by Amy Cross
In the distance, there's a faint rumbling sound from the sky, and I immediately edge a little closer to Jon. He doesn't seem scared about the weather, though, so I try to stay calm. I've heard the sky rumbling before and it always passes eventually.
“Plus the dog,” Richard adds, looking down at me and smiling that same smile that always sets me on edge. “Looks like a tough chap. And I see you have a rifle. Myself, I don't think I'm cut out for the rugged, survivalist lifestyle, but maybe you can make it work. Roaming the apocalyptic landscape and -”
He pauses, before grabbing the bottle.
“Oh, but where are my manners?” he asks, leaning closer to Jon and pouring some more liquid into his glass, this time all the way to the top. “Have some more!”
“I really don't think I -”
“Nonsense, just enjoy it! You're worried about your girl, and there's nothing you can do right now to see if she's alive or dead. That's got to be weighing on your mind. Have a drink to steady your nerves.”
Jon sighs. “I have to go to the city,” he says as he takes another sip from the glass. “I have to look for her.”
“You don't want to do that.”
“I have to!” He takes another, longer sip. “If there's even a chance that she's alive, I have to see if I can help her.”
“A noble sentiment, my friend, but one that's going to get you killed. There are still plenty of those creatures in the city. They might be slow and they might not last long, but there are so many of them, it's hard to run away from one without running straight into another. And they do rather seem to bite.”
“I have to try to find her,” Jon says firmly.
“You might not like what you see if you're successful.”
Jon turns to him. “What do you mean?”
“Just that a lot of people in the city are...” He pauses.
“A lot of people are what?”
“You might find your girl and wish you hadn't,” Richard continues. “I don't think many people avoided the sickness. Now, I imagine that after a few days, maybe a week or two, those walking corpses are just gonna drop. They can't last forever. But until then, there's an awful lot of dead people wandering the streets. They might look like bloated, rotting versions of their old selves, they might even be wearing the same clothes, but there's nothing left of their minds. If I had a girl and I saw her like that...”
His voice trails off.
“I don't know that I'd want to see,” he adds finally. “But if I had to see her, there'd only be one thing I could do to help her now. And that would be to put a bullet in her head, and maybe a few in the rest of her, too. However many it takes to drop those bastards. Could you do that? Could you put her out of her misery?”
Jon hesitates. “If you mean -”
“Could you aim a gun at her rotten face and blow her away?”
Jon flinches.
“Because that's the kind of decision you might have to make if you do find her. Not very romantic, is it?”
Jon stares at him for a moment, his eyes filled with horror, before taking a long sip from the glass. He shudders once he's finished the liquid, and this time he doesn't protest when Richard leans over and gives him a refill.
Worrying that Jon might be getting too sleepy, I paw his leg, but he simply reaches down and pats the side of my face.
“It's okay, Harry,” he tells me. “We're going to get Julie back. I'm not giving up on her. Not ever.”
He continues to drink, as Richard keeps talking. With each sip, Jon seems a little more tired, but at least he's starting to become less tense. Finally, with the rain still pounding down and darkness having fallen, and with occasional rumbles still filling the sky, I realize that Jon has fallen asleep. I paw at his leg again, but he doesn't respond.
“Poor guy,” Richard says, leaning closer and taking a look at Jon's face. “Didn't take much to knock him out, did it?”
He tries to pat my head, but I pull away.
“What's up? Don't you like me?” He looks at the half-empty bottle. “Good job I don't really drink, or I'd regret giving away so much good whiskey. Never had a taste for the stuff, myself. It's wine for me, all the way.”
Getting to his feet, he lets out a faint gasp as his bones creak. He smiles at me as he steps past, and then he heads into the kitchen. I let out a low growl, annoyed that he thinks he has the run of the place, and I watch as he heads to one of the drawers and pulls it open. He reaches in, and after a moment he takes out a roll of dirty paper. It's the same kind of paper I've seen Jon sometimes giving to people at stores. Flicking through the notes, Richard seems to be counting how many there are.
