Surviving The Cull by J.Z. O'Brien

Author:J.Z. O'Brien [O'Brien, J.Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bmajec LLC
Published: 2016-08-30T04:00:00+00:00

Bear Mountain

O3 had given each opening that led out of the underground warehouse a thorough inspection and knew the location of every door in its perimeter. He also knew what Kenai meant by the word “house,” and set off for the door with odors coming through the cracks that he associated with places where people lived. O3 knew his person’s thoughts and emotions almost before she did, and he could easily tell she wanted to use the items she’d picked up; it wasn’t the first time she gathered, rubbed on, and then washed off stuff to change her scent. To O3 the air appeared as tendrils of odors, each one as distinct as the hues of a rainbow. The interior of the warehouse existed as his map, merging detailed visual and olfactory information, and a route to the place his person wanted innately appeared.

O3 trotted to the far end of the aisle and stopped, looking over his shoulder to signal he understood the mission and waiting for his person to catch up. Once she was close, O3 found his previous trail along the outside wall, and he turned toward the door that smelled like the houses he and she had been in before.

His person only got lost once, darting up an aisle and gathering more items to carry, a behavior O3 was used to. She habitually got sidetracked, usually because she spotted food to gather, which she always shared, but this time she gathered items with obnoxious odors he hoped she wouldn’t share.

O3 stopped at a door that smelled of past human habitation, which he had plenty of time to reexamine while waiting for his person. The air escaping under the door brought to mind a place people lived, but long ago. A place of people, rather than machines, was on the other side of the door, and he trembled with anticipation waiting to investigate it; nothing in O3’s world was more important than being first through a new door.

Kenai could tell O3 was excited and wanted the door opened by the number of circles he turned in front of it; it was as if he needed to make sure she knew he’d checked and rechecked everywhere before leading her here. Her dog’s antics distracted her from noticing the sign on the door until she reached for the knob.

Her hand stopped as her eyes took in the name “Tom Nightbear” with the now familiar logo of his Bear Mountain Wickiup placed above his name, both carved into and centered on the stout looking wooden door.

“I wonder if I should knock?” Kenai said, looking at O3.

O3 pushed on the door with his front paws, then looked back at Kenai and wagged his tail in a display of curiosity rather than alarm, clearly indicating to go ahead and open the door already.

She decided to knock anyway, because she still felt like she was being watched and to let her dog know he wasn’t always the boss. O3 ignored her and pressed his nose into the doorjamb to ensure being the first one inside.

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