Free A Kiss Before the Apocalypse by Thomas E. Sniegoski Page B

some fresh air. Marlowe followed at his heels, sniffing the influx of air for anything of interest.
    Remy glanced at the wall clock as he left the living room, and saw that it was past the dog’s supper time.
    “Hey, pal, want to eat?” he asked, going into the kitchen. He got the dog some fresh water and then went to a cabinet beneath one of the counters for the container of Marlowe’s food. With a plastic measuring cup he filled the dog’s bowl and turned to put it down.
    Marlowe still stood just inside the doorway, his stare intense. Normally the Lab would have been pushing Remy out of the way to get at his supper, but tonight something was different. There was a look in the animal’s eyes that the angel immediately understood— the conversation that had begun in the car was not yet over.
    “When?” Marlowe said pointedly.
    Remy set the bowl down on the place mat next to Marlowe’s water. The Labrador still didn’t move, showing a self-control that he’d never displayed before.
    The dog continued to stare, and finally Remy knelt, calling the Labrador to him. Tentatively, Marlowe approached, head low, ears flat, obviously thinking he was in trouble.
    “Not bad,” he grumbled.
    “No, not bad,” Remy said with a sad smile. He pulled the dog closer and lovingly rubbed the animal’s ears. “You’re a good boy, a very good boy.”
    He took Marlowe’s blocky head in his hands and held his face close to his own. The dog’s pink tongue shot out, licking Remy’s face affectionately.
    “I am good boy,” he agreed, tailing wagging. “I am.”
    “Yes you are, but we need to talk about Madeline.”
    Marlowe’s tail slowed, dropping down, only twitching slightly. “When coming home?”
    Remy gently held the dog’s face, gazing into his deep, brown eyes. “She’s not,” he said firmly, feeling his own heart break with the words. “Madeline has to stay at the get-well place, Marlowe. They are going to take care of her there, because we can’t do that here.”
    The dog whined sadly. “No. Want Maddie. Now. Want Maddie. Home.”
    “I’m sorry,” Remy said. “But she is not coming home. She’s very sick and . . .” He paused, trying to find the right words. There wasn’t any easy way to say it, so he simply let the words come. “She’s going to die, Marlowe.”
    The animal tried to pull away, but Remy held him in place.
    “No die,” he whined, the nails on his feet clicking upon the tiled floor. “No die.”
    Remy let the dog go and he left the kitchen, tail tucked between his legs. “I’m sorry,” he called after the animal, and no truer words were ever spoken.
    “I’m so, so sorry.”
    Remy thought he might be able to relax a bit by watching some of his favorite home-improvement shows, but he never got that far.
    The evening news caught his attention, every story worse than the one before it. Escalating violence in the Middle East, hunger and disease running rampant in the African nations, and then the disconcerting report on how scientists from all over the world had begun to take note of a sudden decrease in death rates, and how dangerous it was becoming to an already strained ecosystem.
    Dangerous isn’t the word, Remy thought with a sigh, picking up the remote from the arm of his chair and turning off the set before yet another story could send him plummeting further into the depths of depression.
    The evening had become pretty much a wash, and Remy decided that he might as well go up to bed. Maybe a few more chapters of Farewell My Lovely would help ease his funk.
    He headed for the kitchen, calling Marlowe, for one last trip outside. When the canine didn’t answer, Remy strolled down the hallway to the spare room that the dog had claimed for his own. The black Labrador was curled into a tight ball on his tattered blanket, the floor about him strewn with stuffed toys.
    “I’m going to bed now,” Remy said. “Do you need to go outside?”
    “No outside,” the dog mumbled, not