The Remaining: Refugees (41 page)

The smell was not as bad as Lee thought it would be. The sun and wind and rain had soaked and leached most of the
putrid odor from these remains
. In tiny updrafts of air, carried on the heat of the engine block, Lee could smell the
faintness of their death like disturbing memories
t
hat cannot quite be grasped
.

“Movement!
”
LaRouch
e
called.

“Shit,” Lee hunched lower over his rifle.

“You want me to keep rolling?” Jim asked.

“Where’s the movement coming from?” Lee called out.

“
D
own near the vehicles
…I can’t tell what it is…
”

Lee slapped the dash.
“Stop here.”

The Humvee jerked to a halt.

“I saw it behind the HEMTT,” LaRouche pronounced it
heh-mit
. “
It’s l
ike an animal or something.”

Lee peered at the cluster of vehicles. Th
ey all faced outwards, the bulk of the building casting a pal
l
orous shadow over half their bodies, while bright sunlight lit their hoods and reflected off their windshields. Beyond the glare, Lee could see nothing in the shadows.

“Jim, honk the horn and be ready to haul ass,” Lee instructed. “LaRouche, if it
’
s infected that come popping out of there, light
‘em
up.”

“Yeah, I gotcha.”

“Ready?” Jim asked, his hand on the horn.

Lee nodded
.

The vehicles were
perhaps fifty
yards out, maybe a little more
.

Jim punched the horn.

The Humvee gave its uncharacteristic squawk.

They waited.

From underneath the wheelbase of one of the LMTVs, Lee thought he saw a shadow move. A pair of dark-colored winter birds flitted across the sky, swooping and jabbering at each other. A steady breeze
gusted through his open window,
dried his eyes and chilled the sweat on the back of his neck. The Humvee hit a rough patch of idling and rumbled underneath them before smoothing out and returning to normal.

The smell of diesel fumes and decay.

His pulse was steady.

“Alright,” Lee’s door creaked slightly as he pushed it open. “Jim, you’re with me. LaRouche, maintain overwatch and cover our retreat if we start running back to the Humvee.”

CHAPTER 19:
TALKS

Jim stepped out with Lee, leaving the vehicle running. The two met at the front of the Humvee.
T
he warmth of the engine
washed across
Lee’s
back as he pulled his rifle in t
i
ght and squeezed the foregrip.
They maneuvered towards the vehicles, splitting up and flanking, trying to get an angle on
what might be hiding behind the bulks of metal and mechanics
.

They were within about twenty yards of the vehicles when Lee saw a flash of brown fur from underneath the chassis of the HEMTT. As he brought his rifle up, a long, black snout poked out from behind a tire and evaluated Lee with suspicious eyes, tan ears erect and oriented towards
him
.

Irrationally, Lee
’s
first thought was,
Tango?

He stepped forward, let the muzzle of his weapon drop.

The dog took two hesitant steps out from behind the tire, still watching Lee, its head level with its haunches and sniffing the air, catching his scent.
The resemblance did not go further than the first, immediate impression. It clearly had some German
Shepherd, or maybe some
Malinois
in its bloodline
, but it also just as clearly was a mut
t
, though Lee wasn’t sure what else it was mixed with. The
fur
was lighter, almost gray across its
flanks where it was clumped with dirt and grime, charcoal around
its snout and eyes.

As it cleared
its hide
, it caught sight of Jim, moving in from the other side and it stiffened. It looked back and forth a few times, and backed aw
ay one step, its tail slung low
but making nervous wagging gestures, as though it hoped they were regular humans, but just couldn’t be sure.

“Lee,” Jim called, addressing his rifle towards the dog.

Lee held a hand out. “Hold your fire.”

Most domesticated dogs had turned
feral
.
When they were encountered, they were shot and chalked
up to target practice. As cold as that sounded, it was better than having them rip one of their scavenging crews apart, as they’d been known to do. They might look like old house pets, but their instincts quickly reasserted themselves and they were just as dangerous as wild animals.

But this one was alone.

“You gonna shoot it?” Jim asked.

It was a valid question. In addition to being a danger to people, as long as the dogs didn’t display any signs of infection from FURY or rabies, it w
as a decent meal. The taste was similar to beef, but a little more gamey. They’d found the smaller the dog, the more gamey the taste, so if you bagged yourself a large-breed dog, like a Labrador or a Rottweiler, you could almost pretend you were eating steak.

