by N. C. Reed
“These aren’t like your guns, son”, his father had said. “These are different. I’ll explain each one. These crates are ammunition”, he said, pointing to the back wall, where several large boxes sat.
“Why do we need all this daddy?” Billy had asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t like all this, but he couldn’t see a need for it.
“Sometimes things happen”, was all his father said. “When they do, we need to be prepared for them.”
It took Billy and his father almost two months to get through everything. His father had made several notebooks, which were copied several times. Inside them were instructions and advice for every possible scenario that Billy’s father and mother could come up with. Everything from house fires to atomic bombs.
But there wasn’t nothing in those notebooks about being the last man alive. Billy thought on that as he finished his Coke. Was he the last man on earth? Surely not. There had to be more than just him, didn’t there?
His train of thought was broken then by a clanging noise from outside. Billy took his rifle, the one his father had always kept hidden for him here at the garage, and walked carefully to his small office. There was a window there and from the doorway, where he couldn’t be seen, he peered outside.
It wasn’t quite dark yet, he noted. He could see several dogs outside, milling around. The can he had been using for his trash was overturned, and three of the biggest dogs seemed to be in a standoff over the contents of the can. Billy watched in fascination as the three huge animals looked each other over. One was a Rottweiler, he could see, but the other two he didn’t recognize.
Even as he watched, the Rottweiler lunged at one dog and then actually attacked the other. Swiftly, and seemingly without effort, the Rottweiler seized the large dog by the throat, and shook him. The other dog, recovering from his dodge, instantly fell on the second dog as well, and the two killed it in seconds. That left two.
The two dogs circled each other warily, neither able to gain an advantage. It was the dog Billy didn’t recognize that struck first, lunging at the Rottweiler and trying to grab his throat. The Rottweiler seemed to have been waiting for this and side stepped the rush. As the larger dog extended himself, the Rottweiler clamped his massive jaws on the back of his adversary’s neck, and bit down hard.
The other dog yelped briefly, struggling to free himself. His struggles simply made the Rottweiler’s job easier. The massive jaws clamped down tighter, and Billy thought he heard the bones breaking from inside the building. Shaking the other dog violently one last time, the Rottweiler dropped him. As Billy watched, the victor looked around at the other dogs in the pack, as if asking if any of them wanting to dispute his dominance. None did, and the pack slowly moved off, leaving the spoils of Billy’s trash can to the giant Rottweiler.
Billy watched as the massive dog claimed his bounty, wishing he had a dog like that. The Rottweiler lifted its head suddenly, looking around him, sniffing the air. His gaze came to rest on Billy and stayed there. Billy was shocked. There was no way for the dog to know he was there, but he did! Billy did something then that he never did, but he wouldn’t regret it. He made a snap decision.
With no uncertainty at all, Billy ran to his little kitchenette, grabbed the last of his sandwich meat, and ran back to the door. He opened it slowly, eyeing the Rottweiler, who was still looking at him. The dog didn’t move, but it did growl deep in its chest.
“It’s okay, buddy”, Billy called, holding some of the meat out to the dog. The smell of the meat enticed the large hound, and soon he began to shift on his feet, just a bit. He didn’t offer to come closer, but Billy kept working. He sat down on the ground, cross legged, having read once that dogs found this non-threatening. It seemed to work. The monstrous dog began to inch closer, still wary for any tricks. Billy held himself as still as possible, just holding the meat out before himself.
The Rottweiler sniffed the air, and took another cautious step. Billy took one slice of the meat free and simply laid it down. The Rottweiler eyed the meet with suspicion, slowly coming forward. He sniffed carefully, always with a wary eye on Billy. Billy remained motionless, studying the dog even as the dog studied him.
The dog’s collar had a tag in it and suddenly, as the dog lifted it’s great head, Billy could, for just an instant, read his name; Rommel.
Rommel. Billy said the name softly and the dog instantly locked eyes with Billy. Billy held out the meat again and spoke softly, “take it Rommel. I won’t hurt ya boy.” Rommel’s great head tilted to one side, eyeing the man-thing that had called his name. He hadn’t heard his name in a long time. A week was a long time in dog time.
