The Last Orphans

by N.W. Harris

  Five minutes later, they came across another accident. Shane slowed the truck as they approached. A little, red Honda’s smashed front end was reaching up a broken telephone pole. At least thirty dogs surrounded it, barking and growling like they’d cornered a coyote. Some stood on the roof and the hood, all their attention focused on whoever sat inside.

  Dread washed through Shane. But perhaps he was wrong. There were lots of red Hondas in town. Driving closer, Shane could see her, fighting a dog sticking its head through her window and biting her arm. Her long, blonde hair was painted with blood, glued to her face so she was barely recognizable, but there was little doubt in his mind now. Shane’s brow sank over his eyes, and he bit his lip so hard it bled. Without another thought, he aimed the truck at the dogs.

  “Don’t!” Kelly sounded terrified.

  “What?” Shane yelled, the truck twenty yards from the dog-bristled Honda.

  “There’s nothing you can do, Shane,” she said firmly, pulling Nat into a hug so she couldn’t look out. “Please, don’t!”

  Swallowing the hard lump forming in his throat, Shane pressed the accelerator. He slammed on the brakes as he hit the dogs and the truck smashed at least ten of them, their yelps so loud it made his ears ring. The truck came to a rest a foot from the driver’s side door of the wrecked car. The dogs that survived his attack returned their attention to the Honda, climbing onto the hood of the truck to get a better angle on the driver. Her guttural screams carried over the vicious barking and yelping of the dogs.

  Shane slammed the truck into park and thrust the door open as hard as he could, batting the dogs on the other side.

  “No, Shane!” Kelly yelled.

  “I can’t just leave her.” He jumped out, pushing the door shut behind him so the dogs couldn’t get into the cab.

  Shane grabbed a big German Sheppard by the skin of its back. He recognized a sticker on the window of the car, and the last bit of doubt as to who was inside vaporized. Mrs. Morris—his best friend’s mother. After throwing the dog across the street with all his might, he leapt onto the truck’s hood and kicked, punched, and tossed dogs aside, unleashing his bottled rage. They yelped and whined when he hit them, but not a single one tried to bite Shane. They kept pushing their way toward the Honda, toward Mrs. Morris. Over the complaints of the dogs he battled, Shane heard her screams grow weaker.

  He made it through the pack of dogs to the car and found a pit bull latched on her neck. Shane punched the dog with all his might in the side of its skull, yet it didn’t let go. He straddled the determined animal, crushing in on its ribcage with his knees, and shoved his thumbs into either side of its jaws. Ms. Morris went limp, and the dog’s grip relaxed. It jerked and bucked out of Shane’s grasp and slid off the hood of the pickup onto the ground.

  Like someone flipped a switch, the dogs went from agro to docile. They backed away from the car and sniffed around with their heads hung low, seeming remorseful about having killed the woman.

  Shane looked at Mrs. Morris, or what was left of her. A black Labrador pushed its bloody snout under his hand, wagging its tail like it wanted to play. Disgusted, he jerked his arm away and kicked the animal off the hood. He stood alone atop the Ford, his blood boiling as he looked at the dogs. They poked around submissively or sat on their haunches and returned his hateful gaze with innocent eyes and wagging tails—friendly, lost pets that wouldn’t harm a soul.

  Without warning, they perked up and turned their attention toward the south. They took off barking like they’d seen a rabbit, heading up into the pasture and over the hill. Stupefied to the point of madness, he watched them go.

  “Shane,” Kelly called from in the truck. “Can we please get out of here?”

  His eyes fixed on Mrs. Morris’ disfigured and lifeless body in the Honda. She was one of the sweetest people Shane had ever known, always smiling and trying to feed him when he went to Aaron’s house. Everyone on the football team thought of her as a second mom, and Coach even let her be on the sidelines during games.

  One massive sob rose up from his feet until it encompassed his entire body. A pitiful, jerky sort of yelp came from between his quivering lips, and then he fell silent and motionless, his shoulders drooping and his chin on his chest. A tear burned on his eyelid. The crippling numbness he’d experienced after his aunt died returned, a heavy cloud of gloom smothering his senses and emotions.

