The girl crouched in the
shadow of a building, her dog,
Flea, at her side. The earth
trembled as three search
copters roared overhead,
blades cutting the air with
dreadful thwacks. The girl
buried her face in Flea’s
black fur and shivered. It
smelled musty like dirt and
mildew and dried pine, yet it
comforted her, and her
nausea passed.
The copters rumbled into the
distance and faded away. The
girl and Flea were safe for
now, but the copters would be
back. They always came back.
“Let’s go,” the girl told Flea.
He tilted his head and
scratched vigorously behind
his ear. She tugged at his
collar and they sprinted
across the clearing of the
village square back into the
bordering forest. It was the
safest place to be because it
offered the most cover, but it
was also the worst because it
was cold, dark and wet, and
there was no food. Which is
why they had to venture into
town to steal scraps. She had
tried to get the dog to wait for
her in the safety of the forest
while she infiltrated the
village, but he was loyal to a
fault. He wouldn’t leave her
side.
At first, it was hard to avoid
the people in the village, any
of whom would turn them in
without hesitation. But the
population had dwindled
since the virus hit. There was
less danger of being caught
now, but less food too.
That night, as they lay
beneath a copse of trees, the
girl thought about how the
night used to be alive with the
sound of barking and howling
dogs. Sometimes it got
annoying, but she would have
given anything to hear that
cacophony again.
“Are you sad?” she asked
Flea. “Being the last one
left?”
The dog let out a heavy sigh
and laid his square head on
his enormous paws.
“They won’t get you,” the girl
said firmly, scratching him
behind the ears. “I promise.”
The dog arched his neck
against her hand, begging to
be scratched harder. She
shuddered, feeling ill, but
tried to ignore it.
That night the copters
returned, their white
searchlights piercing through
the trees like knives. The girl
sat very still and prayed Flea
would do the same, as the
leaves trembled around them
from the force of the copters’
blades, shaking startled birds
awake.
“We know you’re down there,”
a voice barked through a
loudspeaker. “Give him up
now!”
The dog curled his lip and
growled.
“Shhhh,” the girl hissed,
clamping her small hand over
the dog’s muzzle. Under her
touch, the dog turned placid
and rolled pleading brown
eyes toward her.
Suddenly, there was the
sound of crashing brush.
Several armed men in
hazmat suits leapt into view.
The girl wailed and wrapped
her thin arms around Flea
who snarled menacingly as
the men pointed guns at them.
“Release him or get shot!” one
warned her.
“You can’t have him!” She
screamed. She could feel her
blood’s temperature rise as a
change began to overtake her.
She trembled as her nails
sharpened into points.
“Shit! She’s got the virus!”
One of them cried.
“Of course she’s got it! The
dog is a carrier for the last
infected flea, idiot.”
“But it’s mutated!”
The girl had turned into
something else. Red rage
clouded her eyes. The men
fired, but she was faster.
Bodies littered the ground,
slick with blood.
“We’re going to need a new
hiding place,” the girl told
Flea. Panting, he scratched
behind his ear.
Title : Last flea
Description : The girl crouched in the shadow of a building, her dog, Flea, at her side. The earth trembled as three search copters roared overhead, ...