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Until I'm Saved, a Bolt fanfic
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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Wed Feb 18, 2009 1:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Rebekah 10 wrote:
Yes very brillently done. Please don't get discouraged I read when I get the chance probably as with everyone else who is reading this. Sourire


I'm not. Just takin my sweet-ass time Rire
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Rebekah 10
Unchained
Unchained


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 952
Location: Northern Arizona

PostPosted: Wed Feb 18, 2009 4:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Cool i did that before and got a lot of people mad. Like say 5 haha!! Rire
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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Thu Feb 19, 2009 4:08 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm gonna start uploading a chapter a night. I wanna get it all up before Winter Break is done, but I still want to wait a day in between chapters for dramatic effect =)

This chapter is about what happens at the house after Bolt is kidnapped, and what happens to Bolt the first day at his new home. Does Emily suspect anything? Does Isabel have suspicions that Bolt is “just a mutt”? Who will rescue him? Let's begin!

VI: Fate's Magic

The rain began to fall at the Wallace house. It was the darkest hour of the night, and the family was in panic. After the car had pulled away, Mittens immediately ran to the house in desperation to alert Rhino. She slammed into Rhino's cage, awakening him immediately, “Sheriff! Sheriff! Don't shoot him! It was the innkeeper!!!” Rhino screamed as he awoke. “Rhino! Wake up! Bolt has been kidnapped!”

“WHAT?!?! NOOOOO!!! BOLT!!!!” Rhino yelled, beginning to sob hysterically.

“GET A GRIP!!! This is serious! We have no time to grieve, or we may end up grieving.” Rhino got a puzzled look on his face. “....His death!” Mittens completed for Rhino to understand. “You're right, Mittens! Bolt needs out help! We've gotta save him! I'll call the air force, you round up the A-team.”

“Uh... Rhino... all we've got is each other in this. You know humans can't understand us, technology hasn't come that far, so we'll both have to do it alone and hope for the best.”

“Alright!!!! Uh... what are we gonna do? Bolt is too fully awesome to die on us!!!”

“We're gonna take our time. Bolt's a tough dog, and if Paul wanted anything with Bolt, it's to win that dog show with him. I doubt his blood will spill.”

The rain was pouring down as flashing red and blue lights appeared in the distance. A state trooper pulled up to the sidewalk and Emily walked to the car, Penny closeby. “Mom, what happened?” she asked. “Just a second, honey.” The police officer rolled down the passenger's side window, “We received a signal of an attempted break-in. We tried to call you guys but there was no answer. Is everything okay?” The officer had a brown stubble and a fully grown, bushy mustache. His hair was hidden beneath his police hat. He wore sunglasses and had was big boned with a large, round face. He had a deep voice with a slight southern twang. “Well, we are, but I think he was able to make his way past the burglar alarms and make it into the house before the alarms detected him. I woke up about 10 minutes ago and heard barking and the burglar alarm blaring. I ran to the door to see someone dressed in black leaving, carrying something in his right hand. I could not make out the car, and I don't know what the robber looked like.”

“Do you have any idea what may be stolen?” Emily turned her head to Penny and drew a deep breath, then turned her head back to face the officer. “I think they took our dog.” Penny gasped, “No! Bolt!”

“Officer, do you think you could help us out?”

“Animal robbery is a serious crime around here these days, we will do everything we can.”

Four officers pulled their into the driveway, and eventually investigated the house using forensics, looking for unidentified objects, clues, etc. Emily and Penny were dejected, sitting on the porch swing. “Ma'am?” the same officer asked sternly. “Yes, officer?” “All that could be found was this.” He held up a half-smoked cigarette. “We found it on a small ledge underneath your burglar alarm's main computer. It jammed the system. The robber apparently was very smart not to leave any biological evidence on this cigarette as well.” Emily sighed. They walked down to the street and the officer re-entered his car, Emily, looking disappointed, talked with the man again, “Well, thank you for your help... uh... what did you say your name was?” “Joe. Joe Allen, state trooper. And by the way, aren't you that girl from that show?” He pointed to Penny. “Bolt? Yes.”

“Bolt the Superdog... gone missing?” Joe asked, sounding amazed. “We will work extra hard to find your missing dog.” He added. “Oh, thank you so much. Penny will be so happy when you find him.” Emily shouted, thankfully. “I have one final question to ask you, Emily... that is your name, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have anyone you suspect of stealing your dog? Like any relatives looking for some kind of revenge or any common wannabe visitors?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Well, if you remember any, give us a call and we will investigate.” He handed her a card with his information on it.

“Thank you, we will.”

“Don't mention it...” Joe removed his sunglasses, “Emily.” The police cars began to disperse and depart down the street. The rain was still coming down. Emily studied the card, and then noticed ink beginning to rub off on her hand from the back. She turned it over, and written on the back was his name and home phone number, with a message underneath written in very neat cursive, 'If you want, we can go out sometime'. Emily thought for a moment and then shook her head in disapproval, knowing she was already taken.

