Land of the Dogs (Book 1)

by S. L. Rowland

  “I know this is important talk and all, but, Claire, I think Simon got laid,” said Dan. He wore a mischievous grin and squeezed his brother on the shoulder.

  “What? You’re kidding, right?” Her eyes were wide in disbelief.

  “Shut up. Both of you. It’s none of your business,” said Simon.

  “Yeah, he totally got laid. Look at the way he’s blushing. Who was she?” asked Claire.

  “Do you remember the girl he used to hang out with all the time in high school? The one who went to all of his games?” asked Dan.

  “Yeah. Violet?”

  “Yep.”

  “She was in love with him then. Everyone could see it. Well, good for you, Simon.”

  “You guys are too much. Let’s get away from here. I don’t like looking at these things,” said Simon. The buzzing of flies filled the air.

  “Where to?” asked Claire.

  “There are a few places I need to stop by, then we can decide as a group what to do next.”

  “Where is it you want to go?” she asked again.

  Simon stood in silence for a moment, looking at the heads staked before him. “We need to go back home.”

  The door was still locked when Simon, Claire, and Dan arrived at their old house. The boards, which Simon had removed on his last visit, lay scattered along the porch. Simon found the key under the sleeping gnome and unlocked the door. The house was the same as he had left it nearly two weeks ago. Has it already been two weeks? Hope let out a bark, sensing what was out back.

  “Home sweet home,” said Dan. “It’s been so long since we were here. Feels like a lifetime ago.” He walked into the dining room and took a seat at the table.

  “What I would give to go back to the days.” Claire walked over to a family picture hanging on the wall. Simon joined her in the hallway as they stared at the frame. Everyone in the picture wore ugly Christmas sweaters. Claire’s was red; it had a cat wearing a Santa cap. Simon’s was red with Santa and his reindeer. Dan’s was blue; it had a snowman smoking a pipe. He could remember that the eyes lit up and it made music. Their Dad wore a blue sweater with a gnome on it, and mountains in the background. And their mom wore a black sweater that said Merry Christmas in red sparkles and had white sequin snowflakes. They were all smiling, though none of them could seem to find the camera.

  Simon left Claire and walked out into the backyard. His father still clanked as he pulled back and forth, held in place by the chain attached to his neck. The gash from the chain was the same size as when he had left. There wasn’t much to draw away his father’s attention once Simon was gone. Simon stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching his father until the others joined him.

  “Oh God,” said Claire. “What did we do?” She hadn’t seen her father since the night they chained him up. The sight of his neck torn and dripping pus was a lot to take in.

  “We did what we had to,” said Dan, looking at his father. “Why did you bring us here, Simon?”

  “We need to decide what to do,” he said to both of them.

  “What do you mean, what to do?” asked Claire.

  “About Dad. We can’t just leave him here. If we are going away, possibly for good, then we need to do something.”

  “Are you saying we kill him?” asked Claire, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “He’s already dead. Dan and I don’t think that they can ever be the same, even if there was a cure. You see the way he just stares, seeing nothing. You even said that he deserved what he got.”

  “Goddammit, Simon!” she yelled. “I was angry. I had just escaped from being held captive and no one was there to comfort me but you. You, who had only experienced this world for a day and had no clue what was going on. You, who could not possibly understand what it was that I was going through. He may be dead, but he’s still our father.” She was crying now. Dan walked over and put his arm around her.

  “You’re right. We need to give him the decency of a real death. We can’t leave him chained to this pole forever as one of these things. And we can’t set him free.”

  “He’s right, Claire. Dad deserves better than this,” said Dan.

  She went and sat on the steps, taking a deep breath. Simon and Dan stood in silence for minutes waiting for Claire to speak. “I know. Can you make it clean at least?”

  “Okay. I’ll get a knife from inside.” Simon went inside to look for a kitchen knife. He found one on the counter. When he held its weight in his hand, it wasn’t just the weight of the knife, but the weight of his father’s life and of the whole world. He set it back down, letting out a deep sigh. For moments, he just breathed in and out. When he picked the knife up again, he was ready. He walked outside to his father and stood there, looking him in the eye and searching for one last gleam of life behind his clouded eyes. All he received, however, were snarls and chomping teeth. “Does anyone want to say anything?”

  “There’s no point,” said Claire. “It’s not him.”

  “I will,” said Dan. He turned to face his father. “Dad, you were a good man. You tried your best to provide for and protect us. I miss you. You didn’t deserve this.”

  “I love you, Dad,” said Simon. He took the knife and slid it through the side of his dad’s skull, so that by looking at the face, no one could see it. The body instantly slouched, its whole weight now hanging on the chain. Simon unclasped the chain and laid his father’s body flat on the ground. “Dan, will you look in the garage and see if there is a shovel. We should bury him.”

  Dan came back with a shovel a few minutes later. He and Simon took turns digging a shallow grave for their father. When it was deep enough, they lifted the body and covered it with earth.

  “I can’t explain it, but it’s kind of a relief now. To know we put him to rest,” said Claire.

  “Yeah. I think so too,” said Simon. He put his arm around Claire and pulled her in.

  Dan walked over and put his arm around her from the other side. “It’s a shitty world, but I think we’re going to be okay.”

  “We need to go. There’s one other place I need to go, and we have to get there by sundown,” said Simon.

  Simon refused to tell Dan and Claire where or why he needed to go. “Just trust me,” he said. And they did. Before all that happened to Simon over the past two weeks, they might not have followed him where he wanted to go, but something had changed in Simon. He had matured. In what felt like a few weeks to him, he had somehow become a man. Simon led the way while Dan and Claire chatted a few feet behind him. Hope ran out in front, turning back every so often to make sure he was leading in the right direction. Simon’s mind was occupied with the possibilities of what he was about to do.

