Saul

          The monotonous thump of the windshield wipers and the hum of the engine were the only sounds inside Ryan’s car. His girlfriend Karen sat in the passenger seat with her arms folded over her chest, staring forlornly out the window at the cold droplets of rain sliding across the glass.
          She turned in her seat so she was facing him. “Why don’t we ever go out and do things anymore?”
          After a considerable silence, he glanced over at her and snorted. “What? You want to go do something right now?”
          Karen shifted her gaze back to the front of the car. “No,” she said quietly, “we’re almost to my house.”
          Suddenly, a vibrant streak of orange shot out of the rainy darkness to the right of the road. Karen’s scream filled the cab as her cat, Saul, ran out in front of the car.
          “NO! STOP! STOP!” Her cry was truncated by a sickening thud in the wheel well. Her eyes widened with dismay and she frantically began scrabbling at the door handle. “STOP THE CAR! STOP THE CAR!” Ryan maneuvered the car to the side of the road and Karen leapt out of the door before the vehicle had even come to a stop.
          “Shit,” Ryan muttered, struggling out of his seatbelt. “Don’t look at it!” he shouted as he stumbled out of the car. “Don’t!”
          Another horrific scream tore out of Karen’s throat. Ryan jogged quickly behind as Karen rushed forward and fell to her knees before the small, crumpled body lying on the side of the road. As Ryan drew closer, his breath caught momentarily in his throat at the sight of the mangled pile of fur and skin.
          Saul’s midsection was torn almost completely in half, connected only by a thin strand of flesh. His innards were strewn across the gravel shoulder of the road like pink confetti. The impact of Ryan’s car had caused Saul’s jaw to snap shut, half severing his tongue, which dangled from the side of his mouth through his yellowy teeth. His right ear was folded underneath his head and his right eye stared vacantly up at the sky. The other eye had been squeezed from the socket, and rested on the blood-matted fur of the cat’s cheek.
          Ryan approached Karen and stood behind her, looking down uncomfortably at Saul’s dismembered body.
          “I, uh, I’m really sorry,” Ryan ventured apprehensively. Karen ignored him and stared down at her dead cat, her body shaking spasmodically as she wept. A dark pool of red had formed around Saul’s body and slowly began widening as Karen’s broken sobs floated through the moist air.
          The rain and mist thrown by passing cars began soaking into Ryan’s clothes. He nervously tugged the collar of his jacket closer around his neck. “Karen?”
          “You killed him,” Karen whispered. “You did it on purpose.”
          Ryan rolled his eyes. “Karen, he ran out in front of me. It was an accident!”
          “No.” Karen said coldly, still facing away from him. “It wasn’t an accident.” Her voice began to tremble. “You hated him and you didn’t even slow down! Now look at him!”
          “Karen, it was an accident,” Ryan said more sharply.
          Karen turned to face him, her eyes welling with tears. “No, it wasn’t.”
          Ryan’s eyes hardened. He glared down at her coldly. “Stop it. It was just a cat.”
          “You don’t understand. You never did. He was not just a cat. He was my cat.” A tear slipped down Karen’s cheek. “Just get away from me.” She stood stiffly up and began to make her way towards the house. Ryan caught her arm as she tried to pass. “Let go of me,” Karen hissed. She tried to jerk her arm away, but Ryan tightened his grip.
          “God damn it, Karen!” His fingertips dug into her upper arm.
          “Let go!” Karen shrieked, wrenching her arm away with such force she nearly lost her balance. She spun around and sprinted across the lawn to her house, sobbing hysterically. The front door slammed behind her.
          “Karen!” Ryan shouted. There was no reply. Ryan stood for several minutes in the middle of the road, staring at the mangled remains of Karen’s cat and listening to the dull hiss of passing cars on the wet pavement. Finally, he turned and got into his car, jerking the door shut behind him. Gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles became white, he slammed the car into gear and took off, spraying gravel across Karen’s front yard.


          Later that night, Ryan picked up the telephone and dialed Karen’s number. After the third ring, her father answered. When Ryan asked to speak with her, he was informed that she had refused to take any of his calls. Ryan persisted, growing more impatient with each passing moment.
          “Just for a minute! I really need to talk to her! Someone needs to tell her how ridiculous she is being!”
          “Ridiculous? Listen--I buried that cat myself not two hours ago. I know what it looked like. Karen loved that cat, and should never have had to see it like that. As far as I’m concerned, you will leave her alone until she decides she’s ready to speak with you.”
          There was a sharp click on the other line.
          “Hello?” Ryan stared for several moments at the silent telephone before he furiously heaved the it across the room, where it smashed into several jagged shards of plastic.


          The rain continued to pour down in torrents the rest of the evening and showed no signs of relenting as night approached. In the woods behind Karen’s house, the trees swayed wildly back and forth in the wind, their whipping branches producing a wailing dirge. Rain pounded through the leaves to the forest floor, where, tucked aside at the foot of an ancient alder tree, was a small, nameless grave. As the storm raged on, the cascading rainwater slowly started to churn loose the restless soil covering Saul’s remains. Bubbles began to rise to the top of the swirling mire, and far below the surface, Saul began to stir.