No sun rose in this new home Bolt was in; not only because of the rain, but the forest and mountain behind the house completely blocked out the sunlight from the east. Bolt awoke around 9a.m. to the savoury smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. He stirred, rubbed his eyes, and let out a great yawn. He then took a great big whiff of the air, making his stomach growl, realizing he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. He trotted toward the kitchen, letting his mouth water as his nose lead the way toward the tantalizing aroma. The scent grew stronger as he entered the kitchen. Paul was standing there at the stove, cooking breakfast. “Hey, Bolt! Breakfast will be ready in a minute, buddy!” Bolt stood there, tail wagging, a smile on his face. He closed his eyes and flared his nose, sniffing the air, savouring the smell. Isabel entered the room. “Ew!” she yelled as she looked at Bolt. “What?” Bolt asked turning his head immediately, curious as to what was grossing her out. “You drool? You? A purebred?” She asked, sounding disgusted. “What?” Bolt asked in a doubtful tone. Bolt tilted his head down, and that's when he realized that he really was drooling. Two thin strings of saliva, one longer than the other, hung down toward the floor from his mouth. “Uh... am I not supposed to?” He asked, confused and a little embarrassed. “Okay, look at me. I'll let you slide this time.” Bolt licked his chops, using his long tongue to lick away the excess slobber. “Chin up, back straight, sit down on your behind, wag your tail, and no slobber.” She instructed. “Good girl, Izzy.” Paul tossed her a strip of bacon. Bolt's stomach growled again as he watched her devour the greasy strip. Salivating again, he noisily ran his tongue around his lips and swallowed hard, trying his best not to drool, and made an attempt at imitating her, wagging his tail and giving Paul the 'dog face'. “Aww, you're just too cute, Bolt.” Paul exclaimed, and tossed him a greasy strip of bacon as well. Bolt gulped down the bacon greedily, savouring the crispy flavour.

After breakfast, Bolt made his way into the living room. “What was that?” Isabel questioned menacingly. Bolt felt a little embarrassed and meekly asked “What? I didn't slobber, just like you said.”

“Not just that, but what was with that dog face? Purebreds don't do the dog face. Are you sure you're a purebred?” Bolt looked a little uneasy, but then it disappeared and he looked a little astonished, as if he couldn't believe she would say that. “Of course I am! You ever wonder what all that paper is in his study? Those are his papers for me.”

“All of them?”

“Well, not all of them, but there are papers in there for me that classifies me as a purebred.” Bolt was a little nervous that this wouldn't work, but Isabel let out a sigh and added, “Well, what would master want with you if you weren't purebred anyway? See, master wants you to help him win a dog show.”

“What?! I'm no show dog!” Bolt yelled, then he realized exactly what he just said and caught himself “... I'm... not a people dog. I was trained for my Master, by my Master.”

“Not you! He wants....” Isabel was embarrassed. She paused, not knowing what to say. “Just tell me, Isabel. You can tell me anything.” Bolt encouraged. Isabel drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. Her cheeks turned a little flushed. She opened her mouth, inhaled, and, finally, responded. “He... wants... puppies... he wants the genes of a male purebred so my recessive genes are not overtaken by a mutt's dominant ones. It's to do with acquired traits and biology and all that good stuff.” Bolt was confused, he did not know exactly what this meant. Isabel looked him in the eye and sensed his confusion. “He wants you to be my mate.” Bolt's jaw dropped, he couldn't believe it. He felt a little awkward at hearing this and his cheeks turned red as well, but at the same time he felt overjoyed. After all, this was the girl of his dreams. Isabel walked over to the couch, laid herself down at the foot of it, and focused her eyes on the blank TV. Paul approached with his breakfast in his hands and sat on the couch. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV on to see the commercial for the American All-Star Dog Show again. “There's your big show, guys! Your kids are gonna do us proud!” Bolt laid next to Isabel. Isabel nuzzled him lightly, feeling Bolt's warmth against her. “I'm sorry... about all of this...” She told him, and then smiled, and they both gazed back onto the TV screen.
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Mike2000
On Fire
On Fire


Joined: 22 Apr 2006
Posts: 722
Location: Mexico City, MX

PostPosted: Sat Feb 28, 2009 5:08 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

"He... wants... puppies..." embarassed


Looking very good, man! the story is unfolding very nicely; I wonder if Bolt will ever see his family / master again! Will he be the proud parent of a bunch of puppies? Tune in for the next episode!!


Very nicely written, definitely two thumbs up! Bravo Bravo

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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Sun Mar 01, 2009 2:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Mike2000 wrote:
Will he be the proud parent of a bunch of puppies?


At the end of my third fanfic, yes Fier





If you are curious as to why I uploaded this and removed it, it's because I didn't check it again before I uploaded it.

Hope you've enjoyed the first 6 chapters! Chapter 7 is where Mittens and Rhino begin to formulate a plan to find Bolt, and Emily finds some clues. Meanwhile, Bolt and Isabel are really getting along, but does Isabel know that he's not a purebred? WOOT!! I'm gonna finish this story off tonight!! Well, let's begin!

VII: The Task at Hand

It was sixteen hours since Bolt was kidnapped, and the average, happy attitude in the Wallace house had apparently disappeared with him. Emily decided to try her best to get Bolt back herself, and began to call everyone she knew. The first person on her mind was Paul. She was just about to pick up the phone when it rang. She answered it, “Hello?” “Emily! It's Paul. I heard about what happened to Bolt.”

“You did? How?”

“My brother, Ryan, works for that same police station.”

“Oh, he does? Well, have you heard anything about Bolt?”

“No. I haven't. But if I do, I'll be sure to call you. Don't worry about Bolt, I'm sure he's fine. You never know, he may be just as happy wherever he is now.” Emily began to sense something was amiss with this comment, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I'm just talking out of experience. When Isabel was a puppy I had loaned her to a friend for a few days to help him get over the loss of his dog, Daisy. When I went to pick Isabel up, she was reluctant to leave.”

“That was very nice of you, but I have to cancel our date Wednesday night. I actually have an appointment at the chiropractor that day.”

“Alright. How does Thursday night sound?”

“That'd be fine.” She hung up without saying bye, sat down in a chair near the phone and looked down at the floor in thought. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the card that Joe had written his name and number on. She grabbed the phone and began to dial the number.

