Page 8 of Ragnar

“Then I must go to town. I must continue.” I don’t wait for his response, I simply climb to my feet, grab my gun and get to walking. Every step is an agony. My ankle hurts, my lungs hurt, my heart hurts. Everything fucking hurts. I’m tired, I’m hungry and I’m mad. It is overwhelming. Tucked away in the bunker, it is easy to pretend. Easy to see the world through rose tinted glasses. Those glasses are long gone, and reality sucks a big one.

As expected, or rather as I hoped, I hear the sounds of pursuit. It is alarmingly quiet for such a large creature but a look over my shoulder shows him there, a few paces behind me. The bastard doesn’t even have the decency to be limping after his fight, the blood flaking away with the brush of branches until little evidence remains that it happened at all.

With jerky motions, I pull out my compass. Pausing, I tilt the compass until the north is clear to see. Casting a dubious look up at the sky I realize most of the day has passed. The sun is already making its descent in the sky. The crunching of leaves alerts me that he is beside me now, casting a dubious shadow.

“It's going to be nighttime soon.” I murmur, half to myself and half to him. When I look up, I catch the fleeting look of alarm that is recognizable even on his lupine, alien features. Fear flashes through me, what could possibly be out there that even he is afraid of? My eyes scan the darkness, afraid that the answer could jump out and reveal itself any moment. I consider going back to the bunker but once there, I know my resolve to continue will waiver. I must keep going which means I am going to be out in the forest. At nighttime. With a monster as a companion. Yay me.

Chapter Six

*Reggie*

The outside world is terrifying enough during the daytime. At nighttime? I jump at every little sound I can hear within the lengthening shadows, terrified that something will hop out and try to eat me. Earlier, when I realized I had to keep going, we both traipsed through the trees for hours in silence. My monster didn’t complain but every so often he would shift my path, leading me in a certain direction. At the time I wanted to argue, but even I realized it wouldn’t be wise. If we got off track, I could always fix it tomorrow.

Now I can see why he was so determined to lead me off track. In the trees, almost completely hidden in the dense underbrush, is a building. I can’t quite say it's a house, there are no distinguishable features to tell me what it once was used for, but it is a shelter. Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Pulling my rifle up, I scan the clearing for any threats. It's a ridiculous notion considering Godzilla’s great grandson is just waiting to pounce should something pop out at us, but it makes me feel better. Like I have some form of control over the mess that is my life. It's like living in limbo.

I feel the safest I have in years, but I also know that if he wanted to, his massive jaws could snap me in half before I even knew it was happening. My mortality is so close I can almost taste it and yet, I feel lighter than I ever have.

Since the world went to shit, I’ve constantly needed to look over my shoulder, fear every noise. These last few hours with him have eliminated that. He is at my back, protecting it. Death has only one avenue now and nothing I do can stop it.

It should be terrifying, knowing that the teeth above me would make the megalodon look like a puppy, but instead I just shut it out. If he is feeling hungry? I’m on the menu. Otherwise? I'm going to do what I gotta do.

Which includes finding shelter so that I don’t get eaten by something bigger and meaner. Silently I send up a prayer that such a thing doesn’t exist. He is easily fifteen feet tall. Bigger than him would be absurd, and hopefully impossible.

Letting him be rear guard, I slowly approach the building. It is larger than I first anticipated but the closer I get the more I can see it is basically just a storage shed. There are no windows and only two double doors to enter. It is sturdy though, made of cinder blocks that stood the test of time. Behind it is a massive windmill that is missing most of its blades.

The doors are intact despite the derelict appearance. Looking at the ground in front of them, I see no signs that the doors have been opened in a very long time. Looks can be deceiving though. Slowly I walk around the perimeter, looking for any signs of life. I see none, only a crumbling but sturdy concrete foundation.

Every step of the way, my monster is there shadowing my footsteps. He takes it a step further and sniffs the ground around the base. Whatever he smells isn’t alarming enough to worry about because he moves to the doors and waits for me to open them.

“Not so cool not having opposable thumbs, is it?” I murmur, laughing at my own joke. I’m no expert on alien-wolf facial expressions but for once I have no doubt he is done with my shit. Not enough to eat me, just enough to give me a “seriously?” look.