“It’s okay Rommel”, Billy repeated, still in a soft, friendly voice. “It’s yours if you want it.”
Rommel had until recently been a pet. He remembered a man giving him food. It was a good memory. He cautiously leaned forward, sniffing the meat in the man-thing’s hand. It smelled okay, not like some of the things he’d eaten recently. He nibbled softly on the edge of the meat, and it tasted good. Suddenly, he grabbed the meat, running off a few steps, then stopping.
The man-thing had never moved. It showed no fear. Rommel could smell no fear from him, nor sense any danger. This man-thing wanted to be friends. He gulped the meat down in three massive bites. He hadn’t eaten this good in a while. He looked at the piece still on the ground, and quickly added it to his meal.
Billy watched as the big dog looked up from the last piece of meat, as if wanting more.
There’s no more, Billy admitted. Carefully he stood. If he could find Rommel another meal, a good one, then maybe the dog would stay with him. Billy estimated that the dog was well over one hundred pounds, though he’d lost weight in the last few days. Billy remembered that Albert’s had many bags of dog food. On an impulse, Billy started that way, then stopped, looking back.
“Come, Rommel. Dinner Time.”
The dog remembered Dinner Time. It meant food. He wagged his tail once, which Billy thought was encouraging. Calling the dog again, Billy turned and started for Albert’s. It would be dark soon. Billy had a flashlight, but he didn’t relish being in town after dark. He needed to hurry but he could only go as fast as the dog.
And the dog was being cautious.
Billy could understand that. He was cautious himself. It took several minutes, but finally they were back at Albert’s. Billy opened the door and stood waiting for Rommel. The big dog eyed him with suspicion, but Billy made no move. He spoke to the dog, low and friendly.
“Come on, Rommel. I’ll feed you. C’mon, boy, it’s Dinner Time.”
That seemed to convince the dog. He eased through the door, careful to stay as far from Billy as possible. Once inside, Billy allowed the door to close. That didn’t set well with the giant Rottweiler, but Billy simply stood very still, waiting for Rommel to calm down again. As he did, Billy moved toward the dog food aisle.
Rommel lifted his massive head, sniffing cautiously. He could, of course, smell the spoiled meat, which made him salivate. But Billy took down a bag of IAMS dog food, lamb and rice formula, and opened it. Rommel’s ears perked up at that, remembering the sound of food in a bag. He trotted over toward Billy.
Billy had taken a large bowl from the shelf nearby, and filled it to overflowing. Rommel hesitated for less than a second before burying his head in the bowl, eating greedily.
Billy watched him eat, careful to make no sudden moves. He really wanted Rommel to see him as a friend. Billy had a feeling that the large dog would be good company to him.
For his part, Rommel seemed to be completely fixated on the food bowl. Vague stirrings of memory came to him in flits and flashes. Chasing a ball…lying by the door…shaking of a food sack…walking on a leash…being groomed. He stopped eating suddenly, looking up directly at Billy.
The man watched him, friendly, unafraid. To Rommel that was important. He had learned that afraid people tried to hurt him. They threw things at him. He didn’t like that. But this man wasn
’t afraid. Almost nodding, as if making up his mind, Rommel decided that this man-thing was his new friend. That decision made, Rommel returned to the food bowl.
Billy watched the dog eat, smiling to himself. He thought Rommel might stay with him now, which meant he’d have to come back to Albert’s tomorrow and get all the dog feed. Well, he shrugged, he was coming to get chips and pickles anyway, so no problem.
Billy let Rommel eat until he was full. As the dog finished his meal, Billy gathered up some dog shampoo, a brush, and a flea collar. If Rommel was going to live with him he’d need a bath and grooming. Rommel, seeing the brush, actually wagged his tail, which Billy took as a good sign.
