Free Instinct by Ike Hamill Page A

girl was watching Tim. She stopped chewing when he began to walk forward. She elbowed her friend.
    “Stop right there, asshole,” the boy said.
    “Hey, I just want my map. You can keep the bag and the food. We’ll leave you alone. I can tell you want your privacy,” Tim said.
    “I’ve killed bigger guys than you,” the boy said. His tone didn’t sound boastful or threatening. It sounded more like he was just stating a fact that had just occurred to him. The tone sent a chill down Tim’s spine. A cold weight settled into Tim’s stomach as the boy reached down to the grass. His hand came up with Cedric’s red leash. The boy clipped the leash to the collar. Cedric looked up at the boy. The dog grabbed the ball from the ground when the boy stood.
    “We’re keeping the map. It has the location of our house, so it’s ours now,” the boy said. “You can go.”
    “If we see you again,” the girl said, “we’ll kill you.” She had found one of the little bags of salty crackers that Tim carried. She was chewing them on one side of her mouth. The other side hung open with a sneer.
    Tim shook his head. “You know what? Fine. At some point you’re going to need people again. You might break an arm and need a doctor. At that point, this anti-social behavior is going to come back and bite you in the ass.”
    “Shut the fuck up,” the girl said. “You don’t know our business.”
    Tim inched his way to the side. He had given up on the bag, and food, and the maps. Those things were all replaceable. With each step he assessed his legs and their ability to run. He had run all the way over here and then stood around for a while. That was a bad combination. He could feel the hot acid deep in his muscles. He would have to pick up his feet carefully with each stride. It would be easy to trip and fall with his worn out legs.
    The collar around Cedric’s neck would never hold. He only kept it on the dog so that he had a place to clip the harness. It prevented the harness from slipping down around the dog’s shoulders, but it was easily big enough to slip over Cedric’s ears. Tim was paranoid about choking the dog, so he kept it loose. It was also one of those breakaway collars that would snap if Cedric got tangled up in something. With one good jerk from the boy, the collar should give up.
    Still, Tim waited until he had put some more distance between himself and the rude youngsters. He turned as he walked, keeping his shoulders square to the young couple. Cedric watched him carefully. The dog seemed to understand the game.
    “If we even see you,” the girl called, “we’ll kill you. Remember that.”
    “No problem,” Tim said. “I wouldn’t dream of coming back here.”
    “What’s my new dog’s name?” the young man asked?
    “He said Cedric or something,” the young woman said to her friend. “Don’t worry. We’ll change it. I know where we can find some dog food.”
    Tim was taking big strides at this point. He wanted a good lead. Cedric looked like he was gathering his legs beneath him—practically wiggling with anticipation. Tim was almost to corner of the long building. He glanced over his shoulder at his escape route. He had the whole access road to cover before he would get to some woods. It was chilly for a swim, but he might have to take to the water to get away. The young man was distracted by his conversation about dog food, so Tim took the chance. He let out a quick, shrill whistle. Cedric broke into a sprint.

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    He didn’t need to pull off or break the collar. The young man was so distracted that the leash pulled right from his hand. Tim hadn’t counted on how quick the young man would be. In an instant, he turned and dove after the dog, catching both of his back legs. If the dog hadn’t been wet, he would have been ensnared by the young man’s grip. Because of the lake water, the dog’s legs slipped between the young man’s fingers and the young man