Un2Dead (Book One of the Un2Series)

The crisp, cool mid-morning air was laden with the smell of freshly mown grass. The distant drone of a leaf blower played as background music to a darting hummingbird which produced no sound of its own. It flitted from morning glory to morning glory along the whitewashed latticework that covered the quaint sun-dipped cottage. All in all a picture-perfect scene except for the shattered shutter dangling from one hinge beneath a window missing a pane of glass that lay in fragments in the greenery below, victims of the immediate need for ventilation. The mini-blinds hung skewed, creating a triangle just large enough to be filled by the vacant window pane. A shaft of sunlight projected from the window sill illuminating what could have been Rodin’s Thinker if not for the pants bunched around his ankles. His elbows were planted squarely over each knee allowing his arms to form the front legs of a tripod to support his head. He slept motionless atop his porcelain perch. A slight breeze carried the aromas of lawn care into the bathroom and up Wit’s nostrils. He sniffed, twitched his nose and sat upright. He interlaced his fingers, stretched his arms out in front of him and opened his eyes. A bright yellow triangular patch of sunlight filled the floor. A silhouette of a man sitting on a toilet appeared in the center as if to caution passers-by. Wit sat looking at the image, adjusting the position of his profile so his nose would be visible. He raised his hands behind his head and gave himself bunny ears. He ran his hand through his hair and noticed how warm it felt in the sunlight. Shear panic hit him hard as Wit hurled himself toward the darkened side of the room. He wedged his back into the corner and pulled his feet tight to his rear end, wrapping his arms around his legs. The tip of the illuminated triangle threatened him as if he were being held at knife point. He slowly inserted his hand into the light before him. He experienced no pain. He leaned forward, placing his hand onto the floor, repositioning himself on all fours. He raised his head and squinted into the sunlight pouring through the window.

“Well, that seals it,” Wit thought. “I’m alive again. Between the sunlight and last night’s hellish episode riding the porcelain bus, I am definitely back among the living.”

Wit turned to see the reflection of a crawling half-naked man in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the bathroom door. He wiggled his butt to confirm that he was indeed looking at himself. He rose to his feet and began to pull up his pants, changed his mind and removed his shirt instead. He started the shower and viewed himself doing a few bodybuilding poses as he waited for the water to warm. A gurgle in his midsection sent a second wave of panic through his body. The gurgle was simply a mild aftershock. Nothing else followed. Wit stepped into the shower, lathered, rinsed and repeated. He threw on a fresh t-shirt and jeans and headed outside into the daylight for the first time in a long time.

Wit circled the yard surveying his kingdom. The lawn service had really done an exceptional job. The hedges were neat and trimmed. Flowering baskets hung evenly spaced between the porch posts and swayed gently in the breeze. Wit climbed the steps and took a seat in the porch swing that he and Reese had sat in with Sunny so many nights counting stars. He had never seen the porch during the day. He wished Reese was there to share this with him. A bunny ricocheted across the parkway and scurried under the porch. A jet black flash of fur and muscle was in hot pursuit. The rabbit would have met with certain doom if not for the arrival of the mailman. “Mailwoman” would be a more accurate term. A large leather bag atop of a modified two-wheeled golf cart was being pushed by the type of postal worker that would bring you a “special delivery” in an adult movie. Wit watched as the German Shepherd stopped his pursuit mid-romp and dropped to his belly. He then army crawled to the closest tree and sidled up alongside it keeping the tree between his back and the mail carrier. He peered backward over his shoulder and wagged his tail. As the mailwoman reached the neighbor’s driveway, she stopped and removed a red hoodie from her bag. She draped the hoodie over her shoulders and cleared her throat.

“Woe is me! I’m all alone in these big scary woods, just me and my basket of, um, goodies!” she overacted loud enough so that anyone within fifteen feet could hear her. “Whatever will become of me?” She took a few steps forward as she watched the bushy black tail wagging frantically alongside

the tree trunk ahead of her. ”I hope there aren’t any wolves about.”

On cue the Shepherd leapt from behind the tree and knocked Red Riding Hood to the ground. He stood over her with his teeth bared.

“My, what big teeth you have!” she replied with the anticipated response. The “wolf” lowered his head and peered into her eyes.

“And what big eyes you have!” She punctuated her sentence by tapping his nose with her index finger. The wolf fell to his side, flipping to expose his belly. Red sat upright and gave his belly a scratch.

“Who’s a good boy, huh? You are. Yes, you are!” Red pulled a biscuit from her bag and handed to

the subdued assailant along with the day’s mail. They both rose to their feet. The Shepherd brushed against her leg, turned and trotted toward the porch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, you big, bad wolf!” she called as she returned the hoodie to her cart.

“So this is what goes on during the day!” Wit called to Gary, stopping him in his tracks. “Chasing bunnies and role playing. A dog’s life indeed!”

Gary bounced up the stairs and leapt into the swing beside Wit, dropping the mail into his lap but managing keep hold of his biscuit. Wit reached forward to pat Gary on the head but caught himself. Gary moved his head to meet Wit’s hand signaling that it was okay.

“Boy I can’t wait to tell Joey about this!” Wit teased.

Gary laid down on the swing and covered his snout with his front paws.