The Dog (22 page)
For the next few hours, Harry simply sits on the ground and stares up at the bodies. His eyes are open wide and he barely even blinks.
The house is still burning, sending plumes of smoke drifting all around us, and carrying burned black ashes up to the corpses, resting them gently on patches of bloodied flesh.
“She's not here,” Harry whispers, poking the rubble with a stick. “She can't be. There'd be bones or...”
His voice trails off for a moment. He's standing in the ruined farmhouse now that the flames have died down, and for a few seconds he seems lost in thought until, finally, he turns to me. In the space of just a few hours, his eyes seem darker somehow, with more shadows, and with sore red patches all around the edges. Since he stopped sobbing a few minutes ago, he's seemed to be in some kind of daze.
“That means they took her.”
I watch from the doorway as he looks around at the charred stone walls. Everything inside the building has been burned, leaving a thick carpet of black ash all over the floor.
“Why would they take her?” he asks, his voice still trembling with shock. “Why would they want my sister? What would they want to do with her?”
He pauses, before coming back to the doorway and stepping past me, back out into the mud.
“There are tire tracks,” he continues. “They were here in their car. They said they'd be back eventually, they said they'd want to be paid or... Dad said he could reason with them, but...”
Again, his voice trails off.
I wait for him to say something, but he seems to have stopped, as if he's in too much shock to know what he should do next. I can see the three bodies still impaled on the stakes, but Harry hasn't looked at them for a while now, as if he can't bring himself to face what was done to his family.
“Sophie said that I couldn't imagine the bad things these people might do,” he stammers finally, still staring at the tire tracks in the mud. “Why would they take her? She's only a couple of years older than me, what would they want with...”
Again, he falls silent for a moment.
“When she said I couldn't imagine what they'd do...”
He stares at the ground.
“I have to get her back,” he whispers. “I can't let them hurt her. I have to find her.”
He turns to me.
“The tire tracks,” he adds finally. “I have to follow the tire tracks and get my sister back, but first...”
He hesitates, and then finally he looks at the three corpses.
“First I have to get them down from there.”
***
He works hard, first digging three separate holes in the ground and then one by one pulling the stakes down until the corpses are resting on the mud. For the first time since I met him, Harry looks less like a child and more like an adult. I can see that he's struggling, and there are tears in his eyes, and he lets out several pained grunts as he slips or falls.
Finally he gets his parents and his grandfather into the holes, and then he starts shoveling dirt back in to cover them up. He pushes on, even though I can tell he's close to collapse, and he doesn't stop until the graves have been filled. Only then, finally, does he drop the shovel and fall back, landing hard on the ground.
Stepping closer, I see something new in his eyes. A kind of anger.
“Now we go and find Sophie,” he whispers breathlessly, before hauling himself to his feet. Almost tripping, he staggers toward the tire tracks. He needs to rest. “Come on, Ben. We have to go get my sister back. I don't care how far we have to walk, we're going to track her down.”
I hurry after him, catching up just as he grabs an old dress from a pile in a wooden barrel. He examines it for a moment, before reaching down as if he wants me to smell the scent.
“That's Sophie's,” he tells me, his voice trembling slightly. “Do you understand? That's what she smells like. Now let's go find her.”
I sniff the dress, but I don't know what he wants me to do.
“Sophie,” he says firmly. “Come on, I know you can do this. You must have tracked someone before in your life. We have to find Sophie.”
He presses the dress against my nose.
“Sophie! Do you get it now? Find Sophie!”
He pauses, before tossing the dress aside and setting off along the same path as the tire tracks. I follow, and after a moment I realize that we seem to be following the tracks away from the farmhouse. I start sniffing the ground as I hurry ahead of Harry. There's a strong small of blood mixed with the rubber, and I'm also picking up a very faint trace of his sister's scent.
“That's good,” he calls after me. “Keep going, Harry. Find Sophie!”
So we start walking, just the two of us, following the tracks across the wide, desolate landscape.
I'm exhausted, and I can tell from the way he stumbles occasionally that Harry is exhausted too, but neither of us stops, neither of us even slows our pace for a moment. The tire tracks are sometimes harder to see, but their scent remains strong and we manage to keep to them as they lead us for miles and miles. Occasionally we find spots where multiple sets of tracks pass one another, but I can tell from the scent which ones are the most recent and Harry seems to trust me.
Eventually, however, the sun starts to set up ahead, dipping down toward the horizon and casting long shadows across the land.
“We can't sleep,” Harry says a short while later, his voice sounding harsh and ragged. “You can stop if you need to, Ben, but I have to keep going. You'll have to catch up.”
Something seems different about him now. Even though he's walking, he sounds half asleep, almost delirious.
As night falls, we continue to walk, even as the temperature drops. There's a clear moon, which at least means we can just about see the tracks, although the scent is still strong. Harry almost wanders off in the wrong direction a couple of times, but I bark to let him know that he's made a mistake and each time he turns and follows me. Humans don't seem to have a great sense of smell, that's something I noticed all the way back when I was still living with Jon, but for me the tire tracks seem to be almost burning through the night, blazing a trail and showing us exactly which way to go.
And by the time morning comes and the sun rises behind us, we're still walking, still following the tracks.
Letting out a sudden gasp, Harry drops to the ground. His legs have seemed weak for a while now, and they finally seem to have buckled beneath his weight. He tries to get up, but the effort seems to be too much and he freezes for a moment before rolling onto his side and letting out a longer, slow groan.
We've been walking for two days and two nights now, and it has been clear for the past few hours that he's close to collapse. We haven't eaten since we left the farmhouse, and our only water has come from a bottle that has been hanging from Harry's waist, and now even that is starting to run low
Now Harry's on the ground, as if his legs can't carry him any further, and he doesn't seem able to get up.
