The Dog (21 page)
I usually spend nights deep in the forest, preferring to gain a little shelter in case of bad weather. Tonight, despite a quickening wind that threatens rain from the far hills, I stay at the ridge after sunset, watching the lights in the farmhouse and listening to distant raised voices.
They're arguing.
Whoever was in the black car, they clearly brought bad news. The scent of blood might have faded, but my fear remains and I'm too scared to risk the journey down to the farmhouse's windows. Instead, I decide to wait here next to the ridge and keep an eye on things from up high, even as a cold wind ruffles my fur.
In the distance, beyond the farmhouse, the fields are starting to look very different. The humans have already begun to make changes to the land.
“I'm not scared!” Harry says firmly, as he balances on the gleaming metal railway lines. “Dad's got a rifle, hasn't he? If they come back, he can just shoot them!”
“Don't you think they've thought of that?” Sophie asks, sitting cross-legged near the grass, fiddling with weed-knots she's been working on for the past few minutes. “Dad's being stubborn. I think Mom's right, we should keep going and head further west, away from those people.”
She turns to him.
“You were scared before,” she adds.
“I was not!”
“Yes you were. Now you're just trying to act brave, but I can see the truth in your eyes.”
It's been a few days now since I first came out here with Harry and Sophie. Although I still haven't dared approach the farmhouse again, I've fallen into a habit of following them to the old train-line, and in return they give me a few scraps of meat each day. My belly is still empty most of the time, but at least I don't have to spend all my time trying to hunt rabbits. Even if I don't like to admit the truth, my legs are hurting more and more, and I'm starting to get much slower. There's going to come a time when I'm too slow to catch rabbits.
“You want to run away?” Harry continues, before his foot slips and he has to step off the rail. “Is that it? That's cowardly!”
“It's realistic,” she replies. “You know the stories. You know what people are like. And do you remember that burned-out farmhouse we passed a few days before we got here? It looked like -”
“That could've been anything.”
“People are dangerous,” she continues. “These wild gangs that roam the country are...”
Her voice trails off for a moment.
“I don't know exactly,” she adds finally, “but I think they do bad things to people.”
“Like what?”
“Like the worst things they could.”
“Like what?”
She sighs. “Just use your imagination.”
Harry pauses, and then he frowns. “Like what?”
“Oh, just -”
Letting out a grunt of frustration, Sophie tosses the weed-knots aside. She stares down at her fingers for a moment, and I can tell she's scared.
“Just think of the worst things possible,” she continues finally, “and then assume that there are people who can think of things that are even more horrible. I heard Mom say the same thing one night, before we got here. She said there are these gangs roaming parts of the country, and she said they enjoy hurting people who refuse to pay them.”
She sits in silence for a moment. Although I'm more cautious of Sophie, after she touched my painful leg when we first met, I decide to walk over to her. When I nudge her leg, however, she pulls away.
“Shoo!” she hisses. “Go play with Harry!”
Turning, I make my way to Harry, although after a moment one of my rear legs slips and I almost fall. Sometimes my old injuries seem to flare up, causing me to be a little less mobile, and today is one of those days. I can even feel another flash of pain as I limp over to the spot where Harry is once again balancing on one of the rails.
“Dad won't pay those men,” he says after a moment, before losing his balance and having to step off the rail. “He shouldn't. They don't deserve anything.”
“He has to,” Sophie replies. “If we're going to stay here and try to run the farm, he has to pay them now they've found us.”
“No!”
“They'll kill us!” she hisses.
“Don't say that!”
Getting to her feet, she comes over to him. “You're old enough to know things like that, Harry! Stop trying to act tough just because you want to be like Dad! Those men aren't just playing, they -”
“You're a liar!” he replies, interrupting her.
“They'll come back and they'll kill us all!” she tells him, raising her voice. “We should leave! They said they'd be back in a few days' time, so we should be gone when they return. Mom was right, running is the only -”
“Shut up!” Harry shouts, turning and pushing her away.
Stumbling back, she trips on one of the rails and lands hard on the ground, letting out a gasp of pain.
“I didn't mean to do that!” Harry stammers. “I'm sorry!”
“You're an idiot,” she mutters, getting to her feet and dusting herself down. “This isn't a game, Harry, and -”
“I know it's not a game!”
“They'll kill us!” she says again. “They have guns and knives! Don't you remember that other farmhouse? They'd hung the bodies up inside as a warning, to show people what happens to anyone who tries to make a stand! Mom and Dad tried to stop us from seeing, but we did anyway! Both of us!”
“We're not cowards!”
“Neither were those other people, and they still ended up burned and cut and swinging in the wind!”
There are tears in her eyes now, and after a moment she takes another step back.
“That'll be us soon,” she continues. “We don't have anything to give to those men when they come back, so they'll take what they want, and eventually we'll all be hanging from the rafters. You, me, Mom and Dad, Grandpa... All hanging there with our bodies torn open and burned, to serve as warnings for the next people who come along.” She wipes tears from her cheeks. “I'm not a coward, Harry, but I also know that you have to pick your battles. You don't fight when you're out-numbered and you only have one goddamn rifle against an army!”
“You're just scared of strangers,” he replies.
“And you're scared of the truth!”
Turning, she hurries away, leaving Harry with a shocked expression as he stands between the rails.
“She doesn't know what she's talking about,” he says finally, looking down at me. “Dad'll figure something out. He always does. And Mom too. They'll work out how to keep us all safe, and they'll make those men in the black car stay away.”
He pauses, before reaching down and stroking my shoulder.
“They have to,” he continues. “They won't let anyone hurt us or take our new farm.”
Over the next few days, I spend most of my time watching as the humans continue to work the land. Whereas the fields were overgrown with grass before, now they've been cut back and the ground has been disturbed, with thick ditches running through the soil. It's interesting to watch the changes, and each day I dare creep a little closer, until eventually I'm watching from the very edge of the largest field.
I'm still wary, especially of the adults, but I can outrun them if necessary. Even with injured legs.
“We can't afford to give food to a mangy dog,” the woman says one morning, although she smiles slightly as she glances at me. “Harry, I thought we told you not to encourage it.”
“I didn't encourage him!” he replies. “And his name is Ben!”
“He's not even useful,” she continues. “I mean look at him, he's barely any bigger than a cat. What is he, a Jack Russell?” She sighs. “I suppose maybe he can catch mice.”
“This is so stupid,” Sophie mutters, reaching down and poking some seeds into the ground. “I can't believe Harry thinks this is the right time to get a pet.”
“I didn't
think
anything,” he tells her. “Ben chose us, not the other way round!”
“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 bright 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.
