The Saviour
He was about sixty miles from his destination when his headlights caught a red car pulled over with its bonnet up. A bloke stood beside it, waving his arms frantically. Stopping on a deserted road at night was reckless, but the sky ahead had begun to lighten with dawn, and it wasn’t far now. Daniel pulled over and stepped out. Before he could take two steps, a crushing blow struck the back of his head.
He came to as someone’s hands rifled through his pockets. He tried to rise, but a heavy weight pinned him down. There must’ve been several attackers—a boot slammed into his ribs, and he howled in agony.
Then the kicks came from all sides. Daniel curled into a ball, arms shielding his head, knees tucked to protect his stomach. A final, brutal kick to his ribs sent him spiralling back into darkness.
When he stirred again, he heard whimpering. At first, he thought it was his own groans. The beating had stopped. He shifted, and something wet nudged his cheek. Cracking an eye open, he saw a dog’s alert face hovering over him. He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side stole his breath. *Broken rib.* His thoughts moved sluggishly, like his skull was stuffed with cotton. The dog whined again.
Next time he woke, the rumble of an engine told him he was in a moving car—his body jolted with every bump in the road.
*”You’re awake. Nearly in Manchester now—hang in there, mate.”* A voice, impossible to place as male or female, reached him.
His eyelids were too heavy to lift, and he didn’t try. Exhaustion dragged him under again. He surfaced when the car stopped. Now he was being carried. A blinding light made him flinch—his head throbbed viciously.
*”He’s coming round.”* A girl’s voice, bright and clear.
Daniel blinked. A face swam into view beneath flickering fluorescent lights. His gut lurched, and the movement stopped. A face leaned closer—an older man with a neat grey beard studied him intently.
*”What’s your name, lad? Do you remember what happened?”* The voice echoed from far away.
*”Daniel Whitmore. I was…—* His lips felt numb, his words slurred, but they understood.
*”Aye. You took quite a beating.”*
*”My car—”* Daniel winced—every breath was a knife in his side.
*”No car. Just the dog. He saved you. Rest now—better yet, sleep.”* The old man’s words sent him under again.
When he woke, his head hurt less. Voices murmured nearby.
*”He’s awake. Excellent. Can you hear me? I’m Inspector Davies. Can you speak? I need to ask you a few questions.”*
Daniel listened, even managed to describe stopping on the road, the attack, his car’s registration number…
*”Is this your dog?”*
*”I don’t own a dog,”* Daniel said, bewildered.
*”But the driver who called the ambulance swore a dog ran into the road, right in front of his van. It led him to the ditch where you were lying—out of sight. If not for that dog, you’d still be there.”* A clipboard appeared. *”Sign here.”*
Daniel scrawled his name and dropped his hand, drained.
*”How bad is it?”* he whispered.
*”You’re alive—that’s what matters. Two broken ribs, head trauma, plenty of cuts and bruises.”*
*”Enough for today. Come back when he’s stronger,”* said the familiar voice.
Daniel obediently slept.
He woke in darkness. Shadows of leaves danced on the ceiling, making him dizzy. He shut his eyes, but his thoughts sharpened—he remembered pulling over…
Next morning, sunlight poured through the window. Birdsong filled the air. He felt better.
*”Good. Think you can stand?”* the bearded doctor asked.
*”Yes.”* His voice was hoarse.
*”Easy now.”* The doctor steadied him. *”Sit first. Dizzy? Good. Now try standing.”*
The room steadied. He took in the pale blue walls, the nightstand, the doctor’s white coat. Bandages constricted his ribs, but the pain was dull.
*”Next time, we’ll walk,”* the doctor said.
And walk he did. Each step brought strength. He reached the window. A hospital garden stretched below—benches dotted along winding paths.
*”See? Under the oak—your dog. He’s waiting,”* a nurse said.
*”He’s not mine.”*
*”Could’ve fooled us. Refuses to leave. Sits there all day. We bring leftovers—he won’t eat until we’re gone.”*
The dog sat patiently, watching passersby. Daniel couldn’t stand long—he returned to bed. Next day, he went outside.
The dog spotted him but stayed put, waiting.
*”You saved me? Cheers, mate.”* Daniel ruffled its ears. The tail thumped twice.
He shuffled to a bench. The dog settled nearby.
They basked in the sun until Inspector Davies appeared. The dog retreated but didn’t leave.
*”Glad you’re better. Doesn’t like coppers, eh?”*
Davies questioned him again—no leads on his stolen car.
*”Rest up. I’ll keep you posted.”*
The dog slunk back as Davies left.
Next day, Daniel brought an uneaten burger. The dog sniffed, eyed him, then ate.
*”Sorry, that’s all I’ve got. Where’s your home?”* The dog cocked its head. *”Guess you’ve got your own story, haven’t you?”*
Patients and nurses smiled at them. Their tale had spread.
*”The Saviour. Clever dog. Taking him home?”* one asked.
*”Dunno yet. He’s too well-trained to be a stray.”*
*”Won’t leave—he’s chosen you.”*
Daniel studied the dog. What would happen when he left? Could he abandon the creature that saved him?
*”Coming with me?”* He scratched behind its ears.
A lick answered him.
*”You understand, don’t you? Never been a dog person—rubbish owner, me.”*
Every day, the dog waited outside. Daniel recalled a Stephen King story—*The Sun Dog*—though this one wasn’t sinister, just golden-coated.
*”Need a name. How about Sol?”*
The dog pawed the ground, tail wagging.
*”Sol, then. Here, boy!”*
The dog trotted over, ears pricked.
Daniel chuckled.
His bruises faded. Staring at his stubble in the mirror, he wondered what Emily would think. They’d lived together briefly before realising they argued more than laughed. They’d agreed to keep things casual. He realised he hadn’t missed her.
Discharge day arrived. Cleaned clothes, documents in hand, he stepped outside. Sol sat by the entrance, waiting like a loyal squire.
Daniel looked back at the hospital—faces watched from windows. Sol was a hero. Now it was his turn.
*”Alright, Sol. I’m out. Everyone expects a grand gesture. Let’s not disappoint.”* He glanced at the watchers. *”If you’ve nowhere else—come on.”* He patted the dog’s head and turned.
They walked, trailing parting stares. First stop: the police station.
*”Out-of-towners, most likely. Car’s probably stripped. Need a bus ticket?”* Davies offered.
*”Won’t let dogs on buses.”* Daniel nodded at Sol outside. *”Taxi, if you can lend me cash. Mine’s gone.”*
*”Keeping him? Good lad. Did some digging—previous owner died overseas. Mum passed soon after. Dog’s alone. Taxi’s pricey—hold on.”*
A patrol car dropped them off. The chatty driver marvelled at Sol’s heroics while Daniel listened, a shadow basking in borrowed glory.
Home at last. The flat smelled of roast beef.
*”In you go.”* Daniel held the door.
Sol stayed put.
Emily emerged, floral apron on.
*”Hi. Knew you’d be back today. Made a celebration dinner.”* She offered her cheek, then froze.
*”Who’s this?”* Her eyes locked on Sol.
*”Meet Sol. He lives with me now. With us.”*
Emily paled, stepping back.
Daniel remembered—she’d been bitten as a child. Rabies shots. A lifelong fear.
She tore off the apron.
*”You did this on purpose!”* Her voice rose.
*”Em, he saved my life. I couldn’t leave him—”*
*”Get him away or I’m gone!”*
Sol sidestepped, clearing a path.
Emily edged past,Daniel watched the door click shut, then turned to Sol with a small smile and said, “Looks like it’s just us now, mate,” before heading to the kitchen to share his plate of roast beef with his faithful saviour.
