The Dog

by Amy Cross

  “Mom says she saw a train once,” the boy is saying as I get closer. “She was actually on one. Apparently we were, too, back when we were just babies. I wish I could remember what the world used to be like.”

  “Do you think they'll ever come back?” the girl asks. She seems a year or two younger than the boy, and something about her face reminds me a little of Julie. “I'd like to see a train. Even if I couldn't ride on one, I'd at least like to see what they look like.”

  “Dad says they can't,” the boy explains. “He says they're rusting away somewhere and that no-one would be able to get them running again. But I know Mom thinks he's wrong. She thinks there might be trains again, and planes in the air too. I'd love to see a plane. Sometimes I think they can't be real, that everyone's lying when they say people used to fly, but Mom and Dad and Grandpa say they all flew once, before we were born. Apparently you used to have to get checked out before you were allowed on a plane.”

  “Why?”

  “In case you were trying to hurt people.”

  The girl frowns. “But why?”

  “I don't know, that's just what Mom told me. People sometimes tried to make planes crash. I guess people did weird things back then.”

  He reaches down and pulls a tuft of weeds out from between the metal rails.

  “Sometimes their stories make it sound like everything wasn't perfect. Like, I can't even imagine living with so many other people all around. Remember those photos Mom showed us, the ones of New York? How did people ever live like that? I think I'd go crazy, I'd end up -”

  Suddenly he glances this way, and we make eye contact again.

  I get to my feet, growling and ready to run.

  Fumbling in his pocket, the boy pulls out another piece of meat and quickly throws it toward me.

  “That's for you!” he stammers. “It's okay, we don't want to hurt you! We just want to be your friend!”

  I know I should run, but the meat already smells irresistible, and after a moment I scamper forward. After swallowing it whole, I retreat into the grass.

  “Give him yours!” the boy says, turning to the girl.

  She takes some meat from her pocket and throws it toward me. I hesitate again, before crawling forward while keeping my eyes fixed on them. I don't growl this time, but I make sure to take the meat quickly and then I hurry into the grass again.

  “What's your name?” the boy asks, taking a cautious step toward me. He taps his chest. “I'm Harry, and this is my sister Sophie.”

  He said my name again. My old name. But it's not my name now, I realize that, even if it brings back certain memories.

  “Harry,” the girl says, tugging at his arm. “Be careful. He's wild.”

  “I know, but...”

  “He's wild! Wild animals can be dangerous!”

  “He doesn't look that wild. He's kinda small and cute.”

  He peers at me, as if something has caught his attention. After a moment he edges closer, and this time I stand my ground and wait to see what he'll do next. He seems friendly, but I've learned that humans can't be trusted.

  “Can I pat you?” he asks, kneeling in front of me.

  I know I should growl, to warn him away, but somewhere deep down I'm starting to remember those times in the past when I used to let strangers get close. Memories that I'd pushed aside during my years alone out here are now rushing back.

  Reaching out, Harry finally places a hand on my side, and for the first time in many years I feel fingers gently running through my fur.

  “It's okay,” he says calmly. “You're cute. Little and cute. Can I take a look at your collar?”

  I wait, tense in case he hurts me, but after a moment he turns my collar slightly and leans closer.

  “Jon Anderson,” he reads out loud, and then he turns to the girl. “He was someone's pet dog once. He must have been out here all alone ever since the bad things happened.” He turns to me again. “Or is Jon Anderson still around? Are you with someone?”

  I feel a faint shudder when I hear Jon's name again. Over the years, his scent has completely faded from my collar, but I still remember how he smelled. That's one thing I'll never forget.

  “Come and pet him,” Harry continues, stroking my shoulders. “Sophie, don't be scared.”

  The girl comes forward cautiously, but after a moment's hesitation she kneels next to me and starts patting my flank.

  “See?” Harry says with a smile. “He's friendly. His tail's wagging. Maybe if we take him home, Daddy will say that -”

  Suddenly Sophie's hand touches my injured leg. I let out a brief growl as a flash of pain runs through the bone, and the two children pull back.

  “I told you he's wild!” Sophie hisses.

  “I think he's just hurt,” Harry replies, looking at my leg. “See there? The flesh is all knotted, like it's healed badly. He probably got hurt and there was no-one around to fix him up properly. It's okay, you just touched him in a bad place.”