“I'll take these,” he mutters, before moving over to the cupboards and taking a look inside. “Not that money is going to be much use nowadays, but one never knows. Sorry, my little friend, but it's a dog eat dog world out there now. A man has to do whatever it takes in order to survive. Even if that means slipping sleeping medication into a bottle of whiskey.”
He grabs a box from the counter and starts filling it with the food Jon brought.
“On the plus side,” he continues, “your owner is going to learn a very valuable lesson when he wakes up. There are a lot of people out there who wouldn't simply leave him snoozing. They'd cut his throat and take his cabin, and to be fair that's not a bad idea, but...”
He holds up a pot and examines the contents for a moment.
“Decent coffee,” he says with a faint smile, before adding it to the box. “I'll have to save that for a special occasion. By the way, dog, do you happen to know if your owner has any other weapons? I'm sure the rifle is all well and good, but I could really use a handgun or some decent knives.”
Snarling as he heads over to the other side of the kitchen, I watch as he opens the other drawers and takes out some knives. I'm sure he doesn't have permission to be doing this, so I bark a couple of times, partly to warn him that he has to stop and partly so that Jon will wake up.
“Keep it down,” Richard says with a grin, before grabbing my lead from the hook on the wall. “I feel bad for this, but I think maybe I could use you on my travels. A good guard-dog could be a real life-saver.” He steps toward me, with the lead in one hand and a knife in the other. “Come on, boy. Time to come with me. I'll be your new Daddy!”
I bark again, while backing toward the door.
Sighing, he stops and stares at me for a moment.
“You're going to wake your owner if you're not careful,” he mutters, but then he seems briefly lost in thought. “Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me? I have to do it, don't I? What am I, some kind of wimp?”
He pauses, before setting the lead aside. After looking down at the knife for a few seconds, he glances at me with a hint of fear in his eyes.
“I'm not going to last long in this world if I can't even stand the sight of blood. I need to push myself over that line, I need to toughen up and the best way to do that is...”
His voice trails off for a moment, and I can tell his pulse is racing. Suddenly he glances toward the open door, looking out toward the porch where Jon is still fast asleep.
“I can do this,” he says finally, as if he's trying to work up the courage to do something that horrifies him. “I can kill a man. I have to. If I do it now, then next time I have to defend myself, I won't hesitate. I'll be less of a pussy.” He pauses again, before stepping toward the door. “Sorry, pooch, but I have to do this. I've been a wretched coward all my life, but now I'm going to step up. And if that means learning to kill a man, then I guess I have no choice. I might as well pop my murder-cherry while I have the chance.”
Chapter Ten
Barking at Richard as he steps toward me, I hold my ground, ready to strike if he gets too close to Jon.
“Oh, you're a loud one, huh?” he says, adjusting his grip on the knife. “Well, I think I'd better get this done fast.”
He tries to step past me, but I back away until I'm at the door. Jon looks to still be asle
ep, so I turn back to Richard and see that he's still coming closer with the knife.
“Don't worry,” he mutters, “I won't make him suffer. Believe me, I want this over and done with. I'm a good person, I've always stuck to the rules, but the world has changed now. And I need to change with it, if I want to survive. So I'll just do this, and then you and I can head off. You'll start to like me soon, and respect me, so just -”
Suddenly filled with a sense of blinding panic, I rush at him. He swings the knife toward my face but misses, and I bite down hard on his arm, sinking my teeth deep into his flesh. Letting out a cry of pain, he drops the knife and stumbles out through the door, but I keep my jaw clamped shut, even as my teeth start grinding against the bone of his arm.
“Fucking animal!” he hisses, grabbing my throat and then slamming me into the wall.
His blood is running into my mouth, but I refuse to let go. After a moment, however, he raises me high above the ground and then punches me, sending me crashing down. Before I can get up, he kicks me hard in the belly, and the flash of pain is enough to make me loosen my grip. Letting out a brief yelp, I fall onto my side but immediately get stagger to my feet, just as Jon stirs.
