“Mom,” Ty said, drawing out the middle of the word as if he were talking to someone much younger. “He’s too big to be a girl.”
Ty’s assumption proved correct when Quinn brought the dog outside. It lifted a back leg and sprayed the bottom of a highline pole beside the lodge before returning to the porch to sit and stare at him.
“So what’s his name?” Ty asked, coming outside, his cane tapping before him.
“I don’t know. You wanna think of one for him?”
“We can’t do that. He’s grown up. He’s already got a name.”
Quinn cocked his head. “I guess you’re probably right. So what is it, big guy?” he said, addressing the dog. “Is your name Jake?” The Shepherd mirrored Quinn’s head tilt and whined once in the back of his throat. “No? How about Zeke? Is it Zeke?”
“Zeke?” Ty asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never really been around a dog before.”
“Me neither. Mom says they’re dirty.”
“Yeah, well Billy Bob here doesn’t look dirty.”
Ty giggled. “Billy Bob?”
“Sure. He could be a Billy Bob, right boy?” The dog whined and then let out a short woof.
“Just name him Flea Train and be done with it,” Alice said, coming out to stand on the porch. “That’s what they all are.”
“Oh come on, mom. He’s really nice.”
“Doesn’t he have a collar on?” she asked.
“He does, but there’s no tag on it,” Quinn said, moving down the steps. The dog came to him, panting and smiling as he petted his head. “I’m going to take a look around back.”
He walked to the rear of the house, the dog remaining where he was beside the porch. Between two large propane cylinders, a makeshift lean-to sat a few feet above the ground. Beneath it were twin dog bowls. One was partially full of greenish, scummy water. The other sat beside a torn bag of dog food. Several dark pebbles rattled as he lifted it out into the light. He wiped away dust and dirt from the side exposing bright letters.
“His name’s Denver,” Quinn said, coming back around the front while holding up the dish. “It’s right here on your bowl, isn’t it, Denver?” The dog wagged his tail and came to him, nuzzling his leg before jumping to put huge paws on his chest. “Whoa! You’re too big for that.” He pushed the dog back down, but Denver continued to wag his tail, his entire body shivering with delight.
“Denver. Wouldn’t ever have guessed that,” Alice said. “Maybe it’s where he’s from originally.”
“That could be,” Quinn said, ruffling the dog’s fur one more time before mounting the steps.
“We should get going,” Alice said, looking at the bright cloud hiding the sun.
“I think we should wait one more day, make sure you’re good to go.”
“I’m good to go,” Alice said.
“Alice—”
“I’m fine.” There was a familiar edge to her voice that told him there would be no negotiation. “Let’s leave in an hour. There’s nothing to stay here for.”
~
They walked to the nearest house in the mid-morning, Quinn and Alice in front with the guns, Ty behind with his cane, Denver at heal beside him. Quinn watched the dog as they moved down the declined road. Every ten steps or so, Denver would nudge Ty’s hip with his shoulder, and it was only after the fourth time did he realize that the dog was keeping Ty from straying even an inch out of line. Quinn was about to say something to Alice when they came upon the driveway and turned into it.
The house at the end of the lane was massive, its top soaring almost to the tree tips. They found several cans of vegetables and fruit along with some more candy, but no weapons.
“Damn pacifists,” Alice muttered before leaving the house. In the garage they found a newer GMC Sierra pickup alongside a hybrid smart-car. Alice paused before opening the door to the truck.
“Want to take the car?”
“What?”
“I’m just trying to be eco-friendly. Doing my part to save the world.”