Days Nevermore

Stray

I blinked away the memory and stared at my companion’s face, looking back at me with worry. “You alright, Sarge?” Dallas’ tone was kind but concerned. I rolled my eyes and shook my head “I keep telling you men we no longer need to use our titles. They’re meaningless in this life.” My lips turned into a smile that was empty, my eyes mourning the previous life we used to know. “And we keep telling you as long as you’re in charge and helping our small group survive it means something. Especially to the survivors we’ve collected these past few years.” I sighed and shook my head. “I still don’t know why you all voted for me to lead. I’m just a soldier who lost everything like everyone else.” Ruiz tsked as he walked up with his bag full of supplies and chomping on a piece of jerky he had made days prior. “We voted for you because you’re strong and excellent at sorting through situations, thinking on the fly. Yeah, you run a tight ship, but we aren’t falling apart either. You’re better at keeping a level head when it comes to the tougher decisions, Sarge. I’d rather have you lead us than some wacko.” Davis chuckled from behind some shelves. You could hear the audible clunk of canned goods being placed in the box he had carried in. “I doubt wackos are even allowed to reveal themselves. She’s kind of a mind reader and knows what’s coming before they do.” They all chuckled until something clanged in the storeroom. Everyone fell silent and had their automatic rifles at the ready. We silently fell into our formation like we always do, easily reading the other’s thoughts and navigating towards the door on quiet feet. There was another clang like shelves falling from their aging decomposition. As we approached the door there were faint sounds of whining and growls followed by sounds if rustling plastic. I turned to Davis and mouthed “dog”. He frowned and nodded, making his way back to his supply box. He hated what the virus did to dogs. He had to put his own K9 partner down when she began to turn. It started with losing her fur, her eyes turning bloodshot and red. Before turning to the final stage, he gave her mercy to remember her as the sweet, trained soldier she was and not a ravenous beast like so many others. He couldn’t handle seeing the mindless, decaying creatures. It reminded him of her. The dog he raised and trained from puppyhood. He knew we could handle them without him. He didn’t want to see them.

I counted down from three before slowly opening the storage room door and there before us was, as predicted, a dog. But this one wasn’t decomposed in anyway. He was very skinny, fur missing in some places, more like mange. His ribs and hips were showing, and he was trying to tear open a bag of chips he found in his pitiful hunt for food. He whined again in frustration and dug hard at the bag to open it, but it wouldn’t open. He lifted his head, sniffing the air. That’s when the barrel of Ruiz’s gun came into sight. I gently pushed the end of it down with an open hand and shook my head. The dog turned around and sniffed harder. He followed his nose and that’s when we noticed the dog’s eyes were clouded over. He was blind and couldn’t see us, but he could smell us. I doubt he cared about his current hunger hunt. He made his way to Ruiz’s pocket where he stashed his jerky and began licking the pocket and picking at it with his teeth. Ruiz looked to me. After a moment, I nodded. He slowly pulled a piece from the pocket and before he could even offer, over the dehydrated meat, the dog snatched it and ran a few feet away, chewing on it like his life depended on that single slice of jerky. We stood there silently watching this poor creature on the verge of death but trying its best to survive. I sighed and looked to Dallas, who had the medical supply bag on his back. Without me saying a word, he nodded “Got it, Sarge.” He made his way back to the medicine aisle. Ruiz tilted his head, “what’s he doing?” “Going to get supplies to treat his mange,” I nodded towards the dog, “And to get some ointment to possibly treat any wounds on his paws and such.” Ruiz looked towards the dog and back to me, “Are you sure bringing a dog on board is safe? They bark, Sarge.” I remained staring at the dog and nodded, “Yes, they bark. But did you hear him do anything past a quiet growl? He’s been surviving, blind even. Look at him. A few more days without any food or water, he’ll die. Then he’ll become a monster.” Ruiz looked back towards the dog, he walked in and picked up the bag of chips, opened it and offered them to the mutt. As soon as he stuck his nose into the bag, the dog ate. Just ate and ate until there weren’t any chips left in the bag. His descended stomach, which looked awkward on his emaciated frame, was the only proof the bag was empty. He began sniffing around, sniffed up to my right boot, then my pants and raised his head like he could see me. He then put his nose back on the ground and sniffed past me into the store and down the aisle Davis was gathering supplies. We followed and watched as the dog made his way closer and closer to Davis. Just when he was about to sniff his pants, Davis turned and almost jumped out of his skin, dropping the box of supplies. Making just enough ruckus that we all stood silent, listening. Not even a breath escaped our lungs.