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Frost – the white and silver male – was larger than any canine I had ever seen, maybe even larger than the lioness, Ripley. If he stood on his back legs, he would easily tower over Nova, and she wasn’t exactly short, either.
The smaller of the two was the darker female, Sable, but she was still quite large. Her markings and thick fur gave her a more wolfy appearance, and her eyes were quick and calculating.
Nova suggested we meet on more “neutral” grounds, which was apparently me sitting on a log bench underneath an oak tree in the front yard.
When they weren’t in the house or with Nova, the wolfdogs had a large fenced in area on the other side of the farm from the other animals. Nova released them from their enclosure, and she led them over to me.
Frost came over first, sniffing me, but Nova instructed me not to pet him yet. Despite her smaller stature, it was much more obvious that Sable wasn’t an ordinary dog. Her eyes had a bright skepticism with a wicked intelligence flickering underneath, and she was always watching.
Frost gave me a berth the first day, but by the second morning, when I greeted him, he acted like we were old friends, and I was able to give him a good scratch on his head.
I thought we were making good progress, but it still took almost a week for Nova to feel safe having the wolfdogs and me hanging out inside together. Since they had always taken precedence over me, this was the first time that I was actually permitted to spend time in the living room.
We had books, and Nova played old Fleetwood Mac records on the record player. I read Little Women, she read Wild Sargasso Sea, and she sat on the sofa with Sable curled up at her feet. Frost lay spread on the rug, his long legs taking up most of the floor, and he slept soundly as we all spent the evening relaxing together.
In the corner of the room, between the record player and bookshelf, the box labelled “Old School Stuff” was tucked away. That was where Nova had put it after I’d read her sister’s journal.
For the first night since Nova had brought me to her house, I went to bed with my door unlocked and my hands uncuffed. But still, I didn’t feel free, because I couldn’t really leave. Not if I wanted to live, and I hadn’t quite given up on that yet.
I laid awake for a long time, even though I was tired, and I tried to imagine what Remy would do if she were in this situation. First and foremost, she was a survivor, and she always managed to get out of even the worst situations.
If Remy had woken up in handcuffs, part of me truly believed she would gnaw through her own wrist if that’s what she needed to do to escape. If that didn’t work, she would play it safe and placate Nova, the way that I was.
I hoped I was making the right choices, but hope didn’t mean much of anything anymore. So I stayed awake and ran through the scenario again and again. How long should I stay here? What was my best chance for surviving as a free man?
Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep, because I awoke in the dark to the sound of zombies howling. Close enough that they had to be on Nova’s homestead, and close enough that the goats and chickens were causing an angry commotion.
I sat up and pulled back the curtains. I peered out the windows, past the bars outside the glass, but there wasn’t much to see in the darkness of night.
There were footsteps rushing about the house – Nova and the wolfdogs by the sounds of it, and then I heard the lock on my bedroom door slide shut.
“Nova?” I asked in dismay. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll take care of it,” was all she said, and then I heard the front door slam shut.
Nova had raced out into the night with her pair of wolves to protect her from zombies, and if she didn’t return, I was locked inside a bedroom with bars across the window.
The zombie calls were becoming more incensed, reminding me of the unusual howls I had heard after the military truck had been hijacked. First there was a long deep growl, and right after a shorter one would reply, almost like a call and response.
One of the wolfdogs growled – Sable, I think – and I heard the loud bang of a shotgun and a quick flash of light from the barrel momentarily illuminated the conflict. In the next quick blast, I counted three zombies descending on Nova, but Frost was diving for one of their throats.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of the canines’ growls and the zombies’ howls and flesh tearing, and I could only catch glimpses of movement at the edge of the gardens.
And then it fell silent.
I held my breath and pressed my forehead against the window, and I stared into the darkness.
After a long time, the front door finally opened, followed by the sound of Nova’s boots on the wood floor and the wolfdogs paws scratching behind them.
I got out of bed and limped over to my bedroom door, and I pressed my ear against the wood, straining to hear as much as I could.
“Nova, what happened?” I called through the door. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” she said, sounding exasperated. “I’m going to take a bath and go to bed. We should be safe for the rest of the night.”
“Do you need any help?” I offered. “Do you want to unlock my door and I can help you?”
“No, I don’t need help bathing, Lazlo,” she muttered, and her footsteps had moved onto the stairs leading up to her second-story bedroom.
