Page 132 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

My hands found his shoulders. They were trembling so violently I could barely hold onto his fur. I shook him gently. His head rolled limply against my arm. Far too easily. Far too heavily.

"No..."

There wasn't any blood. No obvious wound. No torn fur. Nothing. But something was terribly wrong. His body didn't feel asleep. It felt...

Empty.

"Max..."

My voice broke.

"Sweetheart..."

I pressed both hands against his ribs, desperate to feel something. Anything. A heartbeat. Movement. Life. Nothing answered me. Only the faintest whistle escaped between his lips, his tongue pale and beginning to darken. The world narrowed into a single, blinding point.

No.

No.

No.

I stumbled to my feet and ran. I barely remembered reaching the porch. One foot caught on an exposed root, sending me crashing against the wooden railing, but I didn't stop. The screen door slammed against the frame as I threw it open.

"Where is it?"

My voice cracked.

"Where is it.?"

The kitchen blurred around me. The table. The soup. The untouched sandwich. My phone. I'd left it somewhere after finishing my edit.

"I can't find it! My phone!"

I spun in frantic circles, searching every surface.

"Desk!"

Gerald shouted from the mantelpiece, his ceramic voice cracking with an uncharacteristic panic.

"Bedroom!"

Frank yelled from somewhere down the corridor.

"You left it on the nightstand after the nightmare!"

"I SAID DESK!"

Gerald bellowed back, stamping his tiny painted feet against the mantle.

"Because she had it next to the source material!"

My eyes landed on the small wooden side table beneath the window. There. I lunged for it. Running back outside I ran to Max dropping beside him looking to make sure if it was real. My hands in his fur I still can’t feel anything. He still wasn’t moving.

The screen was smeared with dirt and streaks of Max's fur as my trembling fingers fumbled to unlock it. Buried beneath the contacts was the number I'd quietly saved after Tuesday night, copied from the battered business card Elias had left on my kitchen counter before the rain. I pressed his name.

Call.

One ring.