When The Stars Died

Packed

Skeeter turned back to Jackie and looked at her little round face before he pulled her blanket over her head and muttered a small prayer.
He did the same to his Ma and Pa.

He packed a tan duffel bag with spare clothes, deodorant, underwear and high tops. He stuffed a black backpack with water bottles, plastic packets of noodles, tins of baked beans, heaps of junk food, a container of old corn, a plastic wrapped package of lamb chops, lighters, an old newspaper, a medical kit and his knifes. Then he remembered— his gun. He took his heavy rifle bag and slung it over his shoulder with the strap resting diagonally across his chest. He stowed ten magazines packed full of bullets in the backpack.

Then he changed his clothes into more hardy black jeans and a big rainproof jacket.

He was just about to make an early start for Dead Hill, when barking interrupted his thoughts. It was the dogs. Damn dogs. Wait, should he leave them here?
Skeeter wandered over to the dog pen, and peered in. All four kelpies, the English sheepdog Herbie and his little whippet Luna were making a racket in there.
He didn't really care for the survival of any of them, but he let them all out so they would at least have a fighting chance. Peg, Nigel, Bog and Hiedi immediately sprinted for the sheep paddocks, with Herbie in tow, but Luna cowered by his feet, whining.

"You can't come," Skeeter told her, "It's a matter of survivin'. Not only will you make a hell of a lot of noise, but you're just another mouth to feed. And me and Pan don't need that. We'll be eatin' enough. Hang out with the farm dogs, okay? Eat the sheep and you'll be fine."
Luna stuck by him as he tried to leave for the hill. "Stay." Skeeter growled.
Luna retreated backwards a few paces.
"Good girl." Skeeter turned and started walking, but Luna followed.
"If you don't stay here with the farm dogs, I swear to Satan I will whoop your ass and hang you up for Herbie to eat." He snapped in a low, dangerous voice, and Luna ran away for the sheep paddocks, yelping.

Skeeter nodded briskly and was about to start for Dead Hill when Luna ran up with a stick. He checked his watch, and saw there was more than enough time to play a couple rounds of fetch.

...

Pandora packed her blue and white chequered bag with jeans, tracksuit pants, denim jackets, a rainproof coat, heaps of shirts, a flat cap with the words, 'KILLIN IT' on it, underwear, sanitary products, and some really cute sunglasses. Then she slung her white backpack on her back, full of food, water bottles, a lighter, a few of her favourite books and her only knife, a long black one with a sharp edge.
She made sure her brother and parents were covered completely with their respective blankets and she hid them all a quick path to Hell.

Then she said goodbye to her beloved house, the pool, the garden, her... Dog.

Where was Bullet? Where was her little bull terrier? How could she forget Bullet? And Skeeter probably had farm dogs, kelpies probably, to herd his sheep!

Pandora turned and ran into the house, straight to the main entrance, where, curled inside his kennel, Bullet slept soundly.
Could she leave him here? No! But he would be a nuisance... Was Skeeter taking his dogs?

Bullet started and looked up at Pandora with big brown eyes. He was such a pretty dog, all white except for a black patch around his left eye.

He whined. Pandora gripped his muzzle shut. "Okay, you can come!" She smiled wryly, and went to the garage to put Bullet's dog food in her bag.

She grabbed Bullet's collar and lead, removing the tag so it wouldn't jingle, and fastened it to her dog. Then she got his muzzle and strapped it on.

She sure hoped Skeeter was bringing his dogs too, otherwise he might make her leave Bullet
behind. So she went to his farm first.

...

"No." Skeeter immediately shook his head when he saw the muzzled dog. "Nuh uh."
"What? Please? What did you do with your dogs?" Pandora watched as Skeeter slapped the skin and bones dog he had been playing with on the leg and it booted for the hills.
"Let 'em go, 'course. Now you do the same. Yer hound can live wit' mine." Skeeter offered.
"Uh, no! This is a pedigree. You do not just release pedigrees into the wild, farm boy."
"Well, I just released my ped-i-gree whippet, so release yer terrier, lady."
"No! She's coming with us!" Pandora's mouth dropped in shock. "How dare you!"
Skeeter looked down at Bullet suspiciously, walking around him and poking him in the ribs. "He'll be fine out here. He can run off some of that fat." Skeeter smirked. "Look, I promise you, hear that, promise, that yer dog'll be fine. Better that fine. He won't just be survivin', he'll be thrivin'. We don't have that much time, Pan, so we gotta get goin', okay?"
"But I brought his designer collar!" Pandora whined.
Skeeter kneeled next to Bullet and relieved him of his leather embellishments. Bullet let his tongue loll happily. "Traitor." Pandora muttered as Skeeter scratched Bullet behind his ears.
"Me or yer dog?" Skeeter smirked. "The dog, you idiot." Pandora sneered, "and he's coming with us."
Skeeter fixed her with a stern look. "I know I'm not smart, or nuffin', ya know? But I do know yer dog'll be alright. Trust me, my pup'll look after 'im."
Pandora stared at the frolicking pack of dogs on top of the hill rolling around and nipping each other. "Do you promise?"
"Course. We can't have yer dog with us, he'll make too much noise. Ya understand, right?" Skeeter said softly. Pandora nodded, "Okay. Yeah. Let's leave him."

She bent down and whispered a few words to her dog before taking out the bag of dog food and chucking it on the grass.

Then she rejoined Skeeter and they walked to Dead Hill together.