Charley jumped from the table. Then he reared up in front of us—and curled his upper lip.
He let out a growl.
A low, menacing growl that erupted into loud barking.
Furious barking.
“What on earth is wrong with him?” Grandma demanded, frowning at the dog.
“I don’t know,” Dad told her. “He’s never done that before.”
“What is it, Charley?” I asked. I shoved my chair from the table and approached him.
Charley sniffed the air.
He barked.
He sniffed some more.
A chill of fear washed over me.
“What is it, boy? What do you smell?”
I grabbed Charley’s collar. Petted him. Tried to calm him down. But he jerked out of my grasp.
He barked even louder.
I reached for his collar again and tugged him toward me. His nails scraped the floor as he pulled away.
The more I tugged on his collar, the harder Charley fought. He swung his head sharply from side to side. And started to growl.
“Easy, boy,” I said softly. “Eeea—sy.”
Nothing worked.
Finally Clark helped me drag Charley into the living room—where he started to settle down.
“What do you think is wrong with him?” Clark asked as we stroked the dog’s head.
“I don’t know.” I stared down at Charley. Restless now, he turned in circles. Then he sat. Then turned in circles. Again and again.
“I just don’t get it. He’s never done that before. Ever.”
Clark and I decided to wait in the living room with Charley while Mom and Dad finished eating. We weren’t hungry anymore.
“How’s that dog of yours?” Grandpa came in and sat down next to us. He ran his wrinkled fingers through his thinning gray hair.
“Better,” Clark answered, pushing his glasses up.
“Pet her?” Grandpa hollered. “Sure! If you think that will help.”
* * *
After dinner, Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa talked and talked—about practically everything that had happened since they last saw each other. Eight years ago.
Clark and I were bored. Really bored.
“Can we, um, watch television?” Clark finally asked.
“Oh, sorry, dear,” Grandma apologized. “We don’t have a television.”
Clark glowered at me—as if it was my fault.
“Why don’t you call Arnold?” I suggested. Arnold is the biggest nerd in our neighborhood. And Clark’s best friend. “Remind him to pick up your new comic.”
“Okay,” Clark grumbled. “Um, where’s the phone?”
“In town.” Grandma smiled weakly. “We don’t know many people—still alive. Doesn’t pay to have a phone. Mr. Donner—at the general store—he takes messages for us.”
“Haven’t seen Donner all week, though,” Grandpa added. “Our car broke down. Should be fixed soon. Any day now.”
No television.
No phone.
No car.
