Chapter 76 [M]
Pete had gotten word that the gang could make a few bucks unloading a truck. Someone in the building tipped him off to a man who worked in a warehouse a few blocks away. It seemed as though they weren't the only criminals renting in that apartment complex. Pete talked with the guy, a skinny and shading looking fellow who spoke in hushed tones under his breath. A confidential delivery was made every so often, the contents needing to be placed in an abandoned warehouse. Some considered the job too risky, it difficult to unload a truck of mysterious goods in the middle of the night in a back alley without being caught. He was never told what exactly would be in the truck but Pete assumed it to be stolen goods and alcohol.
Pete felt proud of himself that he'd gotten the men this gig- like he'd done the job of both a policeman and businessman in a matter of hours. The men had their own choice when taking a fee- a flat rate given once the truck had been unloaded safely, or the men could help themselves to a share of the cargo. A few nights later the men were at work with the task. Under the cover of night and one dull street lamp Red and Pete were doing the heavy lifting.
There came a sound from far back in the truck, almost like a whine, and all the men turned their head at the noise. "The fuck was that?" Pete questioned bluntly.
John arched his head and looked into the shadows but saw nothing. "Some of these boxes are falling in on each other," Homer complained, using it to explain the unknown sound. The men kept moving. John had led the truck into the ally and opened up the warehouse. He carried some small, light boxes, he still worried about his shoulder handling any substantial weight. He stood on the ramp, surveying the men's job. Red tried to lift a particularly heavy box and called Homer to help him. As they shuffled from the truck and into the warehouse John was momentarily left to himself, and he heard the strange noise again.
He stepped forward. It was definitely coming from the truck…somewhere far in the back. A yelp. A squeal. John walked forward under the cover of the vehicle. He continued slowly, curious yet hesitant. Gently he kicked a box with his foot and heard shuffling from the floor. John took another step forward and peeked around a stack of boxes. It was there he saw a small puppy, stepping a puddle of its own urine and shaking. John knelt down and the animal cowered up against the wall.
"Come 'ere," John encouraged, kneeling to the floor and reaching his hand out to the animal. It looked to be very young, his fur a sleek black. He was obviously scared and likely hungry. Who knew what the tiny creature had been through? John kept calling to it gently, it gaining his trust enough to step forward and sniff John's general area. When John made contact with the puppy, his fingers scratching gently into his fur, the dog moved closer and closer toward his lap.
"Where the hell did that come from?" Homer bellowed from the edge of the truck, looking a little scared to venture forward.
"Back here," was all John said, smiling as the puppy took a liking to him. He was hooked already. As John pet and played with the animal he could tell that it was a boy and that there was a strange kind of pattern to his fur but only in a thin line across the back. He knew about these dogs but he'd never seen one. They called them "ridgebacks" and they were, as far as he knew, very rare and very expensive. Pete and Red were now also gazing inside, watching John apprehensively.
"Look," John offered proudly, pointing out the texture of his fur. "He's a Ridgeback. You know how expensive these dogs are?"
"Well," Pete shrugged, reaching out to lift another box. "Somebody didn't care."
John ignored him. He tried to pick the puppy up and when the animal allowed him to do so John stood, tucking him into the folds of his coat. Homer stepped in his way looking nervous.
"You're not bringing that thing back are ya?"
Red looked his way and added his own comment to the scene. "You already have that damn cat. Billie's not gonna let you bring a dog home."
John frowned at them, as if they had any idea what Billie would do. The second she saw the puppy she'd want to keep it herself. That's what John hoped, at least, as he cradled the canine and headed back toward the apartment. The dog was his now.