Dog Meat

There was a scream off in the distance. A blood-curdling scream. A scream that deafens the ears. A young man was peering out of a scorched bomb crater looking at the direction of the scream a little over a hundred yards away. There was a woman in a torn up shirt, covered in blood, and limping away from her attackers while holding onto a bloodied knife. His eye pressed hard with nervous anticipation through the scope of his rifle. A small band of wild, dog-like men were running after her swinging their knives and clubs in the air. They caught up to her and hacked and clubbed at her along the dirt clearing. Her screams died down pathetically as the loud, bellowing howls of the attackers drowned the air.

The young man whispered in a low voice, “She ain’t making it, Meat.”

“We shouldn’t interfere.”

“Hmm… She did try though,” said the young man peeping though the scope of his M21-rifle.

He had a scruffy look to him. He had a lean, skinny frame. He was wearing worn out clothes and a military field jacket covered in dirt with shrapnel holes peppering the backside of it. His combat boots were sand crusted and scratched up. His scruffy, brown hair just went past his neck as he adjusted his beanie. His skinny face looked back into the crater with a disappointed and deflated look.

A ragged, medium sized dog covered in flecks of dried mud slowly crept up to the side of the young man. The young man slunk back down into the crater and covered his eyes with his hands for a moment. The dog kept looking at the dead woman off in the distance. The young man hollered quietly, “Animals! Everyone likes it cold I guess.”

“Would you have been so chivalrous if you ever encountered one?”

“Meat, shut your trap,” said the young man to his dog.

The ragged, mutt-like dog then walked carefully down into the crater and looked at the young man with dagger-like, yellow eyes with his pointed ears pulled back.

“You are no better than those heathens over there. Remember that… But you do feed me,” said the dog telepathically in a stern, but wise-sounding voice. “And I hate being called ‘meat.’ My name is Bell. Remember that, Roy. Or shall I call you something derogatory as well?”

Roy quickly retorted, “Stop ragging me, Bell… Let’s go.”

Roy slung his rifle over his shoulder and stood up. Roy walked gently over a dead body with a caved in skull lying inside the crater. They decided to walk out into the wasteland away from the violation of the woman. They headed south.

The wind was strong and the sun was constant. The dead, overgrown, yellow grass swayed gently in the wind. Nothing could be heard except for the wind crashing into the dead trees and the faint footsteps of Roy and Bell on the jagged road. Roy was searching with his boney fingers the contents of the dead man he robbed back in the crater. A can of corn, a can of tuna, a rusty pocket knife, and some string were what he found.

“Not much, but enough to last a night,” Roy thought.

Roy and Bell were walking along the desolate road through a sea of destroyed tanks and vehicles. Blackened trees peppered around the tanks and vehicles like ashen spikes sprouting from the ground from some ungodly beast frozen in place. There were some blackened bodies inside some of the cars and tanks. Some bodies looked as if they tried to escape from the burning wreckage. Most were unrecognizable piles of ash or misshapen skeletons holding onto rusted, burnt rifles. The rest of the landscape was covered in a black, gray ash that muted the colors of the ground like an Otto Dix painting come to life.

Bell stopped and looked towards a clearing off to the side of the road. Bell noticed something he found interesting as his ears pointed upward and his slender snout shot up. Roy stopped. His hand began to twitch anxiously. He slowly took his rifle off of his shoulder and asked Bell, “What is it?”

“Nothing bad, just haven’t seen one of those machines in a while.”

“What’re talking about?”

“There! Three o’clock in the clearing. Next to that Russian BTR and Walker Bulldog tank. An old, US army tactical mech. Behemoths they were,” said Bell inquisitively.

The hulking, 14 foot tall, black mech was rusted over with a giant hole from an armor piercing round in its chest. Inside that hole was a torn up skeleton of the pilot. The shoulder gun was bent backwards with one of the mech’s arms were hanging off by some cable and wires. It was a towering figure rusted over and withering in the dead grass.

Bell said, “Those behemoths used to be everywhere; patrolling the streets… Keeping order… Fighting off the bad… Before the world exploded… Before everything fell apart.”

“Well, we can’t use that junk anymore,” sighed Roy. He knelt down next to Bell and said, “Besides, if we ran into one that is fully repaired… Shit, might as well run before they tear you apart or turn you into pink mist.”

“And I thought I was cynical? No matter, the town is just up the road for another half mile. Sun is setting. We need to keep walking. Also, we should trade for some food for the next few days,” said Bell laconically.