Realizing that he seems to be on the verge of passing out, I step closer and start licking his face, hoping to somehow keep him going. His skin tastes salty, but he's passing out so I start licking his ear and finally his eyes flicker open.
“I need to sleep,” he whispers. “Ben, please... Leave me alone.”
His eyes slip shut again.
Letting out a faint whimper, I nudge his cheek with my nose.
He mumbles something under his breath, before rolling over until he has his back to me.
I hurry around and immediately nudge his face again, and when that doesn't work I start licking his nose.
“Go away!” he stammers, pushing my face back. “I have to sleep.”
I step closer, but he pushes me back again.
“Leave me alone, Ben,” he whispers, with his eyes still shut. “I'm just going to...”
His voice trails off.
Whimpering again, I use my paw to scratch at his shoulder, but this time he doesn't respond at all. I try again, but he seems to have slipped into a deep sleep. Stepping back, I watch him for a few seconds before starting to bark, but even this doesn't seem to be enough.
I settle next to him, hoping that he'll wake soon. His breathing seems shallow after walking for two full days and nights, and I know that I have to stay alert in case any danger comes this way.
So even though I desperately want to sleep, I force myself to stay awake for hours and hours, guarding Harry and waiting for him to stir. Eventually I struggle to keep my eyes open, and my head feels as if it's starting to spin a little. My nose is getting sore, too, thanks to the relentless sun that beats down upon us, and my paws are cracked and bleeding.
But still I refuse to sleep.
If I sleep, something might happen to him, and I might not wake up again.
And then suddenly I feel the ground starting to shudder beneath my damaged paws.
I look both ways along the dusty road, but there's no sign of anyone coming this way. The vibrations suggest that a car is approaching, even though I can see for hundreds of meters in both directions and there's definitely no-one around. A moment later, I hear a high-pitched whistling sound, and I turn just in time to spot a plume of smoke in the distance, coming closer.
“What's that?” Harry whispers, his voice sounding slurred. “What...”
The whistling sound stops for a moment, but now I can also hear some kind of engine. The plume of smoke seems to be moving somehow, and finally I spot a car far away. Except it's bigger than a car, and much longer, and noisier too. Figuring that maybe it's someone who can help Harry, I step around him and hurry across the rocky ground, until I spot a set of familiar metal rails up ahead.
I edge closer, while taking care to hold back in case something tries to attack me.
The huge machine, whatever it is, has begun to slow as it reaches a point where the gleaming rails turn through a bend. I can hear voices, too, and suddenly I spot a figure waving at me from a window at the very front of the machine. I hurry forward, putting aside my fears for a moment, and then I see the figure tossing something out the window. He leans back inside, and then he tosses something else out. Still a little nervous, I watch as the machine grinds around the bend, and then slowly it starts to pick up speed again, releasing fresh plumes of smoke as it heads off into the distance.
Once it's gone, the rails continue to hum for a few minutes before falling still, and finally I dare step closer so I can see what was thrown out.
There are two small packages on the ground. They look like clumps of paper, but there's something inside and slowly I start to pick up the scent of meat. By the time I reach the nearest package, the scent is even stronger, and I realize that the men in the machine definitely threw some kind of food out toward me. My belly is so empty, it's starting to hurt, but I know I can't keep the food for myself so, instead, I take one of the packages in my mouth and then hurry back to the side of the road, where Harry is still unconscious.
Setting the first package down, I run my paw against his arm to wake him. When that doesn't work, I scratch him harder, finally making him stir.
“Leave me alone,” he whispers, “I just...”
His voice trails off, and a moment later his eyes flicker open and he stares at the package. He pauses, before suddenly sitting up as if he's gripped by a fresh burst of energy. His trembling fingers tear the package apart until he finds a chunk of meat inside, slipped between two slices of bread.
“Was that a train I heard just now?” he stammers, before taking a large mouthful.
Turning, I hurry back to the side of the rails and grab the second package, which I carry over to him. He's already finished the first sandwich, and he wastes no time in tearing the new package open and finding another. He slips a piece of meat out before starting to eat, and then he holds the meat out toward me.
“Go on,” he says with his mouth still full. “Eat.”
I wait, not daring to take food from him, but finally he holds it closer and I can't help myself. I gulp the meat down without even chewing, and my belly immediately lets out a faint rumbling noise.
“I thought I heard a train,” Harry continues, turning and looking toward the distant tracks. “I opened my eyes and saw it, but I thought it had to be some kind of hallucination.”
He pauses, before turning to me again.
“How can that happen? How can a train just appear from out of nowhere, unless...”
His eyes widen with shock.
“Unless someone repaired it and sent it out!” he continues. “But that would mean that someone, somewhere, is trying to get things back to normal!”
Getting to his feet, he looks toward the tracks again. The scrap of food, along with the brief appearance of that huge machine, seems to have given him a fresh burst of energy, and he takes a sip from his bottle of water before pouring some onto the ground for me.
“Did you see anything, Ben? Did you see anything at all that might help us figure out where it was going, or where it came from?”
Not understanding what he's saying, I simply wait as he stares in awe at the gleaming metal tracks.
“That means that if we follow them, in either direction, we might eventually end up somewhere. I mean, somewhere with people who are trying to put things right. I mean, it's been ten years since everyone got sick, so eventually there had to be signs of life again, right? At least we know people are trying!”
He pauses, before turning and setting off along the road again, still following the tire tracks but with a renewed sense of enthusiasm this time, as if those two sandwiches were enough to give him a vital boost of energy.
“It's a sign,” he continues. “It has to be. Come on, Ben, we have to find Sophie.”
With that, he quickens his pace. Despite the pain and aches in my body, I hurry to catch up. The trail is still strong, although the heat has baked the tire tracks into the mud. Ahead, the sky is darkening.