by Amy Cross
“What the fuck is that thing?” Jon stammers, his voice filled with fear.
I bark again, but the man doesn't seem scared of anything. He's just lumbering slowly toward us and, as I continue to bark, I realize I'm not sensing any fear coming from him at all. It's almost as if he's somehow empty, as if he has no reaction to anything. I can even sense his heart beating in his chest.
“Stay back!” Jon shouts. “Don't come any closer!”
The man's gurgle gets louder as he lumbers toward us, and now I can see his chest more clearly. He looks hurt, as if something tore his ribs open and punched a hole just below his neck, and his intestines are partially hanging out. I've never seen anything – human or animal – keep moving when it's so bad injured, or when it reeks so strongly of death. I thought I understood what happens to living creatures when they're hurt, but this man seems to be defying all the usual rules. Something dead shouldn't be able to walk like this.
“Keep back from him, Harry,” Jon says firmly, grabbing my collar and pulling me away from the man.
I let out a low, rumbling snarl, hoping to warn the man away, but it has no effect. If he tries to hurt Jon, though, I'm going to have to fight him, even though all my instincts are warning me to keep well away. Whatever else happens, I have to protect my master.
Suddenly Jon opens one of the car doors.
“Get in, Harry!” he says, lifting me inside and then slamming the door shut.
He runs around and gets in the other side, before starting the engine just as the strange men reaches the window next to me and places his pale, bloodless hands on the glass.
Suddenly the tires squeal as Jon reverses the car across the parking lot. In just a matter of seconds, we're safely away from the strange man, although Jon stops the car again once we're almost at the main building. With the engine still running, he sits and stares out at the figure, which has already started to lumber slowly toward us.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Jon says after a moment. “He looks like a...”
I feel safer now that we're in the car and not so close to the man, but for some reason Jon seems to want to stay here and watch him limping this way.
“He looks like a zombie,” he says finally. “That shirt he's wearing has the gas station's logo, it looks like he's been shot straight through the chest. I think maybe he came from here.”
I start snarling as the man comes closer.
“He's not a zombie, though,” Jon continues. “He can't be. I mean, he's in a bad way and he looks hurt, but...”
His voice trails off for a moment.
“He's just hurt,” he adds. “That's all. It looks like he's been shot in the chest, it's a miracle he's alive.”
He pauses, before checking the black rectangle again.
“Still no signal.”
Another pause, and then he opens the door.
“Stay here, Harry,” he says firmly. “I'm just going to see if I can help this guy. If he can walk, he must be able to talk.”
He climbs out of the car. I step across to the other seat, hoping to follow, but he quickly pushes the door shut. I can't believe Jon would actually go out there, and I watch in horror as he takes a couple of cautious steps toward the man, who's still only about halfway across the parking lot. I bark a couple of times, to warn Jon that he needs to stay back, but he simply keeps walking.
“Hey!” I hear him calling out. “Can you hear me?”
I bark again, filled with panic as Jon waits for the man to get closer.
“I want to help you!” he continues. “I don't think I have enough gas to get to a hospital. Can you help me with that, and then I'll take you?”
Still barking, I start furiously scratching my paw against the door, hoping to get out there so I can help Jon.
“My name's Jon! Can you tell me your name?”
The man is much closer now. Finally, I'm relieved to see Jon stepping back, and a moment later he opens the door and climbs back into the car. He pulls the door shut and reaches out to me, placing a hand on the back of my neck.
“What the hell do we do now?” he asks, watching as the man stumbles closer. “I don't want to overreact, buddy, but I don't like the look of this guy. He seems...”
His voice trails off, and for a moment he simply watches as the man finally reaches the car.
“It's okay, Harry,” Jon says. “We just -”
Suddenly the man leans down and slams his hands against the window, while staring in at us with wild, reddened eyes. I start barking, but nothing seems to scare him off. Instead, he starts banging his hands against the glass as if he's trying to break through, and at the same time his mouth opens and he lets out a rattling, gasping growl.
“I want to help you!” Jon tells him, as the man continues to pound against the window. “Just hold on, okay? Just try to -”
He flinches as the man starts hitting the glass harder and harder.
“I know he's not a zombie,” Jon mutters, “but he's doing a damn good -”
Before he can finish, there's a crunching sound and the man's left hand bends back, as if he's hitting the glass so hard that he's broken his wrist. The pale skin tears slightly, but no blood runs from the wound. All that's left on the window is a pale, yellowish smear of rotten flesh.
“What the hell is going on in his chest?” Jon asks, his voice filled with shock.
As I continue to bark, I see that something seems to be moving in the man's bloodied, exposed ribs. After a moment, I realize that there are maggots wriggling through his flesh. I've seen maggots before, but only on dead bodies, and this man looks and smells like he died a couple of days ago. The fact that he's walking about, however, means that he can't be dead. I genuinely don't understand what's happening here, but I know I don't want him getting any closer. I know the difference between life and death, but this man seems to be both at the same time.