They walked towards a small trading town where other drifters and survivors passed through. The town had a makeshift gate with two armed guards. One of the guards was asleep sitting in a lawn chair reeking of moonshine with his pistol hanging from his waistband right above the crotch. The other guard was barely awake fighting desperately to keep his eyes open as he leaned back on the gate resting his shotgun in his arms. Roy came up and threw a can of corn into the half-awake guard’s lap. The guard then bellowed, “Let em in!”

The gates opened revealing a bleak picture. It was a junkyard made to look like a town or a town that looked like a junkyard; it was hard to discern. A rusted sign with the name HAVEN 4 ALL hanged on a tree by the gate. There wasn’t much to offer, but the town was a good place for one to rest before moving on. The town had a large wall surrounding it made up of sheet metal, destroyed military vehicles, or whatever junk or rock was around. It was like a an old-western town covered in junk. Food and drinks were provided as long as one were to provide some in return. Mostly men drifted through with their junk or food seeking to make trades or to find a place to rest. However, everyone was armed with some type of weapon. There was some semblance of police in the town. But it was more of a volunteer force taking turns guarding and patrolling noted by their white arm bands. They only enforced a basic semblance of peace. Just no killing or stealing was the main law enforced.

There were some families here and there. However; the kids roamed freely without a care in the world. There were some women in the town, but the majority of them were mostly corralled at the local brothel and bar made out of one of the three converted mansions left standing from the blasts. The other two were the police station and makeshift courthouse. Anything was allowed to happen as long as there wasn’t any killing or mutilating in the brothel. Roy noticed the brothel and insisted on going in like a puppy wanting to go for a walk. Bell growled and chewed at Roy’s leg. Bell instructed Roy to not enter such a place because of the possibilities of disease and because it was just wrong to enter a place like that in these times.

Roy and Bell started walking towards the side of a burnt down house just at the edge of the town near the back wall away from most of the townspeople. There was a pond nearby and Bell walked in to get the mud and dirt off of him. Roy splashed his face and washed his knife. The two then sat down along the side of the house. Roy opened up a can of tuna and gave half to Bell. Bell was ecstatic and wolfed the contents down not caring about how much of a mess he was making. Roy laughed at Bell, “All your fancy words and thoughts on being ‘civilized’ and yet you eat like a wild animal.”

Bell swallowed his food and snarled back, “Roy, before you found me you were but a lost, scavenging rat; malnourished and bloodied. I chose you to be my companion in these dark times… If I did not find you or choose to befriend you, then I could have left you to the elements. You would have died alone and no one would have cared.”

Roy put the can down and lifted his hand as if he was ready to back hand Bell. Roy was initially mad at Bell, but then chuckled playfully, “Meat, you get your rocks off by belittling me don’t you?”

“Every time I have a chance— Ha,” Bell laughed. “And besides, your simple mind is entertaining and hey! Don’t hit me.”

“Bell, you amaze me sometimes,” Roy said throwing the empty can away.

He wiped off his chin and sighed. He rubbed his head while taking off his dusty beanie. He looked off into the shanty town of poorly constructed houses. He smelled the rusted, putrid air that one gets from a dumpster. He sighed and wondered if he ever smelled anything nice in his whole life. There was a vague memory of flowers blooming from when he was young, but he could never put it fully together. He sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment thinking about what life would be like if it wasn’t a wasteland. He opened his eyes looking at Bell resting on his worn out combat boots. Roy sighed sadly knowing that he would always be dirty and would always be fighting to survive no matter what.

“I just want to be clean for once and to live where it ain’t shit all the time,” Roy thought. “Only Bell knows of what a world like that was like. I wonder if he lies on purpose about it? Keep heading south because he says so... Fuck! I’m hungry.”

Roy sat up and went into the center of the town looking for food to trade. Bell watched Roy walk away. Bell walked towards a large, burnt tree providing some shade from the sun just across a dirt path from the burnt house and pond. Bell thought to himself, “He better not start another fight. I just hope he learns to not piss off the wrong people for once in his life.”

Moments later, Roy came back with food wrapped up in a small potato sack . Bell sat up and noticed Roy’s bloodied hand. Bell sighed disappointedly. They both started walking towards the southern edge of town finding a quiet spot under a dead oak tree. Roy laid down with Bell by his side looking up into the setting sky noticing to orange and pink hew of the sunset as the darkness was slowly creeping over. Bell also noticed a shameful look on Roy.

