Wincing through the pain of stumbling over a tree root I jolt to a clumsy stop as the texture underfoot changes. The uneven grass covered floor of the woods has changed to the rough asphalt of an empty two lane road. Well empty, except for the man pointing a rifle at me.

  “Don’t move! I’ll Shoot!” He shouts with a snarl, causing me to flinch and throw my hands in the air. My duffle bag and crowbar dropping to the ground with a clatter that would echo anywhere else.

  “No no no no no, I’m not one of them! I’m not sick! I’m not sick!” At hearing me speak he falters and lowers the rifle just a bit. His golden fur ruffling in a gust of wind, ears pinned back in fear.

  “H- How do I know if you’re lying? Are you armed?”

  “I’m not, I- I’m not. Th- there was an evacuation camp, at- at Littleridge. Someone got sick or- or there was a riot. I don’t know!” Echoes of those horrifying screams flood my mind. Voice shaking as I point back into the woods with a vague gesture, hoping to convince the golden retriever to not shoot me.

  “Shit!” He growls, drawing out his expletive.

  “My Dad woke me up, he was telling me to grab everything and run. That I couldn’t wait for him. We- we got separated in the chaos,” I explain further, rambling without reason. His guard drops further, eyes flitting between me and the tree line at my back.

  “You- You weren’t followed? There’s nothing chasing you?” He scrutinizes me, brow furrowing and eyes focusing back on me. Which, in an odd way, calms me down. My racing heart slows down and the trembling of my hands dies away. The threat from this man feels more real than anything that has happened to me today. I open my mouth to respond, but a gust of wind rustles the leaf litter surrounding us and I pause.

  “No, not that I know of,” My eyes meet his, his meet mine. He lowers the gun and even the wind sighs in relief. Now that the threat of being shot is gone I finally notice the old minivan behind him. The silhouettes of several others sitting inside watching the altercation. A small plume of smoke or steam rises out from the engine compartment. He turns around with a muttering growl, walking back to the van and opening the door to speak to someone inside.

  “What’s going on, is he sick?” A woman asks, only the tips of her ears are visible from where I stay standing. Unsure of what to do, I cautiously pick up my things from the ground.

  “No, no he’s not. But he said he came from Littleridge,”

  “What? Where do we go now?”

  “I don’t know, fuck! The quarantine border?”

  “How the hell are we supposed to make it back through the city on foot,” Her voice picks up, panic clear as day.

  “We could go around,” A cat with black fur says, leaning forward in the passenger seat.

  “That’d take too long, it wouldn’t be safe enough for the kids. We need the van,” The man with the gun responds, a growl undercutting his words. Seeing my chance I butt in.

  “I-I’m a mechanic! I could take a look at your van if you let me come with,” I rattle my bag for emphasis. “It doesn’t look too bad from here, there’d be a lot more steam if it was really bad,” My words seem to strike a chord with them as they all pause and look at me. It takes them a few seconds of whispering among themselves before the man walks back over. Leaning in really close as he starts speaking in a low tone.

  “If you can get the van running you have yourself a ride, but so help me if you try anything. I’ve got my kids with me and now is not the time for any bullshit. Got it?” I nod slowly in response, which seems to placate him and he walks away.

  After collecting myself and heading around to the front of the van, I motion for them to pop up the hood so I can start looking for the source of the steam. The mess of the old engine compartment provides me a sense of respite, the familiarity comforting me as my hands move on their own. My ears swivel to the side as the passenger side door opens and footsteps make their way over to me.

  “Sorry about Jonah, he’s just stressed. We all are,” The cat from earlier says.

  “It’s fine, I get it,” I don’t look up from the engine, hands waving away steam.

  “Yeah, he’s always been quite the family man. Name’s Merlin. Merlin Seas,” He responds, leaning against the van and watching me work.

  “Bruno, uh Carvalho,” I say.

  “Anyways, as I said the golden retriever was Jonah and I don’t know if you saw her very well but the German shepherd in the driver’s seat is his wife Tara. I promise they aren’t uh, so intense normally,” Merlin says, punctuating his sentence with a chuckle before continuing on. “You find the problem?” He asks.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “I think so, this hose here is really old and disconnected on one side, not to mention that it's practically about to fall apart,” My explanation causes the cat to look at me with wide eyes.

  “Can you get it running?” His eyes shift from the engine to me and then back to the engine, worry seeping into his voice.

  “Should be able to with a shit ton of tape but you desperately need a new hose. Though I don’t know where we’d find one right now,” I respond, leaning down to rummage through my bag. Returning my focus to the engine, it only takes me about a minute or so to reconnect the hose and wrap it several times over. “Alright, that should do it. Start her up!” I shout with a thumbs up to the woman in the driver’s seat. Moments later, and a couple worrying sputters, the old rust bucket rumbles to life.

