A New World: Untold Stories (27 page)

His readiness to fight was countered with a cold spray of water. By the time he had turned around, the sound of the stuttering hiss had transitioned into a steady
shhhhhh
. Sam had almost gone for the jugular of the neighbor’s automatic sprinkler. The congenial retriever didn’t swear often, but as he waited for his heartbeat to settle into something closer to normal, he may have spewed a few f-bombs in the direction of the spraying water. And then he remembered his thirst. Forgiving its previous transgression, he rushed to the sprinkler and lapped up all the water he could manage. It wasn’t as tasty as the water he got from the big white bowl, but it would do.

His ears perked as the sprinklers shut off, listening for any sounds of normalcy. Some of the usual morning sounds were present; the cheerful songs of early birds, the buzz of the bees going about their queen’s business, and the breeze rustling the leaves. What was not normal was the complete lack of people noise. No voices carrying across the yards. No car doors slamming shut as children and parents set off for school and work. No sounds of vehicles driving past, on their way to wherever the occupants needed to go.

Feeling marginally better after his encounter with the sprinkler, Sam made his way cautiously along the tree-lined sidewalk. There was no life to be seen on the quiet street. There also didn’t seem to be any threats. For the next hour, Sam quickly worked his way through the neighbors’ front and side yards, trying to piece together the events of the past two days. One wouldn’t need a super sniffer or keen hearing to understand the horrors. There was blood; lots of it, trailing up and down walkways. There were footprints of it, drips of it, and in some places, congealed, sticky puddles of it. The morbid scene was a mockery of what would have been a beautiful sunny morning.

It was curious to Sam that some houses had open doors. Those showed visible signs of violence along the ground and on the outside walls. They also had The Smell, as he was starting to call the stench he first noticed at the closed door inside his house. He stayed far away from those homes. There were a small number of houses with windows covered in wood, metal, and other materials. These houses had The Smell, but it didn’t seem as prominent as it had at the other houses. Sam stored this information to contemplate later and continued his trek through the neighborhood.

Sam discovered his first body outside of the blue wooden house on the corner, less than a block from his own. Whoever it had been must have been trying to flee in their car sometime during the night. The door of the small SUV was open, lights still glowing dimly from the fixtures above the windows. The body was heaped over the curb, broken and barely recognizable as a person. It was sickeningly obvious that the predators, who were on the winning end of the race to escape, had devoured the poor soul. A cell phone, set of keys, and a bloody hunting knife lay scattered on the ground. Sam did not investigate the gory scene long enough to figure out if this was a person he had known. He wanted to get as far away from it as he could.

As Sam continued to search the unnaturally quiet neighborhood, he realized he wouldn’t be able to avoid the horror, no matter how much he wanted to. Coming across torn up, unidentifiable bodies and body parts became a common occurrence. Less common, were the bodies that were not torn apart. Most of these were oozing thick, dark blood and gray matter from missing parts of their skulls. There was something different about them. They had The Smell. Even though it didn’t look like they were going to be moving around anytime soon, Sam stayed far away from the whole bodies.

Two hours later, Sam returned exhausted, lonely, and hungrier than ever. He knew he couldn’t go in the house, so he found a shady spot at the edge of the lawn and dropped down. He tried to piece together all that he had learned the past two nights and from his exploration of the neighborhood. The sun rising to its zenith was a reminder to the old dog that he needed to find a safe place to spend the night.

As he rested his tired head on his front paws, a plan began to materialize. He would retrace his route and check out more closely the homes that were boarded up. Maybe some of those homes would be empty and maybe, if he were lucky, one of those places would have a doggie door he could fit through. He knew it wasn’t a great plan, but it was the only one he had. Sam’s achy hips complained as he rose from his resting position.

I’m getting too old for this
, he thought.

