Shocked, Trevor could not find any words so JB repeated as if worried his dad had not heard the first time. “I want to go with you, father.”
Trevor stepped away from the desk and stood straight. His hands wavered in the air as if using them to sculpt words.
“Umm, JB, no, it could be dangerous. Not a good idea.”
“I want to go with you.”
“Look,” Trevor stepped closer to his son and leaned over the boy who kept his focus on the drawing. “There really is no chance of that, Jorge. I’m not going to…I’m not. Um, JB, what is that you’re drawing?”
The boy held the piece of paper aloft to his father who took it.
While a crude work of crayons, Trevor could clearly see that his son drew two dogs lying on their sides with a black ‘x’ where each eye should be and a field of red crayon surrounding them. A black stick figure hovered over the dogs with his arms stretched wide.
“It’s the doggies, father,” Trevor heard a sniffle in his son’s words. “They’re in pain.”
The piece of paper wobbled as Trevor’s hands shook. He had not told JB about the problems with the K9s. No one outside of a few I.S. people, Ashley, and the military council knew of the issue.
He swallowed hard, pointed at the black stick figure, and asked, “Who is this?”
JB’s lip stiffened and his eyes sharpened.
“He’s the Other. He’s bad.”
“Who is he?”
Jorgie’s mouth opened and then shut without a sound coming out.
“Tell me, Jorge,” Trevor started in a harsh tone and then forced it to soften. “Have you seen this ‘Other’ before?”
The three year old nodded his head slow. “When I’m sleeping. He’s been in my nightmares a lot. He’s why the doggies are in pain. That’s all I know.”
Trevor knew Ashley would protest, but he also knew that in the morning his son would travel with him to Virginia.
In 1663, Charles II quartered the arms of Virginia on his shield and since that time, the state has been known as ‘Old Dominion’.
Before the end-of-the-world, Old Dominion boasted more than seven million souls in its boundaries. Those same boundaries now counted only one hundred thousand, most living in the eastern part of the state.
Trevor and JB’s Eagle flight carried them south above I-81 with the gorgeous Blue Ridge range to their east and the imposing Appalachians-formed eons ago by colliding continental shelves-rising to the west.
Early in the afternoon of August 23, Eagle One landed on the fifty-yard line of Lane Stadium, formerly home of the Virginia Tech Hokies. A pack of Jaw-Wolves had been living there when the 1 ^ st Armored Division arrived in town a few weeks before. After losing a tank, Prescott‘s forces managed to kill off the massive, armor-plated predators in a brutal engagement.
Nonetheless, with arrival of the human army, the area around Blacksburg became fairly safe although they found no survivors, much to Prescott‘s surprise. Indeed, the rural nature of the region should have resulted in a survival rate equal to or exceeding the 1.5 % average.
Not in Blacksburg.
In any case, they traveled out of town in a heavily armed convoy along Rt. 460. They followed the road north then west before hooking up with State Route 621 through the Jefferson National Forest. Not long after, they said goodbye to the major roads and dove deeper into the Appalachians.
During the trip, Trevor fidgeted and squirmed in his seat as he considered what waited ahead. He kept wondering why he brought JB along yet, for some reason, he felt as if honoring the boy’s request was the right thing to do.
As for Jorge, he admired the scenery from inside the armored Suburban. His nose spent most of the trip flat against the window while one arm gently clasped his stuffed bunny which was, as usual, tightly wrapped in its tiny blanket.
Anita Nehru and Dante Jones accompanied the father and son, the former due to her knowledge of hostiles and the latter because Trevor felt he might need a friend.
Finally, they arrived at the ultimate destination: an old burned compound once surrounded by a chain link fence.
Troops from the 1 ^ st Armored division blanked the area with checkpoints and patrols in surrounding hills and fields.
Trevor and his entourage of two advisors, his son, General Prescott, and human bodyguards emerged from the vehicles. No K9s accompanied Trevor on this trip.
The rain from the previous day had moved along but a quilt-like cover of silky gray clouds remained overhead, blocking out a good deal of sunlight and contributing to a cold, damp chill that belied the August day.
Captain Phillip Rhodes met them at the ruins.
Trevor surveyed his surroundings and felt a tingle in his spine. Although destroyed, the fence, the smaller buildings, and the isolated location felt hauntingly familiar.
“We don’t know how long ago this place was wiped out,” Rhodes answered the question before anyone asked. “Our division analysts have been going over the area with a fine tooth comb to figure out what did it in.”
Anita Nehru asked, “Tell me, Captain, what have your men discovered?”
“Not much,” Rhodes admitted. “We found rifles and pistols, most of which looked to have been in storage in this main building. We pulled them from under the ruins so it was probably stuff lying around and not used.”
“Tracks?” Anita asked.
“We found deer and bear tracks, all relatively fresh but that’s about it. Judging by the skeletons in the mess we figure this happened a long time ago, so much so that if they were hit by predators or something on foot then the tracks are long since lost.”
“What about the bodies?” Trevor asked while his eyes scanned the rubble.
“Nothing conclusive yet. Most of our medical evaluation staff is back at Lynchburg helping Dr. Maple’s quarantine team. But it don’t matter much-um, Sir, — because the remains are few and far between. I mean, we’re talking about parts. Scavengers, carrion eaters have picked this place dry.”
Trevor glared. “So you’re telling me you don’t know jack shit about what happened here?”
Rhodes‘ mouth opened but he did not speak. General Prescott stepped in.
“Well, we just spotted this place yesterday and our resources are spread out up and down the range setting up positions. Sorry we don’t have more, but we’re working on it.”
“Show me the rest.”
Dante placed a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Are you sure? You might want to chew a few more of them out first.”
Stone swiped away Dante’s hand and followed the others beyond the destroyed estate into the gently rising woods. That is when Trevor noticed the carcasses. Everywhere.
Dogs. Canines. Judging by the bones, they represented a variety of breeds.
Trevor heard a sniffle from his son and saw tears forming in JB’s eyes. He reached down and hoisted Jorgie into his arms.
“All the doggies, father…all the doggies…”
Dante asked Anita, “Can you figure out what did this?”
“I’m not a veterinarian or a coroner. Besides, it doesn’t look like there are enough remains to draw any conclusions.”
Trevor stated surely, “They tore each other apart, in fits of madness.”
The dead dogs littered the forest with as many piles of bones as there were trees. It was hard to make out the parts; spring thaws and winter snows and thaws again conspired to warp and rot the bodies.
They arrived at the small plateau in front of the mountain face where the overturned Hemlock tree guarded a black hole. Soldiers stood there, securing the cave from the outside.
