Tuesday Night at The Park

Elias strolled his usual route, the faint tap tap tap of his sneakers against the sidewalk filling the silent night. His scrubs, still slightly smelling of antiseptic, rustled beneath his jacket as he tightened it against the nighttime chill.

The distant hum of the city receded as he approached Carl Schurz Park, with the typical clamor of car horns replaced by the whisper of wind through the trees. The scene appeared normal under the streetlights.

Too normal.

No mysterious golden-eyed stranger leaning beside a lamppost. No blue-eyed mystery girl lurking in the shadows. Only the occasional jogger, the flickering of a broken streetlight, and the distant hiss of a hot dog vendor steaming in the cool air.

Elias strolled the walkways, staring at every bench, every tree, and peering into the darkest nooks like a nervous raccoon. Nothing. Just him, the rustling leaves, and the faint odor of questionable meat products.

With a heavy sigh, he fell onto a bench and rubbed his hand down his face. This was stupid. What did he expect? That Leo would be sitting on a park bench with a neon sign that read, Hey Elias! Over here!?

He rested his head against the bench, peering up at the branches above. "Excellent plan, Elias." He mumbled, "Top-tier detective work. Maybe next, I'll interrogate a squirrel."

But then... a commotion.

A snarl pierced the silent night, followed by a piercing thwack—the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting something solid.

Elias was on his feet before he could think, instincts overriding every rational thought that screamed terrible decision!, don't run toward the noises!. His legs carried him toward the commotion, his heart pounding in his ears.

He skidded around the bend and quickly wished he hadn't.

Because what the hell?

A teenager, possibly around eighteen or nineteen, was fighting what should have been a Doberman. Should have been—because no Doberman Elias had ever seen was built like a small horse, had teeth that could easily chew through a car door, or possessed glowing red eyes that screamed supernatural murder machine.

And the kid? He wasn't just fighting it; he was dodging it, twisting and turning with ease that indicated either years of training or a complete contempt for physical laws.

His blonde hair sparkled in the faint light, his motions crisp but becoming sloppier with each passing second. He was armed with a bow, a cutting-edge, high-tech beast straight out of an Olympic tournament.

The problem? His arrows did little more than anger the huge murder-dog. One lodged itself in the beast's shoulder, but the creature barely flinched before charging again, its howl like gravel grinding in a blender.

The Doberman snapping its jaws inches short of the teen's leg. The kid yelped—not exactly heroic—and stumbled back as his next arrow dropped from his grasp and clattered uselessly to the sidewalk. The beast pressed forward, finding vulnerability, its guttural snarl vibrating in Elias' chest like the bass at an unwelcome rock concert.

The kid, clearly out of alternatives, swung his bow like a baseball bat. It gave the beast a nice thump on the snout. The creature let out a startled shriek before rearing back, nostrils flashing in clear indignation.

For a split second, Elias dared to think that it had done something.

It had not.

The creature recovered from the hit with the patience of a frustrated babysitter coping with a tantrum-throwing toddler. It lowered itself again, muscles coiling, murder gleaming in its red eyes.

Then, in a move that looked more like panicked improvisation than a battle plan, the teen fumbled for the phone strapped to his neck. He pressed something on the screen.

A sharp, piercing noise cut across the air. Elias barely heard it—more of an itch in the back of his skull than a true noise—but the dog surely did.

The reaction was instant. The beast's ears flattened, and its snarl changed to something more like a whimper. It stumbled back, claws scraping against the concrete, eyes wide with panic, something Elias never expected to see in such a large beast.

The kid took long, trembling breaths, utilizing the brief respite to scramble for an arrow, his gaze flitting between the creature and the jumbled mess of his dropped ammunition. His hands trembled, and his fingers slipped on the slick pavement.

Meanwhile, the Doberman shook itself off, its ears flicking in displeasure, as if it had just walked headfirst into a glass door and was pretending it had done so on purpose.

Then its eyes returned to the boy, and all semblance of discomfort faded.

The snarl returned, deeper this time. Its muscles tightened, and its haunches lowered in preparation for a pounce.