  Hanzel’s words echoed through Simon’s mind. Could any of it be true? Did I cross some unknown barrier the day I jumped in the lake? And if so, what happens to Claire and Dan if I go back?

  Claire was the first to realize where they were headed when they left the town limits and started going north on the highway. She ran up to Simon and put her hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Why are we going to the lake house, Simon?”

  “It’s where it all started for me. I just have to see something. If I don’t find any answers, I’ll follow you wherever you want to go. But please, just let me do this. For peace of mind.” He turned and started back down the road, and they followed. Nothing else was said about where they were going. The sky was a dark gray. It would be sunset soon.

  As evening approached, a chill filled the air. They passed the convenience store where Simon had found Slugger.

  “This was where I had my first encounter with the monsters,” said Simon. “I was so hungry that I pulled off the boards and broke inside. I heard it moving in the back, knocking over bottles and pounding on the door. I was so scared. I never actually saw it, but I’m positive it was in there. It didn’t make much sense at the time, I just thought it was a crazed lunatic. It still doesn’t make sense, really.”

  “You’r
e lucky you were able to get out without incident,” said Dan. “A lot of people were swarmed for their first encounter.”

  The sun set as they made their way down the driveway to the lake house. The clouds had disappeared and the sun reflected perfectly off the lake. For the last few minutes, the sky was pink. The wind howled in the trees and made a soft swishing as the waves collided with the pier. Then it was dark.

  Dan and Claire followed Simon as he walked down to the pier. Hope ran ahead and drank from the shore. The pier was falling apart, with gray and cracking wood. Simon stood there, staring out at the lake and searching for answers in the rippling water. The moon showed its glaring face and cast silver light over their surroundings.

  “What is it you’re looking for, Simon?” asked Claire.

  “Answers. You know, if this all happened and I was here to experience it from the beginning until now, as crazy as it is, I could accept it. But how do I just show up two years later into the middle of everything? It’s not right.”

  “Some things just can’t be explained,” said Dan. He put his hand on Simon’s shoulder.

  “I need you to stand back.” Simon put his hands on their chests and pushed them back away from the dock. “Just stay here. Promise me you will just stay here.”

  “Why? What are you doing?” asked Claire.

  “Just stay. Please.” They both nodded.

  Simon walked to where the pier met the shore. Hope had taken a seat in the cool grass. He turned around, looked at the water, and took off. The wood creaked slightly as each foot thudded against the aged timber. Splinters narrowly missed each step as Simon roared down the dock. At the end of the dock, with not an inch to spare, Simon planted his right foot and lifted high into the air, spreading his arms and legs and forming a perfect X. For a moment, he seemed suspended in time. Then the Earth resumed spinning and his body descended back towards the lake. Towards gravity. He entered the lake with a slight splash and dove deep into the abyss. Simon swam deeper and deeper until his lungs burned and he knew that if he didn’t turn around, he would die. He turned and swam towards the surface.

  To be continued…

  Land of the Dogs started with a vision. Before I wrote a single word, I had this image in my mind of a kid jumping into the water and going from a world full of color into a world of black and gray. Kind of a reverse Wizard of Oz. Over time the idea evolved and the boy became a young man, the black and gray world became post-apocalyptic. The story unfolded from there.

  There are so many people to thank and acknowledge in making this story come to fruition. It’s been a long process. Three years. Three years of not knowing if this book would ever see the light of day.

  First off, I would like to thank Scott and Courtney Reynolds for letting me stay in the basement of their home on the mountain while I took two months to write the first draft of this novel nearly three years ago. You read my novel in its roughest forms and for that, I apologize. Thanks for the beer and bologna sandwiches that kept me going through it all and for the hours spent playing Madden and League of Legends when I needed a break.

  I’ve written several books under a pen name and even now, it can be hard to find supporters. How in the hell I was so lucky to have people support me when I only had a chapter written and nothing else, I’ll never understand. It still means the world to me that you would take a chance on someone you hardly knew. Thank you, Tabitha Simmons, Jessica Anders, John Wheeler, Alex Priore, Nathan Musgrove, Craig Brashear, Celia Quillian, Andrew Newton, and Marsha Astarita.

  To Sarah Wheeler, you helped me craft this story when I knew nothing about storytelling. Thanks for helping me make my characters real.

  To the many beta readers who took the time to point out plot holes, thank you, Sean Chumley, Theresa Houseman, Jan, David Simpson and anyone else I may have missed.

  I would like to also thank my editor Mia for polishing and formatting the book you now hold in your hands. Thanks for correcting all of my sloppy mistakes.

  My cover designer, Natasha Snow, has a brilliant eye. Thanks for making a cover that hops off the virtual shelves.

  A big thanks to Chris Luke, for designing a wonderful and interactive website.

  To my Grandmother, you have always supported and believed in me, even when no one else did. I would say don’t read this, but you loved John Wick, so who am I to stop you?

  Thank you to my family and friends and anyone who has followed my journey from afar. Big things are on the horizon.

  Lastly, a thank you to Caroline. Your support is unwavering and I know that even on my worst days, I can count on you to keep me going.

  S.L. Rowland is a nomad. Born in the South, he loves traveling and has road-tripped coast to coast three times over. He currently lives in the mountains of East Tennessee with his Shiba Inu, Lawson. When not writing, he enjoys hiking, reading, weightlifting, playing video games and having his heart broken by various Atlanta sports teams.

  You can find out more at: http://www.SLRowland.com