Chương 42: Chapter 42
The dog had saved them all. Again and again, it had run into the fire, jumped into the storm, fought the monsters they never even saw. It had no words to explain its devotion, but it didn't need them. A flash of its coat in the smoke, a bark to drive away the attackers, a silent promise that everything would be okay—until it wasn't.
They never gave it a name, no title, nothing that would tie them to it. It was just the dog. But they owed everything to it.
It had found them when the world fell apart. When the last lights went out and the machines turned off, when the streets cracked open and the air grew thick, it was the dog who led them to the shelter.
It was the dog who tore through the walls to save them, who carried children to safety and brought back food when the supply runs ran dry. The dog had fought off the monsters, clawed through debris to pull out people who couldn't move. It had done it all without a sound.
And then they started to talk. Quietly, behind closed doors, they whispered. They were nervous. They didn't trust the dog anymore. It had saved them, yes—but what if it was only waiting for the right moment to turn? What if it was waiting to strike?
They were scared. Afraid of what it might become. And as the days stretched on, those whispers grew louder.
"We can't keep it here," one of them said, his voice tight. "It's too dangerous now."
"What if it's changed? What if it's not the same dog?"
They watched it from the corners of their eyes. It sat by the door, head cocked, waiting for someone to open it. To give it a chance to save them again. But they could see it now. There was something in its eyes.
It was a full moon when they finally acted. They cornered the dog, trapped it in the old storehouse. They said they were doing it to keep everyone safe. They said they didn't want to see it turn into something... else. They couldn't risk it.
The dog growled, deep and low, its fur prickling. It backed into the corner, eyes wide with confusion. It had saved them. They were all alive because of it. But they didn't care. They were too afraid of what it might become.
And then, with a sharp crack, the gunshot split the night. The dog slumped forward, its chest opening up like a wound no one could heal.
It was quiet after that. They all stood frozen, staring at the lifeless body of the dog that had saved them. Their faces were pale, eyes wide, but none of them could admit what they had just done. The dog had been their protector. And now it was gone.
But the dog didn't stay gone.
The earth shuddered when it came back. Its body, torn and broken, was no longer the same. Something else had filled it. Something dark, something cold. It walked out from the shadows, eyes gleaming in the darkness, its mouth dripping with the blood of those it had killed.
They heard the first scream in the middle of the night. They heard the others right after. And then, one by one, they fell.
The last one stood in the corner of the room, shaking, the gun in his hand useless. The dog—no, it—tilted its head, as if remembering its old name. It took one step closer, then another.
The door opened. A sliver of light shone through.
And then, it closed. Forever.
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