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Last Of My Kind

By Evan Drake

© 2019, Evan Drake, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 3: The Town

Shane once again awoke to sunlight shining on his face. But unlike last time, he had no illusions about where he was or what had happened. He thought it would give him comfort, but he still wished it had all been a bad dream. Sleeping on the pile of hay was much better than sleeping on the floor although he remembered scratching himself most of the night.

Sasha hadn’t woken up yet, the steady rise and fall of her breasts proof she was still alive. Moving slowly to avoid waking her, Shane stretched and approached the front door of the barn. After pressing an ear to the door and making sure there was no one on the other side, he removed the chain wrapped around the door handles and went outside.

There was no reason to go into the house, but the bathroom was where Shane chose to relieve himself. Using a toilet seemed like the first normal thing he had done since escaping that facility. The dusty roll of toilet paper left behind also caught his eye. That would definitely be coming with them when they left. If only there was a spare toothbrush around here I could use, he thought.

After taking care of business, he undressed completely and examined himself in the mirror above the sink. It was the first time since the escape that he really looked at his reflection or had access to a mirror. He looked the same as he always did, the same dark brown hair, slightly muscular frame, and tan skin. His eyes were a little sunken from fatigue, but it was expected. There were no scars on his body. No blemishes or markings of any kind. It was strange because there should have been a scar across his stomach. The result of a childhood bike accident. But it was gone. Just like the cigarette burn on his thigh from the first and last time he fell asleep while smoking had disappeared. He remembered the events clearly and the resulting marks they left on his body just like every other part of his life.

He quickly shook the thoughts from his mind and redressed. For once he wasn’t going to stress over what he could and could not remember.

Part of him didn’t want the memories to come back. Either the world was in such bad shape, he volunteered to go into the stasis pod, or he was taken against his will. Neither sounded like something that should be remembered. Realizing he was dwelling on the very thing he was supposed to be forgetting, he pushed the thoughts out of his mind and went outside.

The moment he stepped outside, a piece of cold metal pressed against his temple. He froze, fearing the worst. Thoughts of himself being tortured and brutally beaten flashed through his mind. Sasha’s whereabouts also crossed his mind. Given her reaction to him most of the time, the chances of rescue seemed slim. The piece of metal was removed and a heavy sigh alerted him it was Sasha.

Shane leaned against the wall for support. His hands were shaking and sweat ran down his sides. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Sasha frowned and walked away. Shane sighed and followed her. He kicked himself for how stupid he acted. If Sasha didn’t have any restraint, he could’ve wound up with a bullet in his head. Back in the barn, she refused to look his way. She grumbled under her breath as she slammed things into the back of the 4x4. He decided to avoid any attempts at making conversation. Even if she were capable of speaking in a language he understood, she likely didn’t have anything nice to say. After she finished packing, they split another ration pack between them for breakfast then left the farmhouse behind.

Shane drove this time. With a full tank and a full jerrycan of gas, there was no need to take things slow. He also didn’t want to spend another half-day sitting in a car with a silent companion. Sasha kept a watchful eye on their surroundings though Shane didn’t see a point. There was nothing to look at besides miles of wilderness. If anyone did approach the highway, they would be easily spotted. Her hands never left the pistol in her lap, making Shane wonder if she intended to use it on him. No matter how many times he told himself she already passed up plenty of opportunities to kill him or leave him behind, the thought refused to leave his brain. No matter how he looked at it, she was one of them. Wherever the lizard people came from, whatever the reason behind their creation, she was a part of it. One of them. If they were caught, she was more likely to get out alive. He wondered if he should cut ties now or take his chances with here.

The thoughts plagued him until Sasha shook him violently then seized the steering wheel. He swore and pulled over by the side of the road before they crashed.

Shane shut off the engine and whirled on her. “Are you trying to get us killed?!”

Sasha ignored him and dug around in the backseat before standing up with a pair of binoculars. She stared at something in the distance for several minutes before sitting down and passing the binoculars to Shane. He looked through the lenses. Further down the highway was what looked like a rest stop. It was too far away to tell anything about it, but it looked abandoned.

He hoped it was abandoned and it’s occupants weren’t just sleeping. “Looks fine to me. I’m guessing you want us to stop there?” he asked Sasha.

Sasha nodded. He assumed that meant they were good to go and drove the rest of the way.

The rest stop turned out nothing at all like how he imagined it. It was an ugly ominous sight. Instead of a gas station and convenience store, it looked like a store turned into a makeshift bunker. Memories of past zombie-apocalypse movies came to mind from the sight of it. Large metal sheets full of holes covered the windows and a makeshift barrier of wooden stakes surrounded the building. Shane tapped the car horn. Sasha spun on him, hissing angrily.

