Before First Light

Rodney's medium-length brown fur fluttered lazily in the cool midnight breeze. The tips of his ears tingled beneath the touch of Alaska's spring air. The four main streets of Hope lay washed in silver beneath the full moon, every rooftop and telephone pole painted in quiet shades of gray.

His shelter had been built from repurposed shipping skids. From the outside it looked like little more than a sturdy wooden box clad in white vinyl siding—the same kind found on backyard sheds—with weathered shingles protecting the roof, a single solar panel catching daylight, and a drainpipe decorated to resemble a flag that proudly read:

RODNEY

Inside was another world.

Finished drywall, painted bright white, reflected the soft glow of a solar-powered lamp that hung four and a half feet above his broad head. Multi-colored speckled gym flooring cushioned his paws. An eight-inch-thick bed waited in the corner beside a water bowl decorated with rocket ships from different decades.

It was cozy.

It was warm.

It was safe.

Rodney loved every one of the twenty-five square feet he called home and rarely wished to sleep inside with his humans, even through the bitter Alaskan winters.

He was a dog's dog.

Obedient. Loyal. Playful.

Loved.

Life came easy from Monday's sunrise to Sunday's sunset. His humans brought him food every day—sometimes twice if the smaller human refused to finish what was on her plate. Those days always felt special. He had a wide yard to patrol year-round, friends who visited with their own humans, and a plush football he simply could not sleep without.

Outside of his humans, that football was his greatest treasure.

As Rodney slept, his nose twitched.

A scent drifted across the yard.

He had smelled it only once before.

Heavy.

Intoxicating.

Rotting.

Dangerous.

His eyes snapped open.

His square muzzle pierced the night as he tested the air again, nostrils flaring toward the moonlit sky.

Then came the sound.

A slow shuffling.

A wet, dreadful moan that echoed off the silent houses around him.

Rodney rose onto all fours, letting out a quiet whine. His gaze shifted to the porch where his humans always appeared, then back toward the entrance of the yard he guarded every day.

Silence settled.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

A shadow stretched across the opening of the yard.

Long.

Crooked.

Wrong.

The slow rhythm of dragging feet scraped against the pavement. With every step, the odor of decay thickened until it burned inside Rodney's nose. A low growl escaped his throat before he realized he was making it.

Fear spread through him.

So did duty.

His body lowered into a defensive stance. The fur along his neck stood rigid. His lips curled back over gleaming teeth as he licked them once, preparing himself.

The human staggered into the yard.

Something was terribly wrong.

Its skin had turned a sickly gray-green. Torn clothing clung to its body in filthy strips. Its lips had peeled back from exposed teeth, and its fingernails had grown into dark, jagged claws.

Rodney barked sharply—a warning.

Leave.

The human never hesitated.

Rodney barked again, louder, deeper, more threatening.

Still, it came.

Closer.

Closer.

Then—

Glass exploded inside the house.

A desperate scream shattered the night.

The doorway burst open as one of Rodney's humans stumbled onto the deck, another human crashing down on top of him.

No.

Not another human.

The same smell.

Rot.

Death.

Without hesitation, Rodney abandoned the creature in the yard and launched himself toward the deck. His powerful legs drove him forward. His jaws opened wide. His claws dug into the wood as he collided with the decaying thing attacking his human.

"Get him, Rodney!"

His human's voice cracked with terror.

Rodney bit down.

His teeth found the creature's throat.

His humans had given him fresh beef before.

This was nothing like beef.

The flesh was spoiled.

Noxious.

It tasted as though death itself had been left beneath the summer sun.

Growling through clenched jaws, Rodney shook violently. Flesh tore with disturbing ease. Bone cracked beneath the pressure of his bite.

One final wrench.

The spine snapped.

The creature's head rolled across the deck.

Thick, black blood dripped from Rodney's muzzle like tar as he shook the foul sludge from his whiskers.

His human sat only a few feet away, alive.

For a heartbeat, relief filled the air.

Then his human screamed.

He clutched his mangled arm, blood pouring between trembling fingers.

Rodney hurried toward him.

His human shoved him back.

"No! Rodney... run! GO!"

Rodney froze.

Confused.

The creature from the yard had reached the deck.

Before Rodney could move, it lurched forward and buried its teeth into his human's shoulder.

The scream that followed was unlike anything Rodney had ever heard.

Fresh blood flooded the air.

Rodney barked.

Again.

Again.

Again.

But there was nothing he could do.

He could only watch as the life was torn from the man who had fed him, loved him, and called him a good boy.

Then the night turned orange.

Far beyond the trees, beneath the moon, a brilliant fireball bloomed across the horizon.

Rodney squeezed his eyes shut against the impossible brightness.

A moment later, the heat reached him.

Then came the sound.

A single, monstrous boom that swallowed the sky.

Rodney fled to his doghouse.

Black, rotting sludge coated his fur.

Some instinct deep inside him knew there would be no escaping whatever was coming.

He peeked through the doorway one last time.

His human was looking back at him.

The eyes were still open.

They did not look like his human's anymore.

Rodney whimpered and retreated inside.

The earth trembled beneath his paws.

He picked up his plush football, carried it to the back of the doghouse, circled twice, and curled around it.

The heat was growing closer.

Rodney was a good boy.

A dog's dog.

The goodest of them all.

Holding his football against his chest, he closed his eyes one final time as the ten square miles of Hope, Alaska, disappeared beneath fire and became nothing but scorched earth.