This one was smaller, maybe fifty pounds, if that. But Lee wasn’t interested in killing and ea
ting it
. This one seemed less inclined to attack, and more inclined to give them a good long inspection, which made Lee believe that perhaps the dog had not gone feral
. He stood there and forced his body to relax, to
be
loose and controlled, like he was the owner of this dog and expected it to heel.

“Lee?”

“Ssh,” Lee held a finger to his lips.

The dog quirked
his head at the sound from Lee
.

It kept its eyes mainly on him, as he was the closest, but
chanced a look
at Jim
every few seconds
to make sure the other man hadn’t got any closer. It kept sniffing the air, as though it wasn’t sure who these people were, but whatever scent particles it was pulling from the breeze weren’t alarming it either.

Lee patted his leg, and spoke calmly: “Come ‘ere, boy.”

Jim took an audible breath, something akin to exasperation, and Lee flicked a glance in his direction. His rifle was still addressed towards the dog, but it was held at a low-ready, and Jim’s eyes
were on Lee. “What’re you doing
?”

Lee didn’t give him an answer
.
Whatever the reason, Lee felt confident that there was a good reason for this dog. He patted his leg again and called out to the dog, but
it
just wagged its tail hesitantly, and moved its paws as though it truly wanted to come closer, but couldn’t bring itself to do so.

“What if it’s feral?” Jim called out.

“If it’s feral, it won’t come when I call.”

“It doesn’t look like it
’
s coming.”

“
It will
.
” Lee reached his hand slowly into his left cargo pocket and brought out his little bag of jerky. Luckily, he hadn’t finished it off earlier and still had a few pieces left. Keeping a steady eye on the dog, he opened it up and pulled a single, small piece out. The dog was
skinny
, and Lee could see its ribs showing. It would be hungry. He held the piece of jerky into the air and he could see the dog focusing on it, lifting its snout to test the air as the breeze carried the smell of the jerky over to it.

The dog sniffed and licked its chops once, then let out a little whine and worriedly moved its feet a few times, closing the gap between them by only a foot or so.

“It’s okay,” Lee spoke calmly. “Come on.”

The dog wouldn’t come any closer after that, so Lee gently tossed the jerky towards the dog and it landed about halfway between them. The throwing motion
spooked the dog and he back up.
W
hen the piece of meat hit the ground, the dog watched it with incredible intensity and crept forward a few feet
.
T
hen
it
bolted and snatched
up the morsel
before drawing back
again
.

L
ee smiled. “Yeah, I got you now
.”

The piece of jerky was
gone in a flash
and the dog was standing there,
now
attuned to Lee’s every move.

Lee looked over to Jim. “
L
et’s walk back.”

Jim began sidestepping in the direction of their Humvee, not quite willing to turn his back on the dog. Lee, however, turned completely and
strode casually on
. As he did, he took a strip of jerky and pulled smaller pieces off, then dropped them on the ground as he walked.

As they neared the Humvee again, LaRouche
grinned
and
shook
his head. “I’m guessing we can’t eat your new friend.”

Lee turned and found the dog, still standing about fifteen feet away from Lee, scarfing up the little pieces of meat from the ground. He walked up to his passenger’s side door and dropped another piece there. He opened the back door and stood there expectantly.

The dog regarded the piece of j
erky at his feet, and then him.

“Come on.” Lee motioned towards the back seat. “You wanna go for a ride?”

The dog wagged its tail.

“Yeah, you know what a ride is.” Lee set the rest of his jerky on the back seat and then climbed into the front passenger’s seat. “Let’s go for a ride.”

To his left, Jim settled into the driver’s seat. “I’m not giving you any of my jerky to replace what you fed to that mutt.
”

Lee ignored him and kept his eyes on the dog outside. A little closer now, it gave the Humvee a wide berth, but was intent on the backseat. Lee could see the wheels in its head turning, trying to figure out wheth
er the vehicle was a good thing
. Lee could see its tail still wagging, and
he could almost picture the dog’s faint memories of riding in cars with its face out the window and its tongue hanging out, a pure rush of smells with each breath
.

Then, abruptly, the tail stopped
wagging
.