Love And Other Moments

by JustAnotherFalloutAuthor (Jafa)

Summary:

"Love and other moments
Are just chemical reactions in your brain,
And feelings of aggression
Are the absence of the love drug in your veins."

The pariah dog meets a small pack of two - no, three - humans.

Familiar streaks of daylight spun silken gold over the skies of California, and the cool breeze from the west coast had not yet died down to embrace the morning. Awoken by the dawn, I rose slowly, arching my back towards the sky, and yawned.

Time to hunt.

I had learned to move before the desert gets too hot; the sand could burn the pads of my paws - as it has done countless times - and I could still feel the itch that sunburn brought to my snout. Maybe my fur would grow back in its entirety one day.

In the shadows, I heard a noise.

I stopped. My ears twitched involuntarily, swivelling in the direction of the source. My eyesight had long since been wasted away - one wasteland mercenary had called it ‘lazy eye’ at one point, before he unfortunately met his end by a landmine I had set off - and in my old age, I had to rely heavily on my other four senses. Not that dogs used their eyesight all that much anyway. I preferred to rely on my nose.

When it wasn’t sunburnt, of course.

After a moment, I could hear it clearer; it was the sound of a man. A brash, assertive - no, aggressive - tone, with venom laden in his voice. He sounded angry. I wondered if he needed assistance. Humans love dogs! Surely, he would love me!

As the shouting grew nearer, I became less sure of myself. There was a sense of fear radiating off of his unseen companion - pure, unadulterated terror - and I felt it like static in the air. My hackles raised and I suppressed a growl. After all, that’s no way to greet a welcoming party. Maybe his companion was afraid of the dark? The sun would come up soon. Humans relied so heavily on the light to guide them; it’s no wonder his friend was so fearful. I could almost taste it. 

In an instant, they appeared in my field of vision as a burst of browns and greys amongst the sand. Was I really that blind? I felt one of the humans bend down to scratch my ears, and their fingers took a chunk of fur out of me. I didn’t mind - after all, it gives the fleas less of a home to latch onto.

I heard him, a small man no older than a pup, coo at the sight of me, and he gave me a hug. I whined happily, and sniffed deeply at the duster draped over his shoulders. It smelt like salt and sweat and desperation.

More nonsense spewed from the much larger man standing behind him. I could smell the pup’s fear diminishing the more he held onto me, and I could feel the frustration of his elder rising. They yipped at each other once more in tones I could never hope to understand. 

 

Human language evaded my understanding. Maybe other canines could recognise words or phrases, but everything that came out of the mouths of the two people in front of me sounded foreign, unfamiliar. There was one language I understood though - body language. As the pup stepped behind me and looked at the elder, his shoulders were hunched in resignation. The stench of bitterness, of anger, of something unforgiving was heavy on his pallid skin. It was a stench that the elder seemed to share in spades when their eyes once more brushed over my form. Did I do something? 

I hoped not. It was nice to be around people again, even when they carried the scent of loneliness and desperation and resentment all buried in their skin. It ran so deep that it might have coated their bones.

They all seemed to smell like that, these days.

 

As the pup scratched behind my ears and the two conversed, growing calmer amongst the dawn’s light - I knew the light would ease their fears! - I reflected on my previous travelling companions. I walked for a spell with another human pup not unlike the one behind me for a while before he left my company somewhere near the Ghost Farm. I should have kept a closer eye on him, but humans were never very careful in my keep. Neither were animals if I were being honest, though; I spent some time with a brahmin before she broke her leg, and I had to leave her behind as well.

My companions never really fared very well in my presence. I needed to try harder to keep them safe.

 

As I reflected on this, I nearly missed the sound of gravel crunching underfoot somewhere behind me, and then the explosion of a shotgun. The acrid stench of buckshot filled my nose as the elder collapsed in front of me, twitching, writhing in the sand. I smelled the acidic tang of blood - human blood, from the elder I stood in front of. He hadn’t even the ability to cry in pain, instead a dying gurgle filled his throat as he struggled to breathe. I heard the pup squeal behind me, and I knew what I had to do.

I couldn’t see the attacker - damn my eyesight - but I could run in their direction.

I slowly turned, hackles raised and head low, and I growled. He had to run. I was the one who had to make him run. In my old age, I hadn’t a chance at defending the pup - he would never be safe in my keep - but I could surely make myself look threatening. Maybe that would be enough. 

In the dancing shadows of the early dawn, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the elder’s shadowy face contort in pain, then confusion as he looked up at me. 

No, through me.

I heard the elder and his assailant exchange words beyond my understanding. A soft argument with words snared on gurgles of blood and death and danger.

 

Before long, the living had fled, and I was alone again.

Notes:

Song inspiration:
Savage Garden - 'Gunning Down Romance'

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of 52 Characters, 52 Weeks