The Book Of Riley A Zombie Tale Part 5
The Final Path Home
Mark Tufo
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
Also by Mark Tufo
Also From DevilDog Press
Thank You!
Copyright © 2016 by Mark Tufo
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Chapter One
For those unfamiliar with me, my name is Riley and this is my story, I am a dog, specifically an American Bulldog according to the two-leggers, yet the heart of my wolf ancestors still beats loudly within my chest. The fact I am a ninety pound female and a mere three summer seasons old should in no way dissuade you from how tough I am. Unlike what some misinformed scientists have claimed, I am self-aware. I love my pack of humans, I enjoy television, although for the most part, unless a cat is falling off of something I find it boring. I can see colors and I thoroughly enjoy human food more than the cardboard kibbles they place in my dish. I just have the good grace to not beg at every opportunity like Ben-Ben, yet if he gets something I will make my presence known. The night the world changed, the only ones of us who survived were myself, Jess the teenaged girl who is easily my favorite, her infant brother Zachary, and Ben-Ben the Yorkshire Terrier who I have been learning to tolerate. I hadn’t gotten a decent night’s rest since they brought him back from the animal dumping facility, or to you humans, the pound. And last, and definitely least, the last sole survivor was the cat, Patches. I’d promised that one day I was going to catch that little fleabag and…well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have been pretty. Yet she proved herself alongside Ben-Ben numerous times as we escaped various hardships on our quest cross-country to reunite Jess with her old boyfriend Justin Talbot.
I guess I’ll start at the beginning because two-leggers tend to be so busy they forget things, including taking their dog out on a proper walk. The day the alphas brought Ben home, I was mourning the passing of my friend George the English Bulldog, who was perhaps the most majestic animal I’d ever known. Yes, the new guy was originally known as Ben but he would get in so much trouble the humans would have to say his name twice to get his attention, and so it stuck as Ben-Ben.
“Ben.” Normal conversational tone. Then a much louder, “BEN! Get out of the trash!”
“Ben. BEN! Stop eating your crap!”
“Ben. BEN! Stop tearing the couch up!” You get the point; eventually it was just easier to say Ben-Ben.
I don’t know what the two-leggers were thinking if they thought this thing could ever replace the irreplaceable. Then the zombies came and that little crazy dog stood paw to paw with me on the top of the stairs as we defended our home. I’d thought we’d lost him. He somehow found his way out of the pile of zombies and so began our trip. The five of us were heading to a place called Colorado, to Jess’ old boyfriend, someone she’d had to leave behind after the great move.
The trip was more difficult than we could have thought, Patches only got along with herself and even then I don’t think that was always the case. Water and food were scarce and Zachary was sick and getting sicker. We had to seek out two-legger help. I was warned by Patches and Ben-Ben that not all two-leggers were like our alphas. I’d had a hard time believing it back then, but not anymore. We did find two good people, Winke and Faye, and they took us in. Ben-Ben was convinced Winke was Santa, the bringer of bacon to good dogs everywhere. They helped Zach to get better and made us feel as if their home was ours. It’s possible we would have stayed there if not for Christmas Eve when Winke made an ill-advised trip to get a present for his wife. He was bit by a zombie and it was all we could do to escape before we were eaten as well. Oh yeah, the cat made it out too.
We were back on the hard-packed ground, heading through a place called Nevada when things went from bad to worse. Zachary had been improving at Faye’s but he had not gotten completely well and was now getting sick again, rapidly. I watched as the cub died and then came back. The joy I felt was somewhat muzzled when the cub began to speak. Not aloud but rather in our heads, everyone except for Jess, which was strange. The one good part of the whole thing was watching the cat as all these things happened; she couldn’t stand it. For that reason alone I thought it was the best thing ever. Zach said his mother had given him the ability when he saw her, said he would need it to survive. Ben-Ben wouldn’t stop licking his face, I guess because he was happy the cub was alive, but I think more for the fact he thought the baby would be able to get him bacon now.
It was the first good news we’d had in a while, then we got to Las Vegas. It had gotten bad real fast. Jess was taken to see the leader of their community, a madman known as Icely. Ben-Ben was taken by one of our captors as was I, though I ended up in a small cage alongside a bunch of other dogs. The cat, well, she slunk away like cats are apt to do. I was forced to fight another dog to the death. Thorn was a huge Rottweiler, I tried to talk to him about the craziness of what we were doing but he believed completely in what the two-leggers told him to do. I beat him, I thought it was the most disdainful thing I’d ever been through and it was, at least, for half a day then the cat came back and rescued me, that was worse. I found that I had to start appreciating what she did, that was worse.
We escaped the kennels and went to find Ben-Ben who seemed to be living the high-life in his new home. We almost left him behind; again, I was wrong on the motives of my pack mates. He was doing what was necessary to survive, much like we all had been. Our next stop was to get Jess and Zach who just so happened to be at Icely’s home. We were able to get them out with the help of another female two-legger named Mia. Leaving Las Vegas was not nearly as easy as getting there but finally we managed. We all thought we were safe, only Mia knew the depths of Icely’s insanity; he would never let his prizes go. We weren’t too far out of the two-legger habitat and the hunt was on.
