Jules, Please

I watched as the wolf—or dog—held my brother’s neck clamped in its jaws, its teeth piercing the skin just above his left collarbone. He still fought, weak but desperate. Dying. His left shoulder and arm were useless, bright red shining through the shreds of his dark jacket and seeping past the cuff of his sleeve to his mangled hand. His chest was peppered with tiny wounds, blood blooming across his shirt like a bright red flower. He was frantic, an animal caught in a trap. His body convulsed as he angled towards the wolfdog’s grip, his right hand pushing uselessly against a snarling white-gray muzzle streaked with blood. His legs kicked, face twisting with pain as his movements began to slow. I had never seen him weak before. He always moved like a force of nature, full of fire and venom, unreasonably strong. His eyes found mine and I heard it before he said it. My name, slipping past his clenched teeth, smaller than ever, cutting off with a sickening gurgle. His eyes bored into mine, the familiar light green shining against a backdrop of bright red and muddy snow. My heart pounded in my ears, deafening me, nearly drowning out the wolfdog’s snarls. I gasped when I saw its eyes focused on mine, sweet brown competing with that poisonous green. I stepped backward until I felt the solid wood wall of the store at my back and pressed against it, leaning my head back and looking skyward, focusing on the roaring in my ears.

I wondered at the color of the sky, a lifeless gray that had been the norm since Before. It had descended from the sky years ago and seemed to coat the earth. Or maybe it was the opposite, the earth slowly leeching itself of color as it was absorbed by the sky. I couldn’t remember. For the first time, I found myself thankful for its palate-cleansing blankness. I focused on it until the violent reds and greens and browns faded from my vision and all I could see was gray. 

Two deep breaths. 

One more. 

I flinched at the sudden sharp crack of breaking bone, my slowing heartbeat no longer masking the sickening sounds of my brother’s death. My stomach heaved and I vomited into the gray snow. 

***

“We’re almost done with this, I swear, Jules. Just a couple more before the snow comes, and then we’ll figure something else out in the spring.” I ignored him. I was already walking up the slanting steps to the dilapidated house, gray and leaning like all the rest. It could have been abandoned if not for the thin tendril of smoke leading from the chimney, seamlessly blending into the colorless sky. We were a few towns over, and it had taken a day’s walk to get here. We had started out the day before just as the sun rose and spent the night huddled in an abandoned shed two doors down. This used to be one of the nicer towns, Before. No one would recognize us here. 

Bren had staked this one out on his last run, figuring out how many lived here, when the men left to loot or hunt or work for whatever subsistence existed in this wasted town. There wasn’t going to be anything worthwhile here, some cans of beans and maybe some shotgun shells if we were lucky. My hands were clammy as I gripped the worn railing on my way up the steps. Hunger beat its familiar pulsing rhythm through my body, my stomach aching and head pounding. I took a deep breath and knocked, adjusting the bag full of bricks slung against my hip. I felt rather than heard Bren creep up behind me, angled out of sight. I willed the souls inside not to answer for a helpless girl, shivering and offering nonexistent food for warmth. I hoped their humanity had died just as mine had, or had never existed like Bren’s. The curtain covering the window next to the door twitched and a pair of wary blue eyes flashed through the glass. Please don’t open this door. Please. Locks clicked and the door cracked open.

***

“This is the only reason we’re still alive. I don’t know if acting pissed makes you feel better about yourself or something, but it makes me feel like shit.”

I kept walking, outpacing him by a few steps, pretending in my own little world that we weren’t together in this, that he was just a strange man, following me home from work. The pack slung against my hip was just as heavy as before, but the bricks had been replaced by our stolen wares: two cans of cubed pineapple, five strips of jerky wrapped in a dishcloth, three boxes of sugar free Jell-o mix, a scented candle (Bren had wanted to leave it, but I slipped it in while he was searching the basement), three boxes of matches, and an old pistol with no ammunition. Truthfully, the loot wasn’t worth the calories we had burned on the journey, or the three shotgun shells Bren had used. He had ruefully acknowledged this fact as we stomped out the back door, saying nothing about the cost of the lives he had taken. 