Elias had no plans. No weapon. No business being here. However, standing by and watching was not an option. His body moved faster than his head could keep up, reflexes firing on panic-fueled autopilot.

His hand found something solid at his foot—a rock of moderate size, not ideal but better than nothing. And before logic could intervene with a helpful awful idea, he turned around and threw it.

"Hey, Fido!!" His voice came out a little higher than intended, but he was hurling rocks at a nightmare creature. "Fetch!!"

The rock flew through the air, a frantic Hail Mary of an attack.

It hit.

Right in the creature's ribs.

The Doberman's head snapped toward him.

Oh, crap,

Elias's brief moment of bravado fizzled out faster than a cheap firework in the rain.

What had he been thinking? He was not a hero. He was a doctor. His skill set included suturing wounds, not inciting massive murder dogs to cause more of them.

The Doberman turned fully toward him, and the low, bone-rattling growl that followed was as heated as an imminent natural disaster.

Elias stiffened, his brain shooting out worthless ideas.

Run? No, it's faster.

Fight? With what, your PhD?

Apologize? Yes, it may understand civilized discourse.

The creature's muscles tightened, its hackles raised.

Elias took an instinctive step back.

It took a step forward.

Yep. He was so dead.

"HEY! Over here, you overgrown mutt!!!"

The teen's voice pierced through the night, filled with reckless, adrenaline-fueled desperation.

Elias couldn't decide whether to be appreciative or offended. Was the kid attempting to be heroic, or did he simply look at Elias and conclude, Yeah, that guy's doomed. Let's reroute this mayhem.

Either way, it didn't work.

The Doberman barely acknowledged the teen, its burning red eyes fixed on Elias with the grim focus of a Roomba that has found a particularly persistent piece of lint.

Elias swallowed.

"Run, Doc!!!" The teen's voice boomed out, frantic and breathless. "Get out of here!!"

Elias' brain finally conveyed the word to his legs, which leaped into action after a little pause, presumably to realize how stupid he had been. He sprinted down the park walk, arms pounding, lungs burning, every instinct screaming for him to move faster.

Behind him, the Doberman pursued, its enormous paws banging into the ground at an alarmingly close pace.

Elias cast a glance over his shoulder. Big mistake.

The beast was gaining, effortlessly eating up the space between them, its brilliant red eyes fixed on him like a heat-seeking missile. Its jaws clamped shut, implying that anything caught between them would fare poorly.

"Damn it," Elias wheezed. "I really need to hit the gym."

His lungs were on fire. His legs felt like boiled noodles. This was not the time for a personal fitness review, but cardio? Not his strongest suit.

Desperation kicked in, coupled with some genuinely awful action movie logic. He zigzagged madly, darting left, then right, then left again, attempting to throw the beast off.

It didn't work. At all.

The Doberman did not even pause. It remained locked onto him as if a built in auto-aim was enabled.

Plan B. Drastic measures.

A park bench loomed ahead. Normally, he would walk around it like a normal person. However, sane people were not being pursued by a genetically questionable monster dog.

With a burst of pure, terror-fueled athleticism, Elias jumped.

Not a small, cautious hop. No, this was an Olympic-level leap with everything on the line.

And by some miracle, he actually cleared it.

He landed hard on the other side, ankle twisting and knees almost buckling. A sudden spike of pain rushed up his thigh, but adrenaline shoved it away with a firm 'We do not have time for that.'

"Whoa," he panted, stumbling forward. Not bad. Maybe I should take up parkour—

A snarl behind him quickly put a stop to that thought.

Right. Less self-congratulations, more not dying.

He pushed on, ignoring his ankle's cries and the way his muscles shouted betrayal. Because if he slowed down now?

He was dead.

Elias' desperate, flailing sprint—as graceful as a newborn giraffe on roller skates—had at least served one purpose: buying the teenager some time.

The boy, no longer the immediate chew toy, had retrieved his fallen arrows. In one fluid move, he nocked an arrow, drew back his high-tech bow, and took aim.

The Doberman, still laser-focused on Elias, never saw it coming.

Thwipp...

The arrow buried itself deep into the creature's flank. A split second of silence followed by—

AAAAAARRRGGHHHWWRRRRL!!

