its legs stopped kicking. Steamy vapors rose from vents torn in its flesh.
Once their work ended, the two dogs trotted to Richard with their heads slightly bowed.
He spoke to himself aloud, 'What happened here?'
An answer surged into his mind with uncanny clarity.
Three creatures had come to the house. One smashed the front door and grabbed the mother. The father had grappled with the monster bravely, but to no avail.
Outside at the time, the hounds raced to the rescue but the other two beasts intercepted them. A battle ensued. Tyr and Odin out-maneuvered the things. Alas, by the time they had scored their kills the mother and father were dead.
Not wanting to fight inside the tight confines of the house, the dogs had waited in the woods until hearing their Master return home.
This understanding of what had happened came clear-eerily clear-to Richard’s mind.
He walked around front, sat on the porch steps with his head in his hands, and wondered if Dante still lived out there, somewhere. What about Jon? Was he on the battlefield scoring victories for humanity? What of Lori?
We must leave.
'What? Huh?'
Certain he heard a voice, Richard pulled his head from his hands.
Tyr hovered nearby, standing taut with his ears perked. Odin wandered around the drive further away.
Something coming.
Someone did speak, but had he heard the voice with his ears or his mind?
The ground trembled softly.
Odin trotted fast to the front porch alternating his eyes between Tyr and Richard.
Something coming from road. Big.
Both dogs moved toward the side yard. When Richard did not follow, they paused and gaped. The trees on the far side of the lot swayed. Richard decided to go.
They had barely reached the tree line when it slithered from cover onto the Stones’ property: a crawling mass of tendrils and squirming appendages spilling from a conical carapace that could have been a shell but not quite: more a hard fleshy bag the top of which reached taller than the garage. A putrid smell of acidic rot emanated from the sickly beast.
Tyr and Odin, no matter how resourceful, could not do battle with this new arrival. Fortunately, they and their Master escaped unnoticed.
The canopy of eastern mixed forest blocked much of the sun and trapped chilled damp air beneath. Low hanging limbs and tall brush scraped against Rich’s face and shoulders, cutting and bruising his arms and cheeks as he hurried through the woods. Tyr and Odin bound along effortless on his flanks.
Other things lived in the forest.
Out the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a hulk of black lumbering along as its train-sized mass pushed through the dense woodland. It either did not see or did not care about him.
Richard stopped to catch his breath against a Maple, only to be scared off by a slothy creature hanging high in the tree gorging on leaves.
He saw a pack of leather-skinned frogs the size of pigs hopping together and a trio of animals that could have been deer, save for glowing red eyes and long slender horns.
Howls of both earthly animals and unearthly trespassers reverberated through the woods, sources unseen. Birds and more fluttered and flew amongst the branches.
The deeper they went the fewer sounds and sights haunted. No doubt, the worst of the new predators favored the prey-filled streets of the cities more than the lonely forest.
Rich and his companions tore through that forest aiming for no particular destination. Soon his legs grew weak and his run turned to a stagger until he fell face-first into a pile of wet, mushy leaves.
He rolled onto his back and stared skyward. A flicker of afternoon sun pushed through the crowded trees.
Tears came…tears and pain.
The small cuts on his arms stung; the fatigue in his body throbbed like a headache stretched to his toes; and his thoughts scattered to pieces.
Both dogs waited patiently with their eyes and ears tuned to the wilderness.
He closed his eyes and saw the empty wedding dress and his dead parents; he heard the thump of the massive foot crushing Bobby Weston.
Overload.
Richard blacked out.
– A cold shiver shocked his eyes open.
Sunlight still slipped through the treetops, but now at a steeper, later angle.
Rich sat. Every part of his body hurt, from the muscles of his legs to the knuckles in his fingers. The impromptu nap atop cold, damp leaves had aggravated his fatigue.
Birds chattered and the clap of a far-off explosion rode the wind in from civilization.
Look at this.
'What?'
A newcomer joined their gathering. That newcomer wore a coat of pure white with deep amber eyes.
A wolf.
As far as Rich knew, no wolves had lived in Pennsylvania for at least fifty years, maybe much longer.
Surprisingly, neither Tyr nor Odin acted concerned as the wolf stared at the three fugitives from a few paces away. However, Stone’s awakening triggered a reaction. The animal turned and trotted off at a brisk pace.
Follow.
Acting on some intangible impulse, Rich followed the white wolf through the overgrowth on a thin game trail.
After several minutes, the wolf hopped between two Oaks and descended an embankment leading them to a rocky, dry streambed bordered on one end by a large fallen tree. The wolf stopped on the far side.
A campfire glowed in the middle of the gully. An old man sat by that fire on a slab of red rock, dressed in a plain white shirt with a black vest and faded jeans. He wore gray stubble on pale, wrinkled cheeks with messy thin hair on top. His sunken dark eyes admired the fire while his mouth worked gently as if chewing a pinch of tobacco or maybe sunflower seeds.
Richard stopped at the embankment. A wave of heat from the flames drifted by, dispelling any notion of an exhaustion-fueled mirage.
Tyr and Odin casually descended the bank and rested on either side of the blaze. They relaxed their guard, as if sensing safety within the fire's perimeter.
Rich nearly fell over a protruding root as he skidded the slope. He barely managed to keep his balance as he moved to the fire and stood, waiting, unsure of what to do next.
'It’s ‘bout time you got here,' the Old Man spoke in a gruff voice. 'Started to think you might not make it. Started to think this was gunna be over ‘fore it got started. Now wouldn’t that be a damn shame?'
Dick crinkled his eyes.
'Don’t just stand there and gawk. Sit by the fire ‘fore you catch new-moan-ya.'
Richard spotted another chunk of red rock across from the old timer and sat. His achy bones and clammy skin appreciated the warmth.
'Who are you? Do you know me?'
'Okay, see, now this is the first thing we have to get straight,' the Old Man fixed his eyes on Richard. 'You don’t get to ask questions, see? That’s not how this works.'
'What do you mean? How what works?'
'Oh now, c’mon, this ain’t startin’ off so good. You ain't listening.'
Richard opened his mouth. The Old Man glared. Richard closed his mouth.
'Better. A start. Let’s get this out of the way right now; do you want to live?'