“They’re better off, Jules. You know it. They weren’t going to make it much longer.” I walked faster, my back burning as it always did when he was behind me and I didn’t have eyes on him. “Jules, I’m talking to you!” I counted to three and then half-smiled to myself as I heard the predictable sound of his footsteps quickening behind me, his soft grunt as he clasped my upper arm in a bruising grip and swung me around so violently I lost my footing. He was shaking me, ranting, the words drowning out the buzzing in my ears. I closed my eyes as his grip tightened, as he worked himself into a frenzy. Sharp pain radiated down my arms and then across my face as he slapped me, but my eyes stayed squeezed shut. I saw a pair of wary bright blue eyes, and heard her voice, the tentative question that would be answered by a shot to the chest and then black nothingness. She was one of dozens, maybe even a hundred. I wished I was her. I wished I was all of them.

***

“Don’t. Please, Bren.” My voice sounded alien to me. My days, weeks, months had been a blur of gray and red. I couldn’t remember the last time I spoke above a whisper. We had been walking for weeks, hitching rides when possible, passing through town after town and staying in the houses we robbed. We had finally made it to one of the bigger inhabited cities still in existence that had some remnants of a market system. We had planned on trading the stolen pistol and whatever else we looted along the way for some sort of real food, something to carry us through winter. The days had blurred together into a cacophony of bright pleading eyes and last words. I wished I still knew how to cry. My voice sounded rough, like my throat was coated with sandpaper. I tried again, clearer this time. “Bren.”

“Are you serious Jules? What are you talking about? What are you even saying right now? Get my knife out of my pack, I want my hands free.”

Bren was facing the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Somewhere between a wolf and a large dog, its fur was a woodsy blend of black, tawny, and gray hues. Its underbelly, paws, and muzzle were creamy white, its chest so beautiful and soft that I wanted to bury my face in it and weep. It was facing Bren but looking at me, its black-lined eyes an unexpected bright brown. I stared at it, transfixed. I remembered dogs from Before, and some from the first few years After. They roamed the streets, broken and mangy, but most had died or been killed by desperate families. This animal was like nothing I’d ever seen, beautiful and proud and glowing. I had the strange urge to kneel. Bren was suddenly in my face, hissing, pressing his shotgun in my hands.

“Jules, what the fuck is wrong with you? At least take the fucking gun if you’re not getting my knife for me.” He pushed the cold metal into my hands and then swung his pack down, reaching for the 6-inch blade fastened to its side. We had just reached the edge of town, and he knew better than to use his shotgun on the animal. We had two shells left and would need them for our journey home.

“Bren, there’s people around and they actually have Citizen Police here. That could be someone’s pet, can we please just keep going?” I was pleading now. I knew it was useless, Bren’s eyes were already locked on the animal and he had taken a step forward.

“Jules, will you shut up for once? Are you stupid? You think this is someone’s pet? This is a wild animal. Do you have any idea how much we could trade for its fur?”

“It’s a dog, Bren! Seriously leave it alone, let’s go.” Bren was crouched now, creeping forward in a fighting stance. The wolfdog spared him a wary glance, but kept its eyes fixed on me. There were only ten feet between Bren and the animal, but it was relaxed, waiting. My heart started pounding. The cold steel of the shotgun was biting my palms.

“Stop. We’re leaving. Don’t touch it.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking. He started to turn back towards the wolfdog, knife bared in one hand. My arms were acting of their own accord, raising the shotgun to my cheek in a movement Bren had made me practice countless times in our backyard “Bren! I’m serious!” He was still advancing towards the creature. He whipped around, facing me. I dropped my arms slightly, angling the barrel towards the ground in what I hoped was a casual stance.