The beast's howl echoed through the air, somewhere between a wolf's cry and a chainsaw being dropped into a wood chipper. Terrifying... And yet, it's surprisingly satisfying.

Elias, still limping from his heroic (stupid) parkour stunt, let out a laugh. "Hah! Take that, you oversize—"

The Doberman swung its head toward the kid, its bright red eyes filled with new rage.

Elias's small moment of victory? Immediately revoked.

The kid, to his credit, did not even flinch. He was already drawing another arrow, his sweat-soaked blonde hair clinging to his brow, his hands steady despite the very real threat of being eaten in the next five seconds.

The fight was back in full swing, with snarls and yells, the beast lunging and arrows flying. It was a chaotic, high-stakes battle of speed and precision.

Elias, meanwhile, was still trying to breathe properly.

His heart pounded against his ribcage. He had to do something. Anything. But, what?! His only contribution, throwing a rock, was now officially useless. His medical kit at the hospital would be ineffective unless the monster had high blood pressure.

Then—an idea.

It was stupid. But it was all he had.

He remembered the teen's phone—the sound it made, and how it sent the beast scrambling back. Could he reproduce it?

Elias fiddled with his phone, his moist palms making it difficult to hold. Every second felt like a lifetime, as the device threatened to slip out of his fingers and disappear into the bushes.

Focus, Carter! He took a deep breath and pushed his browser open.

He had no idea what kind of sound the kid had used earlier—was there a special 'terrifying murder-dog repellent' setting? He could only hope that modern technology had his back.

High-frequency sound generator. He typed the words with the frantic energy of someone Googling "how to escape a locked bathroom" while trapped in a locked bathroom.

Bingo...

A list of apps popped up. He chose the first option because who had time to read reviews when death was imminent?

A spinning wheel. A download bar. Oh come on!

He could hear the teen still battling, the scrape of claws on the pavement, the snarls, and the sound of arrows barely holding back the beast.

Meanwhile, Elias was stuck viewing a "Processing Payment" screen as if it were a joke.

Finally! The app launched. Instead of a simple 'Press Here to Scare Off Monster Dog' button, he was presented with Hertz sliders. Waveforms. Decibel settings.

Elias jabbed at the highest frequency he could find, turning it up to the max like an overzealous DJ with no understanding what he was doing. Was he going to blow the equivalent of a dog whistle? A fire alarm? An anti-loitering device designed to scare off teenagers in malls? No idea.

He held his phone out as if it were a holy artifact and pressed Play.

A harsh, mind-numbing shriek filled the air. Elias recoiled immediately, his ears ringing. It was the kind of sound that made your molars quiver, like an awful cross between nails on a chalkboard and an old TV test pattern.

The effect was instant.

The Doberman came to a halt so fast that it almost stumbled over its own huge paws. Its eyes widened, and its ears flattened against its skull.

Then—whimpering. Deep, guttural, anguished noises, as if Elias had personally insulted its entire lineage. The beast pawed at its ears, shaking its large head as if attempting to clear the sound from its brain.

"YES. HA... TECHNOLOGY, BABY!"

The teenager seized the opportunity without hesitation.

Thwip! Another arrow was shot, this time plunging deep into the beast's shoulder.

The Doberman let out a booming, agonizing roar that shook the park benches and sent a flock of birds flying out of the trees.

Elias grinned, still holding his phone out like a magic wand. "Take that, you oversized, under-trained—"

The Doberman staggered, its body tight with agony and fury. Its brilliant red eyes, now wild and unfocused, locked on Elias.

The phone in his hand continued to make that terrible high-frequency noise, and the monster was not happy about it. Its ears flattened, its lips curved back into a sneer, and for a brief, stomach-churning instant, Elias swears he saw something almost like despair in its gaze—before it was fully consumed by wrath.

Oh. Oh no. He had officially pissed it off.

The Doberman charged at him, a flurry of muscle and rage. Elias stood his ground, his feet firmly planted, his phone still held high, as if he were looking for a Wi-Fi signal in the woods. This was a horrible idea.

