The Darkness and Dogs

by Lanchbery, T. S.

  He stares at the dog for several more minutes, deep in thought, before seemingly reaching a conclusion. Recovering one of the dented tins of corned beef, he prizes it open and then looks around for a moment before his gaze falls on the small tin dish he carries in his pack, and which is now lying away in the corner of the office. Retrieving it, he takes out a fork from a side pocket of his pack, portions out half of the can into the dish and mashes it thoroughly into a fine paste. Moving steadily, he opens the door to the shop and slowly approaches the dog. As he comes nearer, the Malamute clambers to its feet, tries to back away and yelps softly as its injured paw takes the weight and then just as quickly began to salivate as it smells the meat that Lowell carries; an abundant stream of glutinous dribble that pores instantly from both sides of its mouth. Lowell approaches as close as he dares - to within a couple of feet - and then places the dish on the ground in front of the dog before immediately backing away again. In spite of its evidently ravenous hunger, the dog waits until Lowell has moved back almost to the office door, limps towards the bowl, and then falls upon its meal with an obvious and grateful delight - finishing it all within a few seconds and then at once looking shyly up towards Lowell with wide, begging eyes and an entreating expression.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Over the next few days, Lowell and the Malamute fall into a routine of sorts. For the most part, they keep out of each other’s way, but whenever Lowell prepares himself some food he makes sure to portion off a small amount for the dog. These gifts are not born out of any kind of a growing affection for the Malamute, but are rather a practical measure; he has established a precedent now, and doesn’t want to test their cautious truce by withholding food, however precious to him it is. In truth, Lowell is not convinced as to how much of a threat the dog would be if they were to fight. He has noted the condition of its injury each day and can tell that it is worsening; a visible swelling has appeared around the wound, and the dog seems to be moving less and less, barely stirring at all apart from to lick its wound, on which it spends the majority of each day, and otherwise only budging to limp painfully towards the food Lowell offers. For the most part, it has also stopped staring at Lowell, and instead rests its head heavily on the floor, regularly drifting off to doze for a spell before awakening with a distressing whine if it has involuntarily flexed its hurt paw in its sleep. For water they are now well fixed; Lowell had investigated the other backroom that had previously been off limits to him and discovered another two large bottles of water meant for the cooler; these thankfully sealed and untouched by the organic pollutant that has spoiled the other. This too he shares with the dog; decanting a small amount into a plastic bowl that he presents to the Malamute and takes care to top up before each meal.

  The rest of the time Lowell spends staring out of the window, keeping tabs on the pack that still besieges him from their positions ranged along the pavement. As at the church, these dogs have soon found themselves a base from which to rest and continue their vigil; this time they have retreated to the doorway of the store next door, and on each occasion that Lowell looks out and finds them missing his hopes rise and are then dashed just as swiftly as before long one or other of them appears in view; barking and snarling with an undiminished loathing as soon as they spot his face at the window. In addition to finding the water in the backroom, he has found something else; a heavy steel back door and another barred window, both leading out onto an alleyway that runs along the shop’s south side. Watching from the window, he soon establishes that members of the pack will often appear here also, taking turns in scavenging and hunting for rats in the piles of filth and detritus that cover the ground. Here, he has watched as long as he dares, careful to ensure that they never spot him at the back window, and then returning thoughtfully to the front of the shop.

  From here, he gazes out at the pavement in front once more, to where the alpha dozes. For once he hasn’t spotted Lowell, giving him a rare chance to study the great beast without having to tolerate the pure hatred of his stare; a phenomenon that causes Lowell’s eyes to water and invariably ends with Lowell turning away and retreating to the safety of the office. Inspecting the slumbering animal now, it is hard not to feel a grudging respect. Clearly its life of fighting, scavenging, and hunting have agreed with him as he is a picture of health; his fur glossy, his skin stretched taut over a mass of lean muscles, all without even the slightest deposit of fat visible on his entire frame. Even in sleep he radiates a terrifying menace; with every other rasping snore succeeded by a guttural growl that strikes Lowell deep down in some primal area of his brain, immediately priming his whole body for flight. As Lowell watches, all of a sudden, a change comes over the Alpha, and seemingly without any intermediate stage he transforms from asleep to alert. His ears prick up and his head lifts, eyes straining to see some point at the far end of the street. Another growl issues forth, to Lowell no different from his slumbering complaints, but clearly his followers can detect some change in his tone as they instantly respond, darting out from their hiding places within the shop next door and taking position flanking their leader on both sides. Intrigued, Lowell presses his face to the glass and peers up the street.

