INTO THE WOODS

FICTION BY ROBERT CRAIG

They bounce around in the truck. The dog is anxious and panting, drool dripping. He's been whining since they left the house in the dark. Roy does his best to dodge the ruts and rocks on the old dirt road that cuts through a friend's property and trails along the edge of a field still cloaked in frost and the early dawn light. 

They park at the edge of the woods. Roy shuts off the truck's engine and looks at Bruce who just stares ahead out the window. He's past the panic attack and stuck in shock. Roy starts to say something but changes his mind. He takes a deep breath then gets out and lets the dog go who takes off like a gun shot, headlong into the woods after scat and dung and wild trails. 

Bruce gets out. Zips up his jacket. Roy grabs a wool hat and takes a last sip of the drive-thru coffee. The warm cup feels good in his hands. They haven't slept much.

The air feels heavy. The cold is sharp. They can see their breath. 

Roy looks around. Whistles for the dog. They walk the trail, the woods thickening around them. Trees bare except the stoic beeches still holding on, leading them deeper into the woods. Into the dark of another dawn. 

Staring at the ground as he goes. Bruce hasn't said much since the phone rang at 3am. With the news. They walk slow, no sound but the crunching of the ground from the hard frost overnight and the shuffle of leaves. And then the dog running up from behind, not stalling or stopping, still chasing scents and running past. Above them the sky slowly brightens. 

After a while of walking and silence, Bruce suddenly stops. And the tears begin. He starts to sob uncontrollably. His whole body shaking and folding and falling over. Roy grabs him and pulls Bruce in as he collapses in his arms. Roy holds him tight. The waiting is over in this early morning light. 

The dog returns, finds the two men in a thick embrace, circles around and waits. His tail no longer wagging. The dog can smell the change. He can see the difference. The language of bodies and the vocabulary of vulnerability. Roy and the dog make eye contact and they start to head back to the truck. No words spoken. Nothing needed. Just the shuffle of leaves underfoot. The dog leading the way and circling around, forward again. Herding them home.