DoG

given Culann the power to control the dogs and could perhaps give him further powers that would make survival on this island possible. But those powers would undoubtedly come at a cost. Culann resolved to let the orb be.

Alphonse licked Culann’s bare leg. He reached down and nestled his fingers in the thick fur atop the dog’s head. A handful of other dogs pressed forward for their turn.

Culann carefully lowered himself down to the dock and let the dogs envelop him.

Part V THE SUN SETS

Diary of Culann Riordan, Day 18

I suppose it’s time for me to try to come to grips with why I’m here. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it lately. I’d say it comes down to a general weakness — I do what’s easy instead of what’s right. I drink instead of confronting my problems. Even now, I smoke dope to dull my physical pain, but this also keeps me from thinking about all of the things I’ve done.

My problem with the girls is… I still don’t quite know. I know enough about biology to know there’s nothing that unusual about being attracted to post-pubescent females who happen to be a little on the young side. But for some reason, I act on that attraction while just about every other civilized man in the world shows self-control. I wasn’t always like this.

I think it has something to do with being a teacher. I didn’t have these urges until I became responsible for other people’s children. It’s like my subconscious had to find a way to betray that responsibility…

No, that’s bullshit. I did this, not my subconscious. I’m a grown man and I acted consciously. I need to accept this responsibility and…what? How do I make amends for what I’ve done when I’m stuck on this island? I can take good care of the dogs, but that hardly seems proportionate. Besides, I was going to do my best with the dogs anyway (provided I can figure out a solution to the food situation). I need to somehow figure out a way to make things right with the universe, but that’s going to be hard when I have to struggle so hard just to stay alive. Self-preservation is a fundamentally selfish endeavor.

1

Culann sat on a stump on the island’s wooded western edge, gazing off to the horizon where the sky blushed with the first sunset he’d seen in six weeks. He sipped whiskey from the bottle while the dogs busied themselves urinating on the spruce trees surrounding them. Over the last month, Culann’s wounds had healed about as well as they were going to. His left kneecap had fused back together, though not exactly in the right shape. The leg could bear his weight as long as he walked with a cane he’d fashioned from a barstool leg. His right hand curled into a claw, but he could still use it.

He could even write, albeit sloppily, and had taken to keeping a journal in Alistair’s unused account ledgers. He figured it was a way to keep his mind sharp and ward off the insanity of isolation, at least for a time.

The color slowly bled from the sky to reveal the star-glittering blackness of night.

The return to diurnality reassured Culann, who’d feared the orb had permanently divorced him from nature in this fog-shrouded island. The setting sun told Culann that the world did indeed still turn. It also meant that winter would come.

Culann hadn’t seen a living thing die since the Captain had been devoured by the dogs. The power of the orb had kept humanity at bay. Culann had heard sounds and seen flashes of light from across the inlet, but his would-be visitors had undoubtedly been deterred by mechanical difficulties and the thick fog that suddenly appeared a half- mile from shore. Culann dreaded the day when some adventurous soul would row through the mystical barrier to certain death.

The dogs also worried Culann. They’d gone through almost all of the dog food he’d found at Wal-Mart Jr. He’d tried rationing, but the larger dogs shoved aside the smaller ones and ate their fill. Culann had to exert his control over the dogs to get them to share enough to keep them all alive. His own stock of food would keep him going through winter, but not if he shared any with this ravenous pack that grew less tame with each passing day. He was sickened with the thought that he’d have to kill some—most—of his only companions on Earth if any were to survive.

The return of night made him instantly tired. He would deal with the dog situation tomorrow. He finished the last of the whiskey and hobbled back to Alistair’s. When he was halfway there, a dog barked from behind him, then another, and then they all howled in unison. Culann turned back to investigate, stifling a yawn as he tottered through the forest.

When he reached the shore, he spied a light a hundred yards out. It danced up and down and then disappeared. The barking of the dogs echoed off the water. Culann ordered them to be quiet, and they complied. Culann heard the lapping of the waves, but no other sounds. He strained his eyes, focusing on where he’d last seen the light. The moon cast pale rays across the sea, revealing nothing.

“Hello?” a faint voice called out from the blackness.

Culann cleared his throat to reply. He hadn’t spoken to another human being in nearly a month. The dogs obeyed him whether he shouted or whispered, so he’d grown accustomed to speaking softly on the rare occasions he spoke at all.

“Stay away,” he shouted. “It is not safe for you here.”

“Please,” the unmistakably female voice replied, “help me.”

“I am trying to help you. Turn back now.”

“Please, everything went dead. My GPS won’t work, and I can’t see anything. If you don’t help me, I’m going to crash into a rock.”

All along Culann had feared visitors from the mainland arriving at the dock on the east side of the island. He hadn’t expected anyone to come from the open ocean to the west. He could just make out a small sailboat about hundred feet off shore. A slender figure leaned forward at the prow.

“This is your last chance,” Culann shouted. “Turn back before it’s too late. There’s a virus on this island.”

“A what?”

“A virus. Everyone is dead.”

“Please, sir,” the voice replied on the verge of tears, “don’t joke around. I’m going to die if you don’t help me.”

“You’ll die if I do.”

The waves inexorably drove the small craft to ruin. As it neared, the sailor came into view. She was petite, with curly hair that reached midway down her back. She wore a tight, long-sleeved t-shirt and high-cut shorts. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Culann muttered.

“Do you have any lights?” she called out from about twenty feet away. “I can barely see the coastline.”

“I don’t have anything,” Culann replied. “The rocks are pretty bad on this side.

Turn right.”

“Starboard,” she corrected, making Pyrite’s sole survivor feel like a know-nothing greenhorn all over again.

He guided her along as best he could, which wasn’t very well. Her boat ground against some rocks neither of them could see. She let out a dainty curse.

“I’m going to have to swim to shore,” she said. “Do you have something to pull me up with?”