Extinction Point: The End ep-1

by Paul Antony Jones

  “Down, boy. Get down.”

  The Malamute instantly obeyed, dropping to the ground and forcing the flat of its jaw tight against the earth while tucking its tail around its flank. It only took a second for her to issue her command and the dog to obey, but that was all she needed to ensure sufficient space between the dog and the charging monster. The creature’s butt-ugly face seemed to take up her entire vision as she squeezed the trigger on the Mossberg and then it disappeared in a spray of green gore, as the 12-gauge buckshot obliterated it. Momentum carried the body of the alien past Emily and she felt the spray of green arterial blood splash over her as the dead body sailed past and crashed into the undergrowth behind her.

  The dog was still lying where she had commanded it to stop. Its mouth was open as it panted hard, its tongue lolling between its front canines. Its left flank was smeared with dirt and stained with red blood, but the dog’s eyes were bright and clear and fixed directly on her as she limped her way over to it.

  A wave of gratitude washed through her as she noticed the dog’s tail begin gently swooshing back and forth, sending a small cloud of dusty soil into the air. Emily knelt down on one knee, using the butt of the shotgun shoved into the ground to help steady her.

  “Come here, boy,” she called quietly. The dog immediately jumped to its feet and ran to the woman he had just saved, ramming his head under her arm and almost bowling her over while his tail swished back and forth with joy. Emily threw her arms around the dog and pulled him to her, burying her face in the thick ruff of fur around his neck.

  Oh! He smelled so damn good.

  She pulled back and planted a kiss on his muzzle. The Malamute responded by covering her face in wet slobber as he licked at her, bouncing back and forth excitedly.

  “I’m happy to see you too, boy,” she said between a fit of giggles.

  A blue dirt-stained leather collar hung around the dog’s neck and she heard the tell tale jangle of identity tags lost somewhere in the mass of fur. “Keep still for a second, would you, you big oaf.” she laughed as she felt around until she found the metal tag. She tugged on the collar until she was able to read the information engraved on it.

  “Thor?” she said, reading the name aloud. At the sound of his name the dog’s tail wagged even faster, sending a cool waft of air across Emily’s face. Someone had obviously taken living in Valhalla to heart, naming him after the Norse god of thunder.

  She took the dog’s head in both hands and stared deep into his brown eyes: “Hello Thor,” she said. “Thank you for saving my life. Now, what do you say we blow this joint?”

  Judging by the dog’s single excited bark, he was as ready to leave as she was.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Emily limped back to where she had dropped her bike. Thor followed obediently by her side, stopping only to sniff at the dead aliens and occasionally to nibble at the wound on his side.

  “We’ll get both of us fixed-up as soon as we’re out of here,” Emily told the dog. He glanced up at her, his tail wagged in understanding.

  Other than a few scratches to the paint work, there didn’t appear to be any damage to the bike, the panniers or their contents, from what Emily could tell by her quick inspection. The bergen was another matter though. She unlocked the belt buckle and let the backpack slip to the ground, wincing as the strap rubbed across her wounded shoulder. She was going to have to deal with that injury but not now, not here. The chance that there were more of those creatures roaming the forest outweighed her chance of contracting an infection right now. So, it would have to wait. Besides, the first thing she needed to do was secure her supplies so she and her new companion could go find somewhere safe to lay-up for the night. Then she could treat their wounds, eat, and hopefully, get some rest.

  Emily gave Thor a pat on the head as he sat down next to her, watching intently while she inspected the damaged bergen. The back pouches were sliced clean through and were now useless, hanging limply from the main body of the backpack. They had been empty, so she hadn’t lost anything. The creature’s claws had however punctured through the pack’s reinforced material and into the clothing stored inside. She could make out tufts of white thermal wadding sticking out from the ragged puncture holes and slits. That could only mean her cold weather gear was damaged. Better her clothing than her skin. She shuddered as her imagination summoned up an image of what she would have looked like if she hadn’t been wearing the backpack. She forced the bloody image from her mind.

  There was no way she was going to stay here a moment longer than necessary, and no way was she going to start unpacking her kit now. She would double check the contents when she could. At least the bergen was still serviceable. She would have to perform some cosmetic surgery on it at some point, just to shore-up the damage and make certain it remained waterproof.

  There was one thing she was going to do, though.

  She unzipped the pouch where she had stored her extra shells for the shotgun—mercifully untouched by the creature’s frenzied attack— and pulled out enough to refill the magazine. She slid them one after the other into the loading port of the shotgun until it was full, then added a final round into the main chamber.

  Emily slung the bergen back onto her shoulders, fastened up her belt, picked the bike up from the ground and walked the short distance to the break in the forest.

  She kept the shotgun in her hands… just in case.

  * * *

  Stepping out of the forest and into the familiar green of a field full of normal grass immediately helped lift Emily’s spirits. That feeling quickly evaporated though as she spotted the fire still raging off to the west. The fire line looked to have advanced several miles closer to where she was now.