  It takes him a long moment before he can make out anything that can have alarmed the dogs, and then he sees it: over on the far side and approaching cautiously is another group of three dogs. As they draw closer, Lowell can see that they are all some sort of Doberman Pinscher type breed; tall, muscular dogs with wickedly pointed features, sharp, calculating eyes, and razor- sharp teeth visible now through panting mouths that emit regular traces of mist into the bitterly cold air. They are all large dogs, but one is noticeable larger still, and this is the dog that leads them now, exuding that familiar aura of power that Lowell has come to recognize at a glance as indicating the dominant dog. The pack watches them come to within ten meters without any attempt to stall their approach before the Alpha decides he had had enough and steps forward to bark out a savage greeting; some measured combination of warning, threat, and provocation that the opposing dogs clearly understand, as immediately they respond in kind, the lead Doberman lifting its upper lip up in a hideous sneer before barking once with a wracking throaty venom that makes the hair on Lowell’s neck stand to attention.

  *****

  “In those first, dark days, it had seemed to me that the world was composed of nothing but dogs. I knew there were a lot of them around, but I never knew just how many; and as someone with a phobia, I tended to notice them more than the average person. There didn’t seem to be packs back then, just one mass of dogs. The fear of the virus drove people away from their dying loved ones indoors and straight out of their houses, and then a moment later a surging mass of fur and teeth would overwhelm them from all directions. Several times on such occasions I saw overexcitement boil over into confrontation; two dogs turning on each other as one inadvertently blocked another from their quarry, but for the most part the flow of fresh victims ensured they were too distracted to fight much amongst themselves. I have wondered what might have become of me if I were not knocked unconscious that day; if I had not been lying comatose for who knows how long as the most intense part of the struggle raged outside. When I eventually came to, and looked again at the scene outside, the scores of human dead had been joined by a good number of fallen dogs, sparking some hope of a human fight back in my mind. Alas, I soon had the opportunity to see for myself how it really happened; as a door across the way inched cautiously open, and my neighbors over the street, a young couple, sidled out warily and then darted towards their car parked out on the street. For a moment it actually looked like they were going to make it, and then I saw the panic on the man’s face as he fumbled with his keys to unlock the car, his terrified glances in one direction, as the woman froze whilst looking in the other, and twin packs of dogs closed with matched swiftness from each bearing. As they met, the wave of dogs engulfed and slaughtered the couple in a heartbeat, and then continued to fight with the sam
e murderous intensity over the spoils.

  It was then that I began to understand the workings of the pack a little better. In the midst of the battle, two of the largest dogs clashed with a greater intensity, and were afforded a little more space, in a battle that seemed just a little more fierce than the rest. Whilst some of the other battles seemed guarded, with much posturing and false lunges, these two fought with a savagery that ensured only one would survive. And so it was that after a minute one lay dead, its rival’s teeth buried fully into its jugular and ripped free; releasing an eruption of blood visible even from my position fifty meters distant. As soon as that battle was done, the fight amongst the rest seemed to subside, the odd struggle continued here and there between pairs of animals, but otherwise it struck me as like the moment that a king is killed in battle; a trumpet rings out, a cautious truce, and then a herald; “the king is dead, long live the king.” After the couple’s bones had been picked over, the dogs left, but as one new pack. Their former companions, dead and dying, were left where they had fallen, that was the first time I remember feeling thankful I had never got the dog that I wanted.”