“What? If someone is in there, they saw us pull up,” Shane argued, not attempting to hide his annoyance. “I’d rather they think we were friendly.”

Sasha shot him an accusatory glare as if saying, “You are so stupid,” then hopped out of the 4x4 with the shotgun and the duffle bag.

Shane sighed and started to get out to follow, but Sasha whipped her tail, hitting Shane in the chest and forcing him back into his seat. Taking the hint, he folded his arms across his chest and watched her head inside.

After several minutes passed, he got bored and turned on the radio again. Like before, it didn’t pick up any stations. He checked as many frequencies as he could before giving up and fishing the girl’s diary out of his pocket. Opening the diary, he read the first page he saw.

For the first time in a long time, I’m home again. I know it’s stupid, but I missed this place. My window still gets stuck sometimes, the shutters slam against the walls when the wind blows too hard, and that same tree outside my window creeps me out at night. This place even still has that same “outdoorsy” smell. I missed it so much! The city stinks.

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. Honestly, I thought it was just some stupid poetry bullshit that didn’t mean anything. But coming home for the first time in over a year, I get it.

Shane was pulled away from the dairy when heard a door close. He looked around and saw Sasha returning to the 4x4, shaking her head. Judging from the flat shape of the duffel bag, he assumed there was nothing inside. He quickly wiped his eyes as she threw the shotgun and duffel bag in the back then climbed into the passenger’s seat and sighed.

Shane drove away from the rest stop. The drive was awkward as it always was. To keep his mind busy, he thought of a means to communicate with Sasha without talking. The most obvious choice was sign language, but he didn’t know it. If Sasha knew sign language, she showed no inclination. Pointing and motioning toward things only got them so far, and he was terrible at charades. The only other option he could think of was writing things down. It was tedious and time-consuming, but it would have to do. He stole a glance at Sasha and wondered if she remembered how to write. The only thing she seemed incapable of was speech, so he assumed yes. He made a mental note to look for some writing materials at their next stop.

A small town came into view in the distance. Shane slowed down on his own. Sasha stood and looked through the binoculars again. At that distance, he couldn’t make out any details, but he didn’t care. He smiled so wide, his cheeks hurt.

Sasha eventually sat down and nodded to Shane, giving him the go-ahead to approach. His smile widened as he drove toward the town. It took a great deal of effort not to press too hard on the accelerator.

The closer they got to the town, the more details Shane could make out, and the more his smile faded. The moment they entered the town’s limits, it was clear the place was a ghost town. The buildings that hadn’t crumbled were falling apart like decaying fingers rising from a rotted hand that was the cracked, weed-filled pavement. Like the rest stop, the windows were boarded with rotted boards or rusted sheets of metal. The remains of makeshift barricades, topped with barbed wire and crude spears from scrap metal littered the cracked desolate street.

Shane slowed down until they rode along at a crawl. He had stopped smiling, the felicity from before gone. He turned away from the decrepit buildings and watched the road to avoid hitting any potholes. This 4x4 was their only means of transportation. The cars they passed on the street were nothing more than rusted husks of they once were.

Where did everybody go? He wondered. The cars weren’t lined up in the streets as if everyone was trying to drive out of town, but lined against the side of the street as if waiting for their owners to return.

Sasha tapped Shane on the shoulder and pointed. One of the buildings, a general store based on Shane’s assumption, looked relatively intact. There were no gaping holes that he could see. The glass had been broken out, but metal sheets blocked any view of the inside. A large sign hung over the display window, but it’s text was too badly faded to read. He pulled the 4x4 into the small empty lot. The moment they stopped, Sasha tapped him again and pointed at a large truck at the edge of the lot.

“What? You want to check that out first?” Shane asked.

Sasha shook her head then pointed to the steering wheel then back to the truck.

“I don’t get it.”

Sasha sighed and motioned for Shane to get out of her way. He did as he was told and she climbed into the drivers’ seat and drove around to the other side of the truck, hiding the 4x4 from view from the street. Shane sighed and thought, A little overly cautious, aren’t we? There’s no one out here. She came back, carrying the guns and the empty duffle bag. As she passed him, she placed the knife in his hands.

“What’s the matter? Don’t trust me with a gun?” Shane asked, nettled. “You can’t do everything yourself. I’m sorry for what happened back at the house, but it won’t happen again.”

Sasha stopped and stared at him for a moment. The look in her yellow eyes said she didn’t buy it one bit and she turned back to the building. Shane tucked the knife into his belt and grumbled as he followed her.

The front door of the store was locked. No surprises there, Shane thought. And the metal sheets over the windows meant getting in that way was out. Even if getting in that ways was possible, Shane would rather not risk cutting himself on a piece of rusted metal. The backdoor was also locked. Sasha found a window on the second floor that was open and unblocked. If she climbed the storm drain on the wall, she could reach it. With surprising speed, she clambered up the side of the building and slipped through the window. Shane’s mouth fell open. A few moments later, the door opened and Sasha appeared beckoning him to follow her inside.

