The Great Eight

Chapter 11

The body was of a slender male, with a narrow face and small ears that were folded in a strange shape. Its clouded over eyes stared blankly up at the sky, and its jaws were parted as if it were silently screaming. Most of its throat was gone, appearing to have been violently torn away, creating a gaping hole of pulpy red flesh. Several other horrible wounds were inflicted all over the dog—something with enormous fangs had torn its pelt to shreds. Riley had never seen so much blood before. It completely stained the dog's fur, masking its color, and spread out in a wide, dried puddle in the grass. A cloud of files buzzed noisily around the body.

Riley staggered sideways and vomited into the grass. He gasped for air, staring down at the remains of the rabbit he'd eaten last night as his legs threatened to give out beneath him.

"What the fuck," whispered Maverick. His normally narrow eyes were very wide.

"D-do you think a b-bear could have done this?" stammered Ricochet, who was shaking like Riley.

Blackjack didn't answer at first. He stared at the dead dog, his nostrils flaring, but eventually replied with, "If it had been a bear, we'd know. Bears leave behind a powerful stench that lasts for days."

"Maybe it was a wolf?" Sky suggested. The dappled mutt's voice quavered.

"Wolves don't just come into civilizations and attack dogs," said Blackjack hoarsely. "They keep to themselves, deep in the woods and mountains. This must have been the work of a dog."

"What kind of dog can leave wounds like that?" Tucker breathed.

"We have to look for the rest of the Fast Pack." Blackjack raised his head, his voice becoming sharp and authoritative once more as he led his platoon away from the body. 

Riley followed the others on his still quivering legs, overwhelmed by the scents of vomit and blood. He looked to Ricochet, whose ears were flattened and tail tucked between his legs. Riley had never seen his brother looked so terrified before. The scent of fear was radiating from everyone, even Blackjack.

"W-what if they're all d-dead?" Riley choked out.

"Let's not assume the worst yet," Blackjack replied.

The platoon continued searching through the empty streets. Riley had no idea how he was still walking, as his legs were shaking so violently. His mind was on fire with terror—was whatever killed that dog still here? Was it stalking them, waiting for an opportunity to strike? Were they all about to die in just a few seconds?

"Up there." Blackjack was pointing with his snout towards a huge building up ahead. It was very wide, covered in rust, and had three levels. Huge windows adorned it, some of which were shattered.

"I know they gather there for meetings, or for when there's danger," Blackjack said.

As they approached the building, they saw that the lowest windows—those of which were missing glass—were blocked by clutters of objects. It seemed that numerous metal barrels and crates had been piled up and shoved against them, as if to barricade the place.

"Something horrible has happened here," whispered Violet.

There seemed to be no visible entrance into the building. Blackjack cautiously led his platoon around it, looking for a way in. When the rear wall came into view, a massive, gaping hole was there. Peering inside, the dogs noticed several barrels and other large pieces of junk were scattered everywhere, as if they had been stacked against the hole and then knocked violently apart by some force.