The China Pandemic Read Online Free

Then he heard a yell and a dog barking from the front of the property.
    Graham grabbed his rifle from where he’d left it. He ran around and found the boy running down the street with a pit bull on his heels. He yelled and ran toward the dog, startling it enough to turn in his direction. Graham aimed and fired, killing the attack dog instantly.
    Knowing they had caused a commotion enough to attract other predators, Graham didn’t delay in retrieving the boy. He ran and picked him up under one arm and returned home, closing the gate behind them. The boy cried and kicked him the whole way.
    Graham sat him down on the grass and knelt down with him.
    “Okay, okay, be quiet! It’s done now. The dog is dead,” Graham said, then picked him up and carried him inside.
    He felt guilty for forcing the kid to behave, but he needed him to quiet down. He went to the front windows and looked out toward the gate for more dogs. So far, there weren’t any. He went back to the boy and rubbed his head.
    “You need to be quiet or the other mean dogs will find us,” he said. The boy tried to stifle his crying. “Are you okay? Did he bite you?”
    The boy shook his head with tears streaming down his face. Graham took a rag out of his pants pocket and wiped the tears and snot away. The little chest heaved with the child’s effort to hold back his sobs.
    “I know this is tough, but you can’t run away from me. Your mom wanted you to stay with me so I could take care of you. I promised her,” he said. “Don’t do that again.”
    “Come on, let’s get our job over with,” Graham went on. He got up and headed back to the graves, taking his rifle with him. He watched the street carefully for more dogs. If he were lucky, the dead dog would attract predators, and not him or the boy. Keeping his distance, the boy followed slowly behind him. “We need to be quiet out here, okay?”
    Graham kneeled down on the edge of his father’s grave, still trying to come to terms with his death. He stood up and grabbed the shovel. The boy walked over to the pile of dirt behind Graham. Graham handed him a smaller shovel.
    “Here, you can use this one,” he said, but the boy wouldn’t take the shovel; instead, he started shaking his head and crying again.
    “Fine,” Graham muttered in frustration. “Just sit down there, then.”
    Graham reluctantly picked up a shovelful of dirt and slowly swung it over the hole. He started at his father’s feet and carefully dropped in the soil. He grabbed another and another, but was reluctant to cover his father’s face. He didn’t cry but shook with grief.
    He could see the boy watching him work. The next thing he knew, the boy shouted out as a dog snarled close behind. Graham looked up and saw two more. He reached for the boy just as the dog bit into the kid’s jacket. Graham pulled him away. He flung the boy behind him towards the edge of the grave. The boy scrambled away from the edge, bawling. Graham swung the shovel at the attack dog and smacked it in the head.
    He had a moment and grabbed his rifle, putting a bullet into the skull of the stunned dog.
    “Get out of here!” he yelled at the other two.
    With its teeth bared, and its head down, another dog came at him. The third tried to edge around him toward the boy. Graham shot the closest dog squarely in the forehead, so close that he felt the misty splatter of blood on his face.
    The last dog tried to take advantage by lunging at Graham, but it was too little too late. Using the gun barrel as a club, he knocked the dog to the side. He had just enough time to squeeze off a shot, wounding the dog in the hip. He cocked the rifle one last time and fired.
    Nothing happened. He was out of ammunition, right when an enraged and wounded beast was coming after him. He tossed the rifle down and grabbed the shovel again, slipping in the mud and falling to his side. The injured dog locked its teeth in his pants leg.
    Graham swung the shovel with all his might.