III.

Wolfgang laxidazicaly strolled down the center of the road with Brutus bounding at his side snapping at the passing cicadas and dragonflies. With summer vacation so near to its end, the boy’s walk home from work each day got slower and slower in vain attempts to belay the coming of the school year.

“Y’know Brutus, I bet if I just spoke to the principal and told him how helpful you could be around the school like you are at the store, he’d have no problem at all letting you come with me every day.”

The burly German Shepherd gave the boy a sideways glance and a quizzical whine.
Wolfgang continued skipping down the dirt road singing to his companion.

“You’re never fully dressed, without a smile. Your clothes may be Beau Brunelly, they stand out a mile, but brother! You’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

With every lyric, the boy’s voice got progressively louder until he was down on one knee in the dirt with his arms out and his head up. He held the last note for a comically long time until Brutus protested.

“Arwoof!”

“Yeah, I guess the hard part would be convincing mom. She’d probably say something like; Having a dog around is not condusive to a productive learning environment and it wouldn’t be fair to all the other kids who have to leave their dogs at home.” He said in a high pitched mocking tone.

“She’s old though and old people always think they’re smarter and stuff.”

“Awroof!”

The boy and his dog continued their conversation as they approached the large white farmhouse that he and his parents called home.

“I hope she’s not all bent outta shape since we’re home so late. She hates serving cold dinner, but I don’t see what all the fuss is about me missin’ dinnertime cuz dad misses dinner most nights anyhow.”

Wolfgang stopped on the porch stairs as he noticed that Brutus was no longer by his side. He turned and gave a reproachful look to the dog who just stared at the front door to the house.

“What’s the big idea boy? We’re late as it is and I don’t wanna get in more trouble than I’m already in.”

“Ghrrrrrrrrrowf!” said Brutus. He continued to stare at the door and let out another more chilling growl that caused Wolfgang to turn towards the house and wonder what could possibly have made him so angry.

Suddenly the door opened and Patricia stood staring at her son with a very strange expression on her face.

“It’s just mom ya big dope, y’see? What’s the matter mom? We’re sorry that we’re late, but Brutus asked me to sing him a song and…?”

“No sweety, everything’s fine, in fact we’ve got some visitors who…who”

Patricia lowered her head and bit her lip. Her chin began to tremble and tears streamed down her face.

“Mom?” said the boy apprehensively.

Patricia began to cry uncontrollably and then she barred the door with her body and screamed at her son, “RUN, WOLFGANG RUN!!!” The boy was rooted to the spot where he stood as two men came from behind his mother and tried to pry her out of their way.

“We told you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate woman!” said the one pulling at her arms.

“Come here boy. We promise not to hurt you!” said the one trying to get past Patricia’s legs.

Wolfgang was woken from the shock and horror of the situation by Brutus who had grabbed the boys arm in his jaw and was attempting to pull him away from the house. His mother began screaming at him frantically all while trying to hold the men behind her at bay.

“Wolfgang! The barn! Run to the barn! Take Icarus! Get out of here! Hurry!!”

The boy gave his mother one last desperate look and then bolted towards the barn with Brutus right on his heels. He heard one last plea from his mother.

“Find your uncle baby! Find your uncle!”

Then, there came a terrible crack and a thud. Wolfgang was far too scared to turn and see what had happened. He was pushing as hard as he could. As soon as he reached the large red building he pried open the door just enough for Brutus and himself to slip through and once inside, he latched it shut. Seconds after the door closed, his pursuer was yanking at it from the outside.

“Come out boy. If you come out now, I promise not to hurt you or your mother. If you make me come in after you then you will watch as I cut off her fingers and feed them to your dog.”

The man outside the barn began to make his way around the structure searching for an alternative entrance. He was a rail of a man in a tailored suit with slicked back hair and pasty skin, most people would never suspect that the man known as Mr. Bowie was one of the most brutal and sadistic killers the world had ever born and the longer he had to wait outside of the barn for Wolfgang, the more his lust for spilling blood grew. Fortunately, Wolfgang didn’t keep him waiting for long.

Mr. Bowie heard a clamoring from inside the barn which soon turned in to a sound not unlike that of a large corn thresher being switched on. He placed his ear to the side of the wall just as the barn doors burst open. There at the helm of a Sopwith Camel sat Wolfgang with his hand on the yoke and terror in his eyes, having only flown the plane while sitting on his father’s lap and even then, for brief moments while they were already in flight. The plane franticly jumped and jostled down the runway, occasionally lifting off the ground for a moment or two. Brutus in the rear passenger bucket barked furiously at Mr. Bowie who was currently pursuing the young boy and his dog on foot at a devastating pace. He was a few yards away from the plane when he made an almost inhuman leap towards the wing. His bony grip clamped on to the cross bar and held on as he scrambled his way on to the wing. Wolfgang all the while trying to get the plane to lift off was unaware of the sociopathic gentlemen making his way towards him brandishing a gleaming blade. Just as Mr. Bowie raised his arm to strike at the boy, Brutus leapt from his seat colliding with his chest, thrusting him backwards off of the wing and painfully on to the ragged runway.

Wolfgang turned to witness all of this just in time to reach out and grab Brutus by the collar and yank him back to safety. Once Brutus was secured back in to his seat, Wolfgang returned to the immediate problem of aviation. He bit his lip and focused on steadying the movement of the plane, but above all on not thinking about the possible fate of his parents. He increased his acceleration, raised his flaps and lifted off in to the air just as he had watched his father do countless times before.

Within moments, the boy’s anxieties began to decrease with each bit of increased altitude. After five minutes in the air, Wolfgang decided to circle back towards the house. He needed to see what had become of his mother. Maybe his father would somehow rescue her from a horrible fate or perhaps his mother herself took those evil men by surprise and was searching the skies for her boy right now. What he saw instead was a more disheartening scene than those in his head. He saw his parents being loaded in to the backseat of a black car with their hands tied behind their backs, and a blaze that was now consuming his home. He tried to fight back his tears with little results.

“Mom said to go find my uncle, Brutus –snif- so that’s what we’re gonna do. Hold on boy. We’re going to the island.”

“Awroof!”

“You don’t know how to get there, do you boy?”

Back on the ground with their cargo secured in the rear of the car and all evidence being quelled by three gallons of gasoline and a match, Mr. Bowie and his companion, Mr. Jagger, who sat in the passenger seat in his dirty brown hat, drove calmly away from the scene.

“You know Mr. Bowie, he is not going to be pleased that the boy escaped.”

“No, Mr. Jagger, I don’t believe he will be at all.”