          Ryan sat in his living room on an old, lumpy couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. A football game played on the TV. Finishing the last of the beer in his hand, he crushed the can and chucked it aside as foam rolled down his chin. He wiped at it absentmindedly and belched. Rising, he ambled unsteadily towards the kitchen for another beer.
          Just as he opened the refrigerator door and bent down, a sound caught his attention. He paused, his head still in the fridge, and listened. There. A scratching noise. Coming from the screen door. Ryan stood up, temporarily forgetting about the beer, and made his way towards the door. He again stopped and listened. Nothing. He waited for a few more moments just to be sure, and then headed back towards the fridge.
          Scrrrrrrrrrritch.
          There it was again. A slow, deliberate scratch against the aluminum of the screen door. Ryan stood with his palm on top of the refrigerator handle, waiting for the sound to come again. When it didn’t, he grabbed a beer and started towards the living room. He was about to flop back onto the couch when the sound came again.
          Scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrritch.
          Ryan froze. “What the hell is that?” He set the can of beer on the coffee table and walked slowly into the kitchen.
          Scrrrrrritch.
          As Ryan approached the door, the scratching became more urgent and frenzied. Keeping from view of the door, he shuffled his way along the wall until he could reach the switch for the porch light. Flicking it on, he lunged in front of the window and glanced franticly around in the pale circle of light. There was nothing there. Cautiously, he pushed the door open and peeked his head outside. After inspecting the porch from the doorway, Ryan was satisfied and closed the door. He made it halfway across the kitchen when:
          Scrrrrrrrritch.
          Ryan spun around and raced towards the door. It swung violently open and banged against the side of the house. He stood, tense, in the middle of the porch, his eyes straining to see beyond the weak circle of illumination. A drop of rainwater that had leaked through the porch roof landed on the back of his neck and slipped down to the collar of his shirt. Shivering slightly, he continued to peer into the inky darkness surrounding the porch. A juniper bush next to the steps swayed in the wind, casting eerie, moving shadows in the light from the headlamps of passing cars. Ryan’s eyes swept back and forth from the dark yard to the porch as he wiped away another droplet of rain that had dripped onto his cheek. He glanced down at his hand as he brought it away from his face. As he paused, blinking in confusion at the red smear on his hand, he felt another droplet trickle through the hair at the side of his forehead. He touched it and looked down at the crimson liquid on his fingertips.
          Ryan heard a muted scratching noise from above and jerked his gaze upward. His stomach heaved as he caught sight of the mud-soaked figure of Saul perched on the rafter above him. Congealed blood encrusted Saul’s tawny fur in black clots. Ropes of his intestines were draped over the long wooden beam, glistening in the harsh yellow light. The eye that had been squeezed from its socket stared down at Ryan. He watched in horror as another droplet of blood ran down a dangling length of intestine, where it pooled, and fell free. He screamed when it splattered onto his upturned face. Saul’s gnarled lips parted and his severed tongue lolled out as a ghastly yowl escaped his mouth. He leapt from the rafter, producing a wet, squelching sound. Saul’s corpse landed on Ryan’s face and sunk his claws into his scalp. Ryan screamed again as he felt the cat’s intestine slide against his arm and its claws tear into his skin. He reeled backwards, tumbling off the porch into the juniper bush. The sharp needles of the bush punctured his skin as Saul’s claws tore a long furrow down the side of his face. Rolling away from the bush, he beat wildly at the seething mass of fur wrapped around his head. Ryan thrashed and screamed in the slippery, unkempt grass of the front lawn as Saul clawed viciously at his head and neck. As Ryan gripped the slimy, muddy fur in his hands, the jagged ends of Saul’s demolished ribcage dug into his palms. Jerking with all of his strength, Ryan’s hands came away with nothing more than handfuls of wet, matted hair. The dead cat manipulated itself over Ryan’s face, his scream becoming muffled as the damp, earth-smelling fur pressed into his nose and mouth. Fighting for air, Ryan grasped vainly at Saul. Two cold, sharp incisors scraped his left eyelid and began tearing inwards. In a panic and unable to breathe, Ryan began flailing his arms in circles around his head. His hand caught a loop of smooth, slick intestine. Wrapping it around his wrist, Ryan pulled on it frantically. Several inches of it tore free of Saul’s body with a slurp before it tautened and jarred the cat away from Ryan’s face. Inhaling a deep, whooping breath, Ryan wrenched fiercely against the cold, wet flesh. Saul’s claws tore free of his skin and the cat sailed off into the darkness.
          Gagging, Ryan clambered to his feet. He struggled clumsily for purchase on the slippery lawn, unable to see anything as blood streamed into his eyes. His breath coming in ragged gasps and his feet sliding out from under him, Ryan stumbled onto the road, steadying himself on the firm pavement. He pawed the blood and hair from his eyes. As he stood doubled over, panting for breath, he abruptly became aware of low growling noise coming nearer. Horrified at what he might see, Ryan looked up just in time to witness the looming grille of a semi as it bore down on him. The deafening roar of the semi’s brakes filled the air. He attempted to scramble out of the way, but his exhausted limbs refused to cooperate. Ryan was crushed instantly, his body tossed to the side of the road like a broken doll.


          The rain continued to pour down, and even before the paramedics arrived and pronounced Ryan dead, it had washed away much of his blood. Also washed away in the downpour were the clumps of mud and the peculiar orange hairs that had clung to his ruined face. In the forest behind Karen’s house, the rain pounded ceaselessly through the trees, washing away the delicate trail of paw prints leading to a small, nameless grave nestled alongside an ancient alder tree.