The Names Our Children Will Know

Victims - Draft One

"You do realize that's a terrible idea, right?" Mark asked dryly. "We can't outrun them."

"We can try. We've got a ten minute–"

"Seven."

"A seven minute head start, then. We can get going now and worry about that later."

Mark shrugged and shouldered his pack. "Get going then. Ghost and I will buy you some time."

Tessa glared at him. "The last time we tried that, you almost died."

Wesson was nodding emphatically. "We stick together. We don't have time for this, we have to leave!"

"Six minutes," Jordan warned, her face scrunched up in concentration and worry.

"Then go." Mark picked up packs and put them in Tessa's and Wesson's hands. "We'll catch up."

Wesson shook his head in silent exasperation and started walking. Tessa pushed Jordan after him and turned to Mark. "You have one hour. Then I'm coming back for your corpse. Got it?"

Mark nodded solemnly until she turned away, then broke into a mischievous grin and whispered to Ghost, "Right. Let's do this."

☀

Tessa couldn't help but count the seconds until she had to go back. The other two were jogging along ahead of her. Jordan announced it when the plague victims arrived at where Mark had stayed behind. She and Tessa stopped and turned to watch.

The victims were only visible as twisted, lunging shadows. Some ran upright, but a few seemed to have forgotten that they were once men and women. Those few ran on hands and feet, baying like feral dogs. They swarmed around Mark and Ghost, obscuring Tessa's sight of the pair for a moment.

The victims howled in triumph at such easy prey, and Tessa gasped in fear for her friend. Mark was kneeling on the ground, concentrating on something–Tessa couldn't tell what it was. Ghost stood over him, growling and barking at the plague victims. They were nervous at first, coming ever closer and closer to the wolfdog's snapping, gleaming jaws. It wasn't long before they gained confidence, however, jabbing at Ghost with crude spears and sticks and jerking back before she could tear their hands off.

"Mark isn't going to make it back, is he?"

Tessa jumped. She had forgotten that Jordan was still there. She took a deep breath before replying, "He knows what he's doing. He can take care of himself." The answer would allay the fears of a thirteen-year-old, but Tessa knew she was trying to reassure herself, too. She knew herself well enough for that, after twenty two years.

They stood still for another moment before Jordan turned to keep walking. Tessa stayed a moment longer–and was almost immediately rewarded with seeing a sudden gout of flame burst from the ground and shoot up fifteen, twenty feet into the air.

Now, the whole scene was illuminated by a greasy, smoky light. Tessa could see the tight ring of hunched, cowering forms cringing away, turning–fleeing–from the light. She could see Ghost standing with her fur on end, looking twice her usual size and three times as fierce. She saw Mark spring to his feet and jump onto Ghost's back and watched the two of them race ahead to where Tessa, Jordan, and Wesson were waiting. The plague victims looked as though they never wanted to see another human again, fleeing back into the safety of the night.

A moment later, Ghost skidded to a halt next to the other three. There wasn't a scratch on either one of them.

When he slid off Ghost's back, Mark said, "I told you so," with a note of laughter in his voice.