The man had spent all night walking along the road. He had spent the night in some underbrush, well out of sight of anybody who was passing by, covered with blankets, so that he stayed warm. The bright heat of the sun beat down on him as he continued on his journey, but he knew the reward was drawing near, he could see his destination quite clearly up ahead of him. Within moments he had crossed the line demarcating the city limits of Cherry, TX.

     The town was deathly silent. He realized that it was a Saturday morning, but he couldn't even hear television sets on inside. He had been warned that this would probably be the case, but the absolute deadness of the town nearly made him shudder. As he walked along the main street, he could feel eyes upon him, he knew they were watching, and he knew that they knew he had come form Barken. He couldn't care less what they thought of him at the moment, he had business to attend to, and nothing was going to get in his way.

     Finding the church was easy enough, it was situated in the centre of the town, with the two main roads intersecting at one corner of it. It looked like much any other church he had ever attended, even down to the inscriptions chiselled into the stonework. It was clearly three floored, most certainly the tallest building in Cherry, and had a professional looking roof, what appeared to be a brick face on three sides, and then the marble walls on the front entrance. The pillars standing before him were very romanesque; he could never tell the difference between the types of pillars, they all were impressive to him.

     He looked back and forth down the street. It was obvious where the towns funds were spent, on this church, for it was a very beautiful edifice, and they must all spend a lot of time cleaning it up, he was amazed he didn't see somebody out here with toothbrush scrubbing the marble steps. As far as the rest of the town was concerned, shoddily built structures some of them, but most were well constructed. Their condition showed an obvious lack of upkeep, except when absolutely necessary. This place just reeked of theocracy to him, and with a pungent smile, he entered the church.

     The inside was significantly different than the facade. It was indeed well constructed, but what struck him was that he had entered a hallway, and the door in front of him was open. Looking down the hall he could see a door at each end. There was a water fountain affixed to the wall just inside the door, but he refrained from drinking at the moment, despite his parched throat. The walls were papered in a floral design up to the waist, and then a solid baise the rest of the way up. The floor was carpeted in a finely woven chartreuse, and he got the impression that it might be a sin to tread upon the carpet with boots as dirty as his. He tread on it anyway, and made his way into the room across from the entrance.

     It was a long room, extending back a good fifty feet to an altar where sat a golden cross with wreaths and flowers behind it. The satin curtains behind it probably obscured the baptismal pool. Their were two sets of pews, one to each side of him as he stood in the central aisle, and as he looked up he could see the chandeliers hanging down, but encased in glass. He also caught a picture of the famous painting of the Christ; he couldn't remember the painter, but he knew it started with an 'S'. The carpeted floor was also of the satin hue as the drapes were, and each pew had a satin colored comforter placed to prevent butt aches.

     What made him nearly gasp in horror, but he restrained himself just in time, was that nailed in equally space intervals along the walls of the sanctuary - what an ironic word - were dog skins. He looked around the room, and counted a total of eighteen dog skins. He knew what that meant, he knew what they were before they had been skinned. He wanted to walk right up and rip them down, remove them from the walls of the church, and burn this unholy site to the ground. Common sense of course prevailed, and he remained quite dispassionate outwardly as he stared at them. It was quite a fortunate thing too, for without his realizing it, and older man had approached him from behind.

     "Can I help you with anything?" the voice startled him, and so he turned to face the speaker. He was past middle aged, probably in his early sixties, wrinkles on both cheeks and forehead. He still had his hair though, all white now, but his eyes still looked quite vibrant. They were also quite disarming, there was a kindness to them, an aspect he liked to see in a person, but he wondered just how deep that kindness went.

     "Are you the pastor here?"

     "Yes." the man told him, a smile forming on his face, a smile that was quite genuine. "My name's Pastor Paul Aberdeen. Is there anything I can do for you?"

     "I was just admiring your fine collection of dog skins hanging from the walls. Did you take any of these?"

     The old man smiled, blushing slightly at the mention of the dog skins. Then he looked up to him, and smiling proudly, "When I was in my prime twenty years ago, I use to go out with the boys and kill those demons just like the rest of us God fearing humans. Three of those skins are mine. That one over there, that little one right beside our Lord's portrait, and that mussed up one right next to the Alsatian."