  *****

  As Lowell stares out at the confrontation between the two small packs now, he witnesses the same complicated dance that he has seen repeated several times over play out before his eyes. First there is a stand off. This is the posturing phase; a cacophony of growling and barking as each side attempts to cow the other. Hair bristling, and teeth bared, the dogs pace slowly up and down an imagined semi-circular dividing line; each daring their opposite number to cross the boundary that will signal open conflict. After a while, the dogs begin to test the limits of their foes restraint; first one will edge out to bark just a little closer than before, then one from the other side will counter closer still and so on until, with a short stride forward and strained neck, one of the dogs will decide enough is enough and strike; teeth snapping shut just close enough to cause the interloper to hurriedly retreat to the protection of their comrades. Amidst all this, only the two dominant dogs remain still. Growling fiercely, eyes locked together, they ignore the growing bravado of the others and save their energy for what they know must come. As so often is the case, it is the Shih Tzu that finally oversteps the mark. Piqued that the Doberman across from its position has completely ignored what it considered to be several particularly daring incursions, it lunges ever closer, testing the Doberman’s patience to breaking point, until eventually it does break. As the Shih Tzu charges to within an inch of its enemy, and its teeth brush close to the bare skin on its belly, the other dog springs into action, whipping its head down low and tearing into the Shih Tzu’s ear with its razor sharp teeth.

  No sooner has first blood been spilled than the Alpha erupts, leaping forward with a terrible snarl and barreling into the Doberman with enough force to send it spiraling away, and following up with a quick bite to its rear as the Shih Tzu flees whimpering behind its leader and back to the protection of the rest of its pack. As the Alpha turns to retreat, the other, dominant Doberman sees its exposed flank and seizes its opportunity, leaping forward to straddle the Alpha with a paw either side of its great head and sinking its teeth into the soft folds of skin that cover the top of its neck. At once, the Alpha lets out a great roar, brimming with indignity at the underhanded manner of this attack. The Doberman strains desperately to clamp its teeth down further, and make the most of its advantage, but the Alpha is too experienced a fighter to yield so easily. Dropping his front leg, he rolls to one side to shake free his attacker. As the Alpha struggles over and back to his feet the gambit has failed and still the Doberman clings on, so the Alpha repeats the trick, again rolling to the side but this time craning his neck around to clamp his jaws shut on the Doberman’s soft underbelly. In a flash, both dogs let up, each spinning away in opposite directions before leaping to their feet to face each other anew. No sooner have the two dominant dogs begun to fight, than the others stop their posturing at once, each retreating behind their champion and watching intently for the outcome of the desperate battle that is unfolding before them.

  The Doberman had clearly been in a few of these battles before, and was evidently a fearsome competitor, but whichever dogs it has defeated in the past, they can not have been nearly as experienced as the Alpha. As the two break off, the Doberman instantly takes a step backwards, ready to resume another tense standoff and lick its wounds before the resumption of hostilities, but the Alpha has other ideas. No sooner has it got back to its feet, than it is charging back in the direction of its opponent. The Doberman is caught on the back foot; as it retreats desperately from this unexpected assault it is caught full in the head and chest by the weight of the Alpha; its great forehead smashing into the smaller dog’s skull with a resounding crack and a force that flips it over onto its back. Following on mercilessly, the Alpha crunches his huge jaws closed on the Dobermans snout with a savagery that splinters the terrified dog’s bones. In a blind fury, the Alpha continues to rain down bite after bite as the Doberman whines frantically and feebly flaps its broken jaws towards its attacker. Within an instant it is over; as soon as the Alpha feels no further resistance it breaks off the attack. Only a few seconds have passed but in the short, brutal assault, the Doberman has been a left with a shocking mass of terrible injuries; a huge flap of skin lies open at its chest, exposing the bone below, one eye is cleaved in two, and its splintered jaw wavers weakly as it struggles to breathe through the flow of blood pouring into its throat. The Alpha stares down, seemingly considering whether to finish off the pathetic creature, then nonchalantly leans closer to sniff his foe, turns dismissively and trots away.