Joe, who was getting ready to go to work, heard his phone ring and ran to it. He looked at the caller ID, and, in a bit of shock, picked it up eagerly. “Emily?” he asked as he answered. “Joe. How'd you know it was me?”

“I saw the caller ID. So, did you see my message?”

“I'll have to think about it. Right now I'm taken, but I really don't know if it's working out between me and Paul anymore.”

“Is Paul your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Paul Osmond?”

“Yes. Wow, you're smart!”

“I'm gonna take a shot in the dark here... is he a suspect?”

“How did you know?”

“Paul Osmond is a dog aficionado. He does not think before he acts a lot of times. Though he may be polite, mature, and responsible, I do not think he is sincere. I know this guy in person. I figured when you said you were dating Paul and you 'weren't sure' it was working out, I put 2 and 2 together; notice how the robber only took your dog and nothing else.”

“Very good point.”

“So, do you want me to order an investigation?”

“Not exactly. I don't want the cops to go banging on his door, because he may suspect that I called them. Do you think you can... like... somehow get him to let you into his house and just do a quick scan?”

“I'll see what I have up my sleeve. I have to go to work, but when I'm off duty tomorrow, I'll be sure to try.” His deep voice had a hint of confidence in it, Emily smiled when she heard him say it. “Thank you. I would appreciate it.”

The story of the day for Penny was laying on the couch, worrying about Bolt. Emily got off the phone, walked over to the couch and sat down next to her, “I hope Joe can help us. You never know, he may find Bolt.” “Mom...” Penny sighed, “what if they can't find him? He's probably so afraid.” Emily continued trying to comfort her daughter. Across the room, Mittens was pacing around, trying to think of a way to save Bolt. Rhino rolled in his ball into the room, excited, “Mittens! I've got a plan!” he exclaimed, “What, Rhino? What?” she shook his ball, wanting an answer. “Oh... I forgot.” Mittens groaned and turned her head away. “Oh wait, I remember now! You need to find a way to escape this house and find out where Paul lives!”

“Well... I could try, but you know how hard it is to get outside in this weather. Penny and mom make it really hard.”

“Well, do you have any other ideas?” Rhino asked, knowing she didn't. Mittens inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. “I'll do it.”

Bolt entered Paul's bedroom to find Isabel sleeping on a special bed made just for her at the foot of Paul's. The bed was soft and plush. Bolt wanted to tell her how he felt, he had to let her know he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Isabel awoke, let out a long yawn, and gracefully stretched. “Isabel?”

“Yeah, Bolt?” Whether it was his better judgment or nervousness that stopped him, he could not get it out. After a long pause, he responded, his voice was soft, yet sounding upset. “Thanks for being so nice to me. It's hard for me being away from my master, I really care deeply about her. And I also wanted to apologize for Paul... that he's been so mean to you. You don't deserve to be treated like that.”

“Well... thanks, Bolt. That means a lot.”

“Sure thing.” Bolt answered, sounding dejected. Bolt left the room slowly, Isabel felt sorry for him, “Poor guy... I wish I could take him back to his master.” she said to herself. “...and I wish I could go with him.”

Bolt was watching TV with Paul, but he was not focused at all on the TV, he was thinking about Isabel. He loved this girl, he craved telling her, but at the same time he knew he couldn't tell her. He didn't know if it was his heart telling him he's not brave enough for her, or fate telling him to turn away, but he simply could not speak to her now with all the emotions flooding his mind, blurring out the task at hand. And there was one thing he was sure of, and that's if she was to catch him in the lie, she would dump him in a heartbeat, and Bolt could not take that kind of rejection. On top of all this, he was stricken with fear; afraid he would never see Penny again. He didn't know where to begin if he would plot to escape. And if he was to plot an escape, he'd have to choose between the two living things he was most passionate about, Penny and Isabel. He just hoped fate would bring them both to him.

Isabel entered the room, noticed Bolt lying on the couch, and again questioned if he was, indeed, a purebred. She approached and whispered to him, “What are you doing, Bolt? You look like an ordinary house dog lying on the couch.” Bolt sighed and slowly dropped off the couch. Here was his chance. He was sitting right next to her. His heart beat faster. He drew a deep breath, and opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was another ragged breath. He could not find the words. “It's bedtime for us, Bolt. 8p.m.” Bolt slowly approached the bed and laid down. “Goodnight, Bolt.” Bolt could not respond, he was too depressed.

Bolt awoke to several loud thuds on the door. He heard Paul's voice from the kitchen, “Damn!” Paul rushed into the living room and grabbed Bolt. He began to look around, as if searching for something in a panic. “Aha!” Paul exclaimed in relief and ran toward the back wall of his living room. He then grabbed a step ladder and climbed to the top of it. He opened a vent to the air duct on his celiling and placed Bolt, who was just small enough to fit inside it, into it. Bolt wasn't quite sure what to make of this. One moment he was sound asleep, the next moment he was inside an air duct. He looked around for an opening to see what was going on from. He looked down the long, dark air duct and saw that there was a light at the end. Bolt found a hole out of the corner of his eye and looked out through it to see Paul rushing back to the front door. Paul opened the door, allowing the light to shine forth into the house. Bolt, having just awoken, was blinded by it. He looked back and saw a man standing at the door. “Come in!” Paul invited.
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knoodelhed
On Fire
On Fire


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 341
Location: Southern California, USA

PostPosted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 8:44 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Cool I'll have to set aside some time to watch the movie and reread this. Clin d'oeil
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Mike2000
On Fire
On Fire


Joined: 22 Apr 2006
Posts: 722
Location: Mexico City, MX

PostPosted: Thu Mar 05, 2009 9:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Agreed, Scott. This story is so good it's made me curious enough to actually go see the movie! Bravo

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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
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Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Sat Mar 07, 2009 11:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Mike2000 wrote:
Agreed, Scott. This story is so good it's made me curious enough to actually go see the movie! Bravo


Wow. I have a way with people, don't I? I turned a straight guy bi and I made a person go see Bolt just by writing a fanfic Rire
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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Sat Mar 07, 2009 11:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I have now completed this story. There are 15 chapters and a grand total of 57 pages in OpenOffice (12 point written in AdLib BT font). Officially the longest story I have ever written, but I really got into this one, especially starting in this chapter!

