Torn (28 page)

“In the Army. I was a marksman. Plus I hunt.”

“You
,
the ecological guy
? You
hunt.”

“One must help keep the delicate
balance
of nature.” Darius shrugged then
opened the weapon, reached into his chest
pocket
and began to load it
. “
Fucking
people
,
man.”

“What? They were dogs.”

“No, they’re fucking hiding from the dogs. This is a farm town in Texa
s.” He snapped the gun closed. “One would think everyone in this town is a certified NRA member.” He pumped the chamber. “Wh
y are they hiding from the dogs?
Why are they not just shooting
them?
”

“You think maybe because it’s their dogs?”

Darius looked at him.

“Seriously, the dogs are coming from somewhere. Bet the people in this town own them and just don’t want to shoot
their own pets, even if they have
gone mad.”

“But why?”

“But why won’t
they shoot their mad dog?
”

“No, why are they going mad?”
Darius
looked out. “Doesn’t make sense. Rabies. Heat. I don’t see any
more. But I’m sure they’ll be back.”

“Where’d ya get the gun?”

With a twitch of his head, Darius
indicated
back. “
Restaurant
had it. That’s why I don’t get them not shooting the dogs. Let’s head back.”

“Sounds good. They don’t have
alcohol
in there
, do they?
”

“Probably do.”

“Good,” Blain said as he to
ok a step forward. “I can use a
. . .
”

Yap.

Blain pause
d
then finished. “Drink.”

Both he and Darius cocked an eyebrow and exchange
curious
looks when they heard it.

The high
-
pitch
ed y
apping. Yap-yap-yap.

They turned around to see, at high
speed
, a
C
hi
huahua
racing their way. Before either of them could react, the
vi
c
i
ous
barking
little animal j
umped up at Blain and plunged it
s needle point fangs into his legs.

Blain screamed. He shook his leg trying to shake
off
the dog who didn’t just latch on, but rather gnawed at his flesh.

Like a field
goal kicker, Darius shot out his foot, nailing the
Chihuahua
. The dog flew back, landed and rolled.

Darius
raised
his
gun.

“Wait. You aren’t gonna
. . .
”

Bang.

He
blasted the little dog with the
shot gun. Like a water balloon a burst of blood and flesh exploded.

Darius whistled.
“That was a good shot if I do say so myself.”
He pumped the chamber and looked over. Blain was on the ground. Blood oozed from his leg. “Oh, shit, we better get you some help.”

Nodding with a wince, Blain reached up and took Darius’ hand.

“Let me get this straight,” Colin said, speaking to Darius on the phone. “You are in Texas. You stop at a diner. There are people screaming at you to get in, three dead bodies and the cause of it all was dogs?”

“Yeah, can you believe that?”
Darius
said. “Nothing
was
on the news.”

“Not that I heard. I’ll check.
Were they wild dogs?
”

“No, domestic dogs and I think they were rabid,”
Darius
said. “Just
from
the behavior and salvia.”

Colin paused to think.

“Still there?”

“
Sounds very Stephen K
ing
-
like.”

“Tell
me
about it.”

“You think there’s a connection with our plant a
nomalies and this incident?
”

“I’d like to say yeah,” Darius said
.
“But I can’t see it. I can see the heat causing them to go mad
,
but
rabies
?
”

“It’s
possible
that a
rabbit
or bat bit one
of
the dogs
,
and they
spread
it.”

“Possible.”

“So back t
o
the story. There were all kinds of breeds?”

“Yes.”

“And even though you played canine
Rambo
, our B
lain was still attacked
…by a
Chihuahua
.”

“Y
es.”

Colin
snickered
.
“Sorry.”

“No
,
I laughed too until I realized.”

“He has rabies,” Colin said.

“Bingo. Or should be treated as such.”

“Did you
bring
the dog with you to
the
hospital
?
”

“No, I shot it with a shotgun.”

“
Twelve
, twenty,
or twenty-eight gauge?”

“
Twelve
. Remington.
Classic 870
.
It was sweet
.”

“You shot a Chi
huahua
with a Remington
twelve-
gauge shotgun.”

“Yep.”

“I see why you didn’t bring the dog to the hospital. How is Blain?” Colin asked.

“In pain. He has to stay for a week, so we’re gonna have to head home.”

