STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 4 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
The crunch of boots on gravel was the only sound as the pair trudged on through the day. The sun, oblivious to their plight, marched cheerily across the sky, chased by the occasional cloud.
The men fell into a sort of hypnotic trance as they let the road pass under their feet, mindless of their surroundings. Their legs ached and backs sweated. Caught in daydreams of a more pleasant past, they lost all track of time.
A sharp bark from behind changed all that however. Suddenly their heads were up, looking back along the tarmac to find the source of the sound. They didn’t have to search for long. A black shape slunk out from the trees and stood in the shadows watching them.
Ears pricked and nose lifted to catch their scent, the dog did not seem overly aggressive. It didn’t wag its tail however, which was a pretty good indication that it was not pleased to see them.
“You might want to get that pistol out” cautioned the older man. Neither man was afraid of the dog. It was large, but they were used to large dogs and had no fear of them. The son hesitated. He had no qualms about shooting the dog. At this stage of the game, the dog presented a valuable food source. But firing the weapon would announce their presence to anyone within a few miles, and that could be very dangerous.
“We only have four rounds” he said. “At this range it will probably take all of them to score a hit since I’ve never fired this one before.”
He stood considering for a moment, then slipped off his pack and gently placed it on the ground. “I’ll see if I can grab him. You get a knife ready.”
The father shuffled over to the fence and leaned against it while he took off his pack. He was glad to get the weight off his shoulders. The damn thing was getting heavier all the time, while his belly was getting lighter. There seemed something wrong about that.
The dog stood his ground watching the two men as they slowly approached him.
The son tried talking in a calm, friendly voice, trying to reassure the dog that they meant it no harm. It glanced from one man to the other and then raised the hackles on the back of its neck. The growl it emitted was low and threatening, rising higher as it opened its mouth to display large yellowing teeth.
Unperturbed, the pair continued closing in, on what they hoped would be their next meal.
A rustle in the trees off to one side, just behind their target, caused both men to pause in their hunt. Seven more large and hungry looking dogs loped into view and fanned out across the road. Their intent was clear. They didn’t growl, but seven drooling mouths betrayed their inner thoughts.
“OK, that’s a bit more meat than we need right now” said the son standing up as tall as he could to try and seem more threatening. The dogs were not impressed, and stepped forward a little, lines of drool falling from open jaws.
“We can’t outrun them, and I don’t think fighting them would end well for us, even if we win. I don’t fancy being dog tucker” said the older man standing his ground. They both knew that as soon as they turned their backs, the dogs would be on them in seconds. Given the state of their bellies, they were not likely to be shy about sinking their teeth into either of the men.
The son glanced left and right, looking for a way out. Going back into the woods was a waste of time. The dogs had come from there, so it would not afford them any protection. And then there was the ticks to worry about.
Trying to outrun them was also a waste of time. Given the wobbliness of their knees they were unlikely to get more than ten paces before the dogs pulled them down.
The son briefly toyed with pulling out the handgun and shooting the lead dog. Maybe if it went down the others would eat it instead. Maybe.
There were no real solutions that offered a chance at survival. It looked like this was going to be a fight to the death.
The son began to undo his shirt in order to wrap it around his hands. It wouldn’t protect him for long, but it might last long enough for him to do some damage.
“Reckon you can get over the fence?” asked his father, sidling off the road a little. He kept his eyes on the lead dog and slowly, carefully put one foot behind the other. Without even glancing sideways the son offered “No worries for me. Can you get over it?”
Still inching back towards his pack, the old man’s voice was tight with tension as he said “Only one way to find out. I’ll throw the packs over and then get myself over. Then you run for it.”
The son nodded and took an aggressive step forward, forcing the dogs to focus their attention on him. He began a low, threatening growl in the back of his throat, keeping it rumbling as his father struggled to throw the pack over the fence. He heard the man grunt and then the sound of branches whipping back as the pack experimented with gravity.
The second pack got hung up in the barbed wire on the top of the fence, but it was high enough that the dogs wouldn’t be able to get to it.
Concentrating on the snarling faces in front of him, the son had little time to register the sound of the chainlink fence rattling. Another grunt followed by a loud barrage of swearing announced that his father had made it to the other side, leaving bits of himself on the fence as trophies.
Now it was the son’s turn to slowly back towards the fence. He couldn’t turn and run yet. There was still too much distance, and the dogs were pressing closer and closer.
His foot caught on a fallen branch about the length of his arm and he stumbled for a moment, trying to keep his balance. Falling now would be fatal. The dogs caught the motion and took that as their cue to close on their prey.
They surged forward barking and snapping.
In desperation the son reached down and picked up the branch. Without even trying to use it as a club, he hurled it at the dogs, then turned and sprinted for the fence. Most of the dogs easily dodged the flying branch. The two that were hit, were only marginally slowed in their attack.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the younger man focused on the fence, just a few yards away. Two more steps and he would jump as high as he could and hope it was enough to get him out of reach of the fangs flashing at his heels.