“Your fucking dog bit me!” Richard yells, clutching his arm as blood run down to the elbow. “That fucking thing is insane!”
“No way,” Jon stammers, still sounding a little groggy. “Harry would never -”
“Look at my fucking arm!” Richard shouts, briefly moving his hand away to reveal the torn flesh. “He bit me through to the fucking bone!”
Jon stares down at me with pure shock in his eyes, but I quickly step past him and snarl at Richard, forcing him to back away down the steps until he's out in the pouring rain. For the first time, he actually seems scared of me.
“Harry's not a violent dog,” Jon says firmly. “I don't know what happened, but you must have provoked him and -”
“He's a fucking monster!” Richard yells.
He steps closer, but I immediately start barking. Clearly terrified, he backs away again.
“What were you doing?” Jon asks him. “Why did he attack you?”
“I wasn't doing anything!” he hisses. “That fucking maniac just launched himself at me.”
“No,” Jon replies, “that's not like Harry. I know this dog better than I know most people, and he wouldn't turn against you unless he felt threatened. You did something that upset him.”
“He's probably got rabies!” Richard splutters, as the pouring rain washes more blood down his injured arm. “You need to get rid of that goddamn little shit!”
He steps closer.
I snarl again, and then I bark.
He flinches and steps back.
With rain still crashing down and just a single light shining on the porch, Richard's face is marked by patches of blazing light and deep, black shadow.
“It's okay, buddy,” Jon says, patting the back of my head. “I trust you. I know there's no way you'd ever attack someone unless you had a good reason.”
“Seriously?” Richard shouts. “You're going to trust that thing?”
“Were you in the kitchen?” Jon asks suddenly, stepping over to the doorway. “Why are the cupboards all open? Why's there a knife on the floor?”
Richard hesitates for a moment, before hurrying back up the steps. I bark at him again, but this time he tries to kick me. I'm too quick for him, however, and I push against his legs, causing him to slip on the wet wood. He tumbles back and lets out a cry as he falls down onto the grass, and I quickly hurry back to my spot at the top of the steps and turn to him again. Whatever else happens, I have to defend Jon and the cabin.
“Fucking animal!” he hisses.
“Were you trying to rob me?” Jon asks incredulously. “Where's the money from the drawer?”
“It's every man for himself now!” Richard replies, his voice trembling with anger. “Do you really think you can trust anyone? We're all just fighting to survive.” He lets out a gasp as he examines the bite wound on his arm. “Do you have any medical supplies? You owe me that much, at least. This thing could get fucking infected!”
“I don't owe you a goddamn thing,” Jon replies, before turning and heading inside. “I'll give you back the food you brought, though. And then you need to get the hell out of here.”
I can tell from the look in his eyes that Richard is considering another attack, so I keep snarling, determined to make him stay back. A moment later, however, I spot a hint of movement behind him, as if someone else is coming this way through the darkness. I lower my front a little, ready to spring forward if necessary, but the wind and rain are making it difficult to pick up any strong scents. For the first time in my life, there are so many impressions all around, I feel as if the world is filled with chaos.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Richard asks, clearly unaware that someone is approaching him from behind. “You'd have been better off with me anyway. At least I know how to survive. At least I'm not some naive, dumb-ass hick who can be plied with a bottle of whiskey and -”
Suddenly he screams and clutches his throat, and when he stumbles forward I see that the man from the gas station's parking lot has bitten deep into his neck.
“Get it off me!” Richard yells, with blood spraying from the wound. He tries to turn away, only for the man to drag him down onto the grass and bite his neck again.
“What the hell's going on out there?” Jon shouts, rushing back onto the porch but stopping as soon as he sees the rotten man tearing a thick knot of flesh and meat from Richard's bloodied throat. “What the...”
