by Amy Cross
“Whatever,” the woman mutters, “can one of you go and fetch more water from the stream?”
“It's her turn,” Harry says, pointing at his sister.
“I'm busy here,” Sophie replies. “Besides, you can take your stupid dog, can't you?”
“I'm planting seeds too!” Harry protests.
“No, you're arguing about the dog,” she continues. “I'm actually planting seeds, and you're just sort of hovering around, slowing everyone else down.”
A few minutes later, Harry and I are heading away from the farmhouse. He's carrying two buckets, and we're soon past the ridge and walking around the edge of the forest. Harry isn't saying much now, but that's fine by me. I like coming with him when he has jobs to get done, and it's very important that I stay close and warn other animals to stay away. I've only seen rabbits and mice in the area lately, but something more dangerous could show up at any moment, so I have to stay alert. For the first time in many years, I actually have a job, and it feels good to know that I'm doing something important.
It takes a few hours for us to make the journey. Harry talks a lot during that time. I don't understand what he's saying, but I'm reminded of the times when Jon used to take me out for long walks. He used to talk, too, and I liked the sound of his voice even if I never really knew what he was on about.
“Sophie thinks she's so smart,” Harry mutters finally as we reach the stream and he crouches down, dipping one of the buckets into the water. “She's just bossy, that's all. When we're older, I'm gonna show her who's right.”
I start drinking from the stream, and after a moment I look over and see Harry watching me. He smiles slightly, as if he's amused. After a few seconds, he leans down and tries to copy what I'm doing, although in the process he almost falls head-first into the water.
“How long were you alone for,” he continues finally, “before you met me? Who was that Jon guy whose name is on your collar?”
I instinctively turn and look around, and for a fraction of a second I almost expect to see Jon coming this way. I know he's long gone, of course, but sometimes I get these little flashes where I think there might be a chance. Looking along toward the bend in the little stream, I imagine what it would be like to see Jon and Julie coming this way. One day, years and years ago, we were out near the cabin in a place a little like this. The three of us went for long walks every afternoon, and I thought those days would never have to end. I'd give anything now to go back to how things were.
“Holy crap!” Harry says suddenly, dropping the buckets and hurrying past me. “Ben! Look!”
Startled, I limp after him. After a moment, however, I stop as I see a set of clean white ribs poking out from the long grass.
“It's a person!” he continues, his voice tinged with both excitement and fear. “I wonder how long it's been here!”
Stepping closer, I see that there's a human skeleton on the ground. Usually I'd have picked up the scent a while ago, but these bones look old, with all the meat having been eaten away. There are tattered scraps of clothing hanging from some of the ribs, but as I get closer and sniff the air, I can tell that this person clearly died at least eight or nine summers ago. Even the bugs and maggots have long since departed.
Crouching next to the bones, Harry seems mesmerized.
“Do you think this was one of those zombie things?” he asks after a moment, grabbing a stick and using it to poke the ribs. “Or was it just someone who starved out here?”
I take a step back, not wanting to get too close.
“I was too young back then,” he continues, “so I don't remember life before everything went wrong. Sophie pretends she remembers, but I think she's lying. It's weird to think that there were once so many people around, though.”
He leans even closer to the bones.
“I can see the skull,” he whispers.
I bark, to warn him that he should stay away.
“It's okay,” he says, reaching into the grass and taking hold of a piece of bone. After a moment, he carefully lifts the skull above the grass. “This was a person once,” he continues, with a hint of awe in his voice now. “Just like you and me. Well...”
He smiles.
“Like me, anyway.”
The smile fades as he stares at the skull and, for the first time since I met him, Harry appears to be genuinely lost for words.
“I wish you could tell me your story, Ben,” he continues finally, turning to me. “It must be pretty unique for a dog to survive all of this. I bet you've seen some stuff, huh? We saw some wild dogs once, about six months ago, near a town. They were howling and hunting in a pack, they were pretty scary. How come you're not like that? Too domesticated?”
He pauses, still watching me carefully.
“Or did you just not bump into any other dogs? Have you been alone for a long time?”
I let out a faint whimper, hoping he'll set the skull down so we can leave.
“Dad says that more than 99% of everyone died ten years ago,” he says after a moment. “Like, only 1% of 1% of 1% survived, maybe even less. I can't imagine that. I asked him once where they all went. He didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it, but then he muttered something about keeping away from the cities. I remember a few years ago, he and Grandpa went to a city, to check it out. When they came back, they didn't seem very happy.” He pauses. “But one day I want to go to a city. Even if there's nothing left but bones in the streets, I want to see. And I want to -”
He stops suddenly, staring past me.
Realizing that I can smell something burning, I turn and see smoke rising high into the blue sky.
“That's coming from near the farm,” he whispers, before staggering to his feet and rushing past me. In the process, he drops the skull, letting it smash to pieces as it hits the dry ground. “It's the farm!” he yells. “Ben, something's happening at the farm!”
I run after him. Even though my legs are hurting, I keep pace as we hurry past the buckets and make our way back past the forest.
