Chapter 8

Copyright 3/03
Updated: 3/26/2008
Word Count: 2,147


Benjamin Franklin Davis ran as fast as his eight-year-old feet could carry him. *I guess today was the wrong day to check the mail.* He'd run away from home (if you could really call it that) two months earlier. His cousin, Cameron, had been taken away by his grandmother to live with her, leaving him alone with his alcoholic uncle. He hated his Uncle Jerry from the day he'd first meat him and was sure the feelings were mutual. The only reason he agreed to take Ben in after his parents died was because the state would pay him to do so. Instead of using the money to buy food and clothes, Jerry had spent most of the money on alcohol and poker games.

Cameron had kept in touch with Ben through letters, which was why he was running now. He'd been checking the mail for a letter from Cam and his uncle had chosen that exact moment to come home. Upon seeing his uncle, Ben took off running but Jerry had already seen him and was chasing him. Of course, this also happened to be one of those rare days when his Uncle Jerry was sober.

"Hey, you ungrateful little bastard," he'd yelled, "get your fucking ass back here right now."

Benny risked turning his head and was relieved to see that his uncle had stopped and was hunched over trying to catch his breath.

"Boy, if you don't get that scrawny, no-good ass of yours over here now, you'll be sorry." He screamed.

*Fat chance. It'll be a cold day in hell before I go back to you.* He chucked his uncle the finger than turned to face forward again.

And ran smack into a brown-haired boy with glasses. Both boys fell in a heap onto the sidewalk.

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Scott walked slowly, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. He'd left the shelter three days earlier and had been walking ever sense. He stopped for a moment to look at a sign that read 'Welcome to Vinton, Iowa!'. *That's as far as I got?* He thought dejectedly. *Damn. At this rate, it'll take forever to get to New York. I gotta start making' some money so I can get a train ticket.* His thoughts were disrupted by a high pitched yelping sound. He looked around and saw a boy to his left beating what appeared to be a small dog with a stick.

*What a jerk! I gotta do something.* Scott quietly approached the other boy. As he got closer, he could see it was a puppy though he couldn't tell what breed. *Just some poor little mutt he probably picked up off the street.* The puppy seemed too be no more than three or four months old and looked at it's abuser with large, brown eyes full of fear. Even from his distance, Scott could see it was tied to a pole and was trembling uncontrollable. *He's just a little puppy. Why do people always gotta pick on people smaller than them?* He thought for a moment, turned and walked about a block away.

Scott ducked into an alley and shrugged off his book bag. Kneeling down, he unzipped it, reached in and pulled out a tape recorder he'd bought a few months earlier. *I had a lot of fun with this at the orphanage. I hope this works.* He quickly recorded a message than put it back in his bag. He walked back towards the boy and hid behind a bush a few yards away. Once there he pulled out the recorder and hit play. He quickly ran to another bush and waited. A few seconds later the recording played.

"Hey, kid!" Scott's recorded voice yelled. The boy jerked his head up and looked around. "Yeah, you! The punk beating on a poor little dog. Why don't you come over here and pick on someone your own size."

"Who said that?" the boy asked. He walked slowly towards were he thought the voice was coming from. As he approached the bush he said, "Come out and face me now and I promise not to hurt you too bad."

Scott took the opportunity and ran towards the puppy. He pulled out the Swiss army knife he'd stolen from David the night he ran away and started cutting the rope.

"Gotcha jerk!" The boy yelled as he snuck around the bush. He was surprised to see only the tape recorder. "What the...." Suddenly, he looked back towards the puppy and yelled, "Get away from my puppy, you little creep!" The boy immediately took off towards Scott.

Scott stuffed the puppy into his coat just as the abuser looked up and called out to him. He stood up quickly and ran as fast as he could. After a few blocks he turned to see the stout boy hunched over, apparently trying to catch his breath.

He smiled and turned his head forward again in time to see a boy about his size running towards him. The other boy was not watching were he was running either and Scott couldn't stop. He collided with the other boy and they fell on top of each other to the ground.

"Shit." Both boys muttered as they untangled themselves and scrambled to their feet. "Sorry." A brief smile crossed each boys face as they spoke in unison again. They turned to face their respective pursuers who were now closing in on them. Benny also noticed Scott's pursuer.

"Follow me," Benny told Scott as he took off running.

Scott hesitated only a second before following the red-haired boy. They ran for several blocks before Benny made a sharp left, ran a few more yards, and jumped into what Scott figured was a dried up lake. They scrambled into a large pipe and scurried as far back as they could and still be able to see out. Over an hour passed before Benny hesitantly crawled out and looked around.

"The coast is clear." Benny said, poking his head back in the tunnel. "So what was that kid chasing you for?" he asked as Scott crawled out.

"This." Scott answered, pulling out the now-sleeping puppy. "That jerk had her tied to a light pole and was beating her with a stick. So I tricked him and cut her loose. He saw me so I stuffed her into my coat and bolted." At the sound of Scott's voice the puppy stirred. It stretched out and licked his face. Both boys laughed again and Scott snuggled the puppy close to him. He put it back in his coat and focused on the other boy. "How about you? Why was that guy chasing you?"

