by Chris Pike
Lexi crouched, making herself as small as possible.
Joe dropped to his hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the bar. He slowly peeked around the corner, expecting to find whoever had scared the beejesus out of he and Lexi. Instead, he was greeted by a large dog, sitting on his haunches, tongue hanging out, panting heavily.
“Lexi, everything is okay.” Joe let out a big sigh. “It’s only a dog.”
“A dog? Here?”
“Yeah,” Joe said. He clicked on a flashlight. “It appears to be a service dog.”
“For a disabled person?” Lexi asked.
“No. Probably a police dog by the looks of the vest.”
The dog cocked its head and whimpered.
“Do we have anything the dog can eat?” Joe asked.
“Yes, give me a moment.” Lexi unwrapped the paper sack she had found earlier in the shelves beneath the bar. She opened a sandwich bag, sniffed the contents, and surmising it was okay to eat, she gave half of it to Joe.
“Come here, boy,” Joe said. Holding the sandwich, he held out his hand for the dog to sniff. “Good boy, come on, you can take a bite.” Joe spoke in a gentle, comforting voice.
The dog inched forward, unable to resist the tempting aroma of the ham sandwich. He tentatively reached his snout towards Joe’s hand, sniffing the air. Joe leaned into the dog, holding the sandwich. After a few unsure moments, the dog gently nibbled part of the sandwich away from Joe’s grasp. The dog then gulped the bite down.
“Come on, you can have it all.”
Lexi stayed a safe distance. The dog was huge, and while she wasn’t scared of dogs, this one had the appearance of a military dog.
The dog took another bite, nibbling it away from Joe who purposely held the sandwich. It was a way for the dog to take in Joe’s aura, to decipher if Joe was good or bad. Deciding Joe was one of the good guys, the dog didn’t shy away when Joe stroked his head. The gentle touch calmed the dog, evident in his ears flopping down, and his soulful eyes.
“He’s letting you pet him. Incredible.
“I know. Maybe he’s scared.”
Check his tags,” Lexi said. “It might have his name on them.”
Joe lifted the tags, positioning them so he could read the writing. “His name is Oscar, and…” Joe paused, hanging his head, unable to finish the sentence.
“What’s wrong?” Lexi asked.
“I know his handler. And I know this dog.” Joe reached under Oscar’s chin, scratching him. “There’s no way Oscar would leave his handler unless he was dead.”
Lexi gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “How did you know him?”
“We trained dogs together in the military. David, uh, he’s the handler, and I kept in touch. The last time I saw him, I met Oscar. I guess he remembered me.”
“Poor dog.”
Joe lifted Oscar’s leash, holding onto it. “Definitely.” Joe stood and stretched. “When it gets light, I’ll try to find him. He could possibly be alive.”
“How will you know where to search?” Lexi asked.
“Oscar will be able to lead me to him.”
Lexi hobbled over to Joe, standing next to him. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Is there a bowl anywhere? Oscar must be thirsty.”
“I’ll find one.”
Lexi rummaged around the shelves, feeling around until she located a bowl. As she started to open a bottled water, Joe interrupted her.
“Try the faucet. It might work,” he said.
The water squeaked on, and Lexi filled the bowl. She offered the water to Oscar who greedily lapped it until the bowl was empty. She refilled it and placed it on the floor.
“Let’s rest until the sun comes up.” Joe sat on the makeshift mattress, Oscar beside him. “How’s your ankle?”
“Much better.” Lexi rolled her ankle and put some weight on it. “When I jumped up too quick, I had forgotten my ankle was twisted. Now that my muscles are warm, it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. I’m sure I’ll be able to walk on it soon. It’s not my ankle I’m worrying about. One of my molars is giving me problems.” Lexi ran her tongue over the sore tooth. Feeling her face, she said, “I think my cheek is swollen.”
“Do you have any over the counter pain reliever?” Joe asked.
“Not with me.”
Joe didn’t respond.
After a beat, Lexi asked, “What are you thinking?”
