Texas is big.
That part shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, whether they live in the state or not. However, it’s one thing to say that Texas is big, it’s another thing entirely to know. With so much area, life tends to spread out. Huge swaths of country are set between cities and towns, not to mention the farms and ranches. By itself that’s not unnerving, but when you take those long stretches of highway and remove the one other source of human life, it becomes impossible to ignore. Without traffic, without any other moving vehicles keeping the roads alive with their lifeblood of headlights and internal combustion … it was eerie.
Rolling eastbound on I-20, I had never felt so alone. The rumble of the engine and the melodious voice of Bowie couldn’t keep the sense of loss from crawling up my spine, no matter how loud I cranked the stereo. I was the only one out there.
That wasn’t what I had planned for after graduation, but it’s not like anyone could have anticipated suddenly finding yourself as a new species while 99% of everyone you knew vanished in a single night.
Just … gone. All of them.
My left paw tightened around the wheel as I urged the pavement to fly faster underneath the Ranger. “No,” I whispered in argument to myself, “Not all.” My friends were still out there, in the same situation that I was.
The light from my smartphone momentarily illuminated the cab, reminding me that Shreveport was little more than 15 miles away. It was the first major city along my route, and the first one in Louisiana. It shouldn’t have hit me quite so hard as it did. After all, I had driven all over the midwest before, and even up north all the way to New York state.
However, as the sign passed by with its all too familiar script: ‘Now leaving Texas’, I couldn’t help but liken it to losing some small piece of myself. So much time was spent there, and I’d probably never see it again.
Never like it was.
An involuntary sniff caused me to blink, leaving a fuzzy haze over my left eye. I wiped it away with the back of my paw as I cleared my throat. There wasn’t time to reminisce, not when I had someplace to be, someone to get.
With a rolling motion I cranked the window down, savoring the highway breeze. I could feel my left ear flopping around in the wind, little bursts of sensation, twitching as it kept trying to right itself. Gradually, my whole head found its way outside the cab. The smells were overwhelming as the air tickled and buffeted the fur all along my face.
By the time I became aware what I was doing, my tongue was hanging out of the side of my mouth and Shreveport was visible on the horizon. My jaw snapped closed as I got my bearings, but for whatever reason I couldn’t bear to pull my head in. That beat just sitting inside a cab with my thoughts by a mile, no wonder dogs always seemed so happy when they did it.
The city was dead, just like all the little burgs I passed on the way. There were lights on, sure, but no activity.
No people, again.
There was a part of me that debated if I should look around the city for survivors as I pulled up to a dingy little 7-11. What if there was someone here? I mulled it over while hopping out of the Ranger. Surely there had to be others still out there, but what was I supposed to do? Knock on every door?
My brow furrowed as I huffed through my snout. Reaching back into the Ford I flipped the tape deck back on, cranking the volume up as much as I could. I figured if anyone could hear it, they’d come to me, but I had a schedule to keep.
The nozzle plugged into the fuel tank easily, and I only hesitated a moment before pressing the button to pay inside. In one night, money had lost all of its value. I absently wondered if we’d ever see it come back again, and then also if I would want it to. Lord knows it has caused its fair share of troubles.
“You’re getting a treat tonight!” I called over my shoulder, patting the truck on the wheel well. “Premium guzzoline, the highest octane money can’t buy anymore.” The handle clicked into position, filling the hungry tank without any further assistance.
A low gurgle brought my eyes back towards the artificial lighting behind the window glass. I was going to need more calories if I expected to drive all night. Calories and caffeine.
I stumbled forward, still growing accustomed to walking with forearm assistance. It was a funny mix of walking and crawling that wasn’t quite either, but it got the job done. Pulling the doors open, I stepped into the cavern of glass and electric fluorescence. The familiar hum of refrigeration and air conditioning permeated the space with a subtle accompaniment of motor whine from the roller grill.
Faint scratching from my claws followed each of my steps across the off-white floor, as if I needed more reminders of how different everything had become. A sigh followed, but I didn’t stop.
“Gas station hot dogs,” I licked my chops, “You’ll never change on me, right?” The heated racks continued to turn, oblivious to everything, which in itself was the answer I wanted. Their aroma carried a hint of char and grease, undoubtedly from spending the entire day rotating. I was reaching for the nearest one when I stepped on something soft.
