by William Bebb
Billy felt a jagged shard of glass cutting his stomach as he was dragged backward by the one armed undead man. He heard the chain it was tangled in rattling and kept thinking, just a little more, as the dog’s right leg and head lifted above the rim of the well. Billy ignored the pain and fear while gritting his teeth as Boris looked intently behind the boy, glaring with a growing canine fury at the man that was relentlessly pulling him closer. Billy felt the dog trembling excitedly as he held its leg in his sweaty hands.
A low throaty growl rose when Boris' hind legs scrabbled onto some broken board remnants that had not fallen into the well.
Even if I die or worse doing this Boris is worth it. He's a good dog and I don't care what happens to me as long as he makes it. I can do this. I'm no coward. I won't let go! I won't let go even when the man bites me! I'LL NEVER LET GO! Billy thought adamantly, while his body shuddered uncontrollably. He felt his legs shaking harder and concentrated on not pulling away or kicking backward as his body continued to be dragged.
When the zombie bit his hiking boot, the boy couldn't be brave any longer. He cried and screamed as it started chewing.
The dog’s malnourished body trembled as its rear legs struggled to find something to climb up on inside the well. Boris barked his fiercest, “Hey you cat! I'm going to bite your ugly head off!” bark as his claws finally found enough footing for his rear legs to climb out.
While the one eyed undead man gnawed at the boot belonging to the crying boy a furry dog of unremarkable looks, one most people would skip over without looking twice at while visiting the dog pound, did not so much climb out of the well as erupt like a small, righteously enraged, furry, volcano.
Dogs cannot fly.
Billy knew they couldn't, and yet as the dog flew from the mouth of the well he wondered if maybe under certain miraculous circumstances they actually could.
Boris jumped from the edge of the well, over the length of Billy's body, and landed on the undead one armed man's back.
The hand and teeth that had been holding and chewing on Billy's boot were suddenly no longer there.
Billy rolled away from the well and the battle of dog versus undead began in earnest.
Boris was on the zombie’s back with a mouthful of its dirty hair and pulled on it, shaking his head from side to side madly.
The one armed man feebly tried to grab the dog as his head was shaken violently back and forth while Boris pulled and growled through clenched teeth.
Billy scooped up his BB rifle and quickly pumped it up as the fight continued. When the rifle was ready he called, “Boris! Come here!”
The dog obediently trotted toward the boy while still glaring back at the man on the ground that was slowly and unsteadily getting to his feet.
His mom never Billy watch grown up TV shows or movies, but his grandpa was the coolest and would sometimes let him watch with him when he came to visit. He recalled a phrase he heard the hero of an action movie say. He aimed at the one armed zombie's milky-white left eye and said in his deepest voice, “Sucks to be you.”
Having managed to roll free of the chain while fighting the dog, the zombie grunted and only managed one step before Billy fired. The BB hit his left eye and it exploded very messily.
The sight of it reminded Billy of the time he had tried microwaving an unopened egg a few years earlier. He wouldn't recommend doing that unless someone enjoyed spending a long time cleaning up a horrific sticky mess.
Staggering and pawing at his eye in utter confusion, the undead man fell to his hand and knees beside the open well.
Billy knew it was probably a bad idea (dangerous in fact) but couldn't resist the temptation. He ran toward the stunned one eyed man.
Boris barked and the sun began to fully shine down into the clearing as Billy's boot, with teeth marks and undead spit all over them, 'thank you, oh so very much', kicked him in the seat of his filthy excrement filled pants.
After the tremendous splash echoed up from the well, the boy sat down on an old paint can with Boris sitting beside him and opened his backpack. Together they celebrated being alive by eating a handful of cookies and watching the sunrise. They were delicious.
