Bad Glass

I moved to the window and found the street out front bathed in moonlight. The wet asphalt reflected the crescent in the sky, illuminating the upscale houses in shades of gray. All still. All deathly silent.

Then an animal appeared from the east, trotting down the middle of the road. It was a large dog or a wolf—some type of canine. At least it seemed very doglike. But not quite. The way it moved was wrong. There was something wrong with its legs. An extra joint, maybe? It seemed like each time it took a step, its legs went through an extra motion—paws violently clicking down, toward the road, at the height of each arc. Almost curling into fists. The animal looked powerful, strong. The way it moved … it was attacking the ground with each whirl of limbs.

It stopped in front of the house and turned its head toward me, as if sensing my watching eyes. It presented a wolfish silhouette, outlined against the gleaming asphalt.

Its eyes caught the light, shining a faint, glimmering blue. And even from this distance, I could see its muscles quivering, a barely restrained tornado of motion, trapped in animal form, straining to break free.

And then there were more, following in the animal’s wake, moving with those odd, violent steps. A whole pack of canines—fifteen, twenty, twenty-five—flowing down the street, parting around that initial animal as if it were a boulder in the bed of a stream, its head still turned my way, watching.

They moved in complete silence, a graceful play of shadows, gliding through the night.

The animal watched me until the last of its pack had disappeared down the street. Then it turned and followed, those odd, explosive legs carrying it out of view.

“You saw them, didn’t you?”

It was a breathy whisper coming from the room at my back.

I turned and found Amanda standing in the doorway, a dimly lit ghost, lost in shadow. Her face was a pale crescent, only one eye visible in the moonlight. That eye was wide, hopeful.

I nodded—yes, yes they were there—and she returned the gesture, providing me with the same assurance. Then she faded back into the darkness.

I didn’t hear her footsteps carry her back through the house. I didn’t hear the stairs creak as she climbed up to the second floor.

I was high. I was high and still half asleep, and I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. Maybe just some dogs.

But what did Amanda see? I wondered, remembering that breathy, hopeful whisper.

I should have had my camera, I chided myself. It was the second straight time I’d been caught empty-handed.

At this rate, I’d lose my sanity before I ever managed to get a useful shot.

Video clip. September 7, 11:35 A.M. Press conference:

There’s banner text running across the bottom of the screen, recounting headlines from around the world. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artful blur obscures the cable news channel’s logo—it’s a minor edit, somebody trying to avoid litigation, but it looks like a tiny thundercloud or a fogged and smudged piece of glass. The date and time are printed in the upper right-hand corner: September 7, 11:35 A.M. PDT.

The video starts in midsentence—a man at a lectern, talking over a gaggle of shouted questions. He is standing in front of a pale blue background, and the Spokane city seal hangs on a flag behind his head. The man’s conservative blue suit is sharply pressed, and his gray-white hair sweeps back from his forehead in a perfect, unmoving wave. There is a pinched look on his face. He is starting to perspire. The words MAYOR JEFFREY SLOCUM are printed above the banner at the bottom of the screen.

MAYOR JEFFREY SLOCUM: … be assured we are investigating every violent incident. I am in constant contact with our elected officials at all levels of government—including the president of the United States—and military intervention will only be considered as—

VOICE FROM OFFSCREEN: (Unintelligible) … reports of hallucinations and possible terrorist attacks?

MAYOR JEFFREY SLOCUM: We are certainly investigating all possibilities at this time, but it’s important for everybody out there—both inside the city and all across America—to know that all of our initial tests have turned up negative. And these tests have been quite extensive … and, we’ve … uh, we’ve seen no signs of chemical or biological foul play—

A VOICE BREAKS THROUGH THE GAGGLE OF QUESTIONS: (Unintelligible) … water?

MAYOR JEFFREY SLOCUM: As I said, we’ve seen no signs of that. We’re still checking the water and air, but at this point, those don’t seem to be … uhm, credible vectors. (Uncertain, the mayor glances to his right, offscreen.)

A SUDDEN, LOUD VOICE: How many dead, Mayor?

MAYOR JEFFREY SLOCUM: At this time, we don’t have a firm number to give you. We’ll be releasing those numbers when the time is right.

THE SAME LOUD VOICE: Have you finished counting?