The Last HuskyChapter 1

On a stormy apocalyptic night, my own mother kicked me and my Husky out into the cold. I was burning with a deadly fever. She did it just so my brother could have my share of the food.

She spat through the crack in the door, "Take this useless mutt and go die. Stop wasting Tyler's rations."

I huddled in a dumpster with my dog, certain that my life was over.

Who knew my Husky would suddenly speak with a mechanical voice. "Critical host vitality detected. Infinite Supply Search System bound."

"One hundred yards ahead, supermarket warehouse. Three thousand crates of self-heating beef stew detected."

"Five hundred yards left, pharmacy. Five hundred boxes of antibiotics detected."

Three days later, I established a fortress with my dog pack and mountains of supplies. I sat inside eating a hot steak while watching the show outside.

My mother and brother knelt beyond my chain link fence, tearing at each other like rabid animals over half a piece of moldy bread.

I just smiled. "Careful, Mom. Not even a stray dog would eat that. Swallow slowly."

* * *

My head throbbed.

My forehead was hot enough to fry an egg. I curled up in the corner of the living room sofa, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Mom, just give me one fever pill. I am not going to make it."

My voice was terrifyingly hoarse. The back of my throat tasted like copper.

Martha sat by the coffee table, her fingers wrapped tight around a white plastic bottle. It was the last bottle of Advil in the house. She did not even glance my way. Her eyes were glued to Tyler, who was busy mashing buttons on his video game controller.

Tyler sniffled and let out the quietest, faintest sneeze.

Martha leaped up instantly. She poured a glass of warm water and pressed two pills into Tyler's palm.

"Sweetheart, take these quick. That sneeze did not sound right. You cannot afford to catch a cold."

I stared at the scene in utter disbelief. I was running a fever of a hundred and three degrees. I was borderline hallucinating. Tyler just had an itchy nose.

I struggled to pull myself up from the sofa and reached a shaking hand toward the medicine bottle.

"Mom, I am still burning up. Just save one for me."

Smack.

Martha slapped the back of my hand hard. My skin welled up red almost instantly.

"Eat, eat, eat. That is all you know how to do. This medicine is for the man of the house. Why should a useless burden like you get any?"

Tyler swallowed the pills and slammed his glass down on the table. He shot a look of pure disgust at my Husky, Duke, who was lying by my feet.

"Mom, this dog is shedding everywhere. It pisses me off just looking at it. Plus, it eats way too much. We barely have enough rice left. Just throw it out."

Duke seemed to understand. He let out a soft whimper and buried his nose into the crook of my knees. My father left Duke to me before he passed away. This dog had been by my side for five long years.

I threw my arms around Duke's neck, shielding him.

"No. Dad left him to me. Nobody touches him."

Tyler let out a cold laugh. He stood up and kicked Duke right in the stomach. Duke yelped in pain but kept his teeth shut. He did not bite back, purely because he did not want to make things worse for me.

I lost my mind. I lunged forward and shoved Tyler away.

"Stop it."

Tyler used the momentum to throw himself onto the floor, wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Mom. Riley hit me. She hit me over a stupid dog."

Martha's face darkened into a storm. She stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a heavy wooden rolling pin, and started bringing it down on me.

"You little rebel. How dare you hit your brother."

One strike. Two strikes.

The heavy wood crashed against my back and arms. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my body around my dog to protect his head.

Outside, thunder shook the apartment walls. The rain was torrential. Down in the streets, the guttural shrieks of the infected echoed through the concrete canyons.

Martha finally grew tired. Panting heavily, she pointed the rolling pin straight at the front door.

"Get out. Take your filthy animal and get the hell out of my house."

"I am not feeding a parasite, and I am sure as hell not feeding a useless mutt."

I looked up at her, my vision blurring.

"Mom, the streets are crawling with zombies. It is pouring rain. You want me to leave now? You are sending me to my death."

Martha grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. She possessed a terrifying, frantic strength. She dragged me and Duke across the living room floor, right to the entryway.

"Then go die outside. Stop wasting your brother's rations."

She yanked the deadbolts back, threw open the heavy metal door, and planted a foot in my side. I lost my balance and tumbled out into the freezing stairwell, taking Duke down with me.

Slam.

The heavy door shut tight. Then came the metallic grinding.

Click. Click.

Both deadbolts sliding into place.

I lay on the freezing concrete floor. Every bone in my body felt like it had been shattered. From the other side of the door, I could hear Tyler's muffled voice.

"Mom, her winter puffer coat is pretty thick. We should have stripped it off her before tossing her out."

Martha spat on the floor. "Bad luck. It is tainted with that dead girl's sickness. We do not want it."

Listening to that heartwarming family exchange, my tears completely dried up.

The stairwell was pitch black. The motion sensor lights had burned out weeks ago. A foul, icy draft blew up the shaft, bringing with it the sound of heavy, dragging footsteps from the floors below.

It was the sound of rubber soles scraping against concrete.

The rancid stench of rotting meat floated up through the gaps in the stairs.

The infected were in the building.