  “Shane?” Kelly’s concerned voice cut through his morbid stupor once again, muffled by the truck’s cab. “You alright?”

  He tore his eyes away from the corpse and looked down through the windshield. Kelly held Nat’s head in her lap, her shirt pulled over the little girl’s face so she couldn’t see. Kelly’s eyes were wide and her skin blanched white. Considering what she’d just seen, her level of composure was a testament to her fierce determination to protect her sister.

  Shane glanced back at Mrs. Morris and climbed off the hood. How would he tell Aaron? Was he even alive? Getting into the cab, he put the truck in reverse. The Ford rocked left and right. There was a sickening, wet, crunching sound as it rolled back over the dogs he hit on his way in.

  Shifting to drive, he steered toward town. Nat whimpered, still lying on Kelly’s lap. Shane stared blankly out the windshield, and the violent deaths played over and over in his head as he drove. Each recollection seemed to strip away a chunk of his soul, drawing life out of him.

  When he gazed in the rearview mirror, he saw the blue tarp flapping in the truck’s bed behind him, his aunt’s foot exposed. He slowed down to keep her covered, and to prevent running into any other wrecked cars, which they encountered more frequently as they approached town. The green clouds overhead thickened and blocked the moon. Lightning danced across the sky every few minutes, illuminating the dark and hilly countryside in nightmarish snapshots, and leaving spots swimming in Shane’s vision. When he blinked at the glare, the mutilated dead were there—the truck driver with no eyes, his aunt swollen to the point of bursting, and Mrs. Morris bloody and chewed to shreds by the dogs.

  “Can we go home now?” Nat pleaded, startling Shane out of his melancholic reverie.

  Kelly glanced at Shane, her brow squeezed with sadness. Her blue eyes were wide with concern and her skin was pale with shock.

  “No, sweetie. We have to go into town,” she said, a tremble in her voice. She used a finger to push the hair out of Nat’s face, and Shane remembered doing the same for his aunt less than an hour ago.

  “But won’t Mommy and Daddy be mad if we come home late?” Nat sounded oblivious to the fact that her parents were gone, though she’d watched them die. Perhaps her brain forced her to forget as some sort of defense mechanism. Shane was heartbroken for the girl but also jealous of her amnesia. “They yelled at you when you came home late last time.”

  “It’s okay this time, Nat,” Kelly said. She sniffled and cleared her throat, quashing some of her emotion and maintaining her role as big sister. “Mommy and Daddy want us to take a field trip with Shane.”

  “A field trip.” Nat brightened a little. “Are we going to the zoo?”

  “Maybe. But for now, I want you to lie down and rest.” Kelly patted her thigh. “You can’t have much fun if you’re a sleepy, grumpy bug.”

  Nat stretched out on the seat and put her head on Kelly’s lap. “I hope Mommy and Daddy don’t miss us too much while we’re gone. Maybe we should call them later.”

  “That sounds like a good idea, Nat.” Kelly’s voice was weak and shaky like she might burst into sobs, but she kept it together.

  The exchange filled Shane with pity, and he gained even more respect for Kelly. From the short chats he’d had with her at church and school, which usually left him feeling like a peasant talking to a princess, he knew there was more to Kelly than her looks. But the attractive blonde cheerleader was stronger than he’d ever imagined. Shane pulled his shoulders back, shrugging off some of the despair. Her sense of duty caused him to cling to his purpose—k
eeping Kelly and her sister safe. It was the only thing that could save him. The blessed distraction seemed to help blood flow in his veins again and made it easier to breathe.

  Petting Nat’s head, Kelly hummed a lullaby. She sniffled again, and Shane leaned over and opened the glove compartment, pulling out a small box of tissues. Giving him a grateful look, Kelly took one and wiped her eyes, and then continued to hum to her little sister. A mournful undertone in her sweet hymn tore at his chest. It reminded him of when he had fallen asleep on his aunt’s lap at the hospital, that night when his mom passed. She had petted his hair and hummed to him much like Kelly did to her sister. He was thirteen then, and was certain his mother wouldn’t die. Shane had prayed so much that he just knew there was no way God would take her. But he did. And now all this.

