Chapter 4: The Dogs of War
Jon woke up on the couch. He was cold; Odie had long since left, leaving only an imprint on his shirt from the night before to indicate he had been there at all. Jon lept out of bed and checked the digital clock on his microwave, rubbing his stiff neck and yawning. He had slightly overslept. Reluctantly, Jon began to get ready for work, pulling on his customary too-small suit, straightening his crumpled tie, peering at his own pudgy face in the mirror, and finally, attacking his hair with a very wet comb. Once he was satisfied that his appearance was the best it was ever going to look, Jon grabbed his briefcase and hurried out the door.
Jon was determined to forget the events of last night, and he was proud to say that so far he was doing a very good job of it. It was a cool Tuesday, not so cold as yesterday, and according to the weatherman, the temperature was on an upswing. Even his mildly depressing job seemed less menial. Sure, Jon was shaken, terrified, and almost convinced he was losing his mind. But at work, he didn't have to think. But there was still a nagging worry in the back of his mind: What would happen when he got home?
The workday that was usually far too long seemed to fly by. The longer the day went by, the more fleeting was Jon's sense of safety that he had felt this morning. As he wheeled the car into his familiar driveway, Jon felt a mounting sense of dread. Nonetheless, Jon tried to be brave as he opened the door, grinning broadly and stretching out his arms, waiting for Odie to bound into them and begin licking his face.
His grin started to fade; he was waiting far too long. Odie had greeted him at the door, a bouncing bundle of energy, for years without fail.
"Odie?" he called, smile still not completely gone from his face.
Silence greeted him, like it so often did.
"Odie?" he shouted again, a little louder and more high-pitched this time.
He could hear his voice echoing throughout his empty house.
Jon walked into the house. It was dark. Jon reached for a light switch and flicked it on, to no avail. The lights weren't working, for some reason.
Peering into the semi-darkness, Jon found his way to the kitchen. He refilled Odie's food bowl and shook it loudly, calling Odie's name. After a little while, Jon gave up and microwaved some fish for dinner. He was puzzled by Odie's behavior, and quite worried, considering the strange things that happened yesterday. However, at this point, Jon's premise was still that yesterday was a distinctly unpleasant dream, with no grounds in reality. But a thought nagged at the corner of his mind. He hadn't seen Odie since last night…
The microwave beeped. His fish was ready. Jon brought his dinner to the square table at which he ate. He distrusted this table since yesterday's events, but felt it would be rather giving up to eat somewhere else, and he didn't want to lose all grip on normalcy.
Jon went back to the kitchen to wash up, then walked back to the square table to eat his fish. It was then that he saw the white lump, criss-crossed with streaks of red, lying motionless under the table.