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There was once a time where Fall used to be one of Kenny’s favorite seasons.
As the man walked along the leaf-riddled gravel, he took in a deep breath, allowing the scent of the grove to clear his thoughts. If he concentrated hard enough, he could still remember the wonderful smell of pumpkin pie that Katjaa would make each Thanksgiving. He could still hear Duck’s laughter as the boy found leaf piles to jump into. What I’d give to have all of that back…
All of the benefits of Fall had died with the people Kenny had held so dear. Nowadays, Kenny found himself dwelling more on the setbacks. The leaves crunched with every step he took, broadcasting his presence to any walkers or stragglers lurking around the brush. The scent of pumpkin pie had been replaced by the lingering smell of blood and rot. The wind which once gave him a lucky break from the summer heat taunted Kenny now, existing only to remind him of the unforgiving winter to come.
As if all that wasn’t enough, Katjaa and Duck, the only people Kenny could look to for hope before the outbreak, were no longer there to help him. Lee and Clementine had helped as best as they could, but it wasn’t meant to last. Lee had been bitten, and Kenny had gotten separated from the rest of the group.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Kenny felt completely and truly alone.
Well, I suppose that ain’t entirely true. Kenny hadn’t expected much when he’d gone down to help Ben, back in that alleyway in Savannah. The older man hadn’t expected Ben to survive his brutal injury, let alone to step up and help Kenny get out of Savannah’s nightmarish streets.
Kenny took a deep breath as he neared the farm house he and Ben had found earlier that week. The routine was as simple as it had been now for the past couple of months. Kenny would wake up, do a quick perimeter check, and check over his supplies. Then he’d wake Ben up, make sure the kid was all right, and go out scavenging. The older man let out a weary sigh. Despite his best efforts, he could only scrounge up so much supplies without being gone for too long. Sooner or later, we’ll need to move on.
The older survivor glanced back, eyes combing the brush for unseen threats living or dead. Only when he knew it was clear did he step onto the front porch. The door creaked as it opened.
Kenny’s eyes widened in shock. Laying on the kitchen table was the first aid kit the two survivors had brought with them from Savannah, its contents laid bare for anyone to snatch. A pile of used paper towels cluttered the corner of the table. Kenny struggled to swallow as he recognized the crusty stains of dried blood on the towels. Holy shit…don’t tell me the kid got hurt while I was gone.
“Ben?” Kenny called out, his voice laced with irritation and a concern he thought had long since died along with Duck.
“I’m in here.”
The older survivor turned towards the sound of the voice. Kenny scratched his head in confusion. Doesn’t sound like he’s hurt…then again, he could just be hiding things.
“Ben? I’m back. Are you doing—”
The unexpected sight cut off Kenny’s statement. Ben sat on the living room sofa, a granola bar in his hand. The boy looked okay for the most part, as Kenny wasn’t able to find a scratch on him. Ben’s lack of injuries, however, wasn’t what caused Kenny’s jaw to drop.
Sitting next to Ben, without a care in the world, was a stray dog.
Kenny briefly managed to get his eye to stop twitching as he stared at the uninvited guest. He crossed his arms over his chest as he turned to face Ben. “Uh…what’cha got there, Ben?” he asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in his tone.
Ben glanced to Kenny, and then to the dog. The teen’s response was to casually take another bite of his granola bar. “A snack…” Ben sheepishly answered, shifting his gaze to the floor.
Kenny inhaled sharply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Don’t yell. It’s not worth it. He’s just a kid, still. The man’s mind briefly flashed back to the argument he had with Ben, back in that mansion in Savannah. Last thing I want is for him to get scared or angry. “Ben,” he started out slowly. “Why is there a dog in our house?”
“Yeah, about that,” Ben stammered, reaching out a hand to pet the dog’s head. “You know that tunnel we took to get out of Savannah? Earlier today, I went and explored this house right beside it. I found this poor guy wandering in the backyard. Just from looking at his injury I can tell he’s been through a lot. It’s almost like some bandits just…” Ben clamped his mouth shut, his sorrowful eyes telling Kenny the rest of the story without a single word.
Kenny knelt in front of the dog, eyes narrowing as he tried to take a lucky guess at the dog’s breed. Golden-brown fur covered every inch of the dog’s body, save for a darker brown patch around the pup’s left eye. Probably some kind of mutt. The older man’s eyes widened as he spotted a blood-stained bandage wrapped around the dog’s midriff. Well, that explains where our medical supplies went. Kenny reached out to inspect the injury, raising a curious eyebrow as he pondered how and when the dog had gotten hurt.
The dog yelped in response, backing away and baring its teeth. A growl escaped its lips as Kenny yanked his hand back. The older man inspected his hand for bites, sighing in relief once he found none. He turned to face Ben. “This thing wasn’t caught in a walker herd before you found it, was it?”
Ben’s eyes lit up in surprise. “Wha—no! Are you serious?” he stammered, jaw dropping at Kenny’s suggestion.
“What? I gotta ask!” Kenny defended.
“Hey man, look around you,” Ben argued, strolling over to kneel next to the dog. “We’ve had close calls with walkers ourselves. If we barely made it out, what chance would all the other animals have? This guy’s pretty lucky, if you ask me.” The boy creeped his hand toward the animal, rubbing it gently along the dog’s head. Instead of baring its teeth as it had done with Kenny, the mutt leaned into the touch, its tail wagging excitedly at the special treatment Ben was handing out.