  “What happened back there?” Kelly asked in a hushed voice after Nat fell asleep.

  “The dogs… they did what the cows did,” Shane replied, not having the stomach to get too descriptive. “The odd thing is that they didn’t attack me, even when I kicked them away. The same thing happened with the bees and my aunt. I was with her the entire time, but I didn’t get stung once.”

  “Bees?” Kelly asked nervously.

  “Yeah,” he replied with a faltering voice, surprised he could even talk about it. “And hornets, wasps, yellow jackets, and everything else with wings and a stinger. There must’ve been millions of them.”

  “I’m sorry, Shane,” Kelly whispered.

  “Me too.” He glanced at her. “I mean, about your folks.”

  They rode in stunned silence. Shane navigated the Ranger around cars entangled with farm animals and with other cars, the drivers all massacred in their seats or trampled on the asphalt just outside their vehicles. Kelly attempted to find answers to what was happening by searching the internet with her smart phone. She couldn’t keep a signal long enough to complete a web search, but didn’t stop trying after most people would’ve given up. Shane sensed she was using it as an excuse not to look out the windshield at the carnage they encountered every few minutes. She finally gave up and tried to call her friends, her eyes focused on Nat in her lap. Her phone continuously rang or she’d get a busy signal. As with Shane’s earlier efforts, no one answered.

  “This thing is useless,” Kelly said after a half hour, shoving it into her pocket.

  “Maybe all this weird weather is messing with the reception.” Shane squinted at another bright flash of lightning. It fractured the darkness with its blinding jaggedness, illuminating a tractor in the middle of a field to his left. In the split second the world was lit up, he saw a man slumped in the seat. Shane’s stomach twisted. The farmer was dead. He’d seen lots of death, but somehow the tractor alone in the field with the man dangling over the steering wheel seemed to hit harder than the last few he’d encountered on the road.

  “The cows didn’t go after Nat and me either,” Kelly mused. “It’s like the animals only want to kill the adults.”

  “Somebody out there has to know what’s going on,” he whispered, reaching down and clicking on the old radio.

  The Christian station Granny usually listened to came on, a prerecorded program about a drug addict who was born again playing. The numbness caused by all the death Shane had seen retreated at the sound of another person’s voice. His heart raced and perspiration beaded on his face. He needed to know what was happening, what made the animals and insects go mad, but he also feared the answer. The little boy in him wanted to go home and crawl into bed, where he would pull the sheets over his head and wait until all this passed. The young man in Shane knew hiding wouldn’t solve anything. He had to face whatever evil was out there, causing the creatures to kill. Searching for news, he turned the dial up through the stations.

  He stopped at his favorite alternative radio station. The static faded, so he knew the dial was in the right place, but only eerie silence came from the old radio’s speakers. Turning the dial higher, he passed the country channel his dad liked—still nothing. No one seemed to be manning the stations. After going to the top of the dial, he clicked over to AM and began rolling back down.

  “It’s like everyone in the world is gone,” Kelly whispered.

  “Well, we’re not,” Shane corrected, a firmness in his voice he didn’t expect. “And that means it’s likely more people are still alive.” He was trying to convince himself as much as her.

  What if they were the last people alive on the planet?

  “I hope you’re right.” Kelly’s voice faltered, like she might start crying again.

  “I know I am.” Shane reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. When we get to town, we’ll find lots of other people. Just you wait and see.”

  His words made him ill. They sounded too much like the promises he’d made to his aunt when he tried to get her to the hospital, right before she died. Truth be told, Shane didn’t know if anyone else had survived. And he feared it might just be a matter of time before the animals and insects turned on him, Kelly, and Nat. He never felt so lost and out of control.

  Wanting to subdue the sense of helplessness, he made a plan to go to the hardware store and get some guns. He’d stock up on bug spray as well so they’d have a chance if the hornets attacked again. One thing was for certain, he was done with seeing people get killed. He’d die before he let any harm come to Kelly and Nat.