Twitch's Last Stand

A flood of flies circled the dim light above Darcy’s garage. Glick stared down the alley to the porch light at the far end, the ruts in the gravel faintly visible. The sultry darkness hung on the trees like molasses. The shadows thrown by the light didn’t bother Glick, but Darcy’s dog scared the shit out of him.

The alley a dead end and no one willing to let him cut across their property, he had to walk past Darcy’s back fence to get to his house, a two-room box at the far end of the alley he shared with his mother and baby sister. At age ten, his mother nursing a broken leg and a bad heart, he became their sole support. Mr. Docket, the owner of the feed store where Glick worked, didn’t have a car, promising his mother he’d send Glick home in time to arrive before dark.

Everyday Darcy’s gate stood open and Twitch, a Dobermann, would sit there, hitched to his chain, waiting. Waiting for Glick and when he got close, the dog walked into the alley with his head down and his eyes rolled up, a low growl gurgling in his throat, and his lips teasing glimpses of his teeth.

Glick stared at Twitch and Twitch stared back, growling.

Flattening himself against the fence on the opposite side of the alley and timidly sliding sideways, the dog lunged the moment he appeared before the gate, straining his chain, inches from Glick, barking and snarling, but unable to reach his prey. He knew it was some sick game Darcy enjoyed playing as he pulled his stomach in and tucked his chin against his chest. Darcy would usually sit on his back stoop, laughing and sipping a lemonade.

But today, the stocker called in sick, and Glick offered to stay late and help Mr. Docket. He told Glick to wait, and he’d find him a ride home, but Glick said no, the walk home wouldn’t be a problem.

Standing at the foot of the alley, the light above Darcy’s garage wavering and turning the crumbling fences and sagging buildings lining the alley into sleeping sentinels, he wished he had waited for a ride. The porch light at the far end looked a thousand miles away and – there was Twitch. Twitch would be waiting.

Sweat rolled in waves under his shirt. Despite the humid night, a shiver climbed his back.

The light hummed and flickered. That jerk, Glick thought. He’s probably added an extra foot to Twitch’s chain. The pitch of the buzzing flies grew; the light’s hum became a whine.

He edged down the alley. Twitched barked. He backed up a half-dozen steps.

“Damn you, Twitch, and that meathead owner of yours.” He took two steps forward. The dog barked, but a different bark; meaner; vicious. “God. What’s with that mutt?” Two more steps. The light flickered, went out, then came back, brighter like an old incandescent bulb before it died. “Damn.” His heart tapped against his neck and his palms turned clammy.

He picked up his pace, sliding along the fence. The dog’s chain rattled. He stopped. A head with pointed ears and a long, narrow snout peered out the gate. Twitch’s eyes gleamed gold and stared at him. His knees began to shake, and he felt like he would pee his pants. They stared at each other, then Glick glanced back the way he’d come. Should I run? He shook his head. There ain’t anywhere else to go, dumb ass! Mr. Docket’s gone home, and you don’t even know where he lives. He looked at the far end, at the porch light, now lightyears away. Can’t stand here. Ma’s probably worrying a fit. He inched closer, pressing his back against the fence. Slivers of old wood poked him as he felt his way through the tall weeds.

Twitch walked to the middle of the alley and sat down. His eyes glowed, daring Glick to come closer, like he knew something that Glick didn’t. The urge to pee grew and Glick squeezed his crotch with his hand. Twitch moved farther out into the alley.

Tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked and wiped them with the back of his hand. Twitch was ten, fifteen feet away, waiting.

Leave me alone! I just want to go home! Leave me alone! Glick sniffed and struggled not to cry. “Get! Get away you dumb mutt.” His voice shook. “I’m going home and you’re not stopping me.” Twitch snarled a low, evil, growl. The urge overwhelmed Glick and warm urine wetted his crotch and the insides of his pant legs. “You god-damned dog.” Tears dripped from his chin. “Get away from me!”

Twitch moved closer, his snarl menacing and louder. Glick looked up and froze. The end of the dog’s chain, unhitched, chattered over the gravel. A foot from Glick, he stared, silent. The light above the garage blew and in the thin light of a waxing quarter moon, Twitches eyes turned ruby red.

Glick splayed his arms against the fence as if crucified, his eyes were glued to the dog. His throat tightened; his breaths ragged, sucking gasps. He inched toward the light at the far end of the alley. Twitch stood up and moved sideways, his eyes locked on Glick’s. A sudden, raging growl held him motionless. Twitch lowered his head, his lips drawn and baring his teeth; his tongue darted in and out.

He trembled. Do something, idiot! You can’t let him take you down. It’s you or him. Do something! “But what?” He searched for anything to defend himself, squatting and feeling amongst the weeds along the bottom of the fence. The volume of Twitch’s menace grew. No fast moves! He’ll jump you for sure. Move slow. Something grazed his hand. A handle; the broken handle of a shovel. He stared at Twitch’s and drew the handle close, rising to his feet. He stepped sideways. The dog closed the distance between them to less than a foot.

“Okay, asshole,” whispering, “just try it.”

Another step and Twitch lunged, his malicious bark shredding the still air. The loud smack of the shovel handle, followed by a louder yelp stopped the dog in his tracks. Twitch backed off, stunned, and looked at Glick. Then he lowered his head, his legs tensed, ready to spring.

This time Glick didn’t wait and hit Twitch before he charged, twice across his muzzle, sending the mutt howling through the gate and into the yard. Darcy’s back-porch light lit.

“Hey boy, what—” He ran back into the house, then ran out with a flashlight and shotgun, nearly ripping the screen door from its hinges. “Where are you, you sorry son of a bitch! You ain’t getting away beating the shit out of my dog.” He leveled the shotgun. “You’re in deep shit you bastard.”

When he got to the alley, he skipped to a halt. In the beam of his light stood Glick. “You did this to my dog?”

“Yeah. And if he comes at me again, he won’t be so lucky.”

“I ought to—”

“What? Shoot me?”

Darcy lowered the shotgun.

“Keep Twitch tied up and the gate locked.” He turned to leave, then glanced back at the gawking Darcy. “And fix that damn light over your garage.”

Glick strode off, clutching the shovel handle and standing an inch taller. A gentle breeze swirled through his wet pants, chilling his legs, but he didn’t care.