Bell asked “Alright, from the top. What happened?”

“Traded some string and few empty cans for this food. Some beef steak, some jerky, and fish is what I got… Fish is wrapped up in paper. Also, I kind of punched a man out for some extra bread… And for the beef. Also, snatched some carrots while leaving. No one stopped me. One of the whores from the brothel hollered at me to come over so that she could have a bite. I just walked away after that.”

Bell wasn’t surprised, but he wanted to scold Roy on fighting someone for food. He stopped himself knowing that these were dark times and that the survival-of-the-fittest mentality prevailed.

Bell replied like a tired parent, “At least no one in town cares it seems. Put them in the back pack so we won’t lose them. Also, clean your hand in the pond. You look like a mess. Let’s sleep inside the house. There’s at least a mattress that isn’t too dirty. Also has a good view of the stars.”

“Okay,” Roy said wiping his bloody hand along the side of his pants after he quickly dipped them in the pond.

The two got up and went inside the burnt house and laid down on the mattress in the living room. Roy fell down on the mattress with a tired thud exclaiming, “I need to sleep.”

“Before you do that. Let’s go back over why this wasteland started. Okay?”

Roy looked annoyed and rolled over onto his side and asked angrily, “Why do we keep doing this, Bell? Why do we keep reviewing our history? Nukes were fired and the world got fried like those mechs and tanks and bodies out yonder. Nothing new! Ain’t nothing changed or will ever change! The word is fucked as is! You think we could fix it? Nah! We can’t. We fucked it! Fucked it forever and all that is left is a Godforsaken wasteland and shitty people and mutant things that I cannot begin to describe! Okay?”

Bell remained calm, but he slumped down onto his side muttering something to himself in an infuriating manner. Bell rolled over to look away from Roy. Roy began to feel that he said something wrong and began to feel guilty.

Curiously, Roy leaned in to hear what Bell was saying to himself. Bell was ranting about his disdain for ignorant idiots and how the world is overrun by people like Roy who care for nothing and ruin all that is good. Roy looked to the now night sky feeling like one of those idiots Bell was rambling about. Like a child who said something hurtful to his parent, Roy wanted to apologize and hug Bell. However, he knew Bell would just bite him in response.

Roy looked at Bell and sheepishly asked, “Can you answer why please?... I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I piss you off sometimes. It mean nothing, ya know?”

“We do this as to not forget who we once were,” Bell said staring off into the night in a tired tone. “Oh, how I miss my owner. At least he would have known this stuff by heart and I wouldn’t have to rely on teaching an idiot about what the world was like beforehand.”

Roy sat up and leaned onto the wall of the house. He looked up at the stars seeing Orion’s Constellation as he thought back on Bell teaching him about star constellations being used as a way to navigate. He remembered how fascinating this information was and how excited Bell was to teach him. Roy wondered why Bell was a wealth of knowledge.

Roy asked quietly, “Was he a good man? I mean who was he? Your owner? You sometimes talk about him, but I don’t know much about him. So, who was he? If… You don’t mind my asking?”

Bell was silent for a moment. He then said in a quiet, but broken voice, “He was… A soldier. My handler. My every…” Bell rolled onto his stomach. His eyes began to tear a bit. He continued in a saddened voice, “He was a good man with a good family, a good wife, and an okay kid. He had a nice house and land that stretched as far as I could see. Tucked away in the country side away from everything. A yard filled with flowers planted by the wife… He was a good leader overall. He was good… Was.”

Roy pet Bell’s scruffy head and said in a cheerful tone, “Aw hell, at least you have me to keep you company you old mutt! Guess that makes me your second family then?”

“Yeah… I guess it does. Goodnight,” Bell said in a broken voice whilst closing his teary eyes.

Roy laid back down and looked up into the night sky with a saddened look on his face. He muttered a question to himself, “Family?” Roy pulled out a battered locket from around his neck with a picture of beautiful, dirty-blonde woman with a warm smile. Roy stared at it pondering why he has it. He felt as if something was missing in his life. There was a silent pain gnawing at his conscience.

Who is this woman? Why do I have this? What is a family?

He did not know why he had this pain in him and he wanted to know what it meant. He quickly brushed the feeling off his mind while he tucked the locket away. Roy wrapped his arm around Bell and retired for the night.