We encountered wheeler problems and deader problems. We’d had to retreat into the home of another two-legger: his name was Koala, and his ancient dog Jumper. Funny name for a dog who could barely lift his head off the couch cushion. They took us in and we were thankful, they even fought next to us when Icely’s hunters found us. It was a narrow escape once they burned the house down. Koala, Jumper and Mia paid the ultimate price to secure our freedom, and the cat made it as well. Icely would not stop his relentless pursuit even though we bled his hunters. In the final showdown I took him down like the rabid two-legger that he was. We were all exhausted, although, hope did begin to rise as we got closer to where Justin lived. Then that same hope was crushed as we saw the community had been in the middle of a small and savage war. Not much remained of the buildings.
Jess had broken down and cried uncontrollably. We waited and offered the comfort we could, except the cat. When she realized there were others involved she finally got herself under control and began to explore our surroundings. We found what she called the clubhouse and it was a large building. What was even more impressive about it was the amount of food stored inside of it. We had a comfortable living for a season or two, enjoying each other’s company and just living life. Jess’ sadness pervaded. It wasn’t anything she displayed outwards but it could always be felt when one got close to her. She missed her alphas and the boy and just two-leggers in general. I thought maybe getting rid of the cat would make her happier but Zach told me that wouldn’t
be a good idea. He’s a cub though, what does he know?
It wasn’t home, but at the same time it was, and I don’t think we would have gone anywhere new for a long time to come if not for the two-legger named Alex. He had lived in this community before and had come back after losing his family, said he wanted to die where it all began. He would have too if not for us. He’d found someone he could help, and he said he knew where Justin had gone and would help us to get there. The cat was reluctant to go and one would think I would have tried to convince her that her path was correct; instead, I fought for her to come with us. We weren’t completely over our differences but she was part of the pack and that was all that mattered. So back onto the hard-packed ground we went. The vast majority of travelling across the country went without so much as a hitch until we got to the state of Maine. Alex had died saving Jess and so had I, if I’m being honest. This continues my fifth and final installment in my story; I just hope it is a happy ending as I have grown so tired.
The biting from the zombie was an unimaginable pain. I thought the sting of losing Alpha and his mate, of losing Ben-Ben’s Santa, of losing Mia, I thought this might have been inexpressible. The heart-wrenching pain of watching Jess, Zachary, Ben-Ben and even the cat, Patches, as they drove away was equally as bad, and I thought that was the most I could ever suffer. I was wrong. The zombie tearing into my flesh in an effort to get at my pack was so much worse. I saw my beloved George in what I figured to be my final moments alive. Oh, how I missed the majestic George, the English Bulldog that taught me everything he knew. It was so good to be next to him, to smell him to be able to lick his face again. I could be happy here, and there was not a cat in sight!
George and I had been walking for a while, he didn’t say much, he usually never did. Ours was an easy-going relationship, the mere fact of proximity was generally enough. I loved sharing in his company. The walking part was a bit strange, George wasn’t much for any extended activity.
“Where are we going?” I’d asked him after a time.
“Nowhere really. I just like to walk now that I can. No pain in my joints and I don’t get winded, I love it here.”
“Will I always be able to stay with you?” I asked him hopefully.
He stopped. He didn’t actually look at me, he was looking at something far ahead of us. “One day.”
“But not this day?” I had some alarm in my voice.
“No.” Now he did turn. “Your suffering is not yet complete. I had hoped to take you away from as much of it as I could.”
“I want to stay, George. I miss you so much it aches inside.”
“You have always been a faithful friend Riley and I have missed you as well. Fear not. In the end, all will be as it was meant to.”
“Does that include Ben-Ben?”
“Of course.”
I gulped. “What about the cat?”
“What do you think?”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“Tell ThornGrip I said hello.”
“Who is ThornGrip?” And with that I retreated, no, I was pulled back from the warmth and love of George and the place we were in, back to the cold and the pain of whence I’d come. The numerous places I’d been bitten burned as if fire had been placed on them. I knew the pain of fire, once while camping with Alpha and his male offspring as a puppy I had stepped in the small stone ringed enclosure. The pain had been immense. George could only shake his head, he was smiling as he told me to go put my hurt paw in the small stream we were next to.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I’d told him repeatedly before licking the side of his face.
“Can I get some sleep now?”
“Of course.” I’d licked his face four or five times more, maybe as many as eight times although I can’t count much higher than seven with any degree of accuracy.