     He looked at the three skins that were pointed out to him and he nodded his approval, "Mighty fine catches. I bet Eddie got a good number up here."

     The man turned a bit sour, saying, "Eddie had a personal collection. He disappeared a few years ago, leaving only a note for his wife, we haven't seen him since. He was one of the Lord's chosen ones, I pray that he hasn't fallen under that demon's curse."

     "As do we all." the man told him quite firmly. "Who are you anyway, I've never seen you in town before?"

     "I'm a friend of somebody who live sin town. He should be stopping by shortly if I am correct. I was hoping we would take the time to wait for him in your office, if that is fine with you?", the man had put his arm around Aberdeen's shoulder, and had begun to lead him out of the sanctuary.

     "All right." the pastor agreed quite easily.

     His office was rather nice. There was another skin, this time framed, hanging in his office, along with several other paraphernalia ranging from theological books to computer manuals. At least the place was out of the "dark ages" technologically, if not intellectually. He found the chair, a heavily cushioned office chair, easy to sink into and very comfortable to sit in.

     As he was getting comfortable, Aberdeen asked again, this time a little more forcefully, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

     "Actually I was hoping to do something for you." the man told him, casually glancing at his hands for a moment.

     "What is that?"

     "Well, there are some people in Barken who aren't affected by the curse yet, and I want to rescue them, as well as to help you take some more skins."

     "Why rescue them, they should know better than to stay in that evil place?"

     "We were commanded to rescue the lost sheep, and they are almost certainly lost. It is our job to save them before they fall to the wolves."

     The old man smiled and then shook his head in embarrassment. "You are right. We should save them. Don't worry though, we know who'll be cursed and who won't be when we go there on Sunday night to wipe the place into nonexistence."

     Sunday night! He hadn't realized it would be so soon. "How can you tell?" he felt he was asking a stupid question, even he knew how they were going to be able to tell. However, if he said what he thought he was going to say, then his suspicions would be confirmed.

     "If they're cursed they'll be dogs, if not, they'll be humans." Aberdein shrugged. "It couldn't be simpler."

     The man smiled. He had been right, it was now only a matter of which one of them. "If I might be so bold, I would like to ask if I might be allowed to join the party going into Barken tomorrow night?"

     "Your welcome in our ranks." Aberdeen grinned broadly. "It's always nice when the Lord gives us another hand to do his bidding."

     "That I will." he told him, quite matter of factly, and for the first time, he wasn't lying.

     Just then they heard somebody talking to himself in the hallway, approaching the office. The man recognized the voice after a second, and he refrained from shaking his head, every little piece of evidence he'd seen finally clicking into place. As the man stepped in ranting about how a good portion of Barken were already dogs according to the scouts, he stopped, and looked at the man, a shocked expression on his face.

     "Dr Swett?" he asked, completely taken by surprise.

     "Hello, Gregor." Swett answered unfazed. "It's nice to see you again."

    Will Bryant stepped out of his car in front of the municipal library in Cherry. It was a Saturday, and the building was closed. He hated being stopped by such petty things like this, and besides, this was small town America. He kicked the front doors open in one try, and stepped inside. Turning on the lights, he looked about him. It was rather spacious, though most of it was spent taking up reference materials, and a lot of stuff on religion. He scanned their titles. When they weren't condemning evolution, they were praising creationism, or some other wacky theory the fundamentalists had about God. It took him only a few moments to find the town records among the reference material, and he quickly pulled those out.

     He then heard a few startled voices from outside the library. Returning to the front entrance he saw three men, each unarmed, probably didn't expect a break in, and each starting at him as he stepped into the light.

     "What are you doing here, mister?" One of them spoke, and Will caught the scent of very bad breath indeed.

     "Why did you break our library door?" Another asked.

     "Gentlemen, I'm from the FBI, I have more jurisdiction than you have brain cells. Please move along." Will told them, flashing his ID only briefly.

     "We aren't going to let no FBI agent come in here and wreck our library." the third man spoke, already balling his hands into fists.

     "I said step aside." Will cautioned them once again. They didn't hear his voice, instead they all charged up the library steps, ready to tackle him, but he quickly with the use of Aikido and other forms he'd studied over the years, he sent each man sprawling. Will didn't get so much of a speck of dust on his hand-tailored suit.

