that either he wasn't naturally adept at catching or his wonky eye kept him from seeing well enough to be able to catch. He looked at it curiously and then back up at me with a tilted head.
"What? It's meat, eat it."
He sniffed it again and snorted before laying his head down in front of it, uninterested.
"Are you kidding me?" I pointed at the chunk of salted meat. "That's good food. If you don't like eating that then you're never going to make it out here. That's as good as it gets."
He snorted and licked his nose as he stared up at me with those huge eyes.
"What the hell were you eating before that this isn't good enough for you?" I asked the question as a joke, but then began to consider what the answer could possibly be. "You're a pet, aren't you? There's no way you’re a feral dog. Your breed couldn't survive this long."
Stubs rolled over onto his back, inviting me to scratch his plump, pink tummy. I complied and his mouth drooped open into his goofy, flopping-lip smile again.
"Where did you come from?"
I heard the tin cans rattle downstairs, signaling that something was moving either in or out of the house. "Sounds like our friends are done fighting. Let's go finish off the survivors."
My gun would've been too loud, and it wasn't worth alerting every living, and dead creature within a mile that I was there. I could've fashioned a spear out of my knife and a strip of baseboard, but my knife was lying on the first floor under the staircase. I had my axe, but it was dull enough that I didn't trust it in a fight. I had to come up with a way to kill whatever was still alive downstairs without making too much noise.
I took my Glock 19 with me, though I hoped to avoid using it. Time was on my side, which was a rare luxury, and I was smart enough not to waste an opportunity to be prepared. I disassembled the pistol and examined the pieces to make sure they were clean. I kept it as clean as possible at all times, but nothing was in a hurry to kill me at the moment, so there was no point in jumping into a situation before all of my bases were covered. I swiftly re-assembled the gun and slid the magazine inside. The previous owner of the weapon had fastened three strips of black tape around the handle that improved the grip, something I'd been unfamiliar with until I found it. The gun was expertly cared for and it was a shame that the man I killed to get it never saw me coming - a shame for him at least.
I holstered the pistol and then got ready to go. Stubs watched me and tilted his head to the side when I looked at him. "I'm just trying to be prepared," I explained to him. "That's all. You wouldn't want to get stuck up here with no one to watch out for you, would you?"
I grabbed the axe and held it just under its head as I walked out of the room to see what was still alive downstairs. There was movement, and a human moan that let me know the zombie had won the fight. That was lucky since it meant he would be focused on eating the dogs and might not hear me climbing down.
My nylon rope was tied to the banister and hung down through the hole in the floor. It was a thirty-foot rope, and the slack was spooled on the floor below. I grabbed it, walked as quietly as I could to the opening, and looked down. To my shock, the zombie was waiting for me.
"Whoa!" I backed up as the creature swung its arms up at me. He screamed out in bloodthirsty anger and I got a better chance to examine him.
He was fresh.
"How in the fuck?"
It had been a middle-aged man with short hair and a beard. He looked gaunt everywhere except his stomach, which bulged as if belonging to a much larger man. His face was swollen, his eyes white, and puss leaked out of his nose while sores oozed on his lips. The zombie's eyelids were inflamed and the corners of his mouth had turned black. When he screamed and stretched out at me, I saw black sores on his neck.
This wasn't a mutant. I hadn't seen a zombie like this in nearly two decades.
Had the virus
"What? It's meat, eat it."
He sniffed it again and snorted before laying his head down in front of it, uninterested.
"Are you kidding me?" I pointed at the chunk of salted meat. "That's good food. If you don't like eating that then you're never going to make it out here. That's as good as it gets."
He snorted and licked his nose as he stared up at me with those huge eyes.
"What the hell were you eating before that this isn't good enough for you?" I asked the question as a joke, but then began to consider what the answer could possibly be. "You're a pet, aren't you? There's no way you’re a feral dog. Your breed couldn't survive this long."
Stubs rolled over onto his back, inviting me to scratch his plump, pink tummy. I complied and his mouth drooped open into his goofy, flopping-lip smile again.
"Where did you come from?"
I heard the tin cans rattle downstairs, signaling that something was moving either in or out of the house. "Sounds like our friends are done fighting. Let's go finish off the survivors."
My gun would've been too loud, and it wasn't worth alerting every living, and dead creature within a mile that I was there. I could've fashioned a spear out of my knife and a strip of baseboard, but my knife was lying on the first floor under the staircase. I had my axe, but it was dull enough that I didn't trust it in a fight. I had to come up with a way to kill whatever was still alive downstairs without making too much noise.
I took my Glock 19 with me, though I hoped to avoid using it. Time was on my side, which was a rare luxury, and I was smart enough not to waste an opportunity to be prepared. I disassembled the pistol and examined the pieces to make sure they were clean. I kept it as clean as possible at all times, but nothing was in a hurry to kill me at the moment, so there was no point in jumping into a situation before all of my bases were covered. I swiftly re-assembled the gun and slid the magazine inside. The previous owner of the weapon had fastened three strips of black tape around the handle that improved the grip, something I'd been unfamiliar with until I found it. The gun was expertly cared for and it was a shame that the man I killed to get it never saw me coming - a shame for him at least.
I holstered the pistol and then got ready to go. Stubs watched me and tilted his head to the side when I looked at him. "I'm just trying to be prepared," I explained to him. "That's all. You wouldn't want to get stuck up here with no one to watch out for you, would you?"
I grabbed the axe and held it just under its head as I walked out of the room to see what was still alive downstairs. There was movement, and a human moan that let me know the zombie had won the fight. That was lucky since it meant he would be focused on eating the dogs and might not hear me climbing down.
My nylon rope was tied to the banister and hung down through the hole in the floor. It was a thirty-foot rope, and the slack was spooled on the floor below. I grabbed it, walked as quietly as I could to the opening, and looked down. To my shock, the zombie was waiting for me.
"Whoa!" I backed up as the creature swung its arms up at me. He screamed out in bloodthirsty anger and I got a better chance to examine him.
He was fresh.
"How in the fuck?"
It had been a middle-aged man with short hair and a beard. He looked gaunt everywhere except his stomach, which bulged as if belonging to a much larger man. His face was swollen, his eyes white, and puss leaked out of his nose while sores oozed on his lips. The zombie's eyelids were inflamed and the corners of his mouth had turned black. When he screamed and stretched out at me, I saw black sores on his neck.
This wasn't a mutant. I hadn't seen a zombie like this in nearly two decades.
Had the virus
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