Page 4 of Midnight Creed

But the man wasn’t listening. He hadn’t even acknowledged their presence. Instead, he glared at Bolo, his body frozen in place. He leaned awkwardly against the tree. Without warning, he launched himself forward, swiping the knife at Bolo.

The dog yelped, and Creed broke into a sprint. He dived over the dirty mattress between them, knocking the man backwards. The guy sprawled over a holly bush, but he hadn’t dropped the knife.

Creed struggled to get to his knees. That stitch in his side told him to wait. Bolo brushed against him, his nose lifting Creed’s arm, checking on him. But now, Bolo’s ears pitched forward. His eyes shifted to the man with only a glance back to Creed as if asking, You want me to take this guy down?

“No, Bolo. Stand down.”

Creed grabbed the dog’s vest. He wanted to see if the knife had cut his dog, but instead, he dug his fingers around a strap, getting a tight hold and pulling back just enough to let Bolo know to stay put.

The dog was overly protective of Creed. He was thin, but lean, all muscle and stronger than he looked. He had taken down bigger men than this guy, all in defense of his handler. But the man didn’t seem to get the message. He scrambled back to his feet. His eyes wild and focused on the dog. His hand ready to swipe.

Bolo began to tug. Hard. A low growl started deep in his throat.

“Drop the knife,” Norwich yelled.

Creed felt the deputy behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the service revolver, steady and leveled at the guy’s chest, center-mass. And yet, he still ignored her.

“Drop the knife. Now,” Norwich said, coming in closer.

The man was young, maybe early twenties. His hair flopped around his face, thick and unruly. It was hard to tell what color his dirt-gray T-shirt used to be. There was something about his eyes that Creed didn’t like. They darted around and kept skittering back to Bolo. It was more than just being startled awake, and Creed wondered if he was high on something. Which made him even more dangerous.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt nobody. I was aiming for the dog.”

Creed wanted to yell that was why he tackled him, but Norwich beat him to it.

“Well, sir, this dog is an officer of the law.” Norwich sounded calm but very much the voice of authority. The man’s eyes immediately flicked to hers, a glimpse of concern floated across his face. “Attacking him,” she continued, “is no different than attacking one of us.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Creed and Bolo weren’t law enforcement. They were independent contractors hired to conduct a search. But after dozens of searches over the years, he knew Sheriff Norwich considered him and his dogs a part of her team.

“The stupid dog attacked me. I was just minding my own business. Taking a nap. That dog attacked me.” He gestured with the knife to make his point as if forgetting it was still in his hand.

“Hold on.” Creed heard Norwich say as he readjusted his own body to protect his dog.

It wasn’t until the sheriff stepped forward that Creed realized she wasn’t telling the guy with the knife to “hold on.” She held her hand up to her deputy in a “stand down” motion. She did, however, have her own weapon in her other hand, dropped at her side and ready.

None of this seemed to matter to the guy with the knife. If anything, it made him more anxious. Ten feet away, Creed was close enough to get cut with another lunge. Close enough, he smelled the guy’s sweat. The right side of his face twitched, and so did the fingers around the knife’s handle.

Creed could sweep the guy’s feet out from under him if he didn’t have to worry about Bolo. The dog vibrated with his own pent-up energy, but he tapped the ground with his big front paws. His approach was always a straight-forward approach. Nothing fancy. Pure and simple. Bolo was alerting, telling Creed, Here you go. I found what you wanted.

But it wasn’t possible. This guy was definitely not the teenager they’d set out to find. Now, Creed regretted putting them in this predicament.

Then suddenly, Bolo tilted his head. His body went rigid. He heard the incoming threat before Creed could notice. It wasn’t until he saw the top of the tall grass rustling back in the distance.

Behind the guy with the knife. Behind the tree. Shrubs separated. Twigs snapped. Something was running toward them. And it was coming fast.

3

Sheriff!” Creed yelled and pointed.

At first Norwich didn’t see it. By now, the crashing and rustling in the dry undergrowth grew. She raised her service revolver just as someone shouted, “Gunner, stop!”

The voice was a deep bass reverberating through the woods and filled with urgency.

“Please, don’t shoot.” The man who yelled was only a blur, thrashing through the trees, arms swinging as if it helped propel him forward. But clearly, he was too far back to control the situation.

“Bolo. Sit and stay,” Creed told his dog in almost a whisper, and Bolo obeyed. He saw the young guy drop the knife to his side as he turned to watch.

Creed got to his feet and shot a glance back at Norwich then the deputy. “It’s probably just a dog.”