled his arm around the dog, holding it close to his own trembling body.
Ernesto was coming back, he believed in his best friend, he was coming...
His eyes drifted shut, his lax fingers stroking the animals skin as best he could. "... Looks like we're both out of time, amigo..."
… Just wait...
… Just a little longer...
Ninety-six years later found Héctor sitting outside the Rivera household in their garden and the afternoon sun warm on his face, a new notebook in his lap that he was working on filling with new songs for Coco when he finally got to see her again.
The little dog came trotting up to him with a wagging tail and a silly floppy tongue. It's name was Dante now, as his beloved great-great grandson Miguel had named it, and its body was a beautiful mosaic of bright eye catching colours, just like any other proud Alebrije.
"Hey amigo, it's good to see you again. Gracias, for saving me again, for bringing Miguel to me" he reached out and rubbed his ear. Dante seemed to smile at him, his eyes full of happiness and rested his head in Héctor's lap then scooted his bottom closer, curling up against his old bones.
They sat together, the skeleton and his dog both at peace now.