Now, you probably all know who's at the door, but maybe you're in for a surprise. But, incase there's been any confusion, both Paul and Isabel know Bolt is trained and they both think that he is a purebred dog, but they both obviously have different interpretations of the word “purebred”. Isabel thinks that obedience training comes with being a purebred while Paul knows it's just a declaration based on the parents being the same breed. I thought that would cause some confusion, so I cleared it up. I'm not gonna tell the synopsis for this chapter since it would be a big spoiler. Let's begin!

VIII: The Man Behind the Door

“Come on in! Make yourself at home! Wow, it's been a while!” Paul said with a smile. “It has.” a deep voice with a slight southern twang answered. “Well, what brings you here?”

“I'm just here to see how you've been doing and see how Isabel is doing, of course.”

“Do you want any coffee, Joe? It's fresh.”

“Joe?” Bolt whispered to himself from the duct.

“Yes I would, thank you.” Joe answered as he walked casually into the kitchen. Paul poured Joe a cup of coffee and handed it to him. After Joe took the cup and began to drink out of it, he groaned and laid the cup down on the counter. “I left my bags in my car, I'll be right back.”

“Bags? For what?”

“Oh, you know, some gifts for Isabel. You know how much that girl loves gifts.”

“Let me get them for you.” Paul said as he began to quickly exit the house. “They're in the front passenger's seat!” Joe yelled. He watched discreetly as Paul rushed to his car, then whispered to himself, “That was too easy.” and began to hunt through Paul's house. Joe started with Paul's bedroom, checking underneath the bed, in the closets, and in the bathroom. Bolt had been watching with interest from the air duct. Isabel was being very cautious to not displease her Master, and waited until Paul left the house to start talking to Bolt in the air duct attached to the ceiling. “Bolt! Go for the light at the end of the duct, you'll end up outside. I'll meet you there.” She yelled. Bolt obeyed, and began crawling toward the light in the narrow tunnel. Isabel escaped the house while Paul rummaged through Joe's car for a bag which he could not seem to find and Joe searched through the papers in Paul's study for any documents relating to Bolt or anything that may give him a clue. It had stopped raining out, but the sun was concealed by the mountain directly behind the old house. Isabel ran to the side of the house and hid on the opposite end of it where the foliage of the forest began so Paul did not see her. Isabel began to hear Bolt approaching the dropoff in the air duct where it ran down the side of the house. “Bolt, you're gonna have to fall down the air duct, you'll land in the mud here.”

“Fall down?”

“Yes, it drops. Fall bottom first, the landing won't hurt.” Bolt attempted to turn around in the air duct, but the tight fit made it difficult. “Isabel, I can't. It's too narrow.”

“Okay, I got some good news and bad news. The bad news is you can't jump down face first or you'll break your neck. The good news is you can turn around, but have to crawl all the way to the other end of the air duct, which is all the way across the house. There is an area closer to the furnace where you will have room to turn around.”

“Furnace?”

“Yeah, you want to steer clear of the dropoff there. There should be enough light for you to see what you're doing so I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'll just wait here till you get back.”

“I sure hope you're right.” Bolt began to slide backwards through the air duct, and beginning to overhear a conversation by Joe and Paul as he did so. “I swear, there's no bag in your car, Joe.”

“Are you absolutely sure, Paul? I knew I brought it along with me.”

“I don't think there ever was a bag. I think you have ideas...”

“Come again?” he said with a hint of anger in his voice.

“You knew I would offer to go to the car and get your bag to occupy me while you search through the papers in my study.”

“And just what would I want with the papers in there? You never keep it clean, I'm amazed you can even sit at that desk with all those papers cluttering it.”

“...You're holding a paper behind your back.” Paul commented with a knowing smile. Joe got a surprised look on his face and sighed “Damn...” “What paper is it?” He reached out and grabbed the paper from Joe, who seemingly refused to put up a fight to keep it from him. “You're stealing my dog show entry forms... why?” Paul asked, puzzled.

“Who's Skittles?”

“What?”

“You wrote under the field for the entrant's name 'Skittles'. You don't have a dog named Skittles.” Paul was silent. “What kind of breed would this dog be, Paul?” Paul drew a deep breath and thought for a moment before answering, “Uh... mix between an American Shepherd and a Husky.”

“Of course, an American Shepherd.”

“Yes, but what's this have to do with anything?”

“You always were a terrible liar, Paul. You always made things clear, like an open book.”

“I do not---”

“And you've written down two months for the dog's age. Now, not only does this interest me how you manage to train a dog that young, but it also interests me that the dog show you are entering is on January 24, 2009... a good 4 months away.” Paul began to get nervous. He was beginning to have to think harder to defend himself and his pauses were becoming longer. His normally classy posture was beginning to disappear. “I am planning to find a mate for Isabel.”

“I figured. The evidence is really piling together. You plan to have a trained American Shepherd mate with your husky, Isabel, so you can easily train the puppies?” Joe began to pace back and forth across the room.“Yeah but the---”

“What really interests me is that your girlfriend, Emily, just had a white American Shepherd stolen from her two nights ago.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled something out. Paul was stunned when he saw it. “This cigarette was found laying underneath the Wallace family's burglar alarm.”

