K9s And Crooks

So this is what being human is— risking our lives for an animal that could be suffering, even though we could be killed in the process. The dog will have gone without food for at least three days. Common sense would value human life higher than that of a dog, but I couldn't sit here and imagine its suffering.

Jon pulled up a map on his iPhone. The house was less than a mile away. Before we left, the girls and Toby wished us luck. He would be staying behind just in case.

"Tom?"

"Yes, we voted, and the decision was in."

"Darling," I said, loading a few things into my satchel.

"I have something for you."

"What's that?" She came up to me on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek.

"Come back quickly."

"I will. Be good and look after the cats. We might have a surprise for you when we come back."

Her face lit up, and she hugged me. We left the flat and jogged for five minutes to the car park.

"Got the house keys?" Jon queried. I was notorious for leaving without them.

"I'm not an idiot. Of course, I have them."

We jumped in and headed off. The drive took a lot longer than it should have. Having to drive around corpses tends to ruin your early morning commute, but we pulled up outside with no incident.

"Right, I'm gonna head in. You drive around till I call, sound like a plan?"

"Got it. Don't get your arse bitten though."

"I would never let that happen. It's my best feature."

"Much better than your face anyway."

I laughed and got out. The street was clear. It was a short road with about 15 houses in all, with well-maintained front gardens, except for the one I was heading to, which was overgrown, wild, and looked more like wasteland, with brown grass and an overgrown hedge.

I approached the door and knocked. I heard soft barking inside. The dog was okay. That cheered me up a bit. Instead of the front door, I unlocked the wooden side door so I wouldn't be noticed on the street. I poked my head through. It seemed clear, so I headed in.

The back garden had been completely concreted over, looking more like an abandoned industrialized zone than a place to be enjoyed. It was bare, with only a couple of wheelie bins and a 6-foot stone wall.

I approached the glass sliding doors. The blinds were down, so I couldn't see inside. This didn't worry me; the house looked secure, so I doubted anything was in there. I inserted the key, opened it slowly, and headed in.

I was in the dining room, a large oak table with six chairs surrounded it. I closed the door behind me. It struck me as I was standing there that I had no idea if this dog was friendly. Oh well, time to find out. I made my way out of the dining room and to the hallway.

Squelch. I looked down. I had trodden in dog shit. Lovely. Then something came racing down the stairs and jumped up at me.

"I guess you're Duke then?" The dog slobbered all over me. "I bet you're starving. Come on then."

I stood up and walked back into the dining room, fished some dry food and tinned food, and poured it into a bowl. It stank worse than the dog shit I trod in. Duke didn't seem to mind. He barked in appreciation and proceeded to wolf it down as I got him some water.

After feeding Duke, I went upstairs, pulled out a couple of travel bags Jane had mentioned, a few things we might find useful, and some clothes she'd asked for. I piled all those in, along with Duke's food and bowls when he was done. I pulled the lead from a nail in the wall.

"How about a walk?"

He jumped up again, obviously eager for me to attach it.

"Okay, ready?"

Woof.

"Great."

I slid the back door open again and locked it behind me, but this time, the garden wasn't as bare. There was one of them, just standing, looking at me. How did it get in? I locked the side door. It advanced at a run. Not a zombie, but human. As soon as this thought hit me, so did the human. He was a good deal bigger than me, at least a good half-foot taller and an extra three stones.

We went back and through the glass. His head was trying to get at my throat. He was trying to bite me. What the hell was this guy doing? I kneed him in the balls. A groan escaped his lips, and he fell to the floor—not a zombie moan. The balls aren't their weakness. He curled up in the fetal position, groaning.

I walked over to him. "Hey, you. Snap out of it."

He looked up and groaned. It was a good impression of a zombie moan, but this guy was definitely human. His eyes—he was bleeding, meaning the heart was beating.

I had an idea. I took a photo of him and turned to leave. He wasn't getting up soon. I picked up Duke's leash and the two travel bags, and my phone rang.