"Come on, you oversized, demonic puppy," he muttered, eyes locked on the incoming freight train of death. "Just a little bit closer…"

The monster was nearly on him.

Teeth. Red eyes. The overwhelming smell of singed fur and death.

At the very last second—Elias moved.

More accurately, he hurled himself aside in an undignified, last-minute dodge that resembled a guy slipping on ice rather than an action hero maneuver. His knee nearly buckled. His phone almost flew out of his hand. But, somehow, he managed to twist just enough so that the beast missed.

The Doberman sped past him like a missile, recovered fast, and lunged again. And at that instant of sheer, dumb impulse, Elias did what his frazzled brain could come up with—

He punched it.

Right in the snout.

To clarify, it was not a good punch. It wasn't even a satisfactory punch. It was more of a frightened, clumsy thump against its nose, like someone attempting to open a really stubborn door.

However, for a creature already suffering from acoustic anguish and several stab wounds, it appeared to be the final straw.

The Doberman yelped—a sharp, startled noise that clearly did not match its huge size—before tripping over itself.

It toppled head over paws, its momentum sending it tumbling over the ground in a tangle of limbs. Elias barely had time to grasp what had just happened before—

Thwip!

Another arrow.

The teen's shot was dead on. The arrow buried itself deep in the creature's throat with a horrible shunk. The Doberman spasmed, his legs kicking weakly. Its brilliant crimson eyes twitched, then dimmed.

Silence.

Elias stood there panting, phone still raised, his other hand clutched in a shaking fist. His entire body was quivering, with adrenaline rendering his limbs useless.

He blinked at the fallen Doberman. Then at the teenager. Then back at the Doberman.

"…Did I just punch a monster dog to death?"

The kid, still catching his breath, gave him a blank expression. "Pretty sure it was mostly the arrows."

Elias breathed sharply. "Yeah. Okay. That makes much more sense."

"Well, Doc," the teen said, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips. "That was... interesting."

Elias let out a laugh that was slightly too high-pitched and manic. "Interesting? Yes, of course. Let's go with it. What else comes to mind? Terrifying, bizarre, and 'what the hell just happened?!'" He grasped his chest, as if to ensure that his heart hadn't exploded.

The teenager snorted and rolled his shoulders as if it were just another Tuesday. "Welcome to my world."

Elias opened his mouth to respond—probably something nasty about how this was not his world—but then he noticed movement.

The Doberman. Or, well... what was left of it.

The thing wasn't simply lying there. It was changing. Its huge body appeared to be crumbling. No, it's dissolving. Like a wax figurine placed too close to a blaze. The boundaries blurred, and the solid figure transformed into a slick, inky shadow that spread like an oil spill across the street.

Elias jerked back so fiercely that he nearly toppled off a bench. "Nope. No, nope, nope. What the hell is going on?!" His voice cracked embarrassingly on the final word.

Meanwhile, the teen observed the horrible spectacle with the same eagerness as if he were waiting for a microwave to go off. "It's going back."

"Back?" Elias concurred, shifting his horrified gaze away from the crumbling nightmare dog to stare at the teenager. "Back where?"

"Where it came from." The kid said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Elias stared at him, hoping for an explanation that made sense. He did not receive one. Instead, the teen simply watched until the last of the inky mass slithered into the darkness beneath a tree and... vanished.

Another silence.

A thick, suffocating silence, heavy with all the questions Elias didn't even know how to form.

He tried to convince himself that this was all a stress-related illusion. Perhaps he dozed off in the on-call room. Perhaps he'd wake up any second now to a beeping pager and a lukewarm cup of coffee.

But when he glanced at the teen again—the wariness in his too-old-for-his-age eyes, the way his stance had settled into something stiff, watchful—Elias realized.

This was real.

And worse—

This kid understood it.

"Who are you?" Elias demanded, his voice harsh and his breathing shaky. "And what was that thing?"

The teen sighed, raking a hand through his sweat-damp blond hair. For a second, he just stared at Elias, something unreadable flickering behind his sharp eyes, like he was debating whether to tell him anything at all.

Finally, he answered, "That thing—" He pointed to the now-empty ground. "Was a hellhound."

A Hellhound?!!