When We Shed Civilization

Chapter 24

Beth and Burt had spent the waning afternoon on the roof of a car—a high, boxy vehicle, impossible to climb for the dogs.

A stalemate. The pack couldn't reach them, and they couldn't escape.

Beth's buttocks hurt from sitting on hard metal for what felt like hours. She turned her body to one side, placing her weight on her elbow. One dog lifted its head from its paws and observed her with an attentive, yellow-eyed stare.

They had counted eight of the creatures—most of them resting now as if having settled in for a long wait.

Burt lay on his back, next to her.

"What do we do if they don't leave?" she asked him.

"We've still got the gun." He patted the weapon tugged into his pants.

The gesture reminded her of what had transpired only a few hours ago, of how Burt had shot the woman.

The same Burt who smiled at her now.

She looked away from him, seeking out the dogs. Yellow Eyes seemed to be the pack's leader. Two more were lying in the shade, next to it. And another pair was on the car's other side. She had lost sight of the rest.

With a sigh, Burt pulled the gun from his pants and sat up. Then he aimed it at the lead dog. "Shall I?"

The animal rose to a sitting position and cocked its head in a curious, almost human gesture.

"No, wait," she said. "Someone or something might hear us." Silence had ruled for at least an hour now as they had been trapped on the car. A gunshot would be heard for miles. There had to be ears in the city—ears of creatures much worse than a pack of dogs.

Human ears.

"There's nothing out here but dogs." Burt still had the gun trained on the animal. "And the assholes that have caught us. And if they come looking for us, we'll be a pair of sitting ducks, caught on this bloody car. It's time to get away from here. I'd say we shoot and run."

Beth looked back the way they had come from. Would the others be following? Leo?

The avenue led to the desolate slope they had descended. Nothing moved there. She couldn't see the building where they had killed the woman, but the thought of her lying at the bottom of her pit made Beth shiver.

"I'll take out their boss," Burt said. "Maybe, that will send the rest of them running."

Feeling sorry for the beautiful animal, Beth was about to put a hand on Burt's arm when a bark tore through the still air. It came from the North, not from the animals guarding them.

Yellow Eyes stood and perked its ears, gazing down the alley and then back at them. When another bark called from the distance, it whined. With a last look at Beth, it turned and loped off.

One of the other pack members growled, then they all got up and followed their leader.

When the last of the animals had disappeared between the dead cars clogging the road to the North, Burt pushed the gun back into his pants. "Let's leave."

Beth was the first to reach the ground. Her legs were stiff, and moving them was painful.

They took the easterly road, into city center.

As they advanced, the scenery changed. The houses stood taller here, and they added to the shadows of the sun on its descent towards the horizon. The street cut like a ravine through them.

It hadn't cooled down, yet a chill ran along Beth's arms.

There were countless windows to watch them from.

The shadows deepened as the rays of the sun withdrew to the topmost buildings.

A metallic clang came from the road behind them. Beth turned, yet she saw nothing but a lifeless street.

Somewhere, a dog barked.

"Come." Not waiting for Burt, Beth made for the closest building.

They entered it through a shattered door of glass, avoiding the sharp shards still clamped in its frame.

The room beyond must have been a shop. Some metal shelf units were still standing, yet the wares they had held were long gone.

Another bark made Beth turn and look into Yellow Eye's feral stare. It stood outside the entrance and growled as two others joined it.

Burt grasped a fallen chair and pushed himself between her and the entrance. "I'll keep them out. Try to find an exit, a door we can close on them. Hurry!"

With a last glance at him threatening the dogs with his chair, she turned towards the gloomy back of the room. The place was a few quick steps across, and the only exit was a door behind a counter. She had to clear a path through stacks of yellowish plastic foil. When she finally reached it, she found it locked.

Cursing and a growl from the entrance made her turn. Burt's silhouette was outlined against the last light outside as he smacked one of the creatures with the chair. The growl turned to a whine, and the dog retreated a few steps to join its friends. They had grown in numbers—there had to be at least a dozen of the animals outside.

Two more attacked.

This time Burt didn't use the chair. Instead, he pulled the gun.

The sound of the shots inside the small room was deafening. They rang out again and again. The two attackers fell, but the shooting continued. Burt now aimed the weapon at the pack assembled outside, and its members scattered, yelping and barking.

Suddenly, the shooting stopped.

"Shit," Burt said. "Out of bullets. I hope this has scared them off. Have you found a way out?"

Beth's ears still rang from the shots. "No. There's a door here, but it's locked."

"Then think of something else." His voice was tight as he hefted the chair. "They're attacking again."

Frantically, Beth groped in the murk behind the counter, looking for anything that might serve as a weapon. Yet all she found were the rolls of foil.

She squeezed one of them. The brittle material cracked and flaked under her fingers—not much of a weapon.

Or was it?

She placed the one she had on the counter and pulled the lighter from her pocket—the one from, Dillon, her would-be financé from the mountain village. Like an eternity ago.

The lighter that had no fuel.

She brought it close to the plastic and turned the wheel at its top, producing a shower of sparks. They landed on the foil, where they died.

"Dammit," Burt yelled. "Come over here and help me."

She turned the wheel once more. One spark made a flake of plastic flare up, but the flame died within a second.

A dog's growl became a wail, but the fierce snarling of another one replaced it.