The Companion

Paul ran down the empty street, occasionally looking behind him. He couldn't see any sign of his pursuers, so he slowed down before stopping in front of a house. Looking around him carefully, he slowly made his way to the large bay windows and peered inside. Seeing no movement from within, he tried his luck to see if the door was unlocked.

It had been a year since the zombie virus started infecting mankind. No one knew how it started, but the rumors ranged from that it was a military experiment that went wrong, that it was created by a corporation, that it was a mutation, that it was alien in origin, and so on. Each theory was even more outlandish than the other, but no one cared about the origin - just how to survive it.

The door was unlocked and Paul quickly went inside. He called out to check if anyone was around, but there was no answer. A quick glance around the room told him all he needed to know for the time being - the family that had occupied the house had left in a hurry at some point. Cutlery and crockery were still on the table, and the food on the table had gotten rotten.

Paul walked towards the kitchen hoping to find something that he could eat. Rummaging in the drawers, he found a few cans of spam. He let out a sigh of exasperation - he had been living on spam for the last fortnight. Still, it was better than starving himself.

Hearing a sound, Paul spun around and pulled out his gun that was put in his waistband. Looking around, he didn't see anything at all, but could sense that something was there. He carefully went around the room, carefully peering around the doorways. Seeing a set of stairs leading towards the basement, he grumbled a little, "Of course there has to be a basement. What crappy luck!".

He grabbed his torch and slowly walked down the stairs. The hair at the back of his neck stood up, and he was tense. He could hear the sound getting louder with each step. Step by step, step by step. Paul reached the bottom of the stairs, but still couldn't see anything. He carefully walked towards the origin of the sound and was puzzled - the basement wasn't very large, but there was nothing to be seen. Paul happened to glance down at one of the walls and realized that there was a hole. Shining his torch through the hole, he heard a loud noise and immediately jumped back screaming in horror.

Scurrying away, he kept his gun trained on the hole. The last year had taught him the etiquette of gun handling, and to his credit, he didn't lose his head and start shooting - bullets were scarce and were mostly held by the larger raider groups.

Paul noticed that the source of the sound wasn't following him, so decided to take another look, careful to keep his distance. He didn't want some crawler lunging at him. Shining his torch again, he carefully looked through the hole and realized that it was a dog who was trapped inside.

Paul's expression softened and he laughed at himself. He took a careful look inside and was a little happy to see another creature. Paul was fond of dogs - prior to the outbreak, he worked for a shelter for dogs. Thinking the dog was trapped with no way out, he looked around the edges of the hole and realized that the dog was just scared and hid inside. Paul tried coaxing the dog out, but the dog wasn't that keen on exiting his little hideyhole.

Paul quickly dashed upstairs and grabbed some spam and ran down again. He put the spam outside the hole and stepped back - the dog would definitely exit the hole when he wouldn't be able to resist the allure of spam. It was a waiting game now.

Slowly the dog shuffled a little, slowly creeping out of the hole. Paul's breath was taken away - it was a German Shepherd, and a healthy looking one at that. He slowly moved forward with his hands outstretched, palms out, careful not to make any sudden moves. The dog looked at him carefully and went back to eating after deciding that Paul was not a threat.

Paul gently touched the head of the dog and gave it gentle headpats. The dog looked up from his food, stared at Paul for a few moments before going back to eating. The allure of the food was more than the gentle pats he was getting.

Paul went back upstairs to look around again, leaving the dog to finish it's meal in peace. Looking around, he saw a few photos of the family that used to live here. A sudden pang of pain shot through him - he didn't know what had happened to the family and could only hope that they were safe and together. Feeling a little tired, Paul lay down on the couch and took a nap.

When he woke up, he saw the dog was lying down on the floor next to him. Sensing Paul's movement, the dog raised his head and looked at him giving a little 'woof' as if to say, "Thank you for the food." Paul looked at the dog and mumbled, "I wonder what your name is. Since I don't see a tag or collar, I guess is should give you a name." Pondering for a bit, Paul looked into the dog's eyes and asked, "Well, how does Sir Wooferton sound to you?" and chucked as the dog gave him a disdainful look. "You don't like it? Well, how about Bear?". Paul smiles as the dog looked like it was pondering the name. The dog gave a short bark and wagged his tail, seemingly giving his approval for the new name. "Bear it is then. Hey Bear."

A few days later, Paul was all set to continue his travels. He and Bear had gotten used to each other and he could safely say that they were akin to partners in their new adventures. They both knew they would have to work together and would have to learn to get along to survive the harsh environment they were a part of.

Slinging a backpack loaded with food and supplies for both Bear and himself, Paul looked one last time at the house which gave him shelter, and a companion for his future travels and walked out, Bear closely following being alert to any danger to either of them.