Billy led Rommel to the back of the store where there was a large tub. Billy set his things down and patted the tub with his hand. Rommel jumped inside it, remembering this as well from before. Billy brought three jugs of water over to where Rommel sat waiting. The first one he poured on the large dog in its entirety, making sure to cover as much as he could. The second he sat beside the tub. Taking a handful of the shampoo, Billy began to wash the dog.
Rommel stood still, knowing that the bath would make him feel better, as Billy rubbed his head, and then his back, belly and legs, Rommel whined just a little, happy. Billy noted the fleas that Rommel carried were dying rapidly, and used the second jug to wash him down after the time was up. He quickly brushed the dog down, getting the excess water from him.
Rommel enjoyed that exercise more than the bath. Rommel had always loved to be brushed and he eagerly pushed himself into the brush. It felt good against his skin. Finished, Billy took the last jug of water, and poured a bowl full, allowing Rommel to drink his fill. Once he was done, Billy called him to follow, and walked to the front of the store.
It was dark, now, Billy saw. For a moment he was worried. He hadn’t been out after dark since IT had happened. There were no lights in town. He had his flashlight and now he switched it on. Looking back, he called for Rommel to follow, then opened the door. Rommel followed.
Billy made his way carefully back to the garage, looking down at Rommel on occasion to see if the mighty dog was still there. He was. Once Rommel stopped and began growling, deep in his chest. Billy stopped as well. Suddenly, several large dogs, at least five, ran into the street in front of them, barking and snarling.
Rommel made as if to attack, but Billy laid his hand on the dog’s head. “Stay”, he ordered, and Rommel did. “Good boy”, Billy soothed. The other dogs, wary, started around them. Billy and Rommel turned to keep facing them, and Billy leveled his rifle at the nearest one.
The dogs had seen a rifle before, and knew it was danger. As soon as Billy hefted it to his shoulder, they broke and ran. Billy watched them out of sight, sighing with relief as he lowered the rifle. He looked at Rommel, who was still watching where the dogs had gone, but had not offered to follow.
“Let’s go home, boy”, Billy said. Rommel recognized home, and followed.
That night, Rommel slept in the bed, curled up at Billy’s feet, making himself at home. Billy went to sleep smiling.
He had a dog.
CHAPTER TWO
Billy awoke the next morning with Rommel whining in his face.
“Okay buddy,” Billy mumbled. “I guess you gotta go, too.” Rising from his small bed, Billy stumbled to the door and let Rommel out into the small fenced yard behind the garage. He went to the bathroom himself, then washed his face and hands. He would have liked a shower, but he had to conserve his water. Once he was at the farm, water wouldn’t be a problem, though.
“First thing I’m gonna do is take me a long shower”, he thought. “No”, he decided, a hot soaking tub bath. “Yeah, that’s the ticket.” He went to the back door where Rommel was waiting patiently to be let back in. Billy smiled, ruffing the big dog’s head. Rommel wroffed lightly, and licked Billy’s hand in return.
“We going home today, boy,” Billy told him. Rommel looked at him quizzically, almost as if asking ‘isn’t this home’?
“No, it ain’t,” Billy answered the dog’s supposed question with a smile. “We get to the farm, you’ll have all the room you want to run in. And a big ole bed to sleep on, too,” he added. Wagging his stub of a tail, Rommel seemed to say, ‘suits me’.
Billy began looking through his garage and packing the tools he knew he might need at home. He would lock up when he left, of course, but if there was anyone else still alive, the lock probably wouldn’t stop them.
“Don’t matter, I guess,” he spoke aloud. “I just don’t wanna have to come back.” He loaded his tools and other equipment quickly, wanting to get on his way. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted to be away from the town, as quick as he could get. He didn’t know why. He just knew that he did.
Soon, he was ready to go. He pulled his truck out of the shop, then hooked it to the trailer. Once it was outside, he called to Rommel. He made one more look through his shop and apartment and he decided that he had everything that he wanted or needed.
“Let’s go boy!” he whistled. Rommel jumped into the open truck door without hesitation. Billy grinned and got behind the wheel.