Suddenly Jon grabs the steering wheel, and the car lurches forward. He drives us away from the man, over toward the edge of the parking lot and then out onto the main road, but then he stops again. We both look back and see that the man has already starting stumbling after us. For a moment we sit in silence, but I can tell that Jon's heart is pounding and I can sense his fear.
“We can't leave him,” he says finally, “but I don't... Maybe I'm being paranoid, but I don't want that guy touching me. I swear, Harry, he looks like...”
He pauses, still watching the man.
“He looks like a zombie,” he continues. “Did you see those maggots? How can a guy be walking about with maggots infesting a huge, open wound in his chest? I could actually see through the hole and out the other side!”
He checks the black rectangle again.
“Julie would know what to do. Damn it, where the hell is she?”
He turns to me.
“Hey, buddy, what do you think the odds are that she's up at the cabin right now?”
I don't know what he's saying, but he just mentioned Julie. I turn and look around, but there's no sign of her.
“I don't want to leave this guy here, stumbling around like this,” he continues. “He must be in agony, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Maybe I should just go out there again and try to talk to him. If he's walking, he must still be conscious in there somehow. I mean, he can't just be...”
He reaches to open the door, but I bark and he stops.
“I know how you feel,” he says, “but I can't just drive away. He needs help.”
I bark again, before realizing that the scent is suddenly different. Whereas a moment ago I was picking up a strong stench of death and blood coming from the man, now the wind seems to have changed and I can smell the same scent coming from another direction. I turn and look out through the car's rear window, and I immediately see another figure stumbling toward us.
I start barking, louder than ever.
“Harry, what's wrong?” Jon asks, before turning just as the second figure bumps against the rear of the
car. “What the hell, is that another one?”
The new figure is louder, snarling as it comes around to the door and bangs its fists against the glass. As I continue to bark, I see that this figure seems to be a woman, and she's just as discolored and strange-looking as the man. Her belly seems bloated somehow, but unlike the man she doesn't seem to have any bloody wounds.
“Okay, this is definitely getting too weird for me,” Jon mutters, driving the car forward for a moment before stopping again. His hands are trembling. “We're getting the hell out of here.”
Turning, I see that both figures are still coming toward us.
“What do we do?” Jon stammers. “These people actually look like -”
Before he can finish, the woman throws herself against the car's rear window. As she does so, her bloated stomach suddenly bursts, spraying the glass with a kind of yellowish liquid. Nothing seems to stop her, though, and she's already lumbering around to the window next to Jon, still trying to find a way to get into the car. Her burst belly has left flaps of skin hanging loose, with more of the yellowish liquid dribbling out.
“Okay, I'm not going out there again,” Jon says, driving the car forward a little further. He stops again and looks back at the two figures, before hitting the pedal and moving the car even further along the road. This time, he doesn't stop. “We're going back to the cabin, buddy,” he tells me, as his voice trembles with shock. “Julie'll be there now. She has to be. We'll go back, we'll talk to Julie, and we'll figure out what the hell is going on. It's not what it looks like, though. It can't be.”
Chapter Seven
As soon as Jon opens the car door and lets me out, I sniff the air and realize that Julie isn't here. None of the scents have changed since we left the cabin a few hours earlier, although the car itself smells very different and I hurry around to the other side, where the woman's burst belly has left some kind of foul liquid all over the window.
“Julie?” Jon calls out, heading over to the cabin. “Damn it, her car isn't here.”
Although I want to smell the liquid on the side of the car, so I can get a better idea of what it contains, feel as if I shouldn't get too close. Whatever was wrong with that woman, she's made the car smell diseased, and I'm certain that her body was starting to rot. The liquid has already started to dry in the afternoon sun, and after a moment I step back, feeling as if it might be dangerous. Somehow, it seems to smell of pure death.
“That's disgusting,” Jon says as he comes over to join me. “Don't lick it, buddy.”
He grabs my collar and pulls me back a few paces, which I don't mind at all.
“I wanted to help them,” he continues, stroking the back of my neck as he looks at the smears on the side of the car, “but... You saw what they were like. Those two people at the gas station, it's like they...”
His voice trails off.
“That stuff stinks,” he adds finally, leaning a little closer to the car. “I mean, even I can smell it, so it must absolutely reek for you, huh?”
He opens the car door and takes out a bottle of water. After unscrewing the cap, he pours the water over the smear, but the stench remains.
“I really thought Julie would be here,” he continues, taking a step back. “I don't like this, Harry. My phone's been out of signal for two days now, and it looks like there's still some kind of major power outage. And whatever happened at that gas station...”
He pauses.
“Why was no-one else on the road?” he asks. “Why had no-one else seen what was going on at the gas station? Why were those two people just left to wander about like that? I mean, it was like a scene from some kind of zombie movie, but...”
Looking up at him, I see that he seems lost in thought. Jon's usually pretty sure of himself, but right now it's clear that he doesn't know what's happening. He checks the black rectangle again, tapping at the screen as he mutters something under his breath.
“I took a couple of photos of the guy,” he continues, staring at the rectangle. “He sure as hell looked like a zombie. They both did, but they just can't be.”
