WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

gave her plenty of time to get as big as a walrus.

Returning from Carmel in the pickup—the back of which was filled with packages

and a perfectly formed Christmas tree—Einstein slept half on Nora’s lap. He was

worn out from his busy day with Jim and Pooka. They got home less than an hour

before dark. Einstein led the way toward the house—

—but suddenly stopped and looked around curiously. He sniffed the chilly air,

then moved across the yard, nose to the ground, as if tracking a scent.

Heading toward the back door with her arms full of packages, Nora did not at

first see anything unusual in the dog’s behavior, but she noticed that Travis

had halted and was staring hard at Einstein. She said, “What is it?”

“Wait a second.”

Einstein crossed the yard to the edge of the woods on the south side. He stood

rigid, head thrust forward, then shook himself and moved on along the perimeter

of the forest. He stopped repeatedly, standing motionless each time, and in a

couple of minutes he came all the way around to the north.

When the retriever returned to them, Travis said, “Something?”

Einstein wagged his tail briefly and barked once: Yes and no.

Inside, in the pantry, the retriever laid out a message.

FELT SOMETHING.

“What?” Travis asked.

DON’T KNOW.

“The Outsider?”

MAYBE.

“Close?”

DON’T KNOW.

“Are you getting your sixth sense back?” Nora asked.

DON’T KNOW. JUST FELT.

“Felt what?” Travis asked.

The dog composed an answer only after considerable deliberation.

BIG DARKNESS.

“You felt a big darkness?”

Yes.

“What’s that mean?” Nora asked uneasily.

CAN’T EXPLAIN BETTER. JUST FELT IT.

Nora looked at Travis and saw a concern in his eyes that probably mirrored the

expression in her own.

A big darkness was out there somewhere, and it was coming.

3

Christmas was joyous and fine.

In the morning, sitting around the light-bedecked tree, drinking milk and eating

homemade cookies, they opened presents. As a joke, the first gift that Nora gave

Travis was a box of underwear. He gave her a bright orange and yellow muumuu

obviously sized for a three-hundred-pound woman: “For March, when you’ll be too

big for anything else. Of course, by May you’ll have outgrown it.” They

exchanged serious gifts, also—jewelry and sweaters and books.

But Nora, like Travis, felt the day belonged to Einstein more than to anyone

else. She gave him the portrait on which she had been working all month, and the

retriever seemed stunned and flattered and delighted that she had seen fit to

immortalize him in paint. He got three new Mickey Mouse videotapes, a pair of

fancy metal food and water bowls with his name engraved on them to replace the

plastic dishes he had been using, his own small battery powered clock that he

could take with him to any room in the house (he was showing an increasing

interest in time), and several other presents, but he Was repeatedly drawn to

the portrait, which they propped against the wall for his inspection. Later,

when they hung it above the living-room fireplace, Einstein stood on the hearth

and peered up at the picture, pleased and proud.

Like any kid, Einstein perversely took almost as much pleasure in playing With

empty boxes, crumpled wrapping paper, and ribbons as he did with the gifts

themselves. And one of his favorite things was a joke gift: a red Santa

cap with a white porn-porn on the tip, which was held on his head by an elastic

strap. Nora put it on him just for fun. When he saw himself in a mirror, he was

so taken with his appearance that he objected when, a few minutes later, she

tried to take the cap off him. He kept it on most of the day.

Jim Keene and Pooka arrived in the early afternoon, and Einstein herded them

straight into the living room to look at his portrait above the mantel. For an

hour, watched over by Jim and Travis, the two dogs played together in the back

yard. That activity, having been preceded by the excitement of the morning’s

gift-giving, left Einstein in need of a nap, so they returned to the house,

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