***
“Mom!” Harry screams as he races down the hill. “Dad!”
Ahead, the farmhouse is burning, with flames roaring from the windows and already emerging through gaps in the roof. Thick black smoke fills the air, and as we get closer to the building I feel a wall of heat trying to push me back. Just as we reach the bottom of the hill, part of the roof suddenly breaks loose, sliding down and then crashing against the ground in a mass of burning wood. I don't slow my pace, though. Instead, I keep close to Harry as he stops in front of the building and stares at the fire.
“Mom!” he yells, his voice filled with panic. “Dad! Grandpa! Sophie!”
He turns and looks around, but there's no sign of anyone else.
The thick smoke smells so strong, I can barely pick up any other scents. The mud in front of the farmhouse has been disturbed recently, however, and after a moment I realize the black car must have been here. Not only are there tracks from its tires, but those tracks smell slightly of blood. I sniff the ground for a moment longer, and sure enough the tire tracks are only half an hour old, maybe an hour at most.
As Harry continues to call out to his family, I stay close to him. He makes his way around the side of the building, but it's as if everyone has suddenly vanished. I can see some of their tools and equipment, though, strewn across the ground, and the scent of blood is getting stronger and stronger.
And then I see them.
Three dead bodies, suspended on long wooden stakes that have been driven into the ground. The bodies are naked and bloody, and the stakes have been driven up through their bellies and then out through their gaping mouths. I stare for a moment, as the smell of blood fills my senses, but Harry has his back to the corpses and doesn't seem to have noticed them yet.
“Mom!” he yells, still watching the flames. “Dad! Grandpa! Where -”
He turns, and suddenly he stops in his tracks, staring at the dead bodies as they're silhouetted against the b
right midday sky.
“No,” he stammers, his voice trembling with shock. “No, please...”
He stumbles forward, almost slipping in the mud, until he's staring up at the bodies. Although I want to stay far away, I know I have to follow him, and finally I look up and see that his parents are up there on the stakes, along with his grandfather. I glance around, but there's no sign of Sophie.
“Mom!” Harry whimpers, with tears streaming down his face. “Dad...”
He takes a couple more steps toward them, before his trembling legs give way and he drops down into the mud. He's muttering something under his breath now, but I can't make out the words. His whole body is shaking, and he can't seem to stop looking at the corpses of his family.
I start barking at the bodies, while taking a step back. If I keep barking, maybe they'll suddenly wake up and come down, and everything will be okay. Finally, however, I realize that the stench of blood and death is too strong, but I still can't stop barking, even though my throat is starting to hurt. Eventually I fall quiet, but Harry continues to cry and tremble for hours and hours, as if he might never stop.
Ahead of us, the three corpses stare in different directions, each with glassy dead eyes.
Chapter Forty-Seven
For the next few hours, Harry simply sits on the ground and stares up at the bodies. His eyes are open wide and he barely even blinks.
The house is still burning, sending plumes of smoke drifting all around us, and carrying burned black ashes up to the corpses, resting them gently on patches of bloodied flesh.
Chapter Forty-Eight
“She's not here,” Harry whispers, poking the rubble with a stick. “She can't be. There'd be bones or...”
His voice trails off for a moment. He's standing in the ruined farmhouse now that the flames have died down, and for a few seconds he seems lost in thought until, finally, he turns to me. In the space of just a few hours, his eyes seem darker somehow, with more shadows, and with sore red patches all around the edges. Since he stopped sobbing a few minutes ago, he's seemed to be in some kind of daze.
“That means they took her.”
I watch from the doorway as he looks around at the charred stone walls. Everything inside the building has been burned, leaving a thick carpet of black ash all over the floor.
“Why would they take her?” he asks, his voice still trembling with shock. “Why would they want my sister? What would they want to do with her?”
He pauses, before coming back to the doorway and stepping past me, back out into the mud.
“There are tire tracks,” he continues. “They were here in their car. They said they'd be back eventually, they said they'd want to be paid or... Dad said he could reason with them, but...”
Again, his voice trails off.
I wait for him to say something, but he seems to have stopped, as if he's in too much shock to know what he should do next. I can see the three bodies still impaled on the stakes, but Harry hasn't looked at them for a while now, as if he can't bring himself to face what was done to his family.
“Sophie said that I couldn't imagine the bad things these people might do,” he stammers finally, still staring at the tire tracks in the mud. “Why would they take her? She's only a couple of years older than me, what would they want with...”
Again, he falls silent for a moment.
“When she said I couldn't imagine what they'd do...”
He stares at the ground.
“I have to get her back,” he whispers. “I can't let them hurt her. I have to find her.”
He turns to me.
“The tire tracks,” he adds finally. “I have to follow the tire tracks and get my sister back, but first...”
He hesitates, and then finally he looks at the three corpses.
“First I have to get them down from there.”
***
He works hard, first digging three separate holes in the ground and then one by one pulling the stakes down until the corpses are resting on the mud. For the first time since I met him, Harry looks less like a child and more like an adult. I can see that he's struggling, and there are tears in his eyes, and he lets out several pained grunts as he slips or falls.