“Try to get some rest, okay? When it’s light, I’ll try to find something for you. There’s gotta be a first aid station somewhere.”
“What about triage on the field?” Lexi asked.
“I doubt they have much of anything of value left except some Band-Aids and blood pressure cuffs. They weren’t equipped to handle half the people here. I’ll find you something, promise.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Lexi stretched out on her back on the rubber mat. She covered her face with the crook of her elbow and closed her eyes, letting her thoughts wander. She thought about her mom, Wanda, and prayed she was okay, and not injured or waiting to be rescued. Wanda was a tough cookie, so if anyone could survive, she could. Lexi thought about her dad and her brother, and wondered what caused her brother to make the bad choices he had. She thought about her life, so many things, until she drifted off to sleep.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, Lexi woke to someone poking her in the arm, and to the first light of the sun’s warming rays.
“Lexi, you awake?” Joe asked.
“I am now.”
“Oh, you were mumbling. I thought you were awake.”
“I was having a weird dream. I needed to wake up anyway.” Lexi yawned and stretched. “Is there anything to eat?”
Joe cracked a grin. “The grill isn’t working, otherwise I’d offer you breakfast in bed.”
“Definitely, a nice thought. I’ll figure out something for breakfast.”
“Good,” Joe said. “I’m going to take Oscar and try to find his handler. I’ll also look for some pain reliever for you.”
Lexi rubbed her jaw, unable to open her mouth completely. “I sure could use some. It’s getting worse.”
Joe placed the back of his hand on Lexi’s forehead, gauging if she had a spike in temperature. The simple gesture provided a glimpse of the man Joe had become. No longer the gangly teenager Lexi had a crush on and who hadn’t given her a second look years ago, he had grown into the kind of man Lexi admired.
“What’s my temp, doc?” Lexi playfully asked.
“You’re hot.” Joe winked.
Lexi cast her gaze away and giggled. A pained expression covered her face, and she put her hand to her jaw. “Don’t make me laugh again. It hurts too much.”
“Hang tight. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Chapter 13
Joe looped the end of the leash around his hand, held it loosely, keeping Oscar close to him. The dog needed guidance from a strong handler, and was not meant to be let loose to do his own thing. A dog who thought he was a pack leader was the worst kind.
The morning brought home the unreal scene facing Joe and Oscar as they walked along the concourse. Bits and pieces of humanity were scattered everywhere. Scarves, purses, wallets, sweaters, shoes, a cellphone. Stiff, lifeless bodies.
When a family of four passed by Joe, the father motioned for his wife and children to stay on the other side of him. They warily eyed Joe and Oscar like he was untrustworthy, even perhaps trying to steal from them. While Joe was trustworthy, it paid to be careful.
“Morning,” Joe said. “Have you seen anyone else on this level?”
The family walked past without speaking.
Definitely different times.
Taking a slight detour, Joe approached the corridor leading to the stands. He surveyed the field where triage had been torn apart, looted, and where a few survivors picked through the remains. Most of the players and coaches had been killed in the initial blast lay where they had fallen. Some had
a towel or shirt covering their faces, others didn’t.
Jumbled sound equipment and wires were scattered across the field and sidelines. Clipboards, headsets, caps, helmets, jerseys, sneakers, drinks, towels, and a plethora of football equipment clogged the sidelines.
The crowd had dwindled to a fraction of the people previously in attendance. Whoever was physically able to leave must have done so at first light.
Unable to provide any guidance or help on the field, Joe proceeded in his quest. With Oscar by his side, Joe said, “Oscar. Find. Find David.”
Oscar understood the command ‘find’ and the meaning of the sound following the command. Tugging on the taut leash, he lowered his head and moved forward with the sole purpose of finding David.
Oscar pulled hard, like a mule pulling a heavy plow through the soil. Oscar’s slobbery tongue hung to the side of his open mouth, his sides heaving. Joe leaned back to counter Oscar’s forward momentum, struggling to keep his balance while at the same time allowing Oscar enough leeway to guide them to his handler.