“When did you become an investigator?” Paul asked, trying to change the subject

“I've been a member of the Denver Police Dept. for two years now. I don't mean to brag, but I am very good at my job.” Joe stopped pacing, hearing a noise in the air duct. “What's that?”

“What's what?”

“Do you have rats?”

“Rats?”

“Yes, rats. I hear them in your air duct. Want me to take a look?”

“Naah, I'm sure it's nothing.” A menacing smile appeared on Joe's face, he gave Paul a glance that said he knew exactly what was going on. He turned away and slowly approached the air duct and began to climb the stepladder conveniently placed underneath it. Paul, out of instinct, ran to the stepladder and knocked it out from under Joe's feet. Joe fell to the ground and let out a loud scream of pain. “Why the hell did you do that?! My foot!! AAGH!!” He rubbed his right foot, trying to dull the pain. Paul then walked up to Joe and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up to his face. His voice was low and sounding enraged, he grit his teeth as he spoke “Do your worst, copper. Not one damned person on the face of this Earth gets in between me and my trophy. Not a chance in hell you'll be getting any evidence here. We clear?” Paul shoved him back to the ground. The sound in the air duct had vanished. Paul looked around, somewhat dazed from the intense pain in his foot. Joe struggled back to his feet. “I will do everything in my power to see you suffer. It would make my day, Paul. Once we prove that you took Bolt, you'll end up in jail. I can't wait.” Joe limped out of the house and back toward his car.

This was not Penny's greatest day. She was beginning to doubt that Bolt would be found, just as she had when he was accidentally shipped across the country. Two of her friends, Mindy and David, were over at the house trying to cheer her up. “Bolt is brave, Penny. Remember how he found you after leaving the set in Hollywood? That took bravery. I'm sure he'll tough this one out too.” Mike encouraged. “Yeah, plus he's smart. He's trained, after all.” Mindy added. Penny lifted a picture of her and Bolt from the table in front of her and sighed, still upset. Emily entered the room with a confused look on her face. “What's wrong, Miss Wallace?” Mindy asked, concerned. “Has anyone seen Mittens? She was in here before--”

“Did you check the attic? She's always in the attic when I come over.” Mike asked. Emily smiled and thanked Mike, apparently having forgotten to check the attic. She hurried out of the room and walked up the flight of stairs.

Bolt had turned around in the air duct and crawled his way back to where Isabel was. He readied himself at the dropoff and slid down it, tail first, into the mud with a loud splash. Isabel laughed at him as he was covered in mud. “Master's gonna have to give you a bath.”

“Wha.... what's a bath?” Bolt asked. Isabel gazed at him menacingly. “Bolt, a bath is when master fills a tub full of water and puts you in it so you get clean. You can't seriously not know that.”

“Of course I do! I'm a purebred! I was just playing.”

“Bolt, this is not the first time. You drool, you sit on the couch, you've apparently never had a bath, and you aren't the most polite dog in the world, either.” Bolt sighed. He was torn between the truth and his love for Isabel at this point. He didn't answer. He just slowly trotted back towards the front door. Isabel followed. Bolt watched as Joe's started his car, flipped a bird to Paul, who was watching him from the window, and began to rev the engine. As the engine started, however, something was moving under the car. Bolt approached cautiously, “Who's that?”
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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 9:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not planning on making anymore changes to how often I add a new chapter, but I would like some more reviews =)

*Gasp!* Who's under the car? Have any ideas? Well, I can't spoil this one, because it would, again, be a big spoiler. This chapter is suspenseful as all hell, in my opinion; my best so far! I hope you get the same reaction from reading it that I got as I was typing it. Let's begin!

IX: Until I'm Saved

Bolt flared his nose, trying to get a scent and Isabel stood behind him. Bolt slowly approached the car, and right as the car began pulling away, the figure jumped off the muffler of the green Honda, landing on the ground perfectly on all fours. Bolt still could not make out who it was in the darkness underneath the car. “Who are you?” Bolt demanded. The car smogged up the September air as it backed up and left, concealing the figure in the blackness. The small, lanky figure coughed and then regained it's composture. The smog cleared and Bolt could not believe who stood before his eyes. “Mittens? Is that you?”

“Well well, look who the cat dragged in! Well... that's, of course, the reaction I'll create when I bring you home.”

“Mittens, what are you doing here? And where's Penny and mom? Did you come alone?”

“Yep.”

“How'd you get here?”

“Well, that man with the moustache stopped by Penny's house and I overheard them talking about you...”

“And so you decided to hitch a ride?”

“Yeah, I sure did Bolty old buddy.” She said with a smile. “Bolt, who's this?” Isabel asked. Bolt's excitement vanished from his face. He looked uneasy. “Oh... this cat? I don't know, I'm asking her who she is.” Mittens looked at Bolt as if he was crazy. “Uh... Bolt? You feelin' alright? Because, uh... you've known me for a few months, buddy.” Isabel began to look cross. “Bolt, are you lying to me?” Bolt began to look nervous. “Of... of course not! I don't know this cat!”

“Then scare her off!”

“Well, why? I mean... she's not bothering anyone.”

“She's bothering me...” Bolt fell silent. Isabel looked over Bolt's shoulder and began to talk to Mittens herself. “So, Mittens... that's your name, ain't it? Do you know this dog?” Bolt cringed as Isabel asked the question. “'Course I do! He's my best friend! Sure, he may be a mangy, slobbery, mutt, but he's still my friend.” Bolt let out a disappointed sigh and closed his eyes. “Mutt you say?” Isabel asked, glancing at Bolt. “Yeah, mutt. Big deal. What's it to you? As a matter of fact, who the heck are you?”

