The cars breezed to a stop in tandem. Two figures stomped out of the sleek, raven coloured vehicles.
The first man was dressed from head to toe in denim that appeared to cough with dust. His slim waist was encircled by a belt with a a rusty gold buckle. Jewellery hung in a garish fashion around his wrists, fingers and neck. Hair the colour of coal hung in a greasy curtain around his stubble-lined face. His eyes were concealed behind gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses. He looked like he belonged on the back of a motorcycle.
The second man appeared to be in his late teens. Muscles bulged out of the confines of his immaculate black polo shirt and tracksuit pants. He looked more at home in a sports stadium than on the rutted track of the front driveway of a puppy farm.
Hair the colour of corn was styled in spiky tufts on top of his clean shaven face. If not for his cold and calculating expression, he might have been deemed handsome.
The men strode with arrogance towards the bus. From my position on the bus seat, I looked out of the window. As soon as the men began striding towards us, the dogs started whimpering, howling and shivering.
"Those are the men who whipped us when we barked," said two petrified Moodles.
You have no idea the cruelties we suffered under those revolting men, " said a greyish brown dog.
"Please don't let them take me back," said a maple coloured puppy.
Once they reach the steps to the bus ,the men looked up at us menacingly.
"So you thought you'd steal our product did you?" asked the man clad in denim.
He inhaled on his cigarette and blew the smoke in our direction.
Overcome by emotion, Renesmee jumped up from her seat, ran down the aisle and leapt out of the bus. She strode towards the men and looked them in the eye.
Product!" she said angrily. "These are precious dogs and NOT just animals to spawn money."
"Come back, Renesmee!" I shouted. "these men are dangerous."
"Yes we are," said the younger man as he grabbed Renesmee by the shoulders, spun her around and pinned her to his chest.
"You've made a big mistake, girlie," said the older man. "If you want to return home in one piece, you better give us every last dog you've taken from us."
"No!" said Renesmee. "I'd rather die than sacrifice these beautiful creatures."
"Your wish is our command," said the denim clad man, as he pulled out a long silver knife from the sheath on his belt.
Before the maleficent man could make any further attempt at threatening Renesmee, I noticed a stirring from the front of the bus. With the grace of a dancer, Jasper rose from the drivers seat of the bus and descended the stairs. As he did so, he stared intensely at the man with the knife.
"You don't wish to harm the girl," Jasper said hypnotically.
A glazed expression came over the man's face.
"I don't wish to harm the girl," he said robotically.
"You're going to put the knife away," said Jasper silkily.
"I'm going to put the knife away," repeated the man mechanically.
In a fluid motion, Jasper turned to the younger man.
"You're going to let her go," Jasper said with the same intense expression.
"I'm going to let her go," the man said dazedly as he released his arms from around Renesmee's waist.
Renesmee ran back onto the bus, down the aisle and ran into my embrace. We hugged with relief.
"You will remember nothing of the dogs, the bus or this exchange," said Jasper.
"We will remember nothing," chorused both men in unison.
They turned robotically, walked to their cars and drove off into the distance.
As Jasper walked back up the steps Alice embraced him tightly.
"You are amazing," she said. "You brainwashed those jerks right out of our lives."
"Three cheers for Jasper," I said chirpily. Our cheers were mixed with joyful barks.
Our drive home was filled with happy talking and enthusiastic barking.
We pulled up outside the Cullen house just as the sun had risen.
We would have to find a home for all these dogs but at least they were safe and happy.
Suddenly Bruce started fitfully barking. His breath came in raspy intervals and his eyes fluttered shut. I looked to his side and noticed a deep wound. Blood and a green fluid seeped poisonously out of the cut. I realised with horror that Bruce was unconscious.
"We need a vet," I said urgently. "Bruce is unconscious and I'm afraid he won't survive..."
Soundtrack
While I was writing this chapter, I was listening to:
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