Evolution Day: An American Apocalypse Chapter 7

When I activated the power, sparks flew across the wall. The vines thrashed painfully through the air, creating whistling sounds, but couldn't break free. They quickly turned black and charred. To be safe, I waited a while longer before cutting the power.

Standing before the scorched wall, Duke and Cooper somehow squeezed out of the house to follow me. Cooper gracefully jumped beside me, gently gripping my collar in his teeth to set me safely aside. Duke excitedly but alertly sniffed around, then started digging furiously. Soon, a person-high mound of dirt formed beside him. He stepped back, signaling me to look.

I was curious what he'd found. I patted his large head, and Cooper reluctantly set me down. Approaching the hole, I peered in and saw ivy roots.

The roots were clearly still alive. Noticing my attention, they writhed, trying to capture their prey.

Duke's paw smacked them down.

Good. Note to self: always eliminate the roots completely, or I'd nearly gotten myself killed.

Looking at Duke's contribution, I gave him an encouraging smile.

"Extra meat tonight."

Duke got even more excited, his tail practically a blur. He dug up all the remaining root systems in the yard and helpfully refilled the holes.

I doused everything with gasoline and burned it all.

That night, I gave them extra meat. Watching them feast, I felt worried.

I'd stockpiled plenty of food, but I'd never anticipated them growing this large.

Now they consumed over 400 pounds per meal.

At this rate, I'd run out of supplies soon.

Lost in anxious thought, I didn't notice I'd spoken aloud. But one cat and one dog pricked up their ears, exchanging meaningful looks.

The next morning, I found a row of freshly killed birds in the yard.

They were enormous—the largest as big as a standing air conditioner, the smallest half a meter tall. A dozen of them, arranged in neat order.

I immediately understood.

Looking at Duke sitting in the yard wagging his tail excitedly, and Cooper who hadn't yet returned, I knew who was responsible.

Just as I thought of Cooper, he gracefully leaped over the wall, a stunning flower in his mouth. His tail held high, he padded elegantly toward me, placing the person-sized bloom at my feet.

He sat politely, tilting his head and winking.

"Meow—" (Sarah, I went hunting to feed you.)

What bad intentions could a cat have? The cat just