Read Online AFTER by Ronald Kelly - Free Book Online

a .38 revolver… the one Art had insisted she take on her signing tours, just to be on the safe side. There were only four bullets left in the gun. She had started out with five – with an empty chamber behind the hammer – but had wasted one shot chasing off a traveling preacher she had come across near Greensboro, who had been shouting the word of God and waving his Bible with one hand, while exposing himself with the other.
    Phyllis crept a little closer, careful not to make any noise. She got within twenty feet of the squirrel, then raised the gun. Her hand trembled nervously as she attempted to steady her sights. She wanted to nail it in the head, to avoid damaging the precious and limited amount of meat on its body, but its skull was so tiny compared the rest of him.
    Come on , she told herself. You can do this. Breathe in and hold it, just like Art showed you on the firing range.
    Phyllis took a deep breath and calmed herself. The front and rear sights on the pistol aligned perfectly and, for a moment, she knew her aim was dead center. "Hold still, my little lunch buddy," she whispered.
    She squeezed the trigger and fired. The bullet missed the squirrel, shaving bark two inches above the animal's head. "Damn!"
    Phyllis considered taking a second shot, but the squirrel was already scampering up the trunk of the tree. Her spirits were sinking to the depths of despair, knowing that she couldn't risk another bullet, when something strange and totally unexpected took place.
    The squirrel was five feet up the tree and climbing, when a white flash leapt from out of the thicket. It sprang upward, became airborne for an almost timeless instant, then snatched the squirrel from where it clung to the bark of the oak. The apparition – or so the thought crossed Phyllis's mind – landed nimbly on four feet and stood there, holding the lifeless creature in its mouth.
    Phyllis stood there and stared. She couldn't believe her eyes. It was a dog, a large Malamute as white as snow. But it was the canine's eyes that were his most striking feature. The left one was as blue as the sky – or the sky that had been a reality two weeks ago – while the right was as green as an emerald.
    Slowly, the dog padded to her and dropped the dead squirrel at her feet.
    "Thank you," she said, not knowing what else to say. She stuck the gun back into her pocket, then knelt and stroked the thick white fur of the Malamute's neck. "What are you? An angel?"
    In answer, the dog licked her face. Phyllis laughed and hugged him tightly. She closed her eyes and, for a moment, imagined that it was Sandy she was embracing, on the stone steps of her lighthouse back home.
    When she finally pulled away, she looked into those mismatched eyes. "Where did you come from?" Phyllis searched his black leather collar and found a brass tag hanging from the front. There was no owner's address or phone number. It simply read COMPADRE.
    "Well, Compadre , it's very nice to meet you," she said. "And thanks so much for lunch." The squirrel was a big one, about two or three pounds. "I believe I can prepare this quite nicely."
    She took the squirrel in her hand and was amazed to find that it didn't have a mark on it. Compadre had dispatched the animal without even breaking the skin. Together, she and the dog continued up the hillside until they found a rocky ledge with enough room to sit down and rest for awhile.
    Phyllis unshouldered a backpack and set it down. She had found the knapsack in a ditch just after leaving Charlotte and, out of convenience, swapped it for her rolling suitcase. She unzipped the upper section, rummaged around inside, and found a black leather roll secured with Velcro strips. She opened it and slowly unfurled it to its full length.
    In loops and pockets were secured the tools of her trade: dozens of spices, an assortment of kitchen knives, cooking utensils, and even a spoon, fork, and knife. As Compadre lay on the flinty shale of the ledge, watching her,