Flo, the dog (Part 6 of 8)

─I think… I think I tore the… the sweater. ─faltered the girl. She touched the fabric and observed the holes.

─She… she would have mended it. Kinda sewn, or… whatever… ─she wiped her nose on the cuff. Mucus stuck to the cloth. She saw them and started to weep.

─Was good to me, you know?... She always… she would always look after me… She was dull at times… real dull… but looked after me… and now she’s… she’s… just dead. The fool… She got killed… She’s dead and she’s left me on my own… ─she hung to the mongrel, inconsolable.

Flo’s heart shrank. It was like being my his sweet tender mistress’ side. The little one’s contact made him feel good.

That hadn’t happened for a long time.

─Lovely pair of loverbirds!

The kid screamed at the man’s sudden words. The dog looked at him with suspicion.

─See you’ve met the mutt. Name’s Flo. ─he grimaced a smile at the girl ─ gave ‘im that name coz it’s a real fag… well… coz…coz he likes flowers. That’s it… he likes flowers a lot…don’t ya? C’mon, be nice to the little one, give’er yer leg.

The girl observed the man carefully. He was ugly. His face was wrinkled all over. Scruffy beard. He reeked of urine and old sweat.

His weapons showed remains of the recent combat.

He was scary.

Really scary.

His eyes had a grimy brightness. They seemed to hide something.

Something dangerous for her, she sensed.

She looked towards the lavish house where she had been hiding. If she ran now she might have a chance of escaping that man.

Her eyes met the shattered carcasses of the monsters. An abstract mass of cutout limbs and torsoes. Heads cut off from their necks, squashed to a tissue and bone shapeless pulp.

She’d rather not run like mad. She might be killed just the same.

─Yeah, kid… I had to smash them… don’t like violence… don’t… I’m a pacifist… had to do it, though… yer sake… did it just f’yer sake… daddy saved yer life...

He approached the girl, as to caress her cheek.

She pulled her head away.

─You…you are not… not my father… ─she faltered. Her legs trembled.

The man moved one of his eyebrows. His expression changed radically.

Flo recognised the meaning of that look. He had seen it several times, whenever they met a survivor and…

No…he wouldn’t allow the man to hurt the kid.

─Of course I’m not yer father ─He was losing what little patience was left in him. ─Not him… but I just , almost kicked the bucket fer yer sake out there… that kinda givez me right to be whomever the fuck I pretend to be, got it?

He waved at the mutilated monster corpses.

─Don’t ye think ye oughta be a bit more thankful? ─He raised the machete, pointing it at the girl’s neck.

She hid behind the dog. Flo took an attack position. His growling warned his master not to come near. He raised the tone to make them louder, more threatening.

─Whazzup, fucking minibitch? Yer fucking parents didn’t teach ye no manners? And this bastard dog, that’s yer way of thanking me for all my care?... You’ve screwed my day… and you’ll pay for that!

Silence. Flo felt uneasy. Every single time he had dared confront his master, he had lost, even if he always found the way to get reconciled again.

He just raised his tail enabling him to approach his back.

It was different now.

There was no return this time.

No forgiving.

They stared at each other, trying to find a weak spot in the opponent.

Somebody was going to die.

(Translator: Alberto Abete)