The night was long, and I was still up. Ava had fallen asleep ages ago, but a boulder in my stomach kept me up. I tried not to make so much noise as I left the room, not even daring to grab my worn, rusty crowbar.
I didn't know where I was going, but I knew where I wanted to go.
---
My house still stood, looking like the residents inside were asleep and not scattered across America. I busted the door open and walked into the dining room. It was caked in a layer of dust, and my greatest fear was finding a hornet's nest somewhere in here. I walked into the kitchen, the living room adjacent. I checked the fridge: it smelled like rotted milk and fruits, and a burst of flies made me stumble back in a panic. I brushed off the flies and made my way to my old room. It was just as I left it: bed unmade, clothes on the chair, my dof's food and water bowl each half-full. The room was themed Minecraft, having wall torches on either side of the espresso bed's headboard and a pixelated iron sword mounted on the wall with fishing line.
"Good times," I muttered, feeling a smile creep onto my face. I looked to my left: my iPod was still on the dock. I detatched it from the black alarm clock and checked it: full battery, still has the wallpaper of The Judge from OFF. It took me a few tries, but I finally remembered the password and was in. The second wallpaper was of Zacharie in his frog mask, also from OFF. I checked every app; the only thing that bore something interesting was the Notes app. I was apparently writing something, that something called "The Novels Came To Life". I read through it, up to a point. At that point, I promptly deleted the note.
I don't know what I was thinking when writing that atrocity.
I pocketed the iPod, then rummaged through my drawers to find some notebooks, some pens and pencils, some gifts that Danny had given me for a birthday, and my DSi. I knew that was dead; the thing's so old that it wastes battery no matter what. I still took the risk and lifted my mask to plant a little kiss on the top cover.
"You served well." I heard a sudden thump, like something had just fallen off something.
And I have no weapon.
"Show yourself!" I said, frozen in place. I heard ticking on the floor, and I turned to see my dog, Jazzy. She was skin and bones, and flies circled her. "Jazzy!" She seemed to recognize me, and she happily trudged over. She shook somewhat violently. "Vamos la, vamos voltar para a base." I forgot about the rest of the house, simply grabbing her leash on the floor of the dining room and running out with her.
---
She ate well at this early hour. It's currently 1:16, and the chef had made boiled chicken and seasoned beef from the animals we had found at a farm. The chicken was warm and juicey, the beef nice and cooked to perfection. I ate some chicken myself, watching my poor, little menina eat to her heart's content. How she survived beats me, but I'd recognize her nose and familiar footsteps out of a thousand dogs. The way I could really recognize her? She only understands Portuguese and specks of English.
"I think it's amazing how this dog was born and raised here in America, and only understands Portuguese and a little English," the chef chuckled, refilling her water bowl.
"It's because she spent so much time with my purely Portuguese Nana and Vovo," I answered. I chomped down on the watery chicken, being reminded of Nana's cooking.
"Do you think she could ever pick up English? How old is she?"
"I don't know, and she'll be eleven this upcoming November."
"Wow, she's old."
"But she's still my menina." She hopped onto my lap and sighed, curling into a ball. She had gained a significant amount of weight, but at first glance, you'd think she's a matted clump of fur. I picked her up, thanked the chef dearly, then headed to the showers.
---
"Ai, Jazzy! Pada!!" She shook herself of the water, trying to run into my lap. I turned the cold water off and brushed through every nap and tangle, but not without a struggle. It took me about twenty minutes solely on the ones that occupied her dainty paws, but once those were taken care of, the rest were like a sigh of relief. She was towel-dried, then I grabbed the nearest electric razor.
---
At debriefing the next day, I held a freshly-shaved Jazzy in one arm, and my crowbar in the other. Ava almost lost it this morning when she woke up to Jazzy snuggled into her side, so I wondered how my team would react?
"All right, all of you, listen up!" Heads turned my way, followed by many faces of confusion. "Today's gonna be full of looking for survivors to send out to other safe zones, so I need all of you to keep your eyes and ears open. Any rustle, any thud, and out-of-place sound, I want you to check for other living things with a heartbeat. Is that clear!?"
"Sir, yes, sir!"
"Leader Mettox?"
"Yes, Desmond?"
"Why do you have a small dog with you?" A wave of more questions on Jazzy came at me, but I answered Desmond's question first.
"You see, boy, I was having another hard night, so I revisited my old house. Jazzy, my little menina, was there lookin' like a peice of paper, so I brought her back here and got her fed, washed, and clean-cut."
"Ah, right."
"Is she vicious?" Sky asked.
"She's old, but she thinks she's still a pup. So a little, if you provoke her."
"Is she gonna be the team mascot?" Ian asked.
"Maybe. Now move out, I need all of you on ground duty." Everyone but Pogan and Trinity left the debriefing room. Pogan looked miffed at Trinity, and Trinity looked annoyed. I wanted to smack the crap out of her, but that's for another installment.
"Mettox, Trinity has something she'd like to say to you," Pogan said in a clipped accent.
"Ugh," she groaned loudly. I smiled sickly sweet under my gas mask and let her proceed with whatever she was about to say. "I'm soooo sorry for attacking you." Heh, maybe I WILL slap her now. But, I felt Jazzy getting antsy, so I just held her down. "I'm sorry I brought Ava into our 'talk'." Jazzy's squirming was intensifying, so I set her down, but clutched her leash so she was still next to me. She lunged at Trinity, who took a step back. "Control your mutt, dammit!" That's when I just tilted my head and let the leash go completely. Jazzy got a good bite on her boot, clinging on as she struggled. Pogan stood back, the shadow of a smile dancing across his lips. I was laughing so hard, I haven't laughed like that in ages!
I think Pogan and I can agree that Trinity was being kinda bitchy, and that she deserved that.
(In the meantime, THAT'S MY DOG!! YEAH!!)
