Race to Refuge

Chapter Fifteen: Charlie

It was, indeed, an entire zombie family. Although it was hard to look at them, they resembled the family that were friends of my friends and owned this land we'd hunted on. They looked extremely normal and suburban until you realized the infection had made them lose their humanity.

"Mojo!" I cried out. He was in full defense mode. He gave commanding, deep-throated barks and snapped his jaws at the air in front of them, backing off quickly as they reached for him before barking and snapping again. When I called him, he looked back at me with a pleading look in his eyes. It was a sort of: I've got this, boss. You go! Go!

I didn't pay attention to his doggy sign language. Instead I tried to get him back. That's right: at that moment, fighting zombies seemed like a better idea than offering Mojo up to them. I aimed the gun and managed the calm precision to pick off the dad. Unconcerned by the fallen zombie, the other zombies turned their attention away from Mojo and trained it on me again. "Mojo! Run! Run!" I yelled.

He threw me a frustrated look. This wasn't what he wanted. As the zombies lumbered toward me, he made a large loop around and then did this dodge and retreat move that was intended to herd them away from me. He snarled at them and snapped at the air in front of him with his impressive row of teeth. Somehow, although I wouldn't have thought the zombies would be afraid of much, they seemed intimidated, backing away, hissing at the dog.

The mother zombie abruptly stumbled away and the zombie children followed. I called Mojo, but he wasn't satisfied and continued herding them away into the black night. He apparently would not be satisfied until they were out of sight. Maybe even farther away than that. Who knew the dog was such a perfectionist?

Finally, he was satisfied and returned to me, panting. I poured some water from our supply (making a note to myself that I needed to filter and refill at the creek later today) into a folding bowl. He lapped it all up and then lay down beside me, still looking watchful.

Once again, I fell asleep...a testament to my exhaustion. And once again, I woke in the pitch black darkness to growling from Mojo. The difference was that this time Mojo was far away from me. He apparently had some kind of perimeter in mind that the zombies couldn't cross. And I guess they had.

"Mojo!" I yelled, struggling to wake up. I cursed, fumbling for my gun and getting to my feet.

But Mojo was determined. I never could see him, never could see what he was guarding me against. I could only assume it was a zombie. If it wasn't, it must have been some other night creature. Whatever it was, I could only hear Mojo's snarling and barking as he advanced into the woods. And I felt totally helpless for the first time since this had started. Maybe I should have swiped night vision goggles because Mojo had a huge advantage in that he could smell the danger, but he could also see it in the dark. And whatever he'd seen, he was chasing after it.

I stood there, conflicted. I wasn't sure how much help I'd be for him out in the dark. Wouldn't he come back to our campsite? The dog was so smart, I was sure he'd be able to find it again.

So I waited. It felt like forever. What was more, it started raining just enough to give me a chill. I reached in the duffel and pulled out a windbreaker, yanking it up around my shoulders and zipping it up. A light breeze started up, which made things even cooler. There again, though, Mojo had an advantage with his fur coat. The cool rain probably felt refreshing to him.

I was wide awake now, not about to drop off to sleep. I waited for what must have been an hour. I couldn't hear or see Mojo at all. Once I gave a piercing whistle, hoping to bring him back. When I realized what other creatures might be attracted by sound, I decided to hold off on any more whistling.