Page 50 of Little Etheldreda Riding Hood

Suddenly, there’s a grunt and a rattle. The cats closest to me open their eyes. Winifred hisses.

Peachy.

There are more grunts from the front door, then another rattle–this one from my bedroom way in the back. I sit up and listen, holding my breath to catch the faintest bit of sound. There is another rattle and then the sound of glass breaking. I stand up, reach for my phone, and dial 911.

My keys, thankfully, are on the coffee table. I pick them up, stick my feet in my house shoes, and rush out the front door, hoping to make it to my car before the operator answers my call.

“Black Raven County 911, what’s your emergency?”

I don’t respond. The driveway is empty. Fuck, Darla drove me home. My car’s still at the Wild Hare. I have no way to escape.

“Black Raven County 911, what’s your emergency?” the operator repeats. Chad looks up at me. There are no other pigs on the porch. So much for being good guards. I’m frozen. Our neighbor’s lights are off and there are no cars in their drive. Do I stay and face this robber? Do I take a chance and run down the drive until I find someone home? The sound of breaking glass decides for me.

I prop the door open with a planter so the cats and possums can escape and hurry down the steps. Chad lumbers behind me. There’s no way I’m slipping quietly into the night.

“Black Raven County 911, what’s your emergency?” the operator repeats, annoyed. I finally remember I’m on the phone and use my voice. “The trailer I’m staying at is being broken into.” I whisper.

“Ma’am, I can’t hear you.”

“That’s because I’m whispering. I don’t want to die,” I snap.

“Ma’am, there’s no need to be rude.”

“You’re joking, right?” I hiss. I give her the address and my name, then repeat my problem slowly.

“We’ll have deputies on their way shortly.”

I hang up, even though I know you’re supposed to stay on the line. One person shouldn’t poison me against the whole system, but I will definitely never look at 911 the same way again.

Zach said I didn’t trust him. Well, now, here’s my chance to prove I do. I dial his number and hit send as I jog back and forth between the trees that line the drive, trying to put space between me and the trailer. Chad trots behind me, happily playing this game of “follow the human running for her life,” blissfully unaware of what’s going on.

Thankfully, Zach answers on the first ring. “Red, I–”

“Later, Zach, someone is breaking into the trailer, and Chad’s following me like an idiot. He’s going to give my location away.”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Make Zander drive.” I tell him. “I’m hanging up. The light is going to give me away.”

“No, Red, stay on the phone.”

“I’ll be fine. Chad’s here. I’m sure I can run faster.”

“What if they don’t want Chad?” he asks.

“Who wouldn’t want Chad? Have you seen how handsome he is?”

Zach sighs. “Red–I’m sorry.”

I sigh, check my surroundings, and dash for the next tree. “I know.”

“I love you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“I know.”

There’s a howl–long and low, then a crash followed by a whine. Chad looks up, sniffs, and starts to trot back toward the trailer. I stand stock-still, confused. Do I follow Chad? Does he know something I don’t know? Is he running away from danger or running towards it?

There’s another whine in the distance and what are maybe pig grunts–I’m not sure. I close my eyes and try to listen.

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