Free The Dog by Amy Cross Page A

aiming the gun at the spot where the creature's body fell. A moment later, the headless torso starts twitching, and Jon shoots it again, this time blowing the upper part of its chest clean away, and finally the meat remains slump down onto the rain-soaked grass.
    “Help me,” Richard gasps, his voice shuddering as he reaches a hand up through the rain. “Please...”
    Although I just want to go back into the cabin and ignore everything that's happening, I follow Jon down the steps, while still snarling at the headless creature in case it moves again. There's very little light out here, but I can just about make out the sight of rainwater crashing down against Richard's bloodied chest, washing blood and other liquids out onto the grass. His guts have been partially pulled out, glistening in the rain.
    “I don't want to die,” he groans, trying to grab the end of the gun. “Help me. I don't... I don't want to...”
    “There might be another one,” Jon says, looking out at the darkness. “There was a woman at the gas station too, she might be closer.”
    “Help...”
    Jon hesitates, before propping the gun at the top of the steps and then making his way down cautiously to Richard's bloodied form.
    I bark, to warn him that it's too dangerous.
    “I don't think I can move you,” Jon stammers. “He almost...”
    “Get me inside,” Richard gasps. “Hurry!”
    “I don't -”
    “Get me inside!” Reaching out, Richard grabs Jon's arm for a moment, although Jon quickly pulls away and takes a step back. “You can't leave me out here! What are you, a monster? Get me into that fucking cabin right now!”
    “I have a First Aid kit,” Jon says, turning and hurrying back up the steps. “Wait!”
    “I don't want to die!” Richard yells, reaching forward and digging his fingers into the grass.
    I step back, keen to keep away from him.
    “Do you hear me?” he snarls through gritted teeth, staring at me as he starts dragging himself to the bottom of the steps. He lets out a cry of pain, but he keeps coming, pulling himself forward inch by inch until finally he slumps down again. “What the fuck are you looking at?” he asks. “There's no way I'm going to die. I'll find a way, I'll...”
    He tries again to drag himself toward me.
    Turning, I hurry back up the steps and over to the door, and when I look inside I see that Jon is in the bathroom, sorting through the contents of a small metal tin.
    “Help me!” Richard screams, his throat filled with blood now. “What the fuck are you doing? You have to help me!”
    I watch Jon for a moment longer, before turning and looking back down at Richard. His eyes are wide open, but something seems different about the expression on his face. Heading over to the top of the steps, I watch him for a moment, and finally I realize that even though rain is falling against his eyes, he's no longer blinking. I sniff the air, but the bad weather make it hard to pick up a decent scent. He's not moving at all, though, and I think he might be dead.
    “Okay,” Jon says, hurrying out with the metal tin and then making his way down the steps, “I found -”
    He stops suddenly, staring at Richard's corpse.
    “Richard?”
    No reply.
    He pauses for a moment, before turning to me.
    “That thing,” he says finally, “the creature that attacked him...”
    His voice trails off for a moment, and then he looks back down at the dead bodies.
    “It looked like some kind of zombie,” he stammers. “I know that sounds crazy, and it is crazy, but I swear...”
    He pauses, before coming back up the steps and setting the metal box down. Keeping his eyes fixed on Richard, he grabs the rifle again.
    “Should I...”
    Whimpering a little, I take a step back as he aims the gun at Richard's head.
    “Should I do this?” he asks, his voice trembling with shock. “What if he... What if he comes back somehow, like those other people? What if they all come back?”
    He hesitates, before lowering the gun