They had covered about two hundred yards, walking in an arc around the stadium. The closer they came to the site of the downed jet, the more carnage they encountered. An entire section of the stands had been gutted, rebar sticking out, concrete in chunks, seats blown apart, body parts everywhere. A pipe dripped a steady stream of water, mixing with blood on the floor.
Joe pulled Oscar away. “Find David.”
Oscar lifted his black nose, moving it from side to side, testing the air, searching for the scent he knew so well. He swung his snout to the side and proceeded in the direction he pointed.
Ahead and to the left, a man rifled through the pockets of a body.
Oscar stopped and growled low in his throat then barked a loud and throaty warning to the man ahead. The two locked eyes, staring each other down.
The dog lunged and broke free of Joe.
“Oscar, Heel!” Joe shouted.
Oscar bolted towards the man with speed and agility Joe had never witnessed. “Oscar, Heel!”
Oscar skidded to a stop, the man in his sights. Oscar’s vision was laser focused, and he moved with single-minded purpose. The man stepped back to put distance between himself and the dog.
“Don’t make any fast moves!” Joe shouted, racing up to them. “Wait until I get hold of the leash.” Joe carefully approached Oscar and grabbed his leash, wrapping it tightly around his hand. He stroked Oscar on the head and spoke in low, soothing tones. “Good dog. Everything is okay.” He stroked Oscar on his side. “Good dog.”
Oscar blinked and broke eye contact with the man. He swiveled his sight to the body on the floor. Dull eyes comprehended nothing. Mouth wide open. Skin a pale, unnatural color. He padded to it, sniffed along the arms and up to the face. Oscar licked the man’s cheek then lowered himself to the floor, resting his snout on the man’s chest.
The somber moment affected Joe to his core as he realized the body was his former buddy, his friend, and it pained him to see his life end in the way it did.
“What were you doing?” Joe asked the man.
“Nothing.” The man tucked in his shirt and hitched up his trousers.
Joe noted his nervous body language, and the sweat on his brow. “Did you take something from him?” Joe demanded.
“No.” The man shrugged. He stepped to the side, putting more distance between him and Joe.
“You did!” Joe exclaimed, moving forward. “He was my friend, so give me whatever you took.”
“I don’t want no trouble, mister. Trying to survive like the rest of the people.”
“More like looting dead bodies.”
The man reached his hand into his belt buckle.
“Stop right there!” Joe yelled. “Don’t move!”
The man pulled a 9mm out of his waist band and pointed the semi-automatic at Joe. “Don’t make me shoot you. I will if I have to do, so back away nice and slow.”
“You win.” Joe put his hands in the air. Anger boiled up in him, the anger of knowing the man had stolen his friend’s service pistol.
With the gun pointed at Joe, the man said, “I’m leaving now. Don’t come looking for me.”
Joe watched the man back away, and when he was several kiosks away, the man turned and ran.
Joe muttered a few choice profanities aimed at the man, venting his frustration and anger.
Oscar nudged Joe’s hand. “I should’ve let you take a bite of that scumbag, Oscar. So much for doing the right thing.”
Joe took a moment to gather his thoughts and concentrated on steady breathing to calm himself. If what the man did was a glimpse of things to come, he and Lexi needed to leave, and the sooner the better. The number of dead worried him, and it wouldn’t be long before they became a health hazard from decomposition, bringing the inevitable scourge of rats. He faced the problem of how far Lexi could walk. He couldn’t carry her, so that was out of the question, and without transportation, he’d really be out of luck. It would be another day before she could put any weight on her ankle, so he decided it was best for them to hunker down and wait a day or two.
He said a silent prayer for his friend then placed a jacket over the body, covering the face.
“Oscar, there’s nothing more we can do. Let’s find Lexi some meds and head on back. Sound good?”