  Good, she thought. With any luck, the fire will rip through that demented forest and kill every last thing in it.

  While thoughts of the forest’s potential destruction were all very satisfying, Emily knew she still needed to put some distance between her, the fire and any other beasts that might decide she and Thor would make a nice bedtime snack, and she needed to do it as quickly as possible. Ahead of her was a wooden fence bordering the furthest edge of the field. Beyond the fence, Emily could see a red STOP sign, which meant there was a road. It was as good a direction to head for as any other, so she began pushing the bike toward it.

  The fence had definitely seen better days. The occasional fleck of white was all that remained of the original paint job, the aged wood was rotten and flakey after exposure to the elements for many years. In several places Emily saw wooden struts were missing, leaving a gap large enough she could lift her bike through and Thor easily jumped over.

  The dog sat patiently next to Emily as she stopped to look up the road. She had no idea what might lie up there, but it was at least heading in the right direction, one that would take her away from both the fire and the forest. “Well, what do you think?” Emily asked, glancing at the dog. “Want to tag along with me?” she asked.

  Thor’s tail fanned the dusty surface of the road.

  “Okay,” said Emily, a smile crossing her face despite the pain of her wounds and the aching in her muscles. “I guess we should get going.” She swung her leg over the bike and, once she was comfortable, began peddling up the road. Thor trotted alongside the bike, easily keeping pace, his lolling tongue alternating first one side of his open mouth and then the other, as his claws clicked against the road’s surface.

  Three miles further up the winding road, Emily saw the first signs of civilization: a small cluster of houses off to the right.

  She pulled the bike over to the side of the road and looked back in the direction she had just ridden from. The fire was a good five or six miles distant now, and judging by the direction the smoke was blowing, it was heading away from her at last. She hadn’t put as much distance between it as she would have liked, but there was no way she could go on any longer. Exhausted, and with the rush of adrenalin finally beginning to wear off, the pain in Emily�
��s shoulder and her ribs was making itself known. She had to stop and it had to be soon.

  This would have to do.

  She chose a gray clapboard two-story with a chimney. A chimney meant a fireplace, which meant warmth, light, and heat to cook with. She pulled up outside the house and dismounted, wheeling her bike around the side of the building. She left the bike behind a large privet hedge, hiding it from any prying eyes, no matter how unlikely that scenario might be. She had no idea whether there were any other survivors close by, or how they might react if they found a stranger in their town. She would sleep better knowing her bike was safe until she had a chance to scout out the area.

  The door to the house was ajar. She prodded it open with the barrel of the shotgun and leaned inside. “Hello? Is anyone home?” she called out. Emily already knew there would be no reply but it didn’t feel right simply walking into someone’s home without at least announcing her presence. It would also alert anything else that might have taken up residence in the days since the red rain that it had company. Between the Mossberg and Thor, Emily felt confident she could take care of potential threats from any alien lodger that might have taken up residence in the owner’s absence. As she had predicted, there was no reply. The place was empty.

  Thor didn’t seem anxious as he followed her into the house, which was a good sign the two of them were truly alone, but she still did a quick sweep of every room, just to make sure they really were alone. The last thing she needed after the kind of day she’d had was any surprises.

  There were no signs anything untoward had happened in the home. There wasn’t even any remnant of the alien cocoons, which, coupled with the open door and the empty garage she found while searching the house, meant the owners had probably left in a hurry.

  Only to die somewhere out there in their car.

  The living room had a large fireplace with three neatly chopped logs waiting in the grate. A coalscuttle full of extra wood sat nearby. There was enough wood to last them through the night, she estimated. Emily left her bergen leaning against the back of the sofa closest to the fireplace, then, after a few minutes searching the kitchen cupboards she found a packet of firelighters and a box of extra-long matches in a drawer next to the sink. Within minutes, she had a fire lit and giving off more than enough light to fight back the rapidly approaching shadows escorting in the evening. The small room would warm up quickly, and as long as she kept the fire stoked and fed, it should stay toasty all night long.

  Her stomach had been complaining to her since she exited the forest, now it was screaming for food. Her head and body ached from the beating she had taken, and the lack of food was not helping, but before she could prepare something to eat, she had to deal with the wounds the creature had inflicted on both her and her new companion.

  Thor had curled up in front of the fireplace, already asleep, but he raised his head when he heard Emily’s grunt of pain as she stripped off her grimy tee-shirt. “It’s okay, boy,” she said, reassuring the dog as best as she could. Removing her jeans proved more difficult—and painful—than the tee-shirt. She made the mistake of trying to take them off as she normally would and had to bite her lip to stifle a scream as she felt a shooting pain stab at her ribs. God, she hoped none of them were broken.

  Two more painful attempts and several cuss words later and Emily was convinced there was no way she was going to get the jeans off without a little ingenuity. Finally, she had to resort to lying flat on the floor and pushing on the waist band of the jeans until they were over her butt, then wriggling slowly out of them using the carpet for traction. By the time she had finished she was even more exhausted and lay there panting until she recovered.