I was snapped back to the present, the fire-wounds momentarily forgotten as I looked up into the face of a monster. The animal was immense, and if the savage snarl and drool were any indication, it was as angry as I’d ever seen anything could be. A paw easily the size of my head swept over me and into the zombie that had been biting me. The zombie had been removed from atop of me, a gaping wound opened in its chest. The large animal walked over me, I was enormously happy that it had missed stepping on me. If by design or happenstance, I don’t know, I was grateful either way. I rolled off my back and onto my side just as the beast before me pounced on the zombie. Claws larger than my teeth burst though the zombie’s chest and thighs, pockets of black blood flew into the air.
The zombie bit wildly at the large animal but could not get through its thick fur and hide. I managed to shakily get to my legs; I whined as I did so. The bear, for that was what it was, wrapped its mammoth jaws around the head of the zombie. It did not crush but rather pulled the head free from the body with a slight shake of its head. I could not even begin to imagine the immeasurable strength the animal had. I was transfixed by the death it had just dealt. So much so I did not think to make a hasty retreat, although I do not believe I would have been able to do so. She then spun and raked her huge front paw across the mid-section of the next nearest zombie, the white of spine shone through for a moment before the zombie collapsed in on itself, not dead but out of the fight. The bear took out three more zombies in similar fashion, two she laid completely open, diseased and grayed internal organs fell wetly to the ground. The last she snapped the neck of, the sound loud enough to hurt my ears.
“Can you move dog?” The bear swiveled her head to me. There was a wild look to her eyes, she took no great pleasure in the kill and something told me she was afraid to be this close to the dead ones.
“Some.”
“We don’t have time for some, there are too many of them.” I thought it was the end. I couldn’t figure out why George would send me back just for this. The bear wrapped her maw around the scruff of my neck and picked me up. We were the right size I suppose for her to treat me as a pup, that didn’t mean I didn’t feel a little indignity in it. I think it would have hurt less to run on my own than being in her mouth but how does one tell a bear something.
When we stopped, she gently let me go before collapsing herself. Her tongue lolled out as she took in mighty breaths. Neither of us said anything. I watched her warily, wondering if she were to fall asleep should I just quietly leave?
“I will not harm you,” she finally said.
“Are bears trustworthy?”
“I am not a mountain lion.” She scoffed. “My name is ThornGrip.”
“You know George?” was all I could think to ask. She only stared blankly. “My name is Riley. Thank you for saving me. Why though?”
“Is that how you often express gratitude?” She yawned.
“No, not at all, this just seems like it came from a very unusual source.”
“Do not bears help dogs where you come from?”
“I do not believe so,” I answered truthfully.
“I need to sleep now. I may tell you the reasons upon awakening. For now you should wash your wounds out. There is a river just over there.” She pointed with her snout. “Do not go in too far. The current is swift and you are small. If you are taken I will not be able to save you again.”
“Thank you,” I said, but it fell upon deaf ears, she was breathing deeply and was soundly asleep. The water was cool and greatly soothed my bites. I was also able to slake my thirst, something I did not think I was going to be able to do when I first started lapping the water up. When I was done I moved back to the shore, I found a small clearing illuminated by the warmth of the sun and laid down. I was fearful for Jess and the rest, but right now the best thing I could do for them was to regain my strength. I would seek them out when I could.
My mind pictures were untroubled, most revolved around lying with my head on Alpha’s lap as he absently stroked my fur, sometimes behind my ear, sometimes on my chest. It mattered little where the contact was made, just that there was some.
I don’t know how long I slept. When I woke, the burning disc was hanging low in the sky and my wounds, although they still throbbed, were not at the forefront of my thoughts. What was more important was the hunger now gnawing at my stomach. I stood up, thankful the wobble in my legs was not nearly as pronounced as it had been earlier. I stumbled as something hit me in the side of the face and fell to the ground, flapping.
“You like fish?” ThornGrip asked. She was in the middle of the stream looking at me. I took note that there were four good sized fish all flopping around me.
I wanted to tell her not really, that the only time I ate fish was when I was stealing it from Patches, the cat. Instead, I stepped on one with my paw, trying to keep it from finding the water. I watched as ThornGrip grabbed another clean out of the water and ate it. She ripped the head off and then peeled the meat from the inside. I copied her moves as best I could, although I could not grab the fish like she had, I used the ground and my two front paws to achieve the same effect. It wasn’t my favorite thing to eat but it beat air. There was only one fish left by the time I was full. I ate that one too. I felt my belly swaying; I thought for sure it was going to start dragging on the ground.
ThornGrip had come up to join me on shore. Her size was impressive and if I’m being truthful, terrifying as well. She would not need to do much more than tap me with that paw, and I would be done.
“Did you enjoy your dinner?” she asked as she sat on her hindquarters, so she could lick her front paws.
“I did.” I paused. “I do not normally enjoy the creature but this time I could barely eat enough of it.”
“How could you not like fish?” She was done with her paws although she stayed in that strange sitting position. She looked much like a two-legger the way she was posed. “I saw the human vehicle leave before I came over. Did they hurt you?”