Paul Jones - Exodus

The path continued into the trees for several hundred feet, winding left and right, occasionally forking off from the main route. Emily stuck with the original path. She was sure the sparkle of water she had seen when she’d arrived had been more toward the center of the woods, and this path seemed to be heading in that direction.

A few minutes later, she heard the unmistakable sound of sloshing water, and, as she rounded a bend obscured by a growth of thick black cohosh atop an embankment, Emily saw the pond. It was fed by a stream that ran down from the opposite side of the valley, its source unknown as it disappeared between the trees. At the sight of the water, Thor gave a joyful, deep bark and took off in its direction. Launching himself from the embankment, he landed with a splash that sent a wave of water high into the air.

A flurry of shapes exploded into the air amid a panicked flapping of wings and quacking. It was ducks, four of them; they launched themselves into the air and took off flapping toward a clump of tall reeds at the opposite end of the pond, their wings clipping the surface of the water. Thor made a halfhearted attempt at grabbing them, missed, and continued to paddle his way around the pond unmoved by the astonishing sight.

“Ducks!” Emily shouted. “Fucking ducks.”

Apart from Thor, these were the first earth animals Emily had seen since disaster struck. How had they survived? Were they immune like her and Thor? Emily followed the dog down to the pond’s bank. Thor, who had paddled out to the center of the pond, now turned back, making a beeline for her.

“Oh no you don’t,” yelped Emily. She could see the mischievous glint in the dog’s eyes as he headed back to her. She immediately started backpedaling away from the pond’s edge, but she wasn’t quick enough. Thor pulled himself out of the water, ran the last few feet to her side and immediately began shaking himself dry, sending a huge shower of water over Emily.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” was all she could manage as the freezing water covered her. “Damn dog. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Thor answered with another shake that sent more water her way. Dear God, it was cold. So much for the idea of taking a dip. She’d freeze to death before the water got as far as her knees.

“I swear, Thor. If you weren’t the world’s last remaining dog, I’d trade you in.” The threat didn’t seem to cause Thor much concern as he gave a final shake.

Emily brushed as much of the water as she could from herself and looked around. She could see there were several well-walked paths that snaked deeper into the trees. Well, with the early morning bath off the itinerary, she might as well take a look at the other homes she’d seen.

She took a second to orient herself, called to Thor, who had disappeared into a large bush, and headed down the path leading in the direction of where she thought the houses should be.

The earthen path led deeper into the woods. When Emily came to the next fork, she took the one leading up the hill. She couldn’t see the houses through the trees, but, judging by the gradual incline, she was heading in the right direction at least. The path branched off again a few hundred feet farther along, and, sure enough, Emily spotted the first of the two houses in the distance.

It was the smallest of the three in the valley: single story, with two bedrooms, a living area, and a bare-bones kitchen, more like an apartment than a permanent residence. Emily wondered, given the lack of any kind of road or garage for a vehicle, whether it might be a guesthouse for the other home higher up on the ridge.

Other than a few pieces of crockery, the cupboards were empty. A small refrigerator sat against one wall in the kitchen. Emily had pretty quickly learned that opening up the refrigerators she inevitably found in the homes she spent the night in was a bad idea. The food was often spoiled and stank to high heaven after more than a week of no electricity. Delving around in decomposing lettuce and rancid milk looking for something edible was usually not worth the effort or the assault on her nostrils. She pulled the door on the minifridge anyway; there was nothing but a couple of ice-cube trays inside. Emily was about to check the bedrooms when Thor started barking outside.

It wasn’t an aggressive bark, but something had definitely gotten his attention. Maybe the ducks had followed them up the path? She made her way back to the front door and looked out. Thor was standing on the path facing up the hill; his tail was wagging frantically, and he kept stealing glances back at Emily before snapping his head back to whatever had piqued his interest.

“What is wrong with you?” she called as she stepped outside. “There aren’t any—”

Emily stopped midsentence. Standing just a few yards away, frozen to the spot by Thor’s barking, was a terrified young girl.

The kid didn’t stay frozen long—and she could move. Ten, maybe eleven. Tall for her age, wide blue eyes, skinny, in cutoff blue jeans that terminated in tattered threads just above her scuffed knees, muddy sneakers, and a blouse. Her eyes flicked between Thor and Emily as if she was trying to decide which of them to be more afraid of.

“No! Wait!” Emily yelled.

But she was already outpacing Emily, dodging between the trees and leaping over rocks and outcrops. She obviously knew the area like the back of her hand. If not for Thor, the kid would have lost Emily in the first thirty seconds. As it was, she could barely keep Thor in sight as he loped after the girl.

The roof of the third house appeared above a thick hedge just as the path leveled off and switched from dirt to a concrete slab driveway. Emily was just in time to see the girl, long blonde hair streaming out behind her, dart around the corner of the house. Thor followed her a few seconds later.

“Goddamn it, Thor,” Emily yelled between panting breaths. “Stop, you’re scaring her.”

Emily sprinted the remaining fifty feet to the same corner, working out how she was going to approach the kid to convince her she wasn’t a threat. As she rounded the corner of the house, Emily almost tripped over Thor, his body rigid, his ears down, and his teeth bared in a low growl as he stared at the doorway.

Emily looked up from her dog. Standing in the open entrance was the little girl; next to her was a man with a pistol aimed directly at Thor’s head.

“Stop!” Emily screamed.

Thor raised himself from his crouch and let out a low growl. The man pulled the girl closer to him and his finger began to tighten on the trigger.

“No,” Emily yelled. “He won’t hurt you…Thor! Come here. Come on, come here.” The dog didn’t budge, so Emily took a tentative step closer to him, her hands raised to shoulder height, palms out. “We aren’t here to hurt anybody.” She spoke as softly as she could, fighting the urge to yell at the man that if he didn’t point the pistol away from her dog she was going to take it from him and shove it so far up—

“Who are you?” the man said, nervously waving the gun. The words were directed at Emily, but his eyes never left Thor. “Where the hell did you come from?” Emily noticed the girl glance quickly up at the man, a look of fear in her eyes.

“Dad…” she whimpered.

Okay, okay. So now she knew what she was dealing with: a father frightened for his daughter and his own safety. She could understand that. Just have to keep them—and Thor—calm, she thought.

The girl’s father glanced down at his daughter. “It’s all okay, kiddo,” he said reassuringly, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder. Then his focus snapped back to Emily and Thor. “I won’t ask again. Who are you?”