The Pit

— then a familiar tug on his tail. The surprise attack from behind tripped his feet. He sprawled nose-first into the grass and slid with his limbs splayed out.

His sister bounded past him and up the steps.

Be

He hoped these days would never end.

“Shouldn’t we pull his ass out of there?”

“Not yet!”

Brutus paddled in the middle of the pool. His back legs churned the water, toes splayed out. His front legs fought to keep his snout above the water. His collar, a weighted steel chain, sought to drag him to the cement bottom. Braided cords of rope trapped him in the middle of the concrete swimming pool. His heart thundered in his throat. Each breath heaved with desperate sprays of water.

“Yo, man! You go

“A little water won’t kill him. He got a fight in two days. A big-ass show. I got a lot riding on it.”

Paddling and wheeling his legs, water burned his eyes. His vision darkened at the edges. Still he saw the pit trainer off to the side, in trunks, no shirt. On his bare chest was inked two dogs snarling at each other. Two other men held the chains, keeping him from reaching the edge of the pool.

Bone-tired and cold, his back end began to slip deeper. He fought, but his head bobbed under. He took a gulp into his lungs. Choking, he kicked and got his nose above water again. He gagged his lungs clear. A bit of bile followed, oiling the water around his lips. Foam frothed from his nostrils.

“He done in, man. Pull ‘im out.”

“Let’s see what he’s got,” the trainer said. “Bitch been in there longer than he ever done.”

For another stretch of painful eternity, Brutus fought the pull of the chain and the waterlogged weight of his own body. His head sank with every fourth paddle. He breathed in as much stinging water as he did air. He had gone deaf to anything but his own hammering heart. His vision had shrunk to a blinding pinpoint. Then finally, he could no longer fight to the surface. More water flowed into his lungs. He sank — into the depths and into darkness.

But there was no peace.

The dark still terrified him.

The summer storm rattled the shutters and boomed with great claps that sounded like the end of all things. Spats of rain struck the windows, and flashes of lightning split the night sky.

Be

…boom, boom, boom…

Brightness shattered across the room, casting away all shadows.

Be

A face appeared from atop the bed and leaned down to stare at them. The boy, his head upside down, lifted a finger to his lips. “Shh, Junie, you’ll wake Dad.”

But his sister would have none of that. She barked and barked, trying to scare off what lurked in the storm. The boy rolled off his bed and sprawled on the floor. Arms reached and scooped them both toward him. Be

“Eww…you’re all wet.”

Junie squirmed loose then ran around the room, barking, tail straight back, ears pricked high.

“Sheesh,” the boy said, trying to catch her while cradling Be

A door banged open out in the hall. Footsteps echoed. The bedroom door swung open. Large bare legs like tree trunks entered. “Jason, son, I got to get up early.”

“Sorry, Dad. The storm’s got them spooked.”

A long heavy sighed followed. The large man caught Junie and swung her up in his arms. She slathered his face with her tongue, tail beating against his arms. Still, she growled all the time as the sky rumbled back at them.

“They’re going to have to get used to these storms,” the man said. “These thunder-bumpers will be with us all summer.”

“I’ll take them downstairs. We can sleep on the sofa on the back porch. If they’re with me…maybe that’ll help ‘em get used to it.”

Junie was passed to the boy.

“All right, son. But bring an extra blanket.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

A large hand clapped on the boy’s shoulder. “You’re taking good care of them. I’m proud of you. They’re really getting huge.”

The boy struggled with the two squirming pups and laughed. “I know!”

A few moments later, all three of them were buried in a nest of blankets atop a musty sofa. Be

Just as Be

What is it?…

Be

Then Be

A rattle of the side gate. A few furtive whispers.

Someone was out there!

His sister shot from the porch. Without thinking, Be

Whispers turned into words. “Quiet, asshole. Let me see if the dogs are back there!”

Be

“What’d I tell ya?”

A tiny light bloomed in the darkness, spearing his sister. Junie slowed enough for Be

“You want it, don’t cha? C’mon, you little bitches.”

Junie snuck closer, more on her belly, tail twitching in tentative welcome.

Be

Once near the gate, the two dark shapes leaped on them. Something heavy dropped over Be

He was hauled up and carried away.

“Nothing like a stormy night to pick up bait. No one ever suspects. Always blame the thunder. Thinks it scared the little shits into ru

“How much we go

“Fifty a head easy.”

“Nice.”

Thunder clapped again, marking the end of Be

Brutus entered the ring. The dog kept his head lowered, shoulders high, ears pulled flat against his skull. His hackles already bristled. It still hurt to breathe deeply, but the dog hid the pain. Buried in his lungs, a dull fire burned from the pool water, flaring with each breath. Cautiously, he took in all the scents around him.

The sand of the ring was still being raked clean of the blood from the prior fight. Still, the fresh spoor filled the old warehouse, along with the taint of grease and oil, the chalk of cement, and the bite of urine, sweat, and feces from both dog and man.

The fights had been going on from sunset until well into the night.

But no one had left.

Not until this match was over.

The dog had heard his name called over and over: “Brutus…man, look at the cojones on that monstruo… he a little-ass bastard, but I saw Brutus take on a dog twice his size…tore his throat clean open…”

As Brutus had waited in his pen, people trailed past, many dragging children, to stare at him. Fingers pointed, flashes snapped, blinding him, earning low growls. Finally, the handler had chased them all off with his bat.