“T
rip delayed approximately?”

“Half day. Ok
ay
, I’m going back inside the hospital to get Bret. Are the kids
okay
?”

Colin chuckled.

“What? What is so funny?
”

“So domesticated you are,” Colin said. “Actually if you need some pointers on being a step parent
.
…”

“Ha, ha, ha. Last Bret talked to the kids, I heard they were prepping for you to have that position.”

“Hmm, yes, quite the honor. We’re headed to the drive
-
in tonight.”

“You’re…
you’re taking Bret’s kids to the
drive
in?”

“Me and Chuck, yes.”

“That sucks.”

“What sucks, Dare-Dare?”

“You’re prepping to be their step father.”

“No, more like…
grandfather. Have a good one.” Colin hung up. He peered
through
the sliding glass doors to the
girls as they swam in the pool, making sure they were okay
. They were. He returned to his blue
grocery
store bags, but
hesitated
in
unpacking
the
things
he purchased
to take to
the
drive
-
in.
Walking
to the basement door, he opened it.

“Luke?” Colin called down. “Any news or word on the ticker about mad dogs attacking in Texas
?
”

“Nope.”

“Thanks.” He closed the basement door, chalked up the dog incident to just that, an isolated, unrelated incident, and he returned to preparing for the night.

Like the bat phone, Colin had a red phone installed at the bunker. Bruce called it a bun
ker even though it wasn’t under
ground, more so because they
had
to bunk down until the mayhem ended once the ice age started.

Bruce worked there every d
ay, twelve hours a day. Just he
and Bobby.

He
had just set down the red phone
and stared at it, t
apping his fingers on the resting
receiver.

“Something wrong?” Bobby asked.

“Um, no.” Bruce shook his head.

“What did Dr. Reye want on
the bat phone?
”

“H
e just wanted to invite us to the drive
-
in tonight.”

“The drive
-
in? We haven’t been to the drive
-
in since I was twelve.”

“I know.”

“What’s playing?” Bobby asked.

“Classic night. Dracula,
Frankenstein
versus the Wolf M
an and Night of the Living Dead.”

“That’s a fuckin’
sweet combo. All black and white at the drive
-
in.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bruce said.

“I think we should go.”

Bruce nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll cal
l
him back and
tell
him to hold a space for us. Should be fun..”

“I would think
. . .
”
The echoing
voice
called
out. “Fun
should
not be a word you’d be using when faced with the world’s extinction.”

After
a squint of his eyes
through
the
dirty
room, Bruce
focused
in on Winslow, whose wheelchair was being pushed by a
tall
thin man in a suit.

“Excuse me, sir.”
Bruce walked toward Winslow. “This is private property.”

“I’m Mr.
Winslow
,” Winslow said. “Barry
,
push me closer. You must be Mr. Weiss.” He
extended
out his hand.

“Mr. Winslow,”
Bruce
shook it. “Hear
d
much about you. Glad to meet you in person.”

“What is fun?” Winslow asked.

“Oh.”
Bruce waved out his hand.
“I was discussing with my son, Bobby, here, that the drive
-
in is having a classic night. We may go.”

“Classic
night?” Winslow asked. “As in classic films?
”

“Yep,” Bruce nodded.
“One of which is Night of the Living D
ead.”

“Sounds f
un
.”

Bruce smiled. “That’s what I said. You ought to join us.”

“I may.”

“So what brings you here?”

“I just wanted to check the progress and see how things were going.” Winslow looked around. “Wi
ll I have private quarters?
What I have witnessed, people are in groups of four.”

“You’ll have your own quarters,”
Bruce said.

“And who is building the transportation?”
Winslow
asked.

Bruce pointed to Bobby. “My son’s working on it now. I’ll be helping him in a bit.”

“Hm
m,” Winslow rubbed his chin. “You both
must
be very educated men to be able to do that.”

“Well
. . .
”
Bruce tiled his head. “Bobby here is more
educated
that I am.”

“I see.” Winslow turned toward Bobby.
“Are you finding this difficult?
”

“Nah,” B
obby replied. “B
een doing it for so long it’s second nature.”

“Really. Wow.
I’m impressed. Did you work for NASA?”

“Ex
. . .
excuse
me?” Bobby said.