Paul Jones - Extinction Point - The End

Emily drew a bead on the rapidly advancing monster and eased her finger onto the trigger… then released the pressure. If she fired now she risked hitting the dog following so closely behind the charging alien, and she would be damned if she was going to be the one who risked killing what very well may be the last specimen of humanity’s best friend. Instead, as the advancing monster ate up the final few feet between its quarry, Emily breathed in what felt like the deepest breath of her life but in reality must have been the shortest intake of air she ever made and then yelled…

“Down, boy. Get down.”

The Malamute instantly obeyed, dropping to the ground and forcing the flat of its jaw tight against the earth while tucking its tail around its flank. It only took a second for her to issue her command and the dog to obey, but that was all she needed to ensure sufficient space between the dog and the charging monster. The creature’s butt-ugly face seemed to take up her entire vision as she squeezed the trigger on the Mossberg and then it disappeared in a spray of green gore, as the 12-gauge buckshot obliterated it. Momentum carried the body of the alien past Emily and she felt the spray of green arterial blood splash over her as the dead body sailed past and crashed into the undergrowth behind her.

The dog was still lying where she had commanded it to stop. Its mouth was open as it panted hard, its tongue lolling between its front canines. Its left flank was smeared with dirt and stained with red blood, but the dog’s eyes were bright and clear and fixed directly on her as she limped her way over to it.

A wave of gratitude washed through her as she noticed the dog’s tail begin gently swooshing back and forth, sending a small cloud of dusty soil into the air. Emily knelt down on one knee, using the butt of the shotgun shoved into the ground to help steady her.

“Come here, boy,” she called quietly. The dog immediately jumped to its feet and ran to the woman he had just saved, ramming his head under her arm and almost bowling her over while his tail swished back and forth with joy. Emily threw her arms around the dog and pulled him to her, burying her face in the thick ruff of fur around his neck.

Oh! He smelled so damn good .

She pulled back and planted a kiss on his muzzle. The Malamute responded by covering her face in wet slobber as he licked at her, bouncing back and forth excitedly.

“I’m happy to see you too, boy,” she said between a fit of giggles.

A blue dirt-stained leather collar hung around the dog’s neck and she heard the tell tale jangle of identity tags lost somewhere in the mass of fur. “Keep still for a second, would you, you big oaf.” she laughed as she felt around until she found the metal tag. She tugged on the collar until she was able to read the information engraved on it.

“Thor?” she said, reading the name aloud. At the sound of his name the dog’s tail wagged even faster, sending a cool waft of air across Emily’s face. Someone had obviously taken living in Valhalla to heart, naming him after the Norse god of thunder.

She took the dog’s head in both hands and stared deep into his brown eyes: “Hello Thor,” she said. “Thank you for saving my life. Now, what do you say we blow this joint?”

Judging by the dog’s single excited bark, he was as ready to leave as she was.

Emily limped back to where she had dropped her bike. Thor followed obediently by her side, stopping only to sniff at the dead aliens and occasionally to nibble at the wound on his side.

“We’ll get both of us fixed-up as soon as we’re out of here,” Emily told the dog. He glanced up at her, his tail wagged in understanding.

Other than a few scratches to the paint work, there didn’t appear to be any damage to the bike, the panniers or their contents, from what Emily could tell by her quick inspection. The bergen was another matter though. She unlocked the belt buckle and let the backpack slip to the ground, wincing as the strap rubbed across her wounded shoulder. She was going to have to deal with that injury but not now, not here. The chance that there were more of those creatures roaming the forest outweighed her chance of contracting an infection right now. So, it would have to wait. Besides, the first thing she needed to do was secure her supplies so she and her new companion could go find somewhere safe to lay-up for the night. Then she could treat their wounds, eat, and hopefully, get some rest.

Emily gave Thor a pat on the head as he sat down next to her, watching intently while she inspected the damaged bergen. The back pouches were sliced clean through and were now useless, hanging limply from the main body of the backpack. They had been empty, so she hadn’t lost anything. The creature’s claws had however punctured through the pack’s reinforced material and into the clothing stored inside. She could make out tufts of white thermal wadding sticking out from the ragged puncture holes and slits. That could only mean her cold weather gear was damaged. Better her clothing than her skin. She shuddered as her imagination summoned up an image of what she would have looked like if she hadn’t been wearing the backpack. She forced the bloody image from her mind.

There was no way she was going to stay here a moment longer than necessary, and no way was she going to start unpacking her kit now. She would double check the contents when she could. At least the bergen was still serviceable. She would have to perform some cosmetic surgery on it at some point, just to shore-up the damage and make certain it remained waterproof.

There was one thing she was going to do, though.

She unzipped the pouch where she had stored her extra shells for the shotgun—mercifully untouched by the creature’s frenzied attack— and pulled out enough to refill the magazine. She slid them one after the other into the loading port of the shotgun until it was full, then added a final round into the main chamber.

Emily slung the bergen back onto her shoulders, fastened up her belt, picked the bike up from the ground and walked the short distance to the break in the forest.

She kept the shotgun in her hands… just in case.

Stepping out of the forest and into the familiar green of a field full of normal grass immediately helped lift Emily’s spirits. That feeling quickly evaporated though as she spotted the fire still raging off to the west. The fire line looked to have advanced several miles closer to where she was now.

Good , she thought. With any luck, the fire will rip through that demented forest and kill every last thing in it .

While thoughts of the forest’s potential destruction were all very satisfying, Emily knew she still needed to put some distance between her, the fire and any other beasts that might decide she and Thor would make a nice bedtime snack, and she needed to do it as quickly as possible. Ahead of her was a wooden fence bordering the furthest edge of the field. Beyond the fence, Emily could see a red STOPsign, which meant there was a road. It was as good a direction to head for as any other, so she began pushing the bike toward it.

The fence had definitely seen better days. The occasional fleck of white was all that remained of the original paint job, the aged wood was rotten and flakey after exposure to the elements for many years. In several places Emily saw wooden struts were missing, leaving a gap large enough she could lift her bike through and Thor easily jumped over.

The dog sat patiently next to Emily as she stopped to look up the road. She had no idea what might lie up there, but it was at least heading in the right direction, one that would take her away from both the fire and the forest. “Well, what do you think?” Emily asked, glancing at the dog. “Want to tag along with me?” she asked.