"Are you done?" Jon asked. Urgency rang through his voice.

"What's happened?"

"Toby just called. People are at our front door and they want in. They're threatening to break the door down."

"Fuck. They're going to lead the damn things straight to us. I'm good to go. Got the dog. You outside?"

"Ready and waiting."

I ran into the street, opened the back door of the Fiesta, threw Duke and the bags in, closed the door, and hopped in the front.

"We have the rifle, right?" I asked.

Jon nodded as we sped home. We decided not to park in the usual place but to bring the car to the flats. Maybe the dead we attract would force the people away. We didn't have enough for ourselves, let alone more.

We pulled up. I stepped out of the car. The group was 10 strong, armed with an assortment of bats and knives, dressed in tracksuit bottoms, jeans, and bargain basement t-shirts and coats. They turned as I stepped out.

"I'm sorry, guys, but there's no more space here. We can't take anyone else," I said calmly and confidently.

"We're not asking," the biggest one, obviously the leader, said. He had a blue and white tracksuit top, jeans, Adidas trainers, and a wooly hat over what I think was a shaved head.

"Neither was I," I replied.

The group laughed. "Oh, so you're going to stop us?"

He advanced towards me with a crowbar in his hand.

"Actually, I hoped you would respond to my good manners and politeness."

Another laugh erupted from the group. The man smiled—he was missing his left front tooth. He started to turn away, then suddenly swung the arm that had the crowbar at my head. I stepped back and staggered, just keeping my balance. The group roared with approval again.

I dropped to a knee to regain my balance. The man advanced, sticking his head down to my level. That was when I struck. The front drive was lightly graveled. I gathered some up and threw it in his face. He staggered blindly, dropping his crowbar. I picked it up and smashed it into his stomach. He groaned, lowering his head. I booted him in the face, and he went down.

His group looked shocked.

"Take your friend here and get out."

The group looked in two minds. Then a bang rang out. I looked towards the car. Jon was out and had the rifle perched on the edge.

"First shot's in the air. Second blows your face off," he said.

The group took off running, only delayed by helping their boss up and carrying him away. He was cursing loudly.

"Never knew you were such a good negotiator," I said.

"It's amazing how much more reasonable people are when you can blow their heads off."

We chuckled, phoned Toby to let us in, unpacked the car, and entered. Turns out Toby was right by the front door with the shotgun. The girls and Sky had taken refuge upstairs. They had managed to keep Sky in the dark over what was happening.

We explained to the girls what had happened and took turns petting the dog, Sky obviously being the most enthusiastic. I headed into Jane's room to test an idea. I knocked.

"Come in."

Jane was flicking through one of the magazines.

"I got you a present."

Duke barreled into the room, slobbering on his owner, delighted to see her. After five minutes of baby noises, the greyhound settled down and rested his head on her lap, eyes half-closed. I sat down on the floor.

"The creature that attacked you—would you recognize it if you saw it again?" I inquired.

"I could never forget that thing. It was so different from the others."

"Describe it to me."

"Why?"

"Because you may not be infected."

The answer struck her into silence. She quickly recovered and described the one that attacked me at the house to a tee— from the look in its eyes, the clothes, the way it moved. I showed her pictures of zombies on my phone. She instantly picked out the one that attacked me at the house again.

"That was a human," I said.

"How do you know?" she replied.

"I kicked it in the crotch, and it muttered 'Oh fuck, Jesus Christ.' Don't think normal zombies do that."

"So, I can come out and stay here now, unlocked from the radiator?" The look of hope in her eyes was powerful.

"I said yesterday if you weren't infected, there would be a vote. You're not infected, so there will be a vote."

She nodded glumly and looked at the dog. He seemed happy.

"We are gonna eat, then we'll all come in and discuss what to do next, okay?"

She nodded.

We ate, then the politics began. Everyone had a chance to say their part, but Jane would not get a vote.

We voted and the results were in.