Chapter 8
It was 6:00 AM.
A few miles from where Bolt was sleeping was a dilapidated bar. A dirty looking unshaven man was chugging down drinks.
"You know something?" He said drunkenly to the bartender. "I was once the agent to the best up-and-coming actress ever. I was on the A list of agents everywhere. I was even in talks with Brad Pitt. But I blew it. Now…"
"You've had too much to drink." The bartender said, taking the beer away.
The agent took a clumsy swipe at him. "I'll show you all! I'll win a couple million dollars in the strip and show you."
He got up and staggered out the door.
Garcia woke up. He noticed that everyone was asleep. It was his turn to scout and get food.
He tapped Bolt on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go get some grub."
Bolt replied with a tired nod. He was still half asleep.
Garcia got up and headed into the city.
After padding around for a while he noticed an old apartment building.
He jumped onto the fire escape and began his way up. He looked into each room to see if it was empty.
All were inhabited. Finally he found an empty one. He cautiously crawled into the open window.
He dropped down inside the apartment, immediately looked for a fridge.
He grinned. There was one in the corner.
"Jackpot." He muttered.
He slowly pushed open the door and looked inside.
The fridge was filled with spam.
The cat shook his head. "Shouldn't have broken into a poor guys home."
The agent drove home. His car swerved everywhere. He hit a parking meter and came to a stop in front of his apartment building.
He staggered out and entered. He wandered through the halls before finding his room. He fumbled with the keys and opened the door.
Garcia froze. He had heard someone open the door. He quickly ran away from the fridge.
He could see two options. Head for the fire escape or hide in the house.
In one of his many moronic decisions he ran into the bathroom to hide.
The agent entered the room. He looked around. He had heard movement. He headed for the kitchen. He froze.
The refridgerator door was open. He looked around. There was someone in the apartment.
He calmly began searching the apartment. He was scared. Really scared.
He entered his bedroom. There was no one there. He looked in his closet. Nothing.
Garcia crawled into the walk-in shower and closed the door.
"Oh crap." He said, shaking with adrenaline. "Positive thoughts."
The agent exited the bedroom.
He noticed the bathroom door was open. His legs wobbled. It could be in there.
He hesitantly walked forward. He flicked the light switch.
The bathroom became filled with light. He walked in.
Garcia was frozen with fear in his hiding place. He had made a mistake.
He would be caught. He could be sent to the pound. He could be thrown off the building.
"Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts." He repeatedly told himself.
The agent walked through the bathroom. He noticed the door to his shower was closed.
Garcia could see his outline outside the shower door. He would find him.
"Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts."
The agent opened the door. There was a gray cat sitting in the shower.
"I know. Lame hiding place…" Garcia started.
The agent screamed. He pulled out a gun and shot the cat point blank in the face.
Bolt awoke. He had slept well. He looked over at Mittens and Rhino. They were asleep.
Then he looked for Garcia. He was nowhere to be found.
He sniffed the air. He probably went to get food. Bolt had the cat's trail.
The agent realized what he had done. He shook. The gun fell to the floor with a clatter.
The cat was dead. His body was slumped forward. There was a round bullet hole in his forehead.
"Oh god." The agent said, shaking violently. He ran out of the bathroom. He ran all the way down to his car and drove away.
As he drove away he nearly hit a white dog who was padding by. Bolt dove out of they way.
"Drunk!" Bolt shouted. He looked up. The scent led to the fire escape.
He crawled up, sniffing in every room to see where Garcia was.
He finally found it. He crawled into the apartment. Garcia was not in plain sight.
"Hey! Garcia!"
There was no response.
He followed the scent to the bathroom.
"Garcia! What are you doing in there you moron?"
There was again no reply.
He padded into the bathroom. He noticed three things.
The lights were on. The shower door was open. And there was a 9mm pistol lying on the floor.
He suddenly felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. He padded towards the shower.
There, lying in a puddle of his own blood, was Garcia. Bolt crept closer.
Garcia's blank eyes stared of into space. His fur was red with blood.
"Oh my god." He turned and ran out of the bathroom, sick to his stomach.
He jumped onto the fire escape and vomited.
"GEEZE!!" He exclaimed.
He paused, absorbing what he had just seen. He summed up the will to go back to the body.
He entered the bathroom. There was the body of his friend. The first friend he had ever made.
"Oh god. I am so sorry Garcia." He said. He hesitantly padded forward and sat next to the body.
He began to cry. Tears streamed down his muzzle.
Garcia would never see his family again. He sobbed loudly.
"I'm so sorry. So sorry." He muttered. He wiped the tears from his eyes.
Suddenly there was a sound. Someone was opening the door.
The agent had also summed up the courage to return to his house. He was still drunk. Very drunk.
He headed for the bathroom. He needed to see the body. He walked inside slowly.
He pushed open the door.
A white dog sprinted over his head and out of the bathroom.
The agent screamed again. He dove for the floor and grabbed his handgun.
"Who are you?" He shouted. The dog was gone. He slowly got up and walked back into the main room.
"Come on out doggy. I'm not gonna hurt you." The agent said calmly.
Bolt stayed hidden. He was sure this man had shot Garcia.
The agent scanned the room visually. "Come on out doggy."
Bolt made a run for the window. The agent fired.
Bolt dodged the bullet but stumbled to the ground. He looked up at the agent.
The agent froze. "I've seen you before. You…Bolt?"
Bolt stared puzzled, at the agent. How did this man know him?
"You…why are you here?"
Bolt measured out the distance to the window.
"You are Penny's dog aren't ya?" He said, laughing. "Old memories. Painful memories."
Bolt stared worriedly at the agent. He was getting angry. That would be a problem.
"You're not real. You live in Hollywood. With Penny. After she fired me. This must just be some…hallucination."
Bolt eyed the 9mm in the agent's hand.
"I hate hallucinations. Maybe that body in my shower is a hallucination? Huh?"
Bolt was freaked out. This guy was losing it.
"Why am I asking you? You're a DIRTY-FREAKIN-NO-GOOD-Hallucination."
Bolt turned and ran for the window.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!! YOU'RE NOT REAL!!" The agent shouted. He fired a single shot.
Bolt was in mid jump when the bullet hit him in the back.
He rolled down the fire escape. The agent leaned out of his window and fired more shots at the fire escape.
Bolt came to a stop at the bottom. He got up and limped away, crying from a mix of pain and sorrow.
Mittens awoke to realize Bolt was missing. She looked around.
Bolt limped towards her.
"Where were you?"
Bolt didn't look good.
"What happened?"
"He's dead. Garcia…he got shot."
"You mean the guy I punched last night? Why do you care?"
Bolt sighed. "You shouldn't talk about him like that. I know him better than you."
"Well you will remember me. Us."
"Damnitt Mittens! He had a family! He was a father! What about his kids huh?"
"Yeah? What about em?"
Bolt turned to get punched in the face.
"WHERE'S MY DAD YOU MUTT?!!"