Lifting my foot, I puzzled over the mushy mess beneath it. Leaning down I could see a hot dog resting on the floor near it only it was missing a bite.
My head shot up first, panning the room before returning to the discarded mouthful. Nostrils flared as I took in heavy breaths. I could smell the processed meat, the grimy floor covered in a thin veneer of cleaning product … and something else.
My nose was working overtime. What was that other smell? It didn’t belong, but other than that I couldn’t place it. Slowly, one paw in front of the other, I crawled around the racks following the invisible trail of the mystery scent.
Soon I was pushing my way through a partially opened door emblazoned with the now useless ‘employees only’ warning. The smell was stronger here, closer. Sure there were plenty of others too, but it was as if my nose could separate and keep track of them all independently. My fingers tapped their claws against the floor as I peered around, boxes and jars were stacked among shelving that had seen better days. The light was poorer here, but that didn’t affect me.
As I dropped back to the floor to resume searching, a loud bang yanked my ears to attention. Behind two rows of failing cardboard I caught a glimpse of the back exit swinging closed.
A short huff and my legs were responding before I knew what was happening. After quickly weaving through the aisles I slammed into the door’s push bar and slid outside. A soft rhythmic clattering drew me to the left as I followed after it.
“Hey!” I barked, “Wait!” Rounding the corner I found myself back in front of the station. The mystery scent had changed course as hurried clops echoed from the alley across the street, but something else had also changed.
I skidded to a stop and nearly fell over myself as my brain threw on the brakes. What was I doing? There was an acrid tinge to the smell that had grown stronger as I followed it, something primal, but it woke me up.
Blinking, I looked up at the alley again, footsteps growing more and more distant. My hands curled up around my muzzle like a megaphone, and I yelled the only thing that came to mind.
“I'm sorry! I-"
My ears drooped along with the rest of me as I faltered, "... I didn't mean to scare you."
Bowie had run out by the time I returned to the truck. Those cassettes didn’t hold that much music on them, after all. I had loaded up on snacks and soda, dumping them onto the passenger’s seat before climbing back into the cab. After that whole … incident, I wasn’t really keen on sticking around.
The steering wheel sat in leathered silence from between big furred paws as the events kept playing themselves over and over behind my eyes. Each time it was just a little bit different, exploring yet another ‘what if’ situation. My throat growled as I slammed my fist down onto the dashboard, but the empty heat of disappointment lingered in the back of my chest.
I turned the keys. There would be plenty of time for regret later, but not now.
There weren't any other eventful stops before I pulled into Huntsville. Not sure if that was because I subconsciously wanted to avoid a repeat performance or just my growing weariness as I relied more and more on caffeine and sugar to fuel my progress.
The worst of it was the morning sun. Day two of ape-dog-hood found me squinting into the breaking dawn as I barrelled eastward on the Alabama interstate. I don't know what it was, but that star was angry it was Monday.
Shielding my face with a paw while squeezing my eyes thin was just barely enough shade for me to make out the northbound exit amidst the radiant oppression. Mentally noting that night driving was far superior, I followed the last leg of my journey to my first compatriot.
Qesun
I had a vague idea of where he lived, street and house number were provided to me, but as usual the GPS got squiffy in certain residential areas. It was down to the old standard eyes, however unusual they may have been.
The door of the Ford pickup creaked as I leaned out the window, relishing the light breeze. I absently turned up the stereo, out of habit.
"Q!" I bellowed, scanning the surrounding homes for any sign of him. "Olly olly oxenfree!"
Sporadic yaps and barks issued from the area in response as I approached the end of the street. Nary a handful of houses were left. A small pit digging its way below my stomach wouldn't let go of the idea that I imagined the whole thing, that my brain made it up to avoid the concept of being truly alone.
"Quiet, you mutts!" My teeth clacked, growing impatient, "I'm trying to find ... Qesun!"
The last house on the row curled my face into a grin. It wasn't the garden, tastefully arranged, or the assertive barking whines coming from within it. No, it was the small purple horse-like friend sitting on his haunches in front of it.
As the truck rumbled to a stop he made his way down the yard towards me, but evidently he wasn't as used to his limbs either. The equine lost his balance to an unfortunately placed hoof and tumbled into a face first slide for the last five feet. It gave me a chance to look him over as I hopped out of the Ranger.
