Chapter 13: Companions

It's immediately clear I'm being followed. I worry at first it's Poppy, as she'd escaped and come after Beckett and I the night before. But when I carefully check behind me to catch a glimpse of my pursuer, I'm surprised.

The dog. He pads along from hiding place to hiding place, though he doesn't seem to want to hide from me. His tail wags once as our eyes meet, but he keeps his distance.

A companion, no matter the species, is welcome right now.

The sun shines bright and I wish I could stand in it, absorbing its warmth. But if Beckett is to be believed, such an act would be folly. And I feel I'm not completely alone. Others slink about on their own business. I catch the odd glimpse of movement ahead or out of the corner of my eye and do my best to keep my calm around me. No one has made threats or even tried to approach so I offer the same courtesy and stay out of their way.

I'm so used to a noisy city, I realize, the eerie quiet makes me uncomfortable. Again and again my memory plays tricks with my mind. I'm sure I hear a car horn, the rumble of engines as an image of a boisterous and energetic street overlies the truth. The false sounds and sights startle me, make me jumpier than the souls who creep past me, around me.

The map is a great help, though I find myself stopping after only an hour or so. The dog comes closer, nervous of me yet, but something is important enough he feels the need to approach. I pause and give him time, space. I reach into my pocket and take out the foil-wrapped energy bar I have been saving for lunch. The covering crinkles in my hands, sounding unnaturally loud, making me wince. But the smell of sugar and nuts is delicious. I break the bar in half, leaving a chunk of it on the ground before backing away to crouch and eat my piece.

The dog sits and observes me before pacing forward a few steps only to sit again. He whines softly, drool hanging from his jaws, tongue swiping out over and over. His soft ears are raised, heavy with fur, front paws jittering up and down as he stares at the food.

I laugh softly when he finally gives in to temptation, lunging forward to grab the chunk in his mouth. Two chews and it's gone. And, I think, so will he be. But he surprises me. He stays in the shadows of the debris pile I hide behind, paws making little sound as he comes closer. He sits, golden fur ruffling in the soft wind blowing down the street, dark eyes locked on mine.

Again I feel a sense of intelligence from him and wonder what it means. He hums softly under his breath, one huge paw scratching at the ground. He looks back over his shoulder before fixing me with those eyes again. Whines. Looks back again.

He's trying to tell me something. "Okay," I whisper. "Show me."

His thick pink tongue sweeps out one last time before he turns and trots off. Has he understood? There is only one way to find out.

I follow him, trusting his instincts. When he pauses, so do I. When he moves on, I follow without fear. Our travels take us slightly from my course, returning a bit the way I've come, but I don't mind. Wherever he leads me, it has to be important.

The dog enters an alley and disappears. I pause, looking around for him. There is a huge pile of debris, a chunk of a wall and lumped up garbage off to the right. It isn't until he pokes his nose out I see where he's gone. The gap isn't big, but I manage, finding myself inside the back cabin of a ruined four-wheel drive. Tipped on its roof, the shattered window is a perfect doorway in and out.

The scent of decay is strong and it takes me a moment in the darkness to find the source. She would have been lovely, I think, black hide sunken from malnourishment and in death. She hasn't been gone long, though, thin belly barely begun to bloat. But it's not his fallen mate the dog is anxious about, no.

It's the two squirming puppies. He noses them both and they cry, the most piteous sound I've ever heard. Tears flood my eyes as I scoop them up, one at a time, for a quick examination.

Their eyes are open, bodies thin but healthy and whole. A little boy, pale like his father and a sweet-faced little girl, as black as night. I can only hope they are old enough for solid food, because I have nothing else to offer.

We are fortunate, this family and I. The can of compressed ham I offer them is gone so quickly I worry they might choke. The dog watches, drooling, but does nothing to try to take their meal from them. I open a second can, watch them eat that too, their little bellies swelling. The third can goes to their daddy and he gulps it with a soft yip I'm sure is gratitude.

I can't leave them here. My heart won't let me. Even more in this desperate, horrible existence life is precious. But I can't take them with me, either. I think of Beckett, of Poppy. What will they do with the puppies if I bring them back?

I have no choice. I won't abandon them. It seems the meal has exhausted the babies. They curl up in my lap, so sweet and trusting while the dog watches me. Is he wondering what now?

My bag is still too full to accommodate them. I unzip the top part of my jacket and set the pair inside. They just fit, two warm spots pressed to me, little hearts beating with mine.

The dog leans forward and licks my cheek.

"You're welcome." I risk scratching his ear. He groans softly, eyes closing over a little. His fur is thick and soft. Our connection only lasts a moment before he pulls away.

"You're right," I say. "We'd better keep moving."

I feel terrible leaving the mother's body behind, but have no choice. And the dog doesn't seem concerned so I simply offer her a farewell in my mind as we leave the hideout and enter the alley.

The journey back seems quicker than the hour trek of the morning before I found the puppies. Perhaps having two innocent souls so close to me is a distraction I can't afford, but I welcome them, find myself smiling and even humming a little, constantly checking on them under the flap of my coat.

I'm so distracted I almost miss the danger ahead. The dog saves me, grasping my jacket sleeve and pulling me back. I immediately crouch behind a rubbled wall and peer out at the building Beckett and Poppy call home.

A pack of teenagers approach the doorway. Am I being paranoid? Perhaps these are Beckett's people. I'm about to rise when the dog growls softly, ears flat. I take another look, my arm draping around him, feeling him vibrate beside me.

Not Beckett's people. I recognize two of them. The boys from the school. Cade's followers, isn't that right? Whoever Cade is.

I hover, indecision at war inside me. I need to warn Beckett, but it's too late. The group reaches the door and crash through. I can hear the shouting, screams. And I can only think of Poppy.

Heart pounding, I remove my coat, easing the puppies onto it before draping it over them. They are exposed, too exposed for my liking, but I have no options. The dog sniffs them and barks at me.

I have to go. When I do, he is beside me.

***