     "All right, that does it!" the man with the bad breath said, getting back up again, feeling his jaw, as a trickle of blood spilled over his lip.

     Will waited for them to come to him, and he used their force to redirect them into the rose bushes beside the steps, the still standing door in the library entrance which collapsed as well, and the stone work on the other side of the door. The three men groaned, and not a single one tried for another round of pain.

     "Now, I want you three to watch my car while I'm in there. If there is so much as a drop of blood, a scratch, or any bird shit, I will hold all three of you personally responsible. Believe me, I know some things that are much worse than getting thrown into a rose bush. And don't think of running off either, I will find you if I have to, and you don't want to make me mad. Now are you three going to be good boys while I'm gone?"

     "Yes." the three weakly said, and as each extricated themselves from the entanglements, Will went back inside, and continued to search through the town records. He picked up the records for only seven dates, and only one of them matched, as expected. Circling that name, he left the building to see the three men sitting idly on the steps in front of his car.

     "I see you have been good boys." Will told them as he came out. "Now scram before I change my mind and beat the shit out of you some more!"

     The three made a hasty departure, their egos, as well as their bodies, bruised. Will settled back into his car, and checked to see if he had gotten the fax back from the FBI. He had, and the picture of the finger prints he had sent came back with another name. He circled it and deposited both in his breast pocket. He drove over then to a store that seemed to stand in blazing contrast to the theocracy of the town. It was an Army Suppliers store, and it was just what he knew he had to find. If he could get this one last bit of evidence, he would have the case solved.

     He was thankful the store was open, it caused less of a ruckus. The proprietor was a portly man in his late forties who looked at him suspiciously. Will scanned the room, taking his sunglasses off as he came in, and saw that there were no other customers at the moment. He then walked straight up to the counter and pulled out his ID. "FBI, I'm here investigating a murder. I believe the gun was bought here at your store. I would appreciate it if you would show me your purchase slips for this last week."

     "I don't have to show nothing to you!" the man insisted, turning away from him for a second, and then shiver went down his spine, as he turned back around to see the FBI man holding a silenced pistol to his chest, so that nobody looking in could see it. The pistol of course was aimed at his head.

     "I believe I have jurisdiction. I really don't care about your civil rights either, if you don't show me those billing records, I will have you arrested for manslaughter."

     "You can't do that!" the portly man protested.

     "Oh yes I can. I will see to it personally also that you will be held in the Barken county jail for the duration of your sentence."

     The portly man went white in the face, and then quickly reached over to the shelf behind him and pulled out a black book. He put it in front of Will, and said, "Here, go ahead look through it. It's yours man, just put away that gun, and don't make threats like that."

     "I'm so glad you cooperated." Will smiled, not putting the gun back. "Now if you be so kind as to turn around, and hold your hands behind you so that I can see them. That's right, just like that." The man did as told, and Bryant then opened up the billing records. There weren't that many purchases, mostly for ammunition and parts, but there was as he expected a singular purchase only days ago that caught his eye. His case was complete, he had found his murderer.

     It was late afternoon when the trio of scientists returned fresh with samples from both Schwarz and Mullins quarters, and from several different locations around town. It had been a strange an lonely experience for them. Usually the town was quite vibrant, but today it was lifeless. Karpan remembered that it was only yesterday that he had been in town to have a drink with Ted Obermeyer. Now he was gone too. Of course that thought was eliminated from his mind as he looked out in front of their laboratory. There sitting on its haunches was a Husky.

     "What in the world is a Husky doing in the middle of the desert?" Karpan asked.

     "Who knows, he looks awfully hot." Olympia pointed out. Indeed the Husky was panting ferociously, his tongue never straying back into his mouth. The Husky watched them drive up. While Nelson and Karpan carried the samples, Olympia Sparks walked cautiously up to the dog offering soothing words, "Hey there fella? You're a handsome boy now aren't you." she began to scratch him between the ears, and he seemed to like that, but his eyes kept straying to the ground, an Olympia followed them, then her jaw dropped.

     Karpan and Nelson walked up to her, but she put a hand up to them, "Don't step any closer!"