Finally he gets his parents and his grandfather into the holes, and then he starts shoveling dirt back in to cover them up. He pushes on, even though I can tell he's close to collapse, and he doesn't stop until the graves have been filled. Only then, finally, does he drop the shovel and fall back, landing hard on the ground.
Stepping closer, I see something new in his eyes. A kind of anger.
“Now we go and find Sophie,” he whispers breathlessly, before hauling himself to his feet. Almost tripping, he staggers toward the tire tracks. He needs to rest. “Come on, Ben. We have to go get my sister back. I don't care how far we have to walk, we're going to track her down.”
I hurry after him, catching up just as he grabs an old dress from a pile in a wooden barrel. He examines it for a moment, before reaching down as if he wants me to smell the scent.
“That's Sophie's,” he tells me, his voice trembling slightly. “Do you understand? That's what she smells like. Now let's go find her.”
I sniff the dress, but I don't know what he wants me to do.
“Sophie,” he says firmly. “Come on, I know you can do this. You must have tracked someone before in your life. We have to find Sophie.”
He presses the dress against my nose.
“Sophie! Do you get it now? Find Sophie!”
He pauses, before tossing the dress aside and setting off along the same path as the tire tracks. I follow, and after a moment I realize that we seem to be following the tracks away from the farmhouse. I start sniffing the ground as I hurry ahead of Harry. There's a strong small of blood mixed with the rubber, and I'm also picking up a very faint trace of his sister's scent.
“That's good,” he calls after me. “Keep going, Harry. Find Sophie!”
Chapter Forty-Nine
So we start walking, just the two of us, following the tracks across the wide, desolate landscape.
I'm exhausted, and I can tell from the way he stumbles occasionally that Harry is exhausted too, but neither of us stops, neither of us even slows our pace for a moment. The tire tracks are sometimes harder to see, but their scent remains strong and we manage to keep to them as they lead us for miles and miles. Occasionally we find spots where multiple sets of tracks pass one another, but I can tell from the scent which ones are the most recent and Harry seems to trust me.
Eventually, however, the sun starts to set up ahead, dipping down toward the horizon and casting long shadows across the land.
“We can't sleep,” Harry says a short while later, his voice sounding harsh and ragged. “You can stop if you need to, Ben, but I have to keep going. You'll have to catch up.”
Something seems different about him now. Even though he's walking, he sounds half asleep, almost delirious.
As night falls, we continue to walk, even as the temperature drops. There's a clear moon, which at least means we can just about see the tracks, although the scent is still strong. Harry almost wanders off in the wrong direction a couple of times, but I bark to let him know that he's made a mistake and each time he turns and follows me. Humans don't seem to have a great sense of smell, that's something I noticed all the way back when I was still living with Jon, but for me the tire tracks seem to be almost burning through the night, blazing a trail and showing us exactly which way to go.
And by the time morning comes and the sun rises behind us, we're still walking, still following the tracks.
Chapter Fifty
Letting out a sudden gasp, Harry drops to the ground. His legs have seemed weak for a while now, and they finally seem to have buckled beneath his weight. He tries to get up, but the effort seems to be too much and he freezes for a moment before rolling onto his side and letting out a longer, slow groan.
We've been walking for two days and two nights now, and it
has been clear for the past few hours that he's close to collapse. We haven't eaten since we left the farmhouse, and our only water has come from a bottle that has been hanging from Harry's waist, and now even that is starting to run low
Now Harry's on the ground, as if his legs can't carry him any further, and he doesn't seem able to get up.
Realizing that he seems to be on the verge of passing out, I step closer and start licking his face, hoping to somehow keep him going. His skin tastes salty, but he's passing out so I start licking his ear and finally his eyes flicker open.
“I need to sleep,” he whispers. “Ben, please... Leave me alone.”
His eyes slip shut again.
Letting out a faint whimper, I nudge his cheek with my nose.
He mumbles something under his breath, before rolling over until he has his back to me.
I hurry around and immediately nudge his face again, and when that doesn't work I start licking his nose.
“Go away!” he stammers, pushing my face back. “I have to sleep.”
I step closer, but he pushes me back again.
“Leave me alone, Ben,” he whispers, with his eyes still shut. “I'm just going to...”
His voice trails off.
Whimpering again, I use my paw to scratch at his shoulder, but this time he doesn't respond at all. I try again, but he seems to have slipped into a deep sleep. Stepping back, I watch him for a few seconds before starting to bark, but even this doesn't seem to be enough.
I settle next to him, hoping that he'll wake soon. His breathing seems shallow after walking for two full days and nights, and I know that I have to stay alert in case any danger comes this way.
So even though I desperately want to sleep, I force myself to stay awake for hours and hours, guarding Harry and waiting for him to stir. Eventually I struggle to keep my eyes open, and my head feels as if it's starting to spin a little. My nose is getting sore, too, thanks to the relentless sun that beats down upon us, and my paws are cracked and bleeding.
