Survival

17

Hey guys!! 

I can't tell you how sorry I am for not updating last week....i actually genuinely don't have a reason why i didn't. And I'm not going to make up a random excuse...so sorry. 

Anyway, to make it worse, I read over what I wrote, and realised that I hadn't posted the updated version. So basically...the previous chapters was the wrong one to post. I'm going to take it down and post this one and the next one. Two updates...technically i should update three, but I still need to finish the chapter after that. 

This chapter has some from the previous post and new bits...sorry for the mix-up

Sorry once more, please forgive me. 

-Dipstickdope

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I didn't know which I wanted to do more: cry or scream in frustration. I ended up doing a bit of both.

I cried in frustration.

Coop was gone and I had no idea where he was, who had taken him and how to get him back. I knew nothing, and I hated not knowing. The only proof I really had that someone had taken Coop was the fact his scent ended at the dock, and there was a man smell mixed with his own.

The thing that annoyed me the most was that I recognised the smell, just not where.

How could they even take Coop anyway? He would have been inside, so the dog-napper must have gotten in to get Coop out. And then getting Coop out would have opened up a whole new set of problems: he wouldn't go quietly. They must have sedated him to keep him quiet and get him easier.

All while we were at school.

They must have been in my house.

Their scent will be there too.

Without a word to anyone, I tore away from the dock. I didn't bother snuffing out my flare as I ran up to the house. Whitney met me halfway, jumping when I ran past her. I burst into the house, the door slammed shut behind me.

I inhaled deeply, and the scent from outside drifted into my nostrils. It hovered around the bottom levels like a ghost, but as I passed the stairs, it wafted from upstairs. They'd been upstairs.

I made my way up slowly, sniffing the air every couple of steps. The scent was still there. It didn't go into Kit's room, or any other room. Only my room.

I opened my door quickly, pausing to inhale. It was strong in here, and I was beginning to like this bloodhound act more and more.

I hadn't glanced at my room since leaving for school this morning, so I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Now I noticed it.

The note on my desk.

A small piece of paper, folded neatly in half.

Blocked hand writing, all in capitals.

A knock on my door had me dropping the note on the desk and wiping my eyes dry. "Come in" I called quietly, voice cracking. Kit poked his head in and regarded me sadly.

"The police will be here at ten tomorrow" he said, and I nodded. "We'll find him Tory, I promise"

No you won't, you just wish we do.

Without another word, Kit left me to myself. The boys didn't try to come up, or contact me. My flare withered and died after a while, leaving me trembling on my bed. The note lay in my hand, glaring at me almost smugly.