Free The Nameless Survivor (Valkyrie) by J.K. Hawk Page B

clean up the corpses, so while continuing to whistle out, I grabbed hold of their tails and dragged them over to the fire-pit. Today though it would be a cremation pit, and I planned on burning all day. One can never be too careful.
                  Strategically I stacked some dry wood and kindling around bodies, building a sort of satanic funeral-pyre. The more wood the better, I had to be sure that every trace of the virus was destroyed. When satisfied with my stack I headed for the work-shed and grabbed a small container of my special sauce. A deadly concoction, similar to that of napalm, but with a red-neck twist.
                  Five parts old motor oil, five parts gasoline, twenty parts Styrofoam, twenty parts soap, and of course a good dose of my home-made moonshine. Mix it up slowly until you get a slick and sticky sludge and you have my Special Sauce which will burn long and very - very hot. Slowly I drizzled a few cups over the heap, ensuring I covered the entire pyre. The goo dripped down over their fur and clung to the wood like molasses. Carefully I sealed the sauce container then lit up a cigarette. The mentholated tobacco and cool winter air soothed my dry and scratchy throat.
                  “I hope I’m not getting sick,” I muttered.
                  With a quick flick, the still burning match landed into a small puddle of my fiery mixture. There was only a momentary pause where the match fizzled almost to nothing as it sunk down into the much. Then, in a billowing explosion, Feu-de-Décès.              
                  A big cloud of black smoke rose up into the sky like the shadow of the devil rising from the depths of hell. The intense heat from the fire washed over me so fast I had to quickly back away from its raging inferno. Yet, the warmth was also comforting, and almost made me loose myself in a daze. Until the rancid smell of burning rotten flesh hit my nostrils like a freight-train. The stench was reminiscent of a dumpster on a hot-summers day, fermented garbage juice and roasted maggots.
                  Repulsed and nauseated I walked away and headed out into the woods to see what was left of last night’s kill. Surprisingly the deer was untouched, all the commotion the night before must have warded off starving scavengers. With my shoulder still aching, I dragged the partially frozen carcass back into the yard and to my game stand.
                  The deer must have weighed a good hundred pounds, normally not an issue, but my inflamed shoulder made it much more difficult of a task hoisting it up into the stand. Tying it off proved even harder as I had to hold it in place with my injured arm and secure the knot with my other. Over the past few years I have never been this battered and bruised, it's what I get for letting down my guard.
                  Just as it was secured I heard the faint sound of laughter coming from the far side of the yard, and quickly getting closer. It was thankfully the girl smiling and prancing back through the snow-covered forest and into sight. It was a relief, especially to finally see her smiling, there is hope for her yet.
                  However, she was not alone, a small dark figure closed in from behind, charging ferociously towards her. She couldn't hear it coming, and without hesitation I bolted out into her direction, ready to yell, “WATCH OUT!” but it was too late. The figure broke into the clearing and lunged for her, she tumbled down into to the snow squealing and laughing as the menacing beast pounced onto her back.
                  “I see you made a new friend,” I said in relief.
                  The little pup had survived the night, and as happy as can be, excessively licking the girls face over and over. Chuckling I knelt down and scratched the pup behind her ears, her innocent bright-blue eyes