"My parents died in a boating accident when I was six. My Uncle Jerry, the guy who was chasing me, is my only living relative, so I had to go live with him. He's an alcoholic and used to beat me and my cousin Cameron. Cam's grandma came and took him few months ago. Uncle Jerry turned on me even worse after that, so about two weeks after Cameron left I split. He started writing to me as soon as he got to his grandma's and he still does. Every couple of days I go back and check the mail box while Uncle Jerry is at work. For some reason he came home early today."

Scott listened quietly. "My name is Scott Summers. What's yours?" He asked when Ben finished his story.

"Benjamin Franklin Davis." The boy answered. He smiled and said, "My Dad was an electrician." He shrugged his shoulders. "So, what are you gonna do with the puppy?"

"Keep her." Scott replied. "I need to think of a name for her. Wanna help?" He pulled the puppy, now awake and wiggling, out and cuddled her. "She likes to be hugged."

Ben thought for a minute than answered, a huge grin on his face. "Ever see the Care Bears?"

A slow smile spread across Scott's face. He remembered the Care Bears. It was one of the few things he did remember from his past. He remembered two baby bears, his favorite bears. The puppy was now alternating between cuddling up against Scott and tugging on his coat collar.

"Hugs!" The boys said in unison.

Scott looked down at the puppy. "Well, Hugs, what do you think? Like it?" The puppy responded by lunging towards his face and licking him enthusiastically. Both boys laughed and Scott said, "Hugs it is!"

X X X X X X X X X X X X

Four days later

In the abandoned house that Ben had been living in since he'd run away, two very worried boys watched over one very sick puppy. They'd brought her a few rope toys and bones, which she'd chewed on enthusiastically for a few hours, but she wanted nothing to do with them now. They hadn't thought much of it when little Hugs had thrown up late that first night, chalking it up to much food and to much excitement. Over the following three days though, their little puppy got progressively worse and had been throwing up blood for two days. She'd stopped eating after that first night and had barely moved for the last two days. She yelped when they touched her swollen belly and cried if they got out of her sight.

"We gotta take her to the vet, Scott. She's probably got internal injuries."

"I know Benny, but we can't. They won't do anything without a parent's permission and they'll probably suspect we're runaways. Theyll send me back to the home and you to your uncle's." Scott's voice trembled as he talked, trying hard not to cry and barely succeeding. He knelt down next to the puppy and began gently petting her head and talking softly to her. "I'm sorry, Hugs. I'm so, so sorry I didn't get to you sooner. I'm sorry that jerk hurt you so bad, and I'm sorry I can't take you to the doctor. I know it's hurts and you've been so brave." His voice started to crack as tears welled behind his eyes. He laid down next to her and gently kissed her on the bridge of her nose, receiving a kiss of his own from the weak puppy.

Hugs whimpered and starred intently at Scott as if she understood every word he said. "I know you've been trying to hold on. You hurt so bad and you're trying to hold on, but it's okay to let go, Hugs. It's okay to let go. I love you, Hugs."

The little puppy scooted closer to Scott and laid her head next to his. She licked him a few times then put her nose under his chin. If she could talk, she'd tell her new friend that she loved him too, that she didn't blame him for her hurting and that she was happy he'd rescued her from The Bad One. She'd tell him that she was just very happy to have at least lived her last days feeling happy and safe and loved.

Ben, who had laid next to the puppy when Scott had, began very gently rubbing her back. "I love you, Hugs." He whispered into her ear. "I'm gonna miss you."

Hugs would miss them both too, and she wished she could tell them that.

"She's gone." Scott said a few minutes later. "She's gone." And the little boys cried over their lost friend.

Over an hour later, when the boys finally accepted that Hugs was never going to wake up again, they got up. Scott scooped the dead puppy in his arms, wrapped her in a tattered blanket, and cradled her gently as he followed Benny into the back yard. It was over grown with long grass and weeds. They walked over by the rundown garage. Benny went inside and came out a few seconds later with two rusted old shovels. Scott gently laid the puppy down and the two boys set about the task of digging the grave. In a short time, they were satisfied that the grave was deep enough that other dogs wouldn't dig it up. Scott set his shovel down, picked up the puppy, and gently set her into the grave. The boys quickly covered the puppy and patted the dirt down. Knowing the puppy's time was growing short, Scott had found a large flat rock earlier, and had written Hugs' name on it in permanent black marker. He pulled the makeshift tombstone out of his coat pocket and pushed it firmly into the dirt.

"Good-bye, Hugs." Scott whispered. "We'll see each other again, someday."

"Good-bye, Hugs." Benny said. He pulled a flower from the ground and set it on the grave. Then he turned to Scott. The two boys looked at each other for a moment than embraced as they both started to cry. They stood like that for a long time, crying and grieving for their lost friend.

TBC