“You don't know who I am?” Isabel asked, somewhat surprised. Mittens examined her, seeing if her look would ring a bell. “Well... you do look a little familiar. Weren't you on a magazine cover once?” Isabel giggled in approval and smiled at her, “My name is Isabel.”

“Ohhh! You're that dog that Bolt... um...”

“That Bolt what?” she asked, eager for an answer. “Oh, nothing. Bolt saw you on the television once and... well... you know, I think it's best if he tells you himself.” Isabel turned to Bolt, her eyes were fiery with anger. Bolt felt intimidated and fell silent. “Well, mutt... I'm waiting. Care to explain yourself?” Bolt gave Mittens an angry look. “Nice going, cat!” Mittens took a deep breath and replied, sarcastically. “Well, I thought I'd take... oh, about two days of my time to find a way to come rescue you. I'm sorry for intruding on your busy schedule.” Mittens turned her head and walked away slowly, obviously upset. Bolt watched as she vanished into the trees. “Mittens!” he yelled. “Mutt, huh?” Isabel asked him. She had a furious look on her face, as if she could unleash hell upon him. She turned a cold shoulder to him and walked back to the house, stopping for a brief moment to mutter “And I thought we really had something special, Bolt.” Bolt did not follow her immediately, he knew at that moment that he had lost her.

It was nearing 5p.m. and Bolt was laying on the couch in Paul's house. All afternoon, Bolt had been begging Isabel to forgive him for lying, but she would not talk to him. Isabel walked over to the couch and sat on the ground, not even seeming to notice Bolt existed. Paul was petting Bolt while reading the newspaper, and he was the first to 'break the ice'. “You two better stay out of the woods, they say there have been poachers around lately.” Bolt barely heard him, but when he did, he raised his head and looked out the window, worriedly. “Mittens...” he whispered to himself. “Isabel, I have to go... I can't leave her out there all alone. She could get shot... or eaten... or who knows what.”

“Do I look like I care?” She asked, uninterestedly.

“No, you don't. But me, I do. I care about Mittens as much as I care about you... though at this point I wish I could make a decision between the two of you.” Bolt said dryly. “When I came here two days ago, I knew that it would only last until someone would come to my rescue. Out there is a cat who came to save me; who really cares. She's not just some old cat, and I'm not just some old mutt. I really do care, Isabel. I care about you. I... I guess you could say I... really like you... a lot.”

“You do?”

“But, you don't care. You don't care that I think you're beautiful, you don't care that I think you're sensitive, and you don't care that I do care. I said it would be until I'm saved, Isabel. I've been saved. Now I've gotta save my saviour.” Bolt spoke boldly and without any hesitation. He then dashed to the door and began scratching at it. “You gotta go, Bolt? Okay, here I come.” Paul said. Once Paul opened the door, Bolt rushed out to the forest where Mittens had departed. “NO!!! Bolt! Come back!!!” Paul shouted, then he rushed back inside, leaving the door open.

Bolt slowly trotted through the darkness of the forest. The sounds of the flora and fauna around him were unlike ones he'd heard before. The wind was light, but leaves still fell constantly around him in the September air. He could hear the already fallen ones rustling underneath his paws as he stepped. Bolt did not have a good feeling about this place, and he began to worry if Mittens even survived long enough to be hunted by a poacher. “Mittens!!” He cried out. No response. His heart began to race. His breathing quickened. Bolt heard a sound and jumped back. The sound began to grow louder. It was a rustling sound, but it was a different sound from the leaves. “Rattlesnake...” he whispered. Just as he said it, he spotted it in the leaves. The large, golden snake began to squirm closer to Bolt's paws. Bolt jumped back as it approached for a few moments, then ran. He didn't know where he was going, his instinct just took over and told him to get away. After a few moments of sprinting full speed, Bolt tripped over a tree root and rolled to a stop. It happened in such an instant that he didn't know what hit him. He opened his eyes and realized he was laying on his side. He then felt a sudden rush of pain and let out a whimper. He could not move his left forepaw. He did not know if he was safe, but the sound was gone. However, the pain in his forepaw was intense enough to take his mind off the rattler. Bolt laid there, thinking about what may have happened to Mittens. What if a poacher shot her? Bolt attempted to stand on all fours, whimpering in pain as he struggled to get up, holding his left forepaw off the ground as it hurt too much to use it. He heard another rustling sound. “The rattlesnake... it's after me...” He breathed. This was it. He knew he could not escape on the wounded paw. He closed his eyes tight, held his breath, and pleaded for it to be quick. His heart raced as his life flashed before his eyes; Penny's face, Mittens, Hollywood. Bolt then noticed that this rustling sound was different. It was the same rustling sound that he would make as he walked. “Hello?” He called out weakly. No response. “Mittens, is that you?” Still no response, the rustling got louder and louder until, from behind the tree, appeared a golden dog. “Isabel?” He asked. “Bolt!” The dog yelled with joy and relief and ran up to him. “Why did you follow me?” He asked. “Because I... AAH!!” She screamed. “What is it? What's wrong?!” Bolt asked in a panic. “I... I've been... AAAH!!” She screamed out in pain again and then fell to the ground. “Bolt... run...” she muttered weakly, and then shut her eyes. Bolt breathed rapidly and turned his head around, desperately searching for who or what was hurting Isabel. He began to hear another rustling sound, this one sounded like a human walking over the leaves. The terrified dog backed against a nearby tree, eyes fixed on his love's limp body, and prayed his imminent death would be quick and painless.
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Hihey9989
Eruption
Eruption


