A huge gust of wind comes and knocks me off-balance. Then I hear something I should have expected, the rumbling of thunder.
I pick up my pace, but I’m still a long way away from any houses. I look up just in time to see lightning followed by a loud crack. I turn my head to see if there’s anywhere safe to take cover but there’s nothing –- only highway, an empty field, and the woods a bit farther in the distance. I’m not sure anywhere is safer than where I am so I continue to move forward.
The rain beats down even harder. I may regret it later but I break out into a jog. The stomping on the ground makes my side ache, but it’s worth it if gets me out of this weather sooner. I look up again to see if there are any signs the storm will be over but it doesn’t look good. Another bolt of lightning cracks down, this time making me jump and cover my hands over my head — as if that would help.
The storm is right on top of me now. The wind is intense, making it difficult to even walk straight.
The houses I saw at the top of the hill are starting to come more in focus. There are at least three on the right side of the road and two on the left. At this jogging pace, I should be there soon.
A few minutes pass and the rain starts to let up. Right when I think the storm is over I hear, without a doubt, the loudest noise I’ve ever heard in my life. No more than one hundred yards from me, lightning strikes a tree I happened to be looking at. Sparks fly everywhere making it momentarily look like a Christmas tree.
I’m glad I decided stay out in the open. The only thing I recall about lightning safety in school is that being in a car is one of the safer options. That never made sense to me, but I’ll have to agree it sounds safer than being under a tree right now.
My jog turns into a run; lightning can be a huge motivator. My heart is beating out of my chest but adrenaline has kicked into full force and the pain in my side has disappeared. A tiny white house ahead is getting closer and closer. Despite the lightning, the rain does seem to be slowing down. That’s of little concern now though; I’m already drenched. My run turns back into a jog so I can start to catch my breath. I continue to push forward as the house is only a couple more minutes away.
The feeling I get when I finally step into their yard is pure joy. I feel like I’ve won a battle even though I have nothing to celebrate. I’m still outside risking my life in the elements.
I take a moment to catch my breath then start walking toward the front door of the house. I’m only a few steps into the yard when something surprises me — the sun finds its way through the clouds.
Only a few short minutes ago, lightning was taking out that tree. Now beams of sunlight are here. I’ve never seen lightning when the sun is out so I take it as a sign the storm is over.
Walking toward the house, something occurs to me that I should have thought of before. These past few days I’ve seen a car around the same time, in the morning around nine o’clock. A cat always shows up around four. Then I remember a dog has shown up around the same time too, hasn’t it? Usually around six o’clock or so? I don’t know what time it is, but that has to be around now.
Thinking through this more, on day one I met Cujo #1 on the walk back to my house after running out of gas. On day two, I never ran into a dog. On day three, I met Cujo #2 at the electronics store around six. So where was I on day 2?
I remember filling up on gas for the trip, then seeing the cat and forgetting my ax and gun so I rushed home. The rest of the day I stayed in the house.
Of all things to disprove my wild theory, it would have to be this. Sure, I was inside the entire time, but if the rules are that Cujo shows up at six o’clock, then why didn’t he magically appear in my living room? Or why didn’t I look out my window and see him waiting on me?
No matter how I spin it, this doesn’t add up. I should have seen or heard him if my theory is true. I may have dozed off for a moment while I was reading; I’ve certainly been known to do that in the past. I’m pretty confident, though, that I didn’t nap. My head was racing with so many things I couldn’t have napped if I tried.
I can try to disprove my theory all I want. I can convince myself that because Cujo didn’t show up on day two, the other appearances were just coincidental but none of that matters now.
Far in the distance, I see it –- a big, black dog running right toward me.
Chapter 15
I throw my cereal on the ground and pull out the dull-edged ax I’ve been carrying tucked in my pants. I run toward the little white house, which has a backdoor with no patio. It’s very odd that the door sits a foot above the ground and leads to nothing but empty grass.
The back of the house has two tiny windows about six feet up that I can barely reach and wouldn’t be able to fit in if I tried. My seconds are precious; Cujo isn’t slowing down and looks angrier than ever.
I try the doorknob, which is locked. Then, I attempt to break down the door by putting my shoulder into it like they do in the movies. It doesn’t budge and I’m reminded again of my cracked rib. Even with the adrenaline pumping, the pain is unbearable.
I make a couple futile attempts at kicking the door down, but I know it’s no use. There’s no time and I can tell I’m not going to make it into the house before Cujo gets to me.
By the time I would make it to the front of the house, Cujo would be on my back and tearing me to pieces. This acceptance, this knowing that I have to have a battle to the death terrifies me but also gives me courage I never knew I had.
I take my ax with both hands and actually start walking toward him as if I’m the one instigating the fight. Anger builds up inside of me. I feel the only way I’ll be able to do what I’m about to do is in an angry frame of mind.
Cujo is seconds away so I take the ax in a baseball grip. I can see the anger in Cujo’s eyes now as he prepares to attack. The speed at which he is running toward me, I’ll admit, is very intimidating. When he gets a few feet away, he leaps at me.
I take my biggest homerun swing, trying to time it like a fastball making its way toward home plate.
I feel contact and the force of Cujo coming at me knocks the ax out of my hands. I fall to the ground as his momentum carries him past me. When I turn around I see Cujo whimpering. There are hints of blood and my ax on the ground next to him.
He’s injured, but how seriously I’m not sure. It’s not enough because he stands up and comes after me again. I wish I had thought quickly enough to kick him while he was down. Instead, I freeze up not knowing what to do next. I have no chance against him without the ax. Unfortunately, he’s standing in a rage between the ax and me.
He jumps at me again. I have no self-defense this time other than to try to push him away. I’m successful at clearing our distance but the snap of his jaw clips my arm. I don’t have time to look, my eyes staring unflinching at Cujo, but I feel the pain and blood running down my arm.
The separation between us gives me the brief second I need to step in and kick him as hard as I can. It connects but hardly seems to faze him. It only takes that one kick to realize I’m not going to cause any real damage doing this. My ax is the only thing that will save my life. His bleeding rib cage is an indication of that.
He makes another jump at me. This time, instead of kicking him, I try to push him away. I have to get to the ax. He keeps coming at me, and I try to keep my distance with a combination of pushing and kicking as I back-peddle toward the ax.