The stress of the past couple of days was starting to make him feel his age, plus some. He lumbered down the sidewalk, following the same scents he had a few hours earlier. He couldn’t live like this too much longer. Part of him thought it might be wise to move on, maybe to the woods where he could catch squirrels and where there weren’t a lot of places for the monsters to hide. On the other hand, he wanted to stay near the house in case his Boy came home. If Andrew didn’t show up soon, however, Sam would be forced to make a decision. If he survived long enough.

Sam made his way to the first boarded up house on his street. He sniffed around the yard and on the front porch. The Smell was there, but very faint. There was no fence surrounding the property, so it was unlikely they had a dog which would mean they wouldn’t have a doggie door. Sam worked his way around the perimeter, just in case, but found no way into the house and there was no indication that anyone was inside.

At the next barricaded house, The Smell was quite strong. Sam hesitated to continue to the back of the property, but curiosity got the better of him. The gate to the back of the property was open. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. He decided on “not” when he saw the sliding glass door, or what was left of it. It had been shattered, shards of glass scattered on the ground. Bloody drag marks marred the cement patio just outside the door and the carpet inside. Sam moved on.

The third house Sam went to was across the street from his own. It was a small, 1940s style structure with a neatly maintained front yard and a restored Acapulco Blue 1968 Mustang parked at the curb. The man who lived here was friendly, as Sam had discovered during outings around the neighborhood. He always took time to scratch him behind the ears while he called him names like Furry Face, Big Guy, Sir Wags A Lot, and sometimes even by his full name — Sampson Obi Wan Kenobi Brennan.

In spite of himself, Sam wagged his tail as he approached the tiny porch. That the Man was alive, well, and home was too much to hope for. The Smell was mostly absent here and as he got closer to front door, Sam noticed something he hadn’t at the other houses. There was the smell of what Sam could only describe as ‘life’. His tail started to wag with slightly more enthusiasm as he waited for the Man to open the door to him. Nothing.

Sam ventured to the back of the house, past the Man’s vegetable garden and huckleberry patch. All the windows were covered with what looked like a type of metal sheeting. The back door was intact and there was no blood to be seen. He detected the same underlying scent he had on the porch — life. Here, it was stronger. Fresher. The Man had been outside of this back door recently! In his joy, Sam barked at the door. To him, the volume of his voice was amplified a hundred times as it broke the surreal stillness of the late morning air. The Man’s door opened a crack, his surprised face broke out in a big grin when he saw who his visitor was.

“
Haha
— Sampson?” he half exclaimed, half inquired. The Man opened the door wider and knelt down so he could get a closer look at the dog and tag attached to his collar.
 
“Sampson O. Brennan,” the Man read aloud to himself. “Well, I’ll be damned! It is you.”

When the Man stood and moved aside, opening the door wider, Sam knew this was an invitation to enter. He brushed past his friend’s legs, smacking them with his wagging tail. This elicited chuckle from the Man along with a friendly scratch behind the ears. As he closed the door and locked it, the Man was shaking his head in disbelief. He explained to Sam how he had been mostly shut off from the outside world since the day the ‘shit hit the fan’. Sam had never heard that expression before, but he was a smart dog and it wasn’t difficult to figure out what it meant.

The Man spoke to Sam almost like he was a person who could respond. Sam liked people who did that and showed his appreciation by displaying the signature golden retriever smile. As he talked, the Man pulled a couple of big bowls out of the cabinets and filled one with water from the faucet.

“Enjoy it, Furry Face, I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be able to get water this easily,” he said while he placed the bowl on the floor in front of the thirsty dog.

Sam gratefully lapped the water as the Man searched his cupboards. Finding nothing suitable for a dog, he opened the refrigerator, pulled out a package of raw beef, and opened it. To Sam’s surprise and great delight, his friend cut the meat into smaller pieces, placed them in the second bowl and set it on the floor in front of him.

“Might as well eat up, Big Guy. It’s only going to rot with the power going off last night.”

Sam didn’t need any convincing — he was ravenously hungry! He practically inhaled the meat. The Man must have thought it was funny because he let out a long laugh and tousled the fur on Sam’s head.