“Help me!” Richard screams, reaching toward us with a trembling, blood-stained hand. “For the love of God, kill it!”
Still barking, I take a step forward, hoping to scare them both away. Only Jon and I should be here, and I want everyone else to leave the cabin and the field right now. Richard is trying to crawl to the bottom of the steps, but he's already lost a lot of blood and the rotten man is still biting huge chunks away from his neck and shoulder. Already, enough meat is missing for Richard's bones to start glistening in the rain.
“Stay back,” Jon stammers, grabbing my collar. “Harry, this is -”
“Help me!” Richard shouts again, rolling onto his back and trying to put the attacker away. Suddenly, however, the rotten man bites down hard on his belly, digging his teeth through the shirt and clawing at his flesh. Sobbing, Richard lets out a gurgled moan as more blood sprays from his ravaged neck, but he can no longer even try to drag himself toward us. Instead, his shaking hands are simply clutching the wet grass as more rain comes down, and I can just about hear a juicy sucking sound as his belly is torn apart.
“That thing's insane,” Jon says, before turning and grabbing the rifle.
Still barking, I take a step back and watch as the rotten man continues to feed on Richard.
“I'm sorry,” Jon says firmly, stepping past me and aiming at the rotten creature, “but I have to do this.”
Suddenly the gun fires, blasting the creature's face apart and sending it slumping down against Richard's trembling body.
“It must have walked all the way up here from the gas station,” Jon says, taking a cautious step forward while still aiming the gun at the spot where the creature's body fell. A moment later, the headless torso starts twitching, and Jon shoots it again, this time blowing the upper part of its chest clean away, and finally the meat remains slump down onto the rain-soaked grass.
“Help me,” Richard gasps, his voice shuddering as he reaches a hand up through the rain. “Please...”
Although I just want to go back into the cabin and ignore everything that's happening, I follow Jon down the steps, while still snarling at the headless creature in case it moves again. There's very little light out here, but I can just about make out the sight of rainwater crashing down against Richard's bloodied chest, washing blood and other liquids out onto the grass. His guts have been partially pulled out, glistening in the ra
in.
“I don't want to die,” he groans, trying to grab the end of the gun. “Help me. I don't... I don't want to...”
“There might be another one,” Jon says, looking out at the darkness. “There was a woman at the gas station too, she might be closer.”
“Help...”
Jon hesitates, before propping the gun at the top of the steps and then making his way down cautiously to Richard's bloodied form.
I bark, to warn him that it's too dangerous.
“I don't think I can move you,” Jon stammers. “He almost...”
“Get me inside,” Richard gasps. “Hurry!”
“I don't -”
“Get me inside!” Reaching out, Richard grabs Jon's arm for a moment, although Jon quickly pulls away and takes a step back. “You can't leave me out here! What are you, a monster? Get me into that fucking cabin right now!”
“I have a First Aid kit,” Jon says, turning and hurrying back up the steps. “Wait!”
“I don't want to die!” Richard yells, reaching forward and digging his fingers into the grass.
I step back, keen to keep away from him.
“Do you hear me?” he snarls through gritted teeth, staring at me as he starts dragging himself to the bottom of the steps. He lets out a cry of pain, but he keeps coming, pulling himself forward inch by inch until finally he slumps down again. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he asks. “There's no way I'm going to die. I'll find a way, I'll...”
He tries again to drag himself toward me.
Turning, I hurry back up the steps and over to the door, and when I look inside I see that Jon is in the bathroom, sorting through the contents of a small metal tin.
“Help me!” Richard screams, his throat filled with blood now. “What the fuck are you doing? You have to help me!”
I watch Jon for a moment longer, before turning and looking back down at Richard. His eyes are wide open, but something seems different about the expression on his face. Heading over to the top of the steps, I watch him for a moment, and finally I realize that even though rain is falling against his eyes, he's no longer blinking. I sniff the air, but the bad weather make it hard to pick up a decent scent. He's not moving at all, though, and I think he might be dead.