Maybe I’m not that much of a dog person. The statement, doubtful as it was, held some truth to it. Kenny and his family had never owned a dog before. No matter how much Duck had begged for a dog, Kenny and Katjaa had refused to budge. It’s not hard to see why. We were out on the water a lot, and we had bills to pay. Seeing as how Duck had been difficult enough to raise, Kenny couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to let a four-legged fur missile join the family.
“Can we keep him?”
Kenny’s eyes practically bulged out of his head at Ben’s innocent question. The older survivor let out a disbelieving laugh as he stood back up. “Uh, hell no!”
Ben’s jaw dropped faster than Kenny could blink. “You’re kidding, right?” Ben spoke up, his natural anxiety slithering into his tone. “Why not? What’s there to lose?”
“Well, let’s see,” Kenny sarcastically replied, glancing up to the ceiling in a mock attempt at pondering the question over. “One, we have no idea how this dog got hurt or who it belongs to. Two, dogs yap, and yappin’ can attract walkers. And last but not least, I just do not think I’m a dog person.”
“Aw, c’mon, Kenny,” Ben piped up, a lopsided grin forming on his face as the dog lapped at the boy’s cheek. “We’re not talking about a survivor we need to worry about trusting. The only times he’s tried to bite is when I took a look at that wound. This dog probably doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.” He turned to face the mutt, hands wildly petting around the scruff on the animal’s neck. “Isn’t that right, Patch?”
Kenny’s jaw dropped. The fuck did this kid just say? “Patch?” Kenny repeated, his eye twitching in disbelief. “You already named it?”
Ben excitedly nodded his head. “Yep. You like it?”
It took everything the older survivor had to keep his frustration from boiling over. “Kid, out of all the ideas you’ve given me so far, this has to be one of the craziest. I’m busy enough helpin’ you try to stay alive, and now you want to throw a dog into the mix? Do you even know how to take care of a dog?”
The teen shifted his gaze to the floor, his sheepish gaze a silent answer to Kenny’s question.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Kenny scoffed, kneeling down next to the dog again. The mutt trotted over, though this time, Kenny made no move to pet it. “I hate to break it to you, Ben, but the way I see it, wisest thing to do would be to let it run loose. I’m sorry. I’m just not a dog person.”
Ben’s response was immediate. The young man wasted no time grabbing ahold of Kenny’s arm. Kenny’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as Ben pulled the older man’s arm toward the dog.
“Ben, what—”
“It’s okay,” Ben interrupted, sitting down beside the mutt. The dog tilted its head, taking the chance to curiously sniff at Kenny’s hand. “It just needs to get to know you, is all.” Ben swiftly turned to face the mutt. “Now, Patch, you be nice to Kenny,” he warned, his voice not unlike that of a parent scolding their child. “No biting.”
The mutt—Patch, Kenny reminded himself, this dog had a name now—continued to sniff and paw at Kenny’s hand, tail wagging as it scooted closer to the older survivor. Kenny, for his part, kept his skeptical gaze locked on the dog, his hand reflexively pulling away as Patch’s wet nose tickled the older man’s skin. The dog raised a paw to scratch at Kenny’s leg, letting out a playful whine and licking its lips.
Ben’s face lit up in a smile as he turned to face Kenny. “See? I think he likes you,” he reassured the older survivor. Kenny said nothing in return, instead reaching out a hand to pet the dog on the head. Patch leaned into the touch easily, a sign that the mutt was beginning to warm up to the man.
Kenny found himself going through the argument in his head as he continued to pet Patch. The more he thought about it, the more the upsides of having a dog came to his mind. If he’s survived this long, then he must have a good survival instinct. He’ll probably be able to sniff out supplies for all of us. And he might be able to steer us clear of walkers or other threats.
The man let out a weary sigh. God, I hope Ben doesn’t make me regret this. “I suppose he can stay with us,” Kenny reluctantly said. He turned his sharp gaze to Ben, causing the teen’s smile to wane. “But you found him, so you get to take care of him. That means you find food for him on supply runs, and make sure he doesn't get hurt or chewed up by walkers. And he is sure as shit sleepin’ with you. Am I clear?”
“I…yeah, I understand,” Ben replied, his smile returning as Patch trotted back over to the boy. “And…thanks. Thanks for trusting me with this.”
The sight of the sun as it set over the grove cut the conversation short. “We should probably turn in for the night,” Kenny suggested. “It’s getting late, and we might need to move on tomorrow.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” Ben nodded his head in agreement. “I’ll go ahead and take the first watch. The dog needs time to settle down anyway.”
With that, Ben snatched his machete off the ground, and strode towards the front porch, craning his neck to ensure that Patch was following close behind. Kenny, meanwhile, crawled onto the couch, kicking his shoes off and setting his hat onto the coffee table beside him. His muscles ached as he reached for the single blanket on the couch, a sign that the day’s events had taken a toll on him.
Kenny stole a glance at Ben and Patch, the younger survivor gently rubbing the dog’s fur while scanning the darkening horizon. They still had a long ways to go. Kenny distantly knew that it would be an uphill battle to find a more permanent home…and to forgive Ben for everything that had happened. For now, though, a smile graced Kenny’s lips as Ben and Patch sat together on the porch, guarding over the older man and each other.
Guess I might not be so alone in this after all.
That was Kenny’s last thought before his exhaustion took over, and his mind sank into oblivion.