October 13th

Driving home that afternoon from work, Jack felt overly exhausted. His boss had written him up for some other jerk's mistake, he almost got into a fight with a coworker close to quitting time, and at this point, he was beyond stressed out. The sun set in the distance, casting its red and orange hues across the clouded sky. He was so exhausted, so frustrated, and he didn't even notice the little animal walking across the street. The street lights had not kicked on yet, and it grew darker by the moment. He felt a thump and heard a high pitched cry. 

"Shit," he said out loud. He climbed out of the driver's side door and walked behind the car. The smog from the muffler blew into his face. He waved the smoke away and saw the dog lying in the middle of the road. It was small —possibly a cocker spaniel or a westie. The blood pooled around the dog's body.

"Oh no," he said. He approached the animal, and when he saw it close up, he knew with certainty that it was dead. The sky was black now. Nobody was outside of their house. He looked in all directions. There were no witnesses. The dog didn't have a collar, so he was unsure of what to do. He opened his trunk and looked for something to place the dog in. Buried beneath the lug wrench, hydraulic jack, coolant, and oil containers, he saw a plastic grocery store bag. He lifted the dog off the ground, blood smearing all over his hands and drizzling onto the concrete. He tried to keep it off his clothes, but it started trickling along his forearms. He dropped the dog quickly into the bag, looked for a paper towel or napkin, and cursed when he realized he had neither of these. He tied the bag tightly, and contemplated what to do next. Garbage pickup was the following morning, and many people already had their trashcans on the curb. He approached one, hoping it didn't belong to the dog's owner, lifted the lid, and dropped the bag inside. 

When Jack walked inside his house, his black lab ran for the door to greet him. The blood was still wet on his hands. His dog froze when he saw him. It sniffed the air for a second, stared at him, then growled. Jack ignored his dog and tried to push past so he could get to the kitchen and wash his hands, but the second he stepped forward, his dog snapped at him.

"What's wrong, boy?"

The hair on the dog's back stood up, and its guttural growl grew louder as it stepped slowly towards its master. Jack backed up and reached for the door. The second he opened it, his dog lunged forward. He ran.

The black lab stopped for a moment and howled several times. Jack looked back at his house and saw a strange jack-o'-lantern burning with a dog's face carved into it. He mentally questioned this for a slit second, then hurried to get away. He turned the corner and hoped his dog would give up chase. Dogs in the backyards of other houses barked hysterically. Some lunged against their fences. He heard the wood fence panels crack, and ran again. He turned one corner, and saw three dogs coming towards him so he took off the opposite direction. He turned another street, and when he attempted the next corner, he was blocked off by more dogs. They herded him down a dead end with no houses. The edge of the road was fenced off, and he had nowhere to go. When he turned around, dozens of dogs stood in front of him and growled. There was a single bark, and then silence. The dogs stopped growling and parted to either side, allowing his black lab to walk forward. The dog he'd owned for three years sniffed at his hands. It looked up at his master, almost shamefully, then stepped back. 

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "It was an accident."

The black lab barked, then all the other dogs lunged forward. Jack's dog stood and watched as the neighborhood's canine population tore his master to pieces.

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