Oscar tilted his head at Joe’s rising intonation, sensing the meaning of the words. The man Oscar had come to know and respect was no more. His body was cold and stiff, and had taken on an unusual and unfamiliar odor. Oscar sensed he should follow the new man he remembered who had shared laughter and food with his handler.
Joe gently tugged on the leash. “Come.”
Oscar obediently followed, leaving his beloved handler behind.
Chapter 14
After spending a sleepless night in their seats, Kinsey woke. Her brother Tyler was on one side, her mom on the other.
“How are you doing, Mom?” Kinsey asked.
“I don’t know yet.” Becca rubbed her eyes and blinked them open. “This was about as comfortable as sleeping on a cramped airline seat, minus the snacks and drinks.” Becca rolled her head to work out the kinks in her neck. “Where’s Ethan?”
“At your service.” Ethan approached the family carrying a cardboard tray of four drinks.
“I see you got takeout. Hot coffee by any chance?” Becca asked hopefully.
“It’s coffee, which is positive.” Ethan offered a cup to Becca and her two teens. He retrieved several packets of cream and sugar, and handed them over.
Kinsey poured in three packets and stirred the cold coffee with her finger. Taking a drink, she grimaced. “You’re right. At least it’s coffee. The kind to put hair on your chest.”
“I also found some stale croissants and several energy bars. Don’t eat them all at once. We need to ration them.”
“Awesome,” Tyler said. “I’m starving.”
Ethan handed out the croissants and energy bars. Becca waved him off. “I’m not hungry.”
“Mom, you need to eat something.” A worried expression fell across Kinsey’s face. “Are you feeling okay?”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve felt better,” Becca said. She touched her leg where the shrapnel had caused the injury. In fact, Becca was feeling miserable. Her queasy stomach flipflopped at the mention of food, and her leg throbbed with the force of a jackhammer.
“You’re kinda pale.” Ethan studied Becca. Her formerly cheery disposition and positive attitude were lacking this morning. “Let me see your leg.”
Becca pulled up the leg of her jeans, carefully rolling it over the wound. She gritted her teeth at the sight. A quarter inch of shrapnel protruded from her leg, and the skin around the wound was an angry color of red in stark contrast to her fair complexion. It hurt when she flexed her foot. “What are we going to do?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“I’ll find some alcohol to disinfect it, a pair of pliers, bandages, and…” Ethan trailed off.<
br />
“And what?” Becca pressed.
“How’s your pain tolerance?”
“Why? Are you going to pull out the shrapnel?”
“It needs to come out, otherwise you could lose your leg.”
“From the infection?” Becca asked.
“Yes, and unless we do something, gangrene could develop,” Ethan replied.
“Maybe triage has some antibiotics.”
“Have you seen what happened to the triage area on the field?”
Becca, Kinsey, and Tyler peered at what was left of triage.
“It’s gone.” Tyler slumped back into the seat.
“Right,” Ethan said. “Supplies must have been looted, and the medical staff have left. They must’ve been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of wounded, and without any proper medical care, the staff probably realized the situation was hopeless. When things get bad—”
“How much worse can it get?” Tyler interrupted.
“It can get a lot worse. Believe me.” Ethan leaned against a seat to address the family sitting in front of him. “A huge reset of society is on the horizon. Food will run out soon, faucets will stop working because the pumps won’t have any electricity, and hospitals will be abandoned. Infrastructure will cease to exist, meaning grocery stores won’t be able to re-stock. It’s lucky we haven’t been attacked, and unless we get out of here in the next day or two, it might be impossible to make it back to your home.”
Ethan took a breath to let what he had said sink in.
“Gangs will form, and neighborhoods will be on lockdown with armed residents patrolling the entrances to subdivisions,” he went on. “Unscrupulous survivors will charge for passage on the roads. And when people decide food is more valuable than money, then food becomes the new currency. Money will be useless, and more than likely will be used as toilet paper.”
“Ethan, you’re crazy,” Tyler complained. “I don’t plan on wiping my butt with a twenty.”
“You will if you have to, although you could scoot across the grass like a dog.”