     "Why?" Karpan asked.

     "Come over here." She directed the to walk around a section of the ground, and then pointed with her finger. Their eyes followed her finger and they exchanged shocked looks and stared at the dog for a few moments, not believing it, despite what they had seen in these last days. On the ground, traced out in the sand were the words, "JASON IS THE DOG"

     It was another hour before they had any results from their samples. Jason laid down on his bed, after convincing them that it was indeed him and that he could not change back. He manage to coax them into realizing that everybody in Barken could turn into a dog, and the facts were simply too clear for them to deny any longer. It was a bit trickier but he also managed to convey to them that he didn't know why either, and that he was scared. Olympia cuddled with him some, and he licked her face appreciatively. She then much to his surprise took a swipe at his tail with her scalpel, pulling a tiny bit of flesh off, and boy would Jason be ever glad she did.

     Olympia on a hunch had gone through and analyzed the solutions they had used to seed the grounds with, and the results had shocked her as well as everybody else in the group. "It appears that there is a chemical in solutions one and three that is not supposed to be there. It's not in the second solution however."

     "That was Mullins solution." Nelson mentioned. "He used that solution to seed his quarter."

     "Right." Karpan nodded. "So what do you think it means?"

     "I say you better give me results on Mullins samples as quickly as possible. Also get the stuff done on the town, I think I have an wild idea about what's going on here." Olympia advised them.

     "Female intuition, huh?" Nelson asked.

     "That works too." She smiled at the big man, and he shook his head, laughing a bit to himself.

     "Well, I don't know if things can get any weirder around here, what with our accountant a dog now. Sorry, Jason." Karpan apologized as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Jason just licked his nose, glad to be out of the heat, and very glad that they had the sense to put the cadaver in storage and to use air freshener in here, it had really stunk!

     Jason laid on his bed watching the whole affair, watching the three scientists pour over various instruments, looking through the microscope repeatedly, and adroitly avoiding each other as they moved from instrument to instrument. The whole scene became almost a game to Jason's mind, as he tried to watch to see if anybody bumped into each other. He became excited almost giddy, as each of them worked more frantically, excited looks spreading across their faces. He knew he was thinking very dog-like, but he couldn't help share in the excitement, as he got up, and began to prance about. Well, he did until he knocked over that tray. There had been nothing on it fortunately, but they still decided to put him outside so that they could get their work finished.

     Jason didn't mind too much, there was somebody else to play with out here.

     "I've found it. Eureka!" Karpan nearly jumped for joy.

     "What is it?" Nelson asked quickly.

     "That chemical you found in the first and third solutions must have been killing off those symbiotic prokaryotes, as there are well in abundance in the sample from the second quarter." Karpan reported.

     "So?" Nelson asked.

     "Well, in the samples around town, those prokaryotes are almost eradicated. They should repopulate themselves in time, once the solution has worn off in a week or so, but you're not going to believe what these results indicate."

     "So what do they indicate?" Nelson asked.

     "Well, I took the bit of Jason's skin from Olympia and analyzed it. No prokaryotes. Remember, Jason can't change back either." Karpan added.

     "However, there were prokaryotes in the man-dog corpse we found, remember, and they were highly concentrated in the human portion of the body." Olympia jumped in.

     "So what are you getting at?" Nelson asked. "I'm going out on a limb. The prokaryotes are the catalyst that ignites the transformation from dog back to human form for the townsfolk of Barken. Notice how nobody was on the streets today?" Olympia explained, while Karpan sat back and smiled.

     "Yeah."

     "Well, I'd wager that they're in hiding because they're scared. They're stuck as dogs and they can't do anything about it. I'll bet somebody seeded the whole town with either solution one or three, or maybe just this foreign chemical; I don't know why, but nothing else makes any sense. I'll also bet that if they spend a long enough time in the second quarter which has an unaffected population of this prokaryote, then anyone stuck as a dog will be able to change back."

     "And you know what?" They all turned at the sound of the foreign voice, and they saw to their surprise that leaning against the doorway was a man dressed casually, but for business, who had obviously been listening in. While they looked to see him, amazed at the sight, he finished his statement, "I just pray to God that you are right."