Page 23 of The Dire Legacy

“Scouts reported that there is a human town that’s grown soft. Should make for some easy meals for a while.” Alpha has been joined by two others during the night. Both half-breeds in some stage of partial change.

One of them I’ve dubbed ‘Lucky’ since he’s missing an eye. According to Alpha, he was shot in the face a few years ago, but survived. He’s nearly all dog that can slip out a guttural word every now and then.

“Food.” He turns his head so his singular gaze can find me.

“Yea, I know. Want some of these MRE’s?” My pack is loaded with them. Some of the expiration dates have passed, but they still taste fine. It’d be nice if they could eat them instead of people.

Lucky’s long muzzle wrinkles and he paces ahead of the cart, his lean tan body writhing between the trees until he fades into the backdrop of the tree trunks.

There’s one package that says it’s beef stew.

Maybe the pups would want a few snacks. Pulling the bag open, I dig out a few of the powdery squares of meat.

Aw, the sleeping one tries to suck on my gloved fingers without opening his eyes. Crap, I shouldn’t have started. Now, all four of them are jumping and whining. Their little bellies are sunken in hunger.

A low rumble rolls through the trees. The sound grows louder into crashing and the rending sound of metal being torn.

“What the fuck?” I can’t see anything. It came from the east.

My feet shift beneath me making me stumble and the breeze shifts carrying a pungent smell of something burning.

Alpha’s chest vibrates with a deep growl.

My stomach shifts as my heart begins to race. One of my mom’s favorite sayings was that summers in Idaho are as dry as a popcorn fart. A wildfire had licked the walls of the prison once when I was younger. The memories of that fear spur me to find the source.

With a stinging nose, I run with Alpha through the woods. It’s ten of my strides to every one of his.

The smoke thickens as we top a rise overlooking a bowl shaped valley on the edge of an expansive lake.

At first, all I can see is the blinding reflection of the sun in the rolling waves. But, on the far bank the wreckage of a flame-engulfed plane is strewn along the hillface.

“Holy shit.” The scope of the broken path of carnage behind it brings me to a full stop.

Sections of the fuselage are still intact and the cockpit is laying on the beach amongst some weather-worn logs.

“Let’s see if there’s food.” Alpha leaves before me to begin skirting around the broad expanse of the lake.

Dammit. The dry pine needles are slick as I try to keep my footing and follow him down the hill.

God, it stinks. It has to be the fuel or hydraulic fluids. But, it’s also mixed with overtones of charred flesh.

Alpha reappears with what looks like a lower chunk of leg hanging from his jaws. Is that a combat boot?

“Do you think this was military?” Picking my way past a broken section of seats, a helmet lies on the floor.

Oh, it isn’t empty. The severed end of a neck protrudes from the bottom, slick with freshly congealing blood.

I bet the pups would like this as a treat. There’s even a little lip on the visor that works as a handle so it doesn’t drip on me.

My companion rises onto his hind legs and grips the dismembered limb in one hand so he can sling a torso over his shoulder. The low howl he looses makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Red slurries down his brown fur, but he ignores it.

“Not many passengers for a military flight. What’s this symbol?” His claws rend a badge from a lanyard that has melted itself into the pale chest.

It’s still warm enough to feel the heat through my gloves. I can’t quite make out the name and face, but part of the company logo survived. “Something, something Regenerative Institute.”

His grunt rumbles into my bones as I toss the ID onto the tilted floor.

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