Instead of exploring downstairs, Sasha went back upstairs. Shane considered his options and decided to follow her. The upstairs was an apartment where he assumed the shopkeepers lived. It reminded him a lot of his old apartment. The same comfortable living despite the tight space. It was abandoned, but it was clear this was someone’s home. Just like the farmhouse, everything was laid out as if the previous occupants simply up and left. Maybe these people left more clues behind.

A laptop sat on the end table. Shane rushed over to it and picked it up. It was old and dusty, but it looked in good shape. After so long, it would likely need a new battery, and the dust would need to be cleaned out of it, but it should still be useable. He doubted he could check e-mails with it, but there might be something saved on the hard drive that could explain something.

“Hey, Sasha, can we check to see if there’s an electronics—” he turned to Sasha and stopped upon seeing she wasn’t there.

“She moves pretty quietly for someone with talons like hers,” he mumbled. He went to look for her in the kitchen but she wasn’t there. The cabinets were still closed and the dust covering was undisturbed.

Shane sat the laptop on the counter and searched the cabinets. A lot of food had been left behind thought most of it had rotted over the years. Shane checked the expiration on the foods. The latest date he found was October 17, 2035 printed on the bottom of a jar of peanut butter.

The strength left his legs and he sank to the floor, his mind racing. The last year he remembered was 2017. If it was 2035 now then he could’ve missed 18 years of his life, and that was assuming the peanut butter hadn’t expired. He dropped the jar as if it burned him. It fell to the floor padded from years’ buildup of dust and dirt with a dull thump. He looked at his shaking hands. They looked exactly as they did the day he fell asleep.

Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he returned to rummaging through the cabinets. He no longer looked at the expiration dates, taking anything that hadn’t been opened yet. After cleaning out the pantry, he turned his attention to a closed door.

The door likely led to the pantry. They had more than enough food from the farmhouse, but with no idea how long before they could come across something edible again, Shane decided it best to restock whenever possible.

He tried the knob and discovered the door wasn’t locked, but it didn’t budge when he pulled. Grabbing the door handle with both hands, he pulled with all his might. The door popped open and he stumbled backward into the counter. An enormous swarm of flies assaulted him, buzzing angrily around his face for disturbing their home. Shane screamed and waved his arms to drive back the annoying insects. The buzzing flies nearly distracted him from the stench of rotting meat that made his stomach turn. He couldn’t see anything through the haze of flies buzzing around his head, though he doubted that was a bad thing.

Unable to take the smell anymore, he pushed through the buzzing swarm and pushed the door closed. Luckily most of the flies were still inside and the remaining ones scattered once the door closed. Shane sighed heavily and crossed to the other side of the room where the air was clearer and took several deep breaths. He heard Sasha coming but didn’t bother to look up.

“Everything’s fine, Sasha. By the way, don’t open that door over there,” he said, pointing at the doorway to olfactory hell. Assuming her sense of smell was much stronger than his own, she dodged a bullet.

Sasha left the kitchen with an annoyed huff. For once, Shane was glad she couldn’t speak given the things she probably thought about him at the moment though his imagination did a good job of filling in the blanks. It reminded him of Jill and whenever she stomped out of a room to avoid verbally ripping him a new one. He chuckled at the thought, but the grin faded as it sunk in he would never see her again.

She would be in her forties now, assuming she survived this long, he thought. With a heavy sigh, he walked toward the door.

The moment he reached the doorway, Sasha reappeared and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. His hand flew to the knife slipped into his belt. Before he could draw the blade, she shoved him into the open closet, followed him inside, and closed the door.

Normally, Shane would make a joke about the situation, but now he was too confused by the turn of events to come up with anything clever. “What the hell are you—?” he began, but he was cut short by Sasha covering his mouth. She stared through the blinds of the closet door, tightly gripping the pistol.

A chill went through Shane as he heard the clicking of claws on the wooden floor. He held his breath and backed up as far as he could.

The steps stopped. Shane listened for any sounds. He heard something sniffing. Can they track scents? He looked at Sasha. It made sense if their sense of smell was stronger than humans.

The steps moved away from the closet. Sasha waited a few moments then eased the door open. Shane slowly followed. A small dog stood near the front door of the apartment. Shane wasn’t very good at identifying dog breeds, but this one reminded him of those small terrier breeds. What remained of the dog’s sand-colored fur was matted and filthy, and his skin clung to his skeleton. The dog turned to them with frightened, blood-shot eyes, floppy ears raised.

Shane almost laughed at their initial reaction to the furred intruder. He knelt and extended his hand. “Come here, boy.”