The big doors open with a creak. As soon as a gap forms, my rifle is up to scan the interior. The smell hits me first. Musty, stale and old, but oddly clear from rot. Though I second guess myself as I look around at the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and the broken down, musty piles of junk. Mostly farm equipment, which fits with the area.

Feeding buckets, tubs and old feed sacks litter the ground everywhere. I could almost cry with relief at our good fortune. Grabbing up one of the feed sacs I swing it around to clear some of the cobwebs, going deeper to make sure nothing is hiding. When nothing else appears, I finally relax. Turning to grin at my monster, I give him a thumbs up which makes his head tilt in an oddly adorable gesture.

“All’s clear.” I murmur, just in case he doesn’t understand hand gestures. He has earned enough trust that I barely even think twice about turning my back on him to start piling up some of the feed sacks so I can sit facing the door. It is almost heavenly compared to the tree from earlier, a small sigh of relief escaping me. It feels good to finally be off my feet, somewhere that feels safe, hidden from view.

My monster plops down as well, his massive head in the building but nothing else will fit. As it is, just his head seems to swallow what space there is, but I don’t complain. Instead, I busy myself pulling supplies out of my bag. The first thing I dig to find is my flashlight, setting the small black tube on the ground by my leg.

Next, I grab some dried veggies from my pack, trying to stave off the incessant buzz of thought that is hovering right beneath my calm demeanor. Now that we aren’t fighting off nightmares or trekking through the forest, I can’t help but wonder upon everything that has happened. Why me? Why is my monster here? Why didn’t he just eat me? Was my decision to travel with him wise? Will I fail?

Round and round they go until my mind feels like it will burst. Robotically I take a bite of some dried squash. The grumbling of my stomach all day has disappeared and despite the food tasting like ash in my mouth, it gives me time. Time to order my thoughts from least important to most important.

Most important: why am I not dead? Least important: can I trust him? I have no choice but to trust him, though his motivations give me pause. Am I a convenient snack that he picked up for the road? That doesn’t really sit right with me. I’m a human. There are larger, tastier, easier prey about. Why go through so much trouble to save me? It didn’t seem as important earlier when I was just thankful to be alive. Now? Now I need answers.

My eyes find him unerringly, roving over his form. His eyes are closed, and I feel myself relax, taking the opportunity to look at him. I’ve made jokes about his appearance all day, but they were to keep myself from really seeing. Seeing is believing and somehow it makes him more real. A laugh escapes me at the irony of that statement, as if his massive, smart car sized head doesn’t make him real enough.

This close up he is ten times more terrifying than before, but now that the adrenaline has passed, I can also recognize his beauty. His scales are black, but they shimmer in the fading light, switching from black to dark blue and then purple. His body is wolf shaped but truly he is nothing like a dog, wolf or any other canine I’ve ever seen.

His scales are almost like armor and the sails along his back are sharp and shimmery, even when flush along his spine. As we traveled, I noticed that they don’t always stay upright. When he isn’t as alert, they fall down, lying flat against him. His legs are massive, scaled tree trunks that end in four toed paws. Each one is tipped with a four-inch, obsidian claw. On the back of each leg is another sail-like appendage, each one tipped with spikes to match the ones along his back. His tail has its own sail at the end, much smaller but no less deadly. The spikes there never go down, shimmering in the light like the tip of a dagger.

All in all, he is beautiful, deadly and alien. To my shame I must admit, if only to myself, that I never considered if the aliens that invaded our world were sentient or not. I saw monsters in every shadow and never considered it possible. They could still all end up being true monsters but now that I know that they can at least understand us, I will never quite look at them the same.

Ending my perusal with his face, I am shocked to see his blue gaze open and staring back at me. A blush heats my face to have been caught staring. Slowly, as if afraid I might bolt, my monster scoots out of the door frame and sits up, shaking his head as if to clear away the lasting effects of his cat nap.

A distant call has us both looking into the trees. I barely breath, waiting for the animal call to come again. His massive body is as tense as my own and long minutes pass as we wait. When it doesn’t happen again, I turn to look at him, only to find him watching me once more. Then he does something I didn’t expect. He changes.

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