“Oh, hello,” I say.

“Oh, for the love of the progenitors,” says Xeno. “That’s what’s been following us all this time?”

I hop down off the truck and shine my light at the dog half hiding behind a bulldozer’s wheel.

“It’s okay,” I say, squatting down.

“No, bad dog. Bad. Dog!” says Xeno. “Give us both a fright like th—”

“Shush,” I say, clenching my right fist. He mumbles something but I can’t make out what.

“Come here, boy. It’s okay.”

The dog makes a tentative gesture, then drops its tongue and huff, huffs.

I open my hand. “Don’t scare him away,” I say. “It’s just a dog. He looks sweet.

“It's the sweet ones that always turn on you when you’re not looking.”

I drop my pack and unzip it. “It’s some sort of Australian shepherd mix.”

“What are you doing?” says Xeno, alarmed.

I pull out a slab of beef jerky I found in the pantry and tear it open. The dog sniffs so loud I can hear its nose from ten feet away.

“Come here,” I say, “it’s okay.”

The dog starts, stops, then hesitantly pads its way to me. I’m still squatting down when he arrives. Closer up, I can make out its coloring. It’s mostly brown with a few white patches, and has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

I take a bite of the jerky and hold the remaining out for it to take. It sniffs it a few times then gladly snags it and begins chomping on it right there.

“Oh, disgusting,” says Xeno.

I shine the light on his collar. He has a name tag. “Hello, Gus,” I say.

The dog looks at me, knowingly, then goes back to eating.

“Yeah, for Dis … gus … ting,” says Xeno. “Just send him and let’s be done with it.”

“Nah, I think I want to keep him around,” I say. “His owner must have been a miner. Hey, there’s blood on his collar.”

“We can’t rule out the possibility that he ate his master, Jack.”

I snort a laugh and scratch behind the dog’s ears with both hands, ignoring Xeno’s protests.

“Yes, that’s what you did, you ate your master, you big ferocious dog, you,” I say, in a baby goo-goo gaa-gaa tone. “You’re a big scary thing, aren’t you?”

The dog looks at me and pants.

—•—•—•—

“Alright, I think we’re good to go,” I say, as I zip up my hiking pack. There’s one of each kind of explosive magazine in there now, along with a remote trigger and detonator pack I remember them using during the tour to ignite it. My memory is a bit fuzzy, but with Xeno’s ability to recall exactly what I’d seen all those years ago, I’m confident we can make it work.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

I hope, anyway.

As we make our way back towards the entrance of the building, and out towards the parking lot, I wonder if Gus will follow. He does, quietly, keeping close to my heels as if we’d been acquainted for years.

“Careful, careful, oh please be careful, Jack,” says Xeno as I lay my pack, full of explosive material, in the back seat of the truck. I strap a couple seat belts around it to keep it secure.

“I am,” I say. “Jeez, that’s heavy.” I grit my teeth and give my wounded shoulder a tender rub. “You think it’s safe next to all that gasoline?” I say, motioning to the eight large plastic jugs.

“We’re all gonna die,” says Xeno.

“Nah, we’ll be fine,” I say, closing the door and shining my light back at the complex. “Now, who’s ready to sleep in a soft, warm bed tonight?”

Gus barks, and I chuckle.

Xeno lets out a gurgly sigh. “We’re keeping him, aren’t we?”

I shrug, smile at the animal. “Looks like it.”

We head back to building number three, but on the way, Gus starts to act funny. He keeps running ahead, barking, then running back to me.

“What does he want?” says Xeno. “To play catch?”

Bark, bark, bark.

“No, I … I think he wants to take me somewhere, show me something.

“Careful, Jack. He may be trying to lure you into his den to—”

“Shut up, Xeno, it’s just a dog.”

“Alright, alright, I’m just looking out for you is all.”

Gus runs ahead, barks, runs back to me, barks some more, over and over. When we get to a certain point however, he just takes off towards one of the collapsed buildings.

I pick up the pace.

Eventually, I catch up to him.

He’s bouncing back and forth at the edge of the building, where the roof had collapsed in on itself. It’s a huge building, but it’s too dark and too demolished to tell what its purpose was for.

“What is it, boy?” I say, putting my hands on my knees, panting.

Bark, bark, bark.

I shine the light at him and he bends down to sniff something. No, not something, someone. Half of someone to be exact.

“Oh, no,” I say, stepping back.

“See!” says Xeno. “And now we’re next.”

“Bark, bark, bark,” says Gus, making a tight twirl.

“The building came down on him as he was trying to get out,” I say. I squat down, let out a breath. “I bet this was his master. Poor thing.”

“I hate saying I told you so, but I believe those are teeth marks on his neck, Jack.”

“Must’ve been starving.”

Gus lets out a soft whiney whimper.

Xeno groans and mutters something I can’t make out.

We end up making our way back to building three. Gus and I share a meal of canned refried beans, and more beef jerky packs. Gotta love that beef jerky. And wash it all down with a couple cans of warm diet cola. Yummy.

I let Gus lick my scar on my right hand. At first Xeno is mortified. Then the alien, to my utter shock, starts to giggle. Xeno, it turns out, is a bit ticklish.

I’m not sure what to do with that information other than laugh.

I did not expect the shower to work, but it did. There was only about three minutes of hot water, but those three minutes were oh so glorious.

There’s also a closet full of clothes. I stash away some jeans and work boots, then slap on some fresh boxer briefs I find in a drawer. Xeno informs me, unhelpfully, that probably, not too long ago, those same briefs held some other guy’s junk.

I just ignore him.

That’s usually the best way to deal with the alien’s antics. He always gets distracted quickly by the next thing to come along anyways.

I lay in bed and Gus hops right up with me and snuggles up against my thighs. He puts his head on my hip and I give him one more good scratch behind the ears.

“Jack, okay, I’ll admit, I’m warming up to the little guy, but just maybe we don’t let him sleep with us. You know, just in case he turns violent during the night.”

“Tell you what, buddy,” I say, shining my light straight at my palm. “I’ll make you a deal. If he tears my throat out while I’m sleeping I’ll get down on one knee and admit you were right all along.”

“Fine, but—oh, cute, Jack, real cute.”