The dog ran away. Shane sighed in disappointment then turned back to Sasha. “I don’t think we need to worry about the dog. Hey, can we stick around here for a few days? I think we should try to figure out what happened to this place.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but he also left out wanting to take the dog with them. It was the first sign of life they had seen since they left the place.

Sasha stared for a moment. Whether it was to think about the suggestion or to comprehend it, he couldn’t tell. Her reptilian face was a bit harder to read than a human’s. She eventually nodded and walked away, so Shane took it as a win.

The first thing he did was pick out where he would be sleeping. He didn’t want to sleep in the bedroom; it still didn’t feel right. A few test bounces revealed the sofa would be comfortable enough and was still an upgrade from itchy hay or the hard floor.

Before he went to search the town, he grabbed one of the ration packs and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’m gonna search some of the other buildings, okay?” he said. When she started to follow, he quickly added. “No, don’t worry about it. We should split up to cover more ground.” He was more worried she was going to shoot the dog if he came across it again.

Shane’s explanation seemed to work as Sasha remained where she was. He headed outside. He didn’t search the other buildings; that could come later. What he wanted was to find the dog again. He wandered the streets, taking note of his path to find his way back if need be, making a point of not straying more than a few blocks away from the store.

Of all the times he heard the term “ghost town” used, actually being inside one felt beyond creepy. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the silence or the sudden break in silence whenever a loose brick fell, or the wind blew through a hollow object and whistled. It kept him on high alert, scanning every alley, car, and store entrance he passed. An afternoon of wandering, and there was still no sign of the dog. When the sunset, Shane decided it would be best to turn in for the night and try again tomorrow. He opened the ration pack and dumped it on the ground before heading inside.

The apartment looked completely different from before. The windows had sheets nailed over them, blocking out the light from the candles she had lit and sat in key locations to provide the most light. The moment Shane walked in, Sasha hurried over and locked the door.

“What are you so afraid of? I was with you at first for being cautious and all, but I doubt those guys can track us this far. How would they even find us here?”

Sasha didn’t acknowledge the question. She just went to one of the windows and peered outside. Shane rolled his eyes and dropped onto the sofa. “The only sign of life we ran into out here is a damn dog. What could we possibly run into?” he grumbled. For the rest of the night, he refused to speak to Sasha. If the silent treatment bothered her, she hid it well.

The next day, Shane awoke early. He grabbed another ration pack and headed outside. The ration pack he left outside last night was gone. Instead of wandering the streets like last time, he dumped the food several feet away from the door and waited. This time the dog didn’t show. Shane went back inside disappointed.

The rest of the night, questions about the dog’s health; whether it was hungry, scared, cold, or hurt overtook his thoughts. He couldn’t sleep. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Why do I care about that mutt so much? He asked himself. The dog refused to leave his mind. The dog looked and acted nothing like Pete. It occurred to him that Pete was already six years old when he last saw the bulldog. After 18 years, Pete was likely dead.

He died waiting for me to come home, Shane thought. He didn’t attempt to push the thoughts away. He didn’t try to stop the tears building in his eyes then rolling down the sides of his head. Pete had been with him since he was a pup. That dog always waited for him patiently. Not once had Pete ever failed to greet him when he came home. That night, Shane’s dreams were plagued with nightmares of Pete sitting alone, waiting for someone who had pretty much abandoned him.

The following morning, Shane’s body felt heavy and his mind sluggish. He almost didn’t want to look for the dog today. But the thoughts from last night, complemented by images of his bulldog dying scared and alone, kicked his brain into high gear. Sasha had already gone. He grabbed a bag of stale chips from the stash and headed outside.

The food he had left behind last night was gone. He quickly looked around for signs of the dog but saw nothing. Part of him wanted to just dump the chips and go back inside, but he knew that tactic wouldn’t work if the dog wasn’t sticking around.

Knowing the only way to find it would be to search for it, he started down the street again. He didn’t get far before he saw the dog walking down the street. He quickly opened the bag of chips and whistled softly.

The dog’s ears rose and it turned to him. Shane crouched and held out the treat. “Here. Come on, boy. Come get the treats.”

The dog cautiously approached. Shane remained perfectly still, hardly breathing in case even the slightest muscle twitch would set it off.

The dog stopped just out of arm’s reach. Shane whistled again. “Come on. I know you have to be hungry.” He shook the bag of chips to illustrate he was friendly.

Before the dog could move a boom cut through the silence, making Shane jump up. There was no mistaking that the sound was a gunshot. The dog was flung sideways by an unseen force, uttering only a high-pitched yelp before skidding across the ground like a toy. Shane stood frozen to the spot, unable to look away from the shining bloodstain in the cracked asphalt where the dog once stood.

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