  “Hell yeah man! High five!” Merlin shouts as I stand back up to full height, only now realizing just how much taller than him I am. I ignore the high five, opting instead to pick my bag back up before leaning around the side of the van and waving over Jonah.

  “You fix it enough to get us out of here?” He asks, the gravel-like growl in his voice gone for the first time.

  “Uh- Yeah though I can’t stress how temporary it is, you’ll need a new or at least less old hose as soon as possible. I’m not in the habit of fixing cars with tape so it'll only last a few days at most,” I rub the bridge of my snout as I speak, eyes closing with a sigh.

  “We’ll- We’ll figure it out, right now I just want to get off this damn road. You- Bruno was it? You can ride in the passenger seat.”

  ---

  It’s too quiet in this damn van, none of these people have spoken since we got on the road. The only sound is the rush of wind against the outside. And the screams. The god awful screams. His voice. I can still hear his voice. I- I need something to listen to. I can’t do this. It’s this morning all over again. My hands fumble for the radio volume. Manners be damned. The soft crackle of sound fills the air as the radio sparks to life. A news broadcast is already playing, cutting us into the middle of a reporter’s speech. The tips of my ears flick against the soft ceiling as my brain focuses on the distraction.

  “-reportedly rising nationwide with no signs of slowing down. A statement from the federal government this morning claims that everything is under control and that they are looking into an evacuation plan for healthy civilians inside the quarantine zones. Additionally martial law has been put into effect for all major cities, quarantined or otherwise. Shelter in place orders have been issued to all residents inside or within a 60 mile radius of a quarantine zone-” the report cuts off with a soft click. Tara looks at me for a split second before returning her eyes to the road.

  “Maybe let’s not listen to that, nothing we don’t already know,” she says before adding in a quieter tone, “Don’t want the kids getting too scared,” her free hand gestures towards the backseats.

  “Yeah, uh, I’m sorry,” I sound like a scolded child, probably look like one too given how my ears are folded back.

  “Hey, I get it, from what I heard you seem like you’ve had a pretty ‘bad’ day. Why, why don’t you introduce yourself to Nadia,” She says. In response I turn around in my seat, looking back at the car of strangers who I’ve found myself with. Jonah stares back at me, rifle resting against his leg. Merlin only looks up when he notices the break in speech. And behind them, in the back row of seats, sits two children and a shorter woman entertaining them, who I assume is Nadia.

  She’s a fennec, large ears, shorter snout, and brown eyes. Her jacket is thick, colored a deep red, and adorned with reflective strips. Presumably a first responder, paramedic maybe? Eventually Merlin turns around to get her attention.

  “Nadia,” He pokes her leg.

  “Hmm?” Her ears flick as she looks up, noticing me after a second. “Oh, thanks for fixing the van. I’ve been bugging Merlin to get it looked at for months,” She says, a smile on her face.

  “No problem, I guess we’re all lucky I ran into you guys,” I tell her, the conversation distracting me better than the radio.

  “Yeah, works out for everyone involved. What’d you say your name was?” She asks.

  “It’s Bruno, I work in my dad’s garage on 50th and Westwood,” I tell her before realizing what I just said. My mind already trying to wander back to the memory of earlier today.

  “Really, I didn’t think you were from around here because of your accent. Which might I say is very uh sultry,” Merlin cuts in with a wink, pulling me back from the pits of my own memory.

  “Merlin, really?” Nadia jokingly hits his arm.

  “Oh um, thanks? No, I'm born and raised, my parents are from Brazil and I spent a lot of time down there as a kid so I picked up a bit of the accent,” I tell him.

  “Where’s that?” The girl, a golden retriever like her dad, next to Nadia asks.

  “It’s a country in South America,” My response seems to placate her as she returns to looking out that window.

  “That would be Hazel,” Nadia tells me. “And her brother is Rylan,” She points to the taller boy who seems to take after Tara. Although he’s taller than his sister he’s clearly the younger of the two, still holding onto a bit of that puppy look all canines have at that age. Apparently he’s the quiet one as well given that he only manages a meek wave to me.

  With that the conversation dies out, allowing me to turn back around. To keep myself distracted and avoid a repeat of the radio situation I open my bag and begin going over what I managed to grab. Which unfortunately happens to be mostly my tools, my water bottle, my crowbar, and the blanket they gave me at the evacuation camp. Thankfully I wore my jacket to bed so I haven’t had to worry about the growing fall chill yet.

  Running out of things to count in my bag leads me to the mirror on the sun visor. Flipping it open reflects exactly what I thought, I look like shit. The greens of my eyes are dull and fraught with exhaustion. But my fur, though quite ruffled, looks better. Its rusty brown sheen still compliments the black and white that surround my snout and chest respectively. While I spend the time smoothing down patches of fur, the world outside blurs by.

  There’s no smoke in the sky, no screams echoing with the wind, no bodies lining the road. Just dead leaves and an overcast horizon. A stark contrast to what’s happening around us, what happened this morning, to the promise of what’s to come for the world.