  Taking a position just beyond the stricken dog, he lies down on the pavement amidst the rest of the pack. The other two Dobermans stand stock still, remaining uncertainly where they are for another moment, before one of them makes up its mind and then slowly approaches the Alpha. Head bowed low, it shuffles carefully forward, its tail pressed between its legs. The Alpha raises its great head to watch the dog approach, and then lifts its snout into the air. As the Doberman reaches his position it cautiously raised its head up at an angle and carefully licks the Alphas exposed throat, continuing until the dominant dog signals with a low growl that it is satisfied. No sooner has that Doberman slunk away, than the other takes its place, mirroring its submissive stance and receiving the same measured acceptance from the Alpha. Taking position on the outside of the pack the new dogs begin the slow process of incorporating themselves into their new pack, as on the ground ahead their vanquished leader struggles to cling vainly to life for a few desperate minutes and then its eyes roll back into its head and it lies still.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Inside the store, Lowell wills himself to make a move. It has been so long since the dogs have been at all distracted that he had almost given up any hope that he would have a chance to slip away undetected, rather than fight it out, and he knows that this must be the best chance he will have. Ducking down before they spot him, he creeps away from the window and quietly gathers his possessions into his pack, being especially careful to make sure that this time his gun is loaded and cocked. Nevertheless, he keeps the safety on, figuring it will be better to take a second longer in preparing to shoot than to risk blowing his balls off whilst drawing the weapon. Moving through into the main room, he fills up his water bottle from the larger container, staring at it wistfully and hoping that at some point he will be able to return to the store to reclaim the rest. Once he has all of his belongings together he moves towards the back door.

  All the while he is getting ready to move out, the Malamute stares at him quizzically, as if somehow aware that he is getting ready to leave, and now it strains to rise to its feet and stands, swaying slightly from the effort. It is in a bad way; its paw has continued to worsen and Lowell has found himself wishing he possessed either the knowledge or supplies to help it out somehow. Now, as he slides back the bolt and undoes the latch on the exit to the alleyway, Lo
well pauses, returns to the room and stares long and hard at the dog. Try as he might to tell himself that he owes the dog nothing, he knows it wouldn’t be right to leave it in the shop. The only two options are either to leave it alone with the door open, and certain to fall prey to the pack, or to shut it in and let it starve to death. Sighing heavily, Lowell waves his hand urgently, and the dog seems somehow to understand and begins to limp unsteadily towards him. As the dog approaches, Lowell moves to the back window and takes a moment to look long and hard along the alleyway in both directions. Seeing that the way is clear, he eases the door open, glances around again and steps outwards. The Malamute follows close behind him, letting out a brief pained cry as it steps down into the alleyway that sets Lowell’s nerves on edge and his ears to straining. In case he should return, Lowell closes the door gently behind them and instantly set off up the alleyway, looking nervously and often over his shoulder as he goes.

  Reaching the end of the alleyway, Lowell glances out and up the adjoining road that runs on towards Main Street. He stays in position for a moment as he scouts the way ahead; there are no dogs in sight, but in the center of the road a large rat sits in plain view, chewing on some rotting morsel. The sight of the rat calms Lowell; as he reasons that it would have drawn out any dogs if they were lurking nearby. As he starts to cross to the alleyway opposite, he looks back briefly to where the Malamute is struggling along. It has barely made it halfway to where Lowell stands and is clearly struggling to continue. Lowell truly hopes the dog will make it, but he can’t help but reflect that at the very least the Malamute will help to slow down any of the pack that should venture in his direction, even if the injured Malamute is unlikely to hold them up for long. Pushing this unworthy thought to the back of his mind, he pushes on, scurrying quickly cross the road and on up the adjoining alleyway. Around halfway up, he ducks behind a wheelie bin and takes a few minutes to watch the way that he has come. Still there is no sight of any pursuers, and none of the sounds of baying and howling he would expect if the pack were on his trail. He remains in position for as long as he can, hoping to see the Malamute emerge safely into the alleyway, but first one minute passes, and then another with no sign of the dog. After two minutes are up, he sighs, shakes his head sadly and continues on his way.