About the 50 millionth time I've read this advice. Day 15

           "Advice tip #1:  In every writing book so far:  "Don't talk about your story with others.  Doing so will just dissipate the urgency you feel to write it."

            The dog led Arnold around in circles, the circles gradually becoming bigger and getting further away.  The dog was trying to get away from Arnold as much as it was trying to lead him towards something.  Arnold shook his head but continued to follow, as it was a big dog and was dictating a course, however meandering it might be.

Hank in the tree could still see their progress, but he was too concerned with potentiometers, magnetometers, and his complicated set of goggles with adjustable gauges.  He looked straight into the depths of the forest with this gear, seeing directly into the heart of the forest.

The woods  descended at a steep pace into a winding cavernous tunnel of trees.  They created an alcove and canopy at one point, with sunlight only coming through between the tallest branches in circular droplets.  There was a fresh stench of dead wood and dew in this point of the woods, and while the path continued on here was a distinct feeling it did not lead to anything.

Arnold thought he should turn around and head back, but something drew him further and further int oth e forest.  It might have been a primordial fascination with nature, and overpowering urge of discovery flowing through his veins like any healthy young man.  Then again, maybe it was the german shepard, ceaselessly pushing on with an ignorance often mistaken for courage in service animals.

He knew Hank was gone in the tower.  He knew the other guards were proxies, there was no reason to feign control over an area which would overgrow the small specimen jar they tried to contain it in time and time again.  The trespassing signs seemed to say, “We failed.  We’ve given up.  Don’t repeat out fate.”  The further he got, the more the midday sun dimmed, like someone had placed a lampshade over it.  The brain functioned automatically, thought was only tugging on the engine’s ripcord which had already started itself.

The walky talky emitted a loud static that Arnold reflexively responded to.  He pushed the button in and rattled off some walky talky speech, “Arnold here, over!”  The voice on the other end wasn’t a familiar one.

“Turn back,”  It stated in an impersonal monotone.  “Bring the dog back.  That’s my dog.”  It crackled a few seconds without the accompaniment of any voice and cut out.

“OK,” Arnold paused.  The dog barked as it heard the voice coming over the other end.   He was confused as to what exactly was going on.  Maybe Duane hadn’t brought him to this stretch of woods on accident.  Although, of course, his role was completely precarious, he still stood on wobbily moral ground based on his acknowledged understanding of Duane’s intent.

Arnold didn’t turn around.  He was mesmerized by the way this line of trees unnaturally spread downard like an avalanche.  He stooped down to pet the dog, who had softened its demeanor and was now panting with its tongue hanging out like it was 100 degrees outside. 

Things escalated quickly.  Arnold had to turn the walky talky off.  Lucky for him, he was halfway across the forest by now.  He imagined gunshots being exchanged like some skirmish between pre-presidential George Washington and the indigenous people.  George Washington was often on the wrong end of these battles, but he survived.  Sometimes surviving is enough.

He made his way through a clearing, past an elementary school, and it became he wasn’t as far away from civilization as he had thought.  Staring at the clean cut, appropriated trees and foliage it looked familiar in the way any sanitized, suburban area did.  He might have been here before in a dream, or the mind might just produce generic templates like Hannah Barbera hallways. 

He brought the dog into the first store he saw with him, a gas station with a giant slushy machine adorning the wall like a performance art piece there to be worshiped.  The fat man behind the counter was noticeably put off by the fact he had a dog in the store, although he did not look up from his black and white portable TV screen.  Outside, a fire truck zoomed vt creating a din which settled in the leaves beyond its passing.

Arnold thumbed through the phonebook by a payphone outside before deciding he had better do something with this dog before continuing on. 

“Hello,”  He said into the walky talky.  “You can have your dog back.  I’m leaving it by the gas station.”  He asked the man inside to watch the dog for him, but he waved him off like he was a beggar in a rich neighborhood.  He fastened the dog to the bike rack outside, but then saw some skateboarding teens in a gang traveling towards him and thought better of leaving the dog at their whim.

He bought a prepared deli sandwich and a gigantic, novelty sized frozen beverage ad sat out by a picnic table for a few minutes enjoying the weather.  It was already 10 AM, his phone alerted him.  He finished the sandwich, which made him feel like he was on vacation, and deposited it into a nearby trash can. 

Passing the elementary school, he noticed there wasn’t a person in sight for miles other than the silent ambassador at the gas station.  Something didn’t seem real to him, that there would even be civilization out here on both sides of the forest.  The woods were like an island, formed and controlled by unwavering seismic forces. 

The climb uphill on the path, reemerging eventually on the other side by the guard post.  He climbed up the ladder but didn’t see Hank standing there, where he was supposed to be.  The dog was probably getting hungry, and he should be returned to his keepers like Cinderella before midnight.  As long as the façade lasted, they were great friends.

He ran across a Duane sighting shortly after.  The smell of gunpowder was in the air, the taste of artificially flavored carbonated red syrup on his lips.  A shot rang through the air. 

So I'm starting this "The 90 Day Novel" thing.  I'm going to keep doing 1,000 words of random bullshit like this every day, and now that it's secondary it will probably be a hell of a lot easier to do.