For the rest of the morning, Sam followed the Man around the house, wagging his tail as he listened to him speak. The Man, Sam was learning, was a highly prolific talker. Sam didn’t mind since the frequent chatter kept his mind off the events of the past few days. As he spoke, the Man worked on various tasks; sorting and stocking canned food, cleaning his tools, looking at maps, and taking notes. Sam didn’t know what it all meant, but he enjoyed the Man’s company and attention. He also enjoyed the people food the Man lavished on him.

After lunch, which consisted of a delicious peanut butter and cheese sandwich, Sam and the Man took a nap. Obviously, Sam wasn’t the only one suffering from lack of sleep. As soon as the Man stretched himself out on the large sofa in the television room, his eyes closed and his breathing took on the rhythm of deep sleep. Sam curled up on the floor next to the couch and quickly fell into the same rhythmic pattern.

Sam was only a couple of hours into a blissfully dreamless sleep when a sound startled him awake. His half-asleep, groggy brain was unable to identify the sound and he had almost drifted back into his comatose state when he heard it again. That second sound was quickly followed by a third. This time, both man and dog were alert enough to recognize the sounds of car doors being slammed shut. The Man sat up quickly, grabbed the hunting rifle he had propped against the wall next to the couch,
and held a finger to his lips. Sam recognized that sign as a people-way of saying “be quiet”. Sam obeyed the command, but followed him out the back door.

The shadows had lengthened considerably while the pair were asleep. It would be dark soon and Sam wondered if the night would be a repeat of the others. The retriever kept up with the Man as he made his way around the house and under the trees, where they could see the street without drawing attention to themselves. There were two cars parked in front of the house across the street, Sam’s house. One of the cars was a silver Jeep Wrangler. The other, a small red Acura which Sam recognized immediately. It was the same vehicle that took Andrew away and brought him home again. Sam’s golden tail starting wagging full-force seconds before he broke out into sprint, giving the illusion his back end acted as a catalyst for forward motion.

He was halfway across the street when he saw his Boy step away from the back of the Jeep with two others, another boy and a girl. Sam hardly noticed the other two as he sped toward Andrew. The trio, seeing movement off to the side turned in unison. The two boys, who were holding rifles of their own, quickly took aim at the dog. They were both visibly shaken and ready to shoot. Thanks to Ashley, Sam would never know how close he was to being on the receiving end of a bullet that afternoon. The Girl, not having to concentrate on aiming a weapon while being ‘on edge’, recognized the speeding ball of golden fur for what it was and screamed, “STOP! It’s SAM!”

Andrew and the younger boy next to him eased their fingers off the triggers. By the time Sam reached his Boy, the rifle was on the ground as the Boy knelt down to receive his
 
enthusiastic greeting. Laughing with relief and overcome with joy at the reunion, the Boy threw his arms around his furry buddy. Sam’s whole body seemed to wag as he nuzzled Andrew’s neck.

After Andrew, it’s was Ashley’s turn to greet him with kisses and hugs. As the Boy stood, he noticed a figure approaching from across the street. The big man was holding his arms up loosely to show he was not a threat. Andrew and Ashely knew who he was even before he got near enough to see him clearly in the quickly fading light. Their long-term neighbor stood about 6’4” and was built solidly. They knew he was retired from the military, but neither of them could remember which one. Andrew said Army while Ashley insisted it was the Marines. The siblings guessed him to be in his early fifties, based on his graying hair and numerous laugh lines. They also knew him to be a friendly man with a commanding presence that garnered respect from those around him.

“Good to see you’re well, Mr. Johnson,” Andrew began, “I came home to check on my parents. How are things here?”

“Please, son, call me Nate. I haven’t seen anyone, except your dog here, for almost two days. I suggest we continue this conversation inside, though. It’s getting too dark for comfort,” was the Man’s reply.

Andrew stood thinking, staring at the front of his house, an anxious expression on his face. He didn’t like it but what Nate said made sense, it
was
getting dark. With the experiences of the past few days, he knew it to be the best decision.