“Jules, shut up and let me handle this!” He was hissing at me, not wanting to scare the wolfdog away. “This is really where you draw the line? You’ve watched me do this shit for years, to real people, and barely said a word, and now you’re losing it over a wild animal? Jesus, how fucked are you?” He started to turn back towards the wolfdog, knife bared in one hand. He took one step and then stumbled and dropped. My ears were ringing and my shoulder throbbed. He was on the ground, scrambling to get up, clutching his chest. Why was he on the ground? I glanced around wildly, hoping the shot had come from somewhere else, that an armed stranger would appear out of thin air. But we were alone, still on the edge of town, just within earshot of the city center. I heard shouts in the distance. The wolfdog blinked at me, its eyes almost amber in the watery gray sunlight. Bren was groaning, panting, starting to panic. I couldn’t understand, couldn’t hear over the ringing in my ears and my hammering heart. I dropped the smoking shotgun, the shouting getting closer. The wolfdog pounced, snarling and pinning Bren to the muddy snow as it began to maul him, starting with the peppered skin over his heart.

***

I was spitting into the snow, my head swimming, when they arrived. A crowd of people came into sight, rounding the corner towards the side of the building I was leaning against. The wolfdog was panting, blood-streaked, staring at me keenly. Bren lay motionless on the ground, blank eyes staring. “Run,” I hissed at the wolfdog, panic rising again. I still couldn’t understand what was happening, where everything had gone wrong. “Run!” I was near-shrieking now, clutching my cheeks. It just stared at me, calm, radiating that same brightness and wild beauty. The red streaks staining its muzzle and chest looked painted, shining and glistening. It continued to stare at me as the crowd descended, panicked onlookers covering their mouths, Citizen Police jogging up with pistols raised, trained on the beast. 

Its soft brown gaze held my own, even as its eyes widened in shock and pain, bullets tearing through its beautiful white-gray coat. 

“No,” I whispered, disbelieving. The roaring had started again, drowning my senses as I sank to my knees in the snow. I refused to cover my eyes, refused to drop its gaze. I was dimly aware of hands gripping my shoulders, shaking me gently, asking if I was injured. How funny that they cared, that a gunshot on the edges of a city block could raise a panicked crowd here. How far from home I must be. I forced myself to look away, to look at the men shaking me, asking me questions.

“What happened? Were you guys together? Why didn’t you shoot it?” They all looked the same to me, with big pink faces and crowding eyes and rough hands. Someone had picked up the shotgun and checked that it was clear, handing it over to one of the Police.

“I…I tried. I missed.” I mumbled, letting my voice shake. I wiped my mouth, and for the first time in years my eyes burned, tears sliding down my cheeks. The wolfdog had stilled completely, its eyes dulled. It looked so small, so lifeless in the snow. How had I thought it was a wolf? It looked more like a coyote now, on its side with its ears pulled back and paws splayed. If it weren’t for its open eyes, it could have been deep in sleep. I drew a rattling breath that turned into a sob, and then another until I was rocking, crouched, sobs clawing their way loose. The Police left me there, letting me sink slowly to my side, cheek stinging against the snow, still staring at the wolfdog. Night began to fall as they carried Bren away, and still I stared at its graceful outline, stared and stared, until eventually I felt strong arms pull me up, up, all the way up to their chest, cradling me under the knees and tucking my head into their shoulder.

I let them carry me away, first snow and then gravel crunching under their boots. As we rounded the corner I sat up and craned my neck back as far as I could, peering through the darkness, imagining I would see the wolfdog’s eyes light back up. I would jump out of the stranger’s arms and embrace it, bury my face in the soft creamy fur of its chest and sob my thanks, and then lay a hand between its broad shoulder blades and walk with it past the edge of the woods, disappearing between the trees. But of course, it was gone. I sank back into this giant, hulking stranger and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw white spots. I dreamed of fields of cornflowers, hundreds of coiling snakes with green, iridescent scales, and a herd of wild horses, chestnut coats gleaming in the sun.