EPPINGTON: THE GUARDED SECRET Tanya Taylor (bill gates books recommendations txt) 📖

and not his mouth). Right then, to my dismay, I knew Dillinger had been affected the same as the other dogs were.

I can’t believe this is happening! I thought, cautious not to make eye contact with Dillinger. By way of my peripheral vision, I noticed he was looking my way and hoped he wasn’t with curiosity.

With my head lowered I said, “Carl, Mom wants to show you what we’re having for dinner.”

He’d just fetched the ball again and was taking it back to Dillinger. I could only imagine how many times he’d already done that. After handing the ball to Dillinger, he walked over to where I stood and without acknowledging me, headed inside the house.

I was right behind him.

“My dear boy...” I heard Dillinger say.

I knew he was addressing me and slowly facing his direction, but failing to look at him, I answered, “Yes.”

“Please tell the good lady, your mother, that I’d very much prefer that special sauce she used to make for you all with my pork roast today,” he added.

You would’ve thought he had descended from royalty.

“Okay,” I said, then entered the house.

Rushing toward Carl, who’d left the kitchen and was heading down the hallway, I cried, “Carl, wait! I have to talk to you.”

“I chose the beef flavored food,” he stopped and said. “I told Mom.”

“Forget the food, Carl. I need to know what happened to you guys. Did it have something to do with that thing I saw in the sky a while ago?”

“I have to use the bathroom, then I’m going back outside with Dillinger.” There was an inscrutable look on his face.

“Listen to me, Carl. Tell me what happened,” I pressed. “Do you remember?”

He scowled. “Remember? I have to remember to run Dillinger’s bath. I have to remember to give him my bed tonight. I have to sleep in the doghouse.”

“No, Carl. You won’t! You are not the dog—Dillinger is. You don’t eat dog food—Dillinger does. Wake up! They’ve got you, Dad and Mom messed up!”

“Dillinger’s waiting. We’re playing fetch,” he said before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Exasperated, I held my head for a few seconds. “This is super crazy,” I muttered. “I’ve gotta put a stop to this somehow.”

I looked around the house to see if there was anything that appeared out of place, and was about to leave when I heard a phone ring. Moments later, Dillinger laughed.

“Oh, yes indeedy!” he blithely said. “They are all doing well. Before you know it, our kind will have everything we deserve and they will finally have everything that’s coming to them.” He paused briefly, then continued: “Yes, perfect location! Let them try to find it on a map.”

I wondered what he meant by that last statement.

Dillinger surely surprised me. He’d been a part of our family only a couple of weeks shy of his entire life. We’d adopted him from my dad’s friend Joel when he was just two weeks old and all we ever did was love and take care of him. But now, based on what I gathered from that conversation, it was clear that Dillinger was purely self-centered and to him, we were nothing special. How could an animal that was loved so dearly turn against the people that meant him no harm whatsoever? I didn’t understand it—any of it. All I knew for sure was that there was no convincing my family that they were under an otherworldly spell and everything as we knew it had been turned upside down.

I’d found nothing that could possibly be of help to me and the guys in our quest of getting to the bottom of what’s happened. I desperately wished that Sam and Rob had made better progress than I had. But more importantly, I hoped they hadn’t inadvertently blown the whistle on themselves and had ultimately become seemingly soulless victims like the others.

5

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The old wine distillery used to be in full operation for about thirty years before I was born. It actually was the property of a famous local writer who’d died and left all of his wealth to charity since he had no heirs. The three-storey dilapidated building cried out for some tending loving care which over time, it never duly received. Numerous cracked windows, aging white paint and faded wooden doors had become its modern character. The place had been sitting vacant and seemingly unclaimed for as long as I could remember.

This was our special spot. The guys and I often met there after school and on weekends. Upstairs on the third floor, was used mostly for spying on our duplicitous neighbors who snuck around getting into adult mischief whenever the “cat was away”, as the saying goes. Mrs. Johnette Christie gave us lots to talk and laugh about, as well as lover boy Willie Reid—another neighbor that lived around the block with his so-called partner, but regularly found his way over to Mrs. Christie’s house at 3:20 p.m. on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. With Mr. Christie being away on business for weeks at a time, their arrangement appeared to work out perfectly.

Another neighbor that kept me and the guys entertained was Julio Perez who had a long-standing beef going on with his next door neighbors, Mr. Clyde Rivera and his wife, Suzanne. Julio was a cantankerous old timer who had a problem with Christians living next to him. The guy seemed to do everything in his power to get the Riveras to sin. We once caught him peeing on the couple’s front door while they were away. Another time, he tossed the biggest, dead rat I’d ever seen over the fence and made sure it landed on their walkway leading up to the porch. The guy was a real terror. One day, he took his own sweet time after the couple had left that afternoon and spray painted profanity right on their front door. We waited upstairs long enough for the Riveras to return, and saw how horrified Mrs.