Joined: 13 Apr 2006
Posts: 1467
Location: Springfield, IL

PostPosted: Wed Apr 15, 2009 8:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I am in the process of rewriting this story on fanfiction.net under the Bolt section Clin d'oeil This is copied from the word document, which makes it a little harder to read Triste


X: Bolt of Destiny
Bolt was backed into a corner; the trunk of a pine tree. He didn't move, he didn't breathe. He sat there, eyes squinted shut, cringing as he awaited his death. The rustling grew louder until... “Aye laddy. Ya shot another pup.” A grainy voice yelled out in an accent unfamiliar to Bolt. Bolt relaxed his tensed muscles and slowly opened his right eye to see a large, beefy, orange-haired man with sideburns accompanied by a skinny, brown-haired man with a goatee. “Aw, I did?” The brown-haired man whined in his equally as grainy and just as accented, yet higher pitched voice. “Yep. Good thing ye decided to use sedatives this time instead of shells or we'd be burying this one, too.”
“We really should bring this one to a shelter. Lassie looks healthy and has a collar. She got an owner.”
“Alright, lad.” The orange-haired man spotted the cowering Bolt out of the corner of his eye. “Great Scott, there's a live one too!”
“Aye, I see it. Should we bring him along too?”
“Aye, Charlie. We can't just leave the poor lad out here.” The orange-haired man reached out with his hand for Bolt. He approached slowly and clicked his tongue to try to calm Bolt down. “Good doggy. It's okay.” He noticed that Bolt was shaking in terror. “Ahh, laddy. You look affright... like ya seen a ghost.” He then noticed Bolt's forepaw hanging limply. “Yer paw... let me take a look at it.” He leaned down on his knee and pet Bolt, taking the forepaw in his hand to examine it. Bolt whined as his wounded paw was touched. “Is it broken, Geoff?” the brown-haired man, Charlie, said. “Looks pretty broken to me. The poor thing can't use it. We'd better get them both to a shelter.”
“Does he have a collar?”
“No. It looks like he had one, but it's gone now.” Bolt let Geoff lift him gently and carry him carefully in his arms. Bolt eyed Isabel, who was being carried by Charlie, unconscious. He spotted two sedative darts, no larger than shotgun shells, in her back left leg and let out a sigh as Charlie pulled them out, half of relief and half of worry.

Emily entered Penny's bedroom. Penny lay in her bed, going through her pictures of Bolt and Mittens. The late afternoon sun shined through the windows. “I... couldn't find Mittens either, Penny.” Emily reluctantly announced. Penny sighed and dropped the pictures in her hands. “Do you think Mittens went to look for Bolt?”
“Maybe, honey. Animals care about one another too, just as we do.”
“Yeah...”
“I was thinking we could go to the animal shelter tomorrow and see if they have them there waiting for us. Would you like that?”
“I guess so. It wouldn't hurt.” Emily kissed her daughter on the head and left the room. “I'm sure they are both just fine.” Emily kissed her on the forehead and departed.

