Nine: The Bipedal Canine

Tottchell offered to enter the office building first, although his overall mood toward the proceedings seemed apathetic. Jim and Elmer had convinced themselves they would behold a bloodbath from wild experiments on how to dispose of tangible hubris and Nichelle tacitly confessed this idea had crossed her own mind.

But the building contained no chamber of horrors yet, only an empty and clinical foyer, with white walls and a cream ceiling with a modest skylight. An abstract painting hung above a plain grey desk on which a single black object lay. Nichelle approached the desk as the men spread in different directions throughout the disturbingly innocuous room. The object turned out to be a keyboard unattached to anything resembling a terminal or computer. She slid out the top drawer to find pens and pencils, a nearly spent pad of yellow adhesive notes, and an old fashioned wooden ruler.

"It's like a ghost town," said Tott, his voice echoing.

Jim stood at a wide picture window that offered a panoramic view of the lake. Elmer moped around, hovering near the front door and displaying a reluctance to look at anything.

"There's a door here," observed Tott.

They had all seen it already shortly after entering the room, a standard-sized bright blue door with a knob in the upper middle rather than on one side. It was a peculiar place for a door, a strange color, and a curious knob placement. Nichelle walked toward Tott, who stood nearest the door. As she drew close, she noticed she was striding across a throw rug the same color as the floor, a light brown somewhat reminiscent of hardwood, but without the grain. Instinctively, she stepped off the rug and approached the door from one side. Tott stood on the opposite side while Jim attempted to persuade Elmer to join the other two at the enigmatic blue door.

"What's with the knob?" asked Jim as he drew nearer, with Elmer trailing a step behind him.

Tott shook his head. Nichelle put her fingers on the door, half-expected some kind of booby trap.

"There's no hinges," Tott noted.

Sure enough, there were no hinges on either side of the door. But with the knob in the upper center, where would the hinges go? Everyone looked down to see three fine, small hinges mortised into the door along the bottom. So it opened out and down.

"Kind of awkward, isn't it?" Jim asked.

"It looks it," Nichelle agreed.

Elmer screwed up his face, evidently pained that no one had noticed yet.

"The throw rug," he said, pointing. "Move it out of the way."

Jim kicked the throw rug away from the door and its absence revealed a round hold bored into the floor precisely where the doorknob would land.

"You're a genius, Elmdog," said Tott.

"Please don't say that," he cringed, as though being called a genius frightened him more than death itself.

Jim gazed at Nichelle, then glanced quickly around at the others.

"Are we going to open the door or aren't we?"

Without awaiting further discussion, Tott grasped the knob and stepped away from the door, allowing it to fall into place. It did so gently and beyond it lay a winding, badly lit corridor. A moment later, all four of them heard the unmistakable sound of a dog barking not so much viciously as ominously. Tott knelt down and lifted the door halfway up and continued to look down the corridor. The others did likewise and they waited to see what would emerge from the dark recesses of the hallway.

The sight that followed might have been comic were it not so grotesque. From around a corner, a two-legged dog walking nearly erect ambled up the hallway. The creature stood perhaps three feet high and moved in a measured, inquisitive manner as though it wished not to mangle or maul but to question, to interrogate.

"Okay," said Jim, not breezily at all but that was how he hoped it would sound, "I'm taking suggestions on what we should do here."

After a long moment that permitted the dog to come within fifteen feet of the door, Nichelle, who after all was the unspoken leader, offered instructions.

"Let's leave it open and just back away from the door, see exactly what we're dealing with here. Does anyone have a weapon?"

"A weapon," cried Elmer, "I'd have brought one if I'd known we'd be going up against bipedal dogs."

Jim brandished a tire iron from the deep pockets of his cargo pants.

"Good man, Jim," Elmer said, "Way to think on your feet."

As a unit, they moved back toward the lone desk and waited for the bizarre, but apparently not bellicose, animal to come through the open doorway.