The rough ground made preparing for the jump difficult, the scrubby grass hiding the true nature of the soil under it. The fleeing man hit hard on his right foot and launched himself as high as he could, reaching with both hands to grab the wire.
The fence sung with his impact and swayed like a drunken farmer. The son felt the impact of the lead dog as it crashed into his legs, fangs tearing through his trousers and scratching his flesh. The fence rebounded, throwing both of them back out into space.
Thanking evolution for his opposable thumbs, the son hung on while the dog was thrown back into his fellows, snarling and whipping its head back and forth.
With fear clutching at his bladder, and a panicked cry stuck in his throat, the dog’s escaping meal used the momentum of the swinging fence to haul himself over and onto the other side, and safety.
He hung from the top of the fence, his shirt entangled inI the barbed wire, for a moment, while the dogs went nuts leaping up and barking. No matter how hard they tried however, their meal had escaped.
As his heart rate began to return to normal, the son released the hung up pack and let it fall to the ground. Then he climbed down and stood panting next to his father.
The dogs hurled themselves at the fence heedless of the fact that they were just bounced back off. They began to foam at the mouth and flecks of dog goob began flying everywhere.
“Well that was fun” quipped the son as they donned their packs and made their way into the fenced off area. Soon the dogs were left well behind and they found themselves on a dusty gravel road.
“Which way?” asked the son.
The older man glanced one way and then the other, considering. “South” he said. So saying, he stepped onto the road and led the way.
They walked silently, listening for any sound that might indicate the dogs had found a hole in the fence. Or the sound of a vehicle, which might turn out to be even worse.
The sound of running water gave them a reason to smile. Water often means game, and game can be eaten.
A misshapen lump in the road ahead gave them some indication of what game might be around. They walked over and stood next to the carcass. It had been dead for a while, but no more than several days. And it was plain that whatever it was before, now it was roadkill. That meant a vehicle had been through here in the last few days.
They inspected it and found that it hadn’t been nibbled on, so it was unlikely that there were any carrion feeders, like dogs, in the neighbourhood.
It had also been left behind by whoever had run it over, which might mean they had enough in the way of food supplies that they didn’t need this animal.
None of this helped to put them at ease.
“What do you think dad?” asked the son, tapping the dead creature with the toe of his boot. It remained dead and didn’t jump up and rip his throat out, much to the disappointment of horror story fans around the world.
“Leave it. Let’s just keep on going” said his father.
“Fair call” replied the son.
They hitched their packs up, and after a quick glance back the way they had come, the pair put their heads down and got back into trudging mode.
Soon the roadkill, the dogs and the fence were far behind them. What lay ahead, they didn’t know. But whatever it was, it was likely to challenge them and make them curse the men responsible for the crisis, one more time.
Stories in this series
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 1 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 1 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 2 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 2 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 3 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 3 Round 2 - the Kiwi's story
STEEM-POCALYPSE SURVIVAL GAME CONTEST - Day 4 Round 1 - the Kiwi's story
Check out my stories here on Steemit
Running Deer
Running Deer - part 1
Running Deer - How legends are born
Charlie Rabbit
Meet Charlie Rabbit
Charlie tides up
Charlie Rabbit and Margery Mouse
Charlie Rabbit and Margery Mouse make music
Little Peppers Adventures
Runaway Rabbit and the hungry fox
Maybe and the land of purple rainbows – A Little Peppers adventure
How Pappa Pepper and Monster Truck the Pepper got their wild hogs - a Little Peppers Adeventure
Dark Angel Regiment of the Space Marines - Mission Files
First Squad Sniper Elite - Zaresith mission
Other stories
Also don't forget to check out my Dad's blog
Who else can tell you stories about impersonating an officer, stealing a military aircraft to go on a booze run, or steal military aircraft and go on an unsanctioned bombing run - and that's all before he turned 18!
Check out @len.george and find out what other madness he got up to!
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Nicely done Team Kiwi. I like you storytelling Trevor. If you have some time you might be interested in a DnD like game I´m preparing. Will you adhere the calling oh mighty writer?
Hey @fingersik I'd be keen, assuming I have the time available.
I'm going off-grid in a couple of weeks for a bit, so I may not be around when you get started. but if I'm here I'll be up for it. ;-)
Give my dad a call also - @len.george. He'll be well up for it :-)
I see. Enjoy whatever you’re up to then! Thanks for the echo. I’ll contact your dad right away.
always a sucker for a game.
keep us in mind fingersik, Trevor is the writer of the family though.
No worries! This game is not about polished writing skills but about surviving and making good calls. You may easily surpass you son in this regard using your experience!
just give me a shout when you are ready.
besides revising old records to make some big posts I haven't got a lot that can't wait for some fun.
following you so I should get notice
Perfect! See you soon :).