Isabel was placed in the backseat of an old red pickup truck, still unconscious. “How long do these things last, Geoff?” Charlie asked, regarding the sedative darts in his hand as he gently placed Isabel's limp body into the backseat. “They usually don't wear off for a few hours. Once it wears off it behaves like a hefty overdose of cough medicine; the lights will be on, but nobody will be home. She'll wake up tomorrow and not remember a thing.” Charlie lifted up the front seatback again after placing Isabel in the minimal leg room behind the passenger's seat. “Laddy, you drive. The pup feels comfortable with me.” Geoff said as he handed Charlie the keys. “Alright, lad.” Charlie grabbed the keys and began to walk around to the driver's side. Geoff sat in the front seat of the car, holding Bolt with both his hands and being careful not to scare him or hurt his paw; he could tell Bolt had just been through quite a day. Geoff buckled his seatbelt, Bolt resting on his lap and seeming to approve of whatever Geoff would do. Geoff placed one of his big, beefy hands atop Bolt's head and began to stroke him slowly and gently. “It'll be alright, laddy.” He encouraged softly. Bolt heard the engine crank with a loud thunder and the truck began to move slowly down the rocky trail. “What shelter we going to, lad?” Geoff asked. “Well, there's one over on Smith St.”
“Yeah, let's give this guy a good home. He's seen enough action.”
“What do you want to do with the unconscious one?”
“Well, we could write down the number and call the owner. Let's just bring her to the same shelter.”
“What do you wanna tell them?”
“We'll tell them we shot her in the leg by accident. We were hunting for our first real American dinner... none of that stuff from the soup kitchen... and we thought she was a deer. It's open season so they should let us off with no trouble.”
“You sure? I hear people here in America are nothing like they are in Scotland.”
“I'm sure it's just rumours, laddy. We'll just tell them our eyesight is bad.”
“You're the one with the bad eyes, Geoff.”
“What are you blathering about? You're the one that shot the poor thing!”
“I was also the one that used sedatives instead of bullets, smartass!”
“Enough! Enough! Let's not scare the poor lad.” He said with a smile as he looked at Bolt. Bolt stood up on Geoff's lap using his good forepaw, seemingly comfortable with Geoff. “Hey there, boy! Don't worry, we're gonna get you to safety.” Bolt looked up with a smile at Geoff and gave him a wet lick on the chin, wagging his tail. “Aww. See, I told you it'd be best for you to drive.” The terrain smoothened as they reached an open asphalt road. Bolt turned around on Geoff's lap to look out the passenger's side window. He lifted himself to the window by standing on the armrest on the door and looked back at Geoff, tail wagging. “Ye want me to lower it, laddy?” Geoff said with his grainy accent. Geoff reached down and turned a handle around several times until the window was down. Bolt placed his good paw on the top of the car door where the window went down and stuck his head out. The cool September air blowing through his fur felt great. He stuck out his tongue and let it flap in the breeze. Geoff watched and laughed, “Well, yer a bundle of fun now, ain't ya?”
They arrived at the shelter a little under 10 minutes later. The sunset in the sky clashing with the clouds created a vivid palette of oranges, reds, pinks, and purples on the horizon. Bolt was carefully carried inside by Geoff while Charlie carried in the unconscious Isabel. They entered the glass door and approached the front desk, then rang the bell, awaiting the clerk. The clerk exited the room where the animals were kept, which was signaled by a barrage of barks and meows. “Can I help you?” He asked calmly. “Aye.” Charlie started. “Well, that little guy there we found with a broken front paw. My good lad Geoff over here took care of the guy in the car and he seems to be in a bit of a better mood now.” The curly orange-haired clerk took notes on a piece of paper with a red Sharpie, holding the pencap in his mouth and twirling it with his tongue. “Al-l-lrighty. Now, who's this... and what the hell is wrong with her?” The clerk asked, pointing at Isabel and seemingly without any expression. “She got a collar.” Charlie added as he felt around the collar for the nametag. “Isabel. Owner's name is Paul Osmond.” The clerk began to chuckle a little, but tried to hold it back. After a few moments, the clerk burst out laughing. “Oh man! This is so damn ironic! Paul just came in here a few days ago asking me for a trained dog and threw a fit when I told him I had none! Well, why are you looking for a second one Paul? You can't even take care of your own!” The clerk continued laughing. “Ye don't have a good history with this Paul fella, do ya?” Geoff asked, smiling. “Well, I did. Me and him were good friends back in the day. We used to train dogs together until... well... he changed after he started winning local dog training contests.”
“Aye. Sad day when a lad can't keep his head out of the clouds, eh?”
“Sure as hell is. Well, what's wrong with Izzy?”
“Well...” Charlie started, and then cleared his throat. “You tell him, Geoff.”
“Aye. We were hunting, ya see. And we accidentally shot her with some sedatives.”
“Hunting?”
“Aye. We just moved here to America four days ago from Scotland. All we got to our names is that red pickup, the camping equipment in the back, and the clothes on our backs.”
“Sir, are you aware the hunting grounds are closed until October around here?”
“I beg your pardon, laddy?” Geoff was stunned and gave Charlie a furious look. Geoff thumped the back of his head with his large, powerful wrist and yelled, “Ya brainless, bumbling oaf! Ye said it was open season!”
“But” the clerk started, “Since you were using sedatives instead of shells, I'll let you two off the hook.”
“Oh thank you, laddy!” Charlie exclaimed, relieved. “Calvin. My name is Calvin.” Calvin then tossed Geoff a nametag, on it was Geoff's name written in red ink. “And to you, sweeper boy, it's sir, or Mr. Leffler.” Calvin gave him a smile. Geoff's massive jaw could've dropped to the floor had it not been being so perfectly attached to his face. He looked back at Calvin, not losing the expression. “Ye giving me a job?”
“Sure am! You took great care of this little guy here.” Calvin responded with a smile, pointing at Bolt, who was relaxing on the counter. “Ye got a point, laddy. I mean, we found the lad and he looked as if he'd seen the devil. He was trembling when I picked him up.”
“Take him in the back with the other dogs, sweeper boy, what am I paying ya for?” Calvin said, and then winked at Geoff. “Aye, Mr. ...Leffler was it?”
“Yes. Now move it!”
“Charlie.” Geoff started, looking at Charlie who wasn't sure what was going on. “You... uh... enjoy yerself. I got work ta do.”
“Thanks, Geoff!” He exclaimed. “I'll see if I can find us an apartment.” Charlie ran through the glass doors, excited as he'd ever been, and hopped into his truck. Geoff gently lifted Bolt and slowly walked into the door Calvin had come out from. “Calvin, ye know what this lad's name is?” He asked as Calvin was lifting the unconscious Isabel. “Uh... he looks a bit like... Bolt. Yeah, that is Bolt! Wow, two famous dogs in here now! We're gonna be busy tomorrow.”
“Bolt, ye say?” He said in his deep Scottish accent. Bolt looked up at Geoff. Geoff looked at the dog in his arms as he slowly entered the door, in which was a long line of animal pens. The ground in each was padded and contained a small number of cats on the left side and dogs on the right side. No more than half a dozen in any pen. Barking and meowing continued, but Geoff did not listen. Geoff looked down at Bolt again, this time with tears of joy in his eyes. He spoke softly, “Well, Bolt. We came to America for a fresh start to free us of our terrible lives living as vagrants in Scotland. I've never seen Charlie so happy, and I myself haven't felt so happy in... well... a long time. Laddy, you're destiny. Ye made a grown man cry.” He brought Bolt to a pen at the far end of the room and placed him gently on the soft, padded ground. “Yer my special friend. I'll make sure ya get the best owner there is, laddy.” He stroked Bolt's head and Bolt gave him a slurp with his tongue. Isabel was laid next to Bolt by Calvin. “Put a bandage on Bolt's paw, would ya?”
“Yes, sir.” Geoff responded. Bolt looked at Isabel, hoping for some kind of sign. After the pen door was shut, Geoff glanced at Bolt who was staring at Isabel, a sad look on his face. “Eh. Poor laddy.” Geoff breathed, shaking his head. He had mixed feelings now, he realized that the pain and suffering that Bolt had been through was partially his fault, but all was good since he helped to fix it. After Geoff departed, Isabel's left eyelid began to twitch.
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