Purple and horse-like, the two attributes he mentioned about himself yesterday were undoubtedly true. His violet coat was a deep smooth hue, flowing seamlessly into the sleek cobalt blue mane and tail currently draped over his back and face. A yawn forced my eyes shut for a moment and they hesitated reopening.
By the time I had blinked them open, he was standing again. “Not exactly how we planned on meeting up.” he half mumbled, eyes trailing their way up to my face. “Hi, I am Qesun. I’m a horse right now. Please tell me you are actually Wolf and not just here to eat me.”
"Not unless you're into that," was what I tried to say, but as it came out around another pent up yawn it probably sounded more like a bear's mumble, teasing smirk lost among the caverns of my jaw. “But yes, Wolf, at your service."
I flourished my weighted arms out to the sides in a mock bow, earning a growing smile out of Qesun. His eyes were substantial, taking up a surprising amount of facial real estate. I would have commented how odd magenta was for an eye color, but given my own bizarre orbs his didn't even register. All in all, he was the picture of an adorable small horse, like you'd see in a cartoon, only real ... and soft ... and ...
I shook my head vigorously, I needed sleep. "Gods I’m beat," I swallowed, running a paw through my hair, ear twitching as I brushed against it, "I can’t believe how much MORE tiring driving is without everyone else on the road.”
“No idiots on the road to force you to pay attention." Qesun gestured towards the house with a tilt of his head, "I actually figured you were leaving in the morning. Not last night. I wasn’t expecting you until later.” His gait shifted as he walked back ahead of me. I could bumble along at an imitation of a crawl, but his leg structure was radically different from a biped now. He moved with care, acutely aware of each limb as he advanced toward the house.
“I got tired of just waiting for everything to fail, so I just took off. Night driving fueled by jerky and dew. Although-” my verbal train derailed as another substantial yawn pulled my jaws wide, tongue curling at the end as if my protruding muzzle wasn't canine enough.
“I may need to requisition your … sitting… thing.” My gravelly voice trailed off, doubly taken aback, both by how far I'd traveled up the yard and from having lost the word for the thing that goes in the living room with cushions on top ... that you sit on. The cogs ground to a halt inside my head, but my mouth finished the job. “... for unconscious time."
"I can help with that," Qesun nodded, reaching out for the doorknob with his mouth. That can't be fun, I mentally cringed, half imagining doing that myself. The yips, yaps, and barks exploded in volume as we crossed the threshold. “It’s right ove-” he struggled to be heard over the canine din. I'd long since learned how to deal with my parents dogs when they got rowdy. They just wanted to be acknowledged.
“Oh for the Love of Gog!" Qesun hollered, "Shut Up the lot of yo-”
"ROURF!" My throat bellowed, doing the best imitation of a 'woof' I could manage.
Sure enough, they all quieted down, even Qesun. I beamed a smile down at his curiously folded ears and paler face. "Dogs love me."
I let the backpack slip from my shoulder and onto the floor inside the entryway. Earthy scents danced at the tip of my senses, mingled with the waxy effluence of fabric, wood, and tile. The air was denser, like there was a weight to it but not at all oppressive. As tired as I was, I could tell this wasn't just a house. It was his home.
Was.
My nose twitched as the muzzle below it pulled into a short frown. How long had we spent making niches for ourselves in this world, places that carried more of us within their walls than we even realized? Leaving my apartment was nothing like this, like what we were asking him to do. My eyes followed Qesun, fuzzy patches welling up at the bottom of my vision.
“Yea, here, couches,” he stated, bringing me out of my reverie. Qesun waved a soft purple hoof at the large right angled sofa separating the living room from the rest of his house. “Sure you don’t want a bed? At this point, there are two spares open.”
I turned away, rubbing my face with a furry palm. "Nah, couch is the right prescription for now." My lids were like heavy shutters threatening to close as I took hunched steps over to the offered furniture. He waited next to me, head barely above my midsection. Somberly, I set my paw atop his head and gently felt his full mane for a moment.
"Thanks ..." was all I could coax out before falling forward onto the sofa, one arm trailing onto the floor. He muttered something in response, but the world was already fading. I’d pushed myself pretty hard to get here and there wasn’t anything left to keep me up.
“... Rest well.”