He stares for a moment longer, before turning and heading to the cabin. Determined to stay close, I follow him up the steps and through the door, and then I watch as he opens a cabinet in the far corner and takes out his rifle. For the next few minutes, he seems intent on checking that every part of the mechanism works properly. He rarely ever takes the rifle from the cabinet, but this time he sets it on the table and then grabs a rattling box.
“I'm probably overreacting,” he tells me, “and Julie will probably show up any moment now and make fun of me for the rest of my life, but... For the first time in my life, I'm sure as hell glad that Daniel persuaded me to buy a gun. He said I should have it, just in case I ever ran across a bear up here, but now...”
He pauses, staring at the gun for a few seconds.
“I won't need it,” he continues. “I won't. It's crazy. But I think I'll keep it out, just in case.”
He comes over to me and pats the top of my head, before heading out to the porch. I follow, and we both sit at the top of the steps, looking out at the field and watching the distant trees. There's a light breeze now, causing the branches to sway and the leaves to rustle, but fortunately nothing seems to be moving counter to natural world now.
“Let's look at this logically,” he says after a moment, “and try to stay calm. Don't worry, buddy, I'm kind of just talking to myself right now.” He sighs. “Julie was going to drive up and join us a couple of days ago, and she's not the kind of person who'd suddenly blow us off. Obviously the phones went on the fritz, and the power too, so I guess she had to stick around at the ER and help people. I mean, that's what Julie's like, she'd never leave her post if there was an emergency. So she's probably fine, she's probably working flat-out and getting no sleep, but she'll be okay. She's smart, she knows how to look after herself.”
I wait for him to continue, but he says nothing for the next few minutes.
Finally I let out a faint whimper and place my paw on his leg.
Smiling, he turns to me.
“You were very brave back there, Harry. Good dog. Very good.”
He pats my head again. Usually I'd feel better when he tells me I'm good, but this time I can tell he's still worried.
“I think we should stick it out for a couple more days,” he says after a moment. “We don't actually have enough gas to go too far, not until that gas station is back up and running. So there's no point hitting the road. We have tons of food, I brought enough up for Julie so we can last a couple of weeks with no trouble, and at least while we're here...” He sighs. “At least while we're here, she knows where to find us. Soon we'll start seeing signs of life, we'll see planes in the sky again and the cellphone service'll come back, and that'll be our signal that everything's getting back to normal. Then we can go get some gas and.... And things will get back to normal, I promise.” He ruffles the fur on the back of my neck again. “Everything's going to be okay. And I bet Julie'll show up tomorrow.”
We sit in silence as the late afternoon sky starts to darken. By the time the sun has begun to disappear, the shadows of the forest are much longer, reaching almost all the way to the cabin's steps.
***
I don't sleep during the night. Neither does Jon. He sits at the table, near the gun, while I stay out on the porch, watching the dark forest. After a while he sets a lamp burning, which makes the interior of the cabin brighter but also makes everything outside seem much darker. The whole world is so silent, it's as if Jon and I are the only living things left.
Chapter Eight
“I don't see anything. Do you see anything, buddy?”
Having set out from the cabin at first light, we're now at the top of the hill, which means we're on the highest point for miles and miles around. From here, we can see not only the entire valley but also the main road in the distance, snaking through the forest. Even further away, the sprawl of the city spreads to the ho
rizon, and I can't see any sign of cars moving on the roads.
Looking up at Jon, I can tell that he's a little more worried than yesterday.
“You know,” he says with a faint, nervous smile, “I was thinking things through during the night, and I realized that there's no way things won't go back to normal. I mean, even if the shit has really hit the fan, it's just going to take a few days before the government and the military get everything back under control. The world just can't collapse. Do you know what I think happened? I think terrorists took out the grid, something like that. Hackers or whatever. I bet there's a whole lot of panic going on right now, but order's gonna get restored. And you and me, buddy, we're just sitting up here on a hill, keeping well clear of the whole mess.”
He reaches down and pats my head.
“If you ask me, we're the smart ones. And Julie will be okay, because she's smart too. I guarantee you, whatever's going on down there in the city, she's staying safe. She's probably working around the clock to help other people, and not sleeping at all, but that's just the kind of girl she is.”
He pauses for a moment.
“I think maybe when all of this is over,” he continues, turning and leading me back down the side of the hill, “I might change my plan a little. Instead of asking her to move in with us, how about I ask her to marry me instead? I've been thinking about it for a while, but I reckon now's the time. You wouldn't mind that, would you? And if a kid or two comes along after a few years, you'll get a whole new buddy. It'll be a big change, though. Instead of just you and me for most of the time, we'll have a full house. But you'll always be my pal, and nothing will ever change that. You understand, right? Wouldn't you like to get old with me in a loud, happy house?”
I don't know what any of those words mean, but I like hearing his voice. He's clearly still worried, but it's better when he talks. Last night he was silent as he sat at the table, and I could tell his pulse was racing. Humans always give off so many little signals that make it obvious how they're feeling, although I'm not certain they're very aware of those signals. Sometimes, I even think that maybe I have an advantage in that area.