  She looked over at Thor sound asleep next to her on the rug. “A lot of good you are,” she whispered. The dog opened one eye, gave a half-hearted wag of his tail before letting out a contented hiss of breath as he settled down again.

  Emily had spotted a full-length mirror hanging on the wall in the hallway when she entered. It was too far from the light of the fire for her to see very well, so she lifted it from its hook then carried it back into the living room, resting it on the cushions of the couch. She angled her body until she could see her back as clearly as possible and twisted her head over her right shoulder until she could make out the four puncture marks just below her right shoulder blade. They didn’t look as bad or as deep as they felt, she decided with some relief. Blood had already congealed in the wounds but the skin around the edges of each puncture was puffy and had turned an angry looking red. The punctures were directly below the curve of her shoulder blade, so every time she moved her arm the bone and muscle would agitate the wound, which hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. She’d been lucky this time, the wounds weren’t life threatening, as long as it wasn’t already infected.

  Emily examined the rest of her body in the mirror. Scratches and dried blood—both hers and that of the monsters she had killed—covered her hands and face. Just below her left breast was a nasty looking bruise that covered the flat of her abdomen and extended around her side and onto her back. Emily gently probed around the area checking each rib. Nothing was broken, thank God, but it was going to be sore as hell for a while.

  She was tempted to use some of her precious water to clean off; she felt like she hadn’t showered in months. Instead she reverted to her supply of Wet Wipes, spending the next ten minutes gently wiping away the grime and blood, first from her feet, then making her way up her legs and finally her remaining upper half. By the time she was finished she looked almost presentable… she smelled strongly of lemons, but certainly passed for human again.

  Emily had unpacked the first-aid kit from the bergen already. She had a tube of antiseptic cream and some clean gauze ready and waiting. She cleaned the wounds with a couple of iodine soaked pads making sure she pulled out any bits of dirt that had collected in the wound. She twisted the top off the tube of antiseptic cream and applied the pungent smelling cream to her wounds, stretching to reach the furthest hole with the tips of her fingers. The remaining cuts and scratches received similar treatment.

  By the time she finished Emily was beginning to feel a little better. No way was she going to win a beauty pageant anytime soon, but at least she was clean and patched up. The gauze she had intended to cover her injuries wasn’t going to work though, she had no way to reach back there and accurately position it to cover all the wounds, so instead, she opted to simply put on a clean tee-shirt.

  Emily looked down at Thor. The dog was still fast asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace, as though saving a random stranger’s life from alien invaders was something he did every day. She walked over as quietly as she could and knelt down next to the dog. He didn’t open his eyes when she started stroking him along his spine, but his tail beat a gentle rhythm against the hearth of the fireplace and he stretched all four legs out and gave a rumble of contentment.

  “Have I told you what a good boy you are?” she whispered in one cocked ear. His tail beat a little faster as he graciously accepted the praise, but his eyes still stayed closed. She ran her hands down his side and over his flank, searching for the wound she had seen him nibbling at earlier. Her fingers ran across the cut an inch or two below his ribs. She probed around the area as gently as possible; the only indication of discomfort the dog gave was a slowing of his tail wagging. She parted the fur to one side and leaned in to examine the dog’s wound. It looked nasty: a six-inch long tear that, if it had gone any deeper would probably have taken stitches to fix properly. She unscrewed the antiseptic tube and applied some of the cream to her fingers, then, as gently as she could, Emily spread the cream over her new friend’s wound, working it in past the fur until she was sure the entirety of the cut was covered.

  Thor gave a low whimper.

  “Stings, I know,” she said, “but it’s for your own good.” The dog’s tail thumped the floor with renewed vigor. “Okay, big boy,” she said, when she was finished and confident that was the only wound the
dog had received during the fight. “How about I fix us some dinner? You hungry, boy?”

  The mention of food seemed to get Thor’s attention because he instantly flipped over onto his front, fixed his eyes on her and let out a half-yawn half-whine that clearly conveyed that he thought food was a really, really good idea.

  “Okay, let’s go see what we can find to eat.”

  Emily pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as the t-shirt rubbed against the cuts on her back. “I think I have something you may like,” she cooed to the dog padding alongside her while she walked over to where she had left the bergen.

  Her poor backpack looked like it had been through a shredder. Several pouches had split open and slashes crisscrossed the back of it where the creature had attacked her. She would deal with that later, what was more important was getting some food inside them both.

  Emily untied the top flap of the pack and rooted around inside until she found what she was looking for. She pulled out the bag of jerky strips.

  “Perfect,” she said. Thor was now sitting obediently next to her staring at the bag in Emily’s hand. She tore the top strip from the bag and instantly smelled the astoundingly delicious aroma of the dried meat. Her stomach began doing cartwheels. Thor began drooling.

  She fed the dog several pieces at a time. He devoured them without even bothering to chew, gulping down six pieces before Emily had even finished one. “Jeez!” she said, laughing as she handed him more of the jerky. “When was the last time you ate anything?”