  “He almost bit me!”

  “Don't worry, dog,” he continues, touching my shoulder again. “We're friendly. You look very thin, but maybe we can get you some more food. How long have you been all by yourself out here? Do you want to come home with us?”

  I don't know what he's saying, but he seems gentle and I can't stop thinking about the meat he's been giving me. If there's even a slight chance that I might get more, then I guess I'm willing to stick close to him for a while. Even if I no longer like humans, they can be useful, and I'm still fast enough to get away if they try to hurt me.

  “We should get back,” he says as he stands. “You need a name, dog. I'm going to call you...”

  He stares at me for a moment, as if he's lost in thought.

  “Ben,” he adds finally.

  “Ben?” Sophie asks. “Why Ben?”

  “That was our uncle's name, remember? And he was always nice to us. I think this dog is nice too, so I want to call him Ben. Unless you've got a better idea.”

  “I just want to get home,” she replies, stepping past him and heading away from the rails, out into the field. “Keep that thing away from me, and don't blame me when he bites your hand off.”

  “You won't bite me, will you?” Harry asks, reaching down and stroking my head again. “Maybe you'll even be allowed to sleep inside, if I can talk Mom around. Dad'll be tricky, but if I can persuade Mom, then she'll get him to agree. Come on, Ben, this way.”

  He turns and heads off after Sophie.

  For a moment, I'm not sure what I should do next. Part of me remembers what it was like to be around humans when Jon was still alive and things were good, and part of me remembers Melissa and Thomas. I've been fine by myself in the meadow, hunting for food and spending my time alone, but I can't deny that the pull of company is stronger than I ever would have guessed.

  “Ben!” Harry shouts, turning and waving at me. “Come on!”

  Ben.

  That seems to mean me.

  “Ben!” he yells. “Hurry, Ben! This way!”

  I immediately set off after him, although I can't run too fast. My legs are old and painful, and my ribs still hurt even after all these years. I'm old now.

  ***

  “Who do you think they are?” Sophie whispers a little while later, as the three of us sit next to the ridge and watch unfamiliar figures down at the farmhouse. “Do you think they're friendly?”

  I thought we were going to go all the way to the house, but instead Harry and Sophie stopped and hid behind the ridge as soon as they saw a large black car ahead. Some new arrivals seem to have shown up, with two men having gone into the farmhouse with Harry's family, and now I can sense the children's fear.

  “It's probably okay,” Sophie continues, her voice filled with nerves. “It's probably just... It's just someone who came to say hello, that's all. They'll leave soon.”

  “Mom's always scared of new people showing up,” Harry replies.

  “Mom's scared of everything. I get it, but...
Maybe these people are okay.”

  I look over at Harry and see the concern in his eyes. He hasn't said a word for the past few minutes, and he seems far more worried than Sophie.

  Hearing voices down at the farmhouse, I turn and watch as the two black-suited figures head back to their car. Harry's parents watch from the doorway, and even from all the way up here I can tell that something isn't right. When the car's engine starts, I instinctively take a step back, reminded of the time I spent in cars with Thomas and his friends, and the scent of the new arrivals seems to be filling the area even as they drive away. Feeling nervous and scared, I turn to walk away, before stopping and looking back at the children.

  “Well, I'm going down to see what's up,” Sophie says, getting to her feet. “If you two cowards want to hide up here, that's your business.”

  As she heads down the slope, I wait for Harry to react, but he's still watching the black car as it disappears into the distance. After a moment, realizing that he's worried and that his heart is pounding, I step over to him and nudge his shoulder. He doesn't reply, so I wag my tail a little as I sit next to him.

  “She's probably right,” he whispers finally, turning to me with a faint, forced smile. “I mean... It's probably nothing. I just have a bad feeling, that's all.”

  With that, he gets up and heads down the slope.

  “Come on, Ben,” he mutters.

  I want to go with him, but something about the men in that black car left a horrible stench in the air and I don't dare go any closer. As Harry gets further and further away, I let out a faint whimper, but he doesn't look back at me. I can't go with him, so I decide to wait here at the ridge until he returns.

  I think I finally know what I didn't like about the scent of that black car, though. I think I could smell blood on its tires.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  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.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “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.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  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!”