“We gotta get ya some more food, boy.” He grinned, once more rubbing the dog’s large head. “We git that, and me some tater chips and pickles, and we’re outta here.” They pulled to the front of Alberts, and Billy soon had three more carts filled to overflowing with dog food. After a second, he went back and got all the cat food, too. A dog could eat it, he knew. He also decided to get all the little treats and such, since no one else would likely be needing them anymore.
He finally had everything loaded and he looked around him once more.
“Hardware store,” he murmured. He’d forgotten that yesterday in his excitement over finding Rommel. He took four more carts and headed across the street to the hardware store. Once there, he went carefully up and down the aisles, getting the things he knew he’d need. His daddy had always been careful to keep plenty, and Billy knew just what things daddy had said were on the “need” list.
That was list of things that daddy and momma had told him it would be hard to make or find, and just plain hard to do without. He took nails, screws, silicone sealant, glue, a complete set of hand tools, saw blades…the list went on. He finished just as his last cart was full. He tugged the carts over and managed, barely, to get all of them into the trailer.
At the last minute, he went back. He gathered up as much pipe as he could find, with connectors, fittings, glue, everything he’d need to plumb the house over again. He managed to get that into the back of his truck, but it took some doing.
“We just can’t carry no more, Rommel,” he said at last. Hearing his name, the dog perked up.
“Let’s go,” Billy ordered. Rommel once again leaped into the truck, and Billy set off for home.
It was only a few miles to the farm, taking no longer than thirty minutes to travel, but it took longer today. There were cars all along the road. Billy didn’t understand that at first, until he looked down into one as he passed by. There were people in the cars. Dead people. They had driven until they had died, he realized, and that was where they stayed. There was no one to move them. Not anymore.
For some reason, the dead people in the cars scared him more than the prospect of being all alone. Billy didn’t really believe in ghosts, at least he didn’t think he did. Suddenly he was wondering. All these people had died in a horrible manner, and close together. Would that make a difference? Would the town be haunted? The whole world?
He just didn’t know, and not knowing scared him. He unconsciously rubbed the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes, as he felt his head start to ache.
“No, no, no, not now!”, he thought to himself, on the edge of panic. He had too much to do to have one of his headaches. If he took the medicine the doctor had given him, it would knock him out for. . . .
He stomped on the brakes so hard that Rommel lose his footing and fell into the floor board. The mass
ive dog shook himself and jumped back onto the seat, giving Billy a look that clearly said ‘what was that for?’
“My meds! I forgot my meds!” Billy shouted to no one in particular.
He looked frantically for a way to turn the truck around. Nearly in a panic, he couldn’t focus on where he was, or what he needed to do. All he could think about was his meds.
As if sensing that his new person was in danger, Rommel looked around him in confusion, seeking a threat. Seeing none, he looked back to Billy, and suddenly head butted him in the arm. When he didn’t get a response, Rommel repeated the action a second, and then a third time.
Suddenly Billy looked at the dog, still slightly wide-eyed. Rommel ran his head under Billy’s hand, encouraging him to scratch. Billy did so without thought, rubbing and scratching the giant head for a full five minutes as he calmed down. The motion brought him back to clarity.
“Thanks, boy,” Billy gave the dog’s head a final ruffing. Realizing that the truck was still in gear, he placed in park, easing his now aching foot off the brake pedal. He took a few deep breaths, and then shook his head.
“I gotta keep calm,” he said to himself. “Gotta keep calm,” he repeated three more times. It became almost a mantra as he put the truck back in gear and started down the road. He remembered, now that his panic was gone, that he had a year’s supply of all his medicines at the house. Something else his mom and dad had managed to get for him. He kept buying his prescriptions regularly, adding them to the stocks, and then using the oldest of the stockpiled medicine.
“We can always go back and get the medicine after we get settled,” he told Rommel. The dog looked at him, head cocked to the side, then wagged his stump of a tail, as if saying ‘sounds good to me’.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. Billy eased onto the small road that led to the farmhouse, stopping half-a-mile off the main road to open the gate. He drove through, locked the gate behind him, and then drove the truck and trailer the rest of the way up to the house.
