Jo Treggiari - Ashes, Ashes

“We’ll hold them off as long as we can,” Mrs. Reynolds said. She looked at Lucy. “Be careful out there. The plague is mutating. It may return. That much is true.”

Simmons set his shoulder against a column of boxes and shoved. The heavy boxes came cascading down, partially blocking the narrow corridor. He moved to the next row and heaved. Some split open. Cans rolled underfoot. Slowly the pile grew and wedged against the opposite wall. Mrs. Reynolds joined him, tugging down crates, and heaping them higher until the lower half of the passage was impenetrable.

Lucy hesitated. The others were already at the door. Sammy was hammering against the lock with a dented tin can.

Mrs. Reynolds met her eyes. “Just run. Run, Lucy!” she said, staggering under the weight of another box. The scars were livid against her flushed skin. Behind the nurse and the growing pile of boxes, she caught sight of Dr. Lessing. She was completely surrounded by furry bodies. The dogs swarmed over one another as they hunted for a scent. Lucy hesitated.

“I took my folder, the notebooks,” she said. “They belong to me and no one else. But I left the blood.” She turned away, but not before she saw surprise in the nurse’s eyes.

Lucy ran to join Aidan. His arm was pressed tight against his ribs again. She saw the pain in the lines of his forehead. Although her skull was still buzzing, she felt surprisingly clearheaded. Sammy threw the can away in disgust. The thin metal was crumpled. Some kind of red sauce leaked out, staining his robes. He pushed his hood back. His blackened forehead was dripping sweat. Aidan set his shoulder against the door and heaved. The lock was battered, but still it held. From behind them, they heard the baying of the dogs.

“They blocked most of the way, but there’s still space for the dogs to get through,” Lucy said.

She remembered how the animals had propelled themselves halfway up the tree trunk, maddened by her scent. She pushed Sammy out of the way and slid her knife blade between the lock and the door and slammed it down hard, the impact jarring the old wound on her palm. The lock tore open with an awful squeal, and her knife snapped again. Straight across. An inch from the hilt.

Lucy subdued a stab of grief, shoved it back into her pocket, and thrust the door open. Cool air flooded over her. The dog run was long and concrete, with shallow channels running down each side. It had rained recently, and the cement glistened. Through the links of the fence she could see the shore, and beyond, the stormy surface of Lake Harlem.

“Almost there,” she yelled, turning back to grab Aidan’s hand.

Two dogs crashed through the barricade of boxes and cans into the hallway. Lucy caught a glimpse of their yellow eyes, the gums pulled back in hideous grimaces. A rottweiler and a pit bull. They leapt, arrowing in at her from two sides. She threw up a defensive arm, and then Aidan pushed her away, yelling. She hit the ground and rolled against the wall, smacking it hard with her head. She shook her head to clear it, scarcely aware of the pain, and dug frantically for her knife before remembering it was useless. Screaming in anger, she threw it at the rottweiler attacking Aidan. The hilt struck it across the skull, but the dog didn’t pause. Del stood in front of the door to the outside, shielding the terrified children with her body. Her slingshot was loaded. She raised it, looking for a clear shot, but everything was happening too fast. Aidan was thrown backward by the weight of the dog. He grappled with it, pushing against its muscular chest and throwing his head around wildly in an attempt to avoid its razor-sharp teeth. He hooked his fingers in the dog’s collar and twisted the leather strap, trying to strangle it. The dog’s tongue protruded and strands of saliva glistened as the jaws snapped inches from his face.

Sammy hurled himself forward, trying to reach his brother. The pit bull jumped him, seeking the flesh beneath the robes. It clamped down with its jaws and whipped its head from side to side. The heavy black robes tore as Sammy kicked out at the dog. His boot connected with the dog’s midriff. Another wild kick, this blow landing on its snout. The dog yelped and released its jaws, falling heavily to the ground. Del took her shot, sending a stone into the meaty part of the dog’s thigh. The dog howled and scrabbled at the floor, trying to reach the wound in its leg. Sammy kicked it again in the ribs and ran, panting, to Aidan, who was weakening. He grabbed the rottweiler’s collar from behind and yanked it into the air. Scrambling to his feet, Aidan thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out the Taser, and pressed it against the dog’s side. The dog yelped and collapsed, shaking convulsively on the floor. Its pink tongue lolled from its mouth, and then it was still. Aidan limped over to the whining pit bull and Tasered it, too.

He stood looking at the dogs, his face pale and sick, and then he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

Lucy crawled over to him. His left arm hung loosely. She put out her hand, afraid that she might accidentally hurt him, and settled for stroking him on the cheek. “Are you all right?”

“Painkillers wore off,” he said scowling. “I’m pretty sure now that I’ve pulled a muscle.”

“Come on.” She helped him stand. They hobbled out the door into the dog run where the others stood waiting.

“Might have brought the Taser out a little sooner,” Sammy told his brother.

“Couldn’t reach it. You may have noticed the hundred pounds of dog sitting on my chest?”

“Always with the excuses,” Sammy said, pulling his shredded robe awkwardly over his head. His forearm was imprinted with four deep tooth marks gushing blood.

Del cursed. “Can you still use it?” She sounded angry.

Sammy looked disappointed. “Yeah, it hurts bad, but—”

“You can climb?” Del asked.

“Of course,” he said, watching blood drip onto the floor. “I didn’t mean to get mauled by a dog, you know.”

Del pressed her lips together. “I know,” she said in a softer tone. Stowing the slingshot in her back pocket, she ripped a length of cloth from the discarded robes and tied it tightly around his arm. He gasped.

Giving him a look, she gathered the children to her and faced the fence.

“You go first,” she told Sammy. “I’ll lift the kids up to you.”

He pulled himself up, swung over, and jumped down. Once he was on the ground, he held his arms up for the first of the two children. As soon as they were safely on the other side, Del went up, then Lucy, and lastly Aidan, who favored his left arm and climbed one-handed. He had just reached the top when the fox terrier burst through the door, barking madly. Its toothbrush tail stuck straight up, and the fur on its back stood up in a ridge. It ran back and forth along the fence seeking a way out, and then began throwing itself repeatedly at the chain link as if it were made of rubber.

“Let’s go before the poor thing kills itself,” Aidan said from the top of the fence.

Lucy turned away.

And then a second dog hit the fence barely a foot below the top. Another rottweiler, even larger than the first. It catapulted itself upward, thick black claws pushing the chain link outward as it tried to find purchase and muscle its way over. Aidan jumped, making no attempt to land gracefully. He staggered and then regained his balance, pulling Lucy back from where she stood almost mesmerized by the animal’s single-mindedness. The dog fixed its hot gaze on her and, growling terribly, made another impossible leap into the air, landing almost on top of the fence before falling heavily back to the concrete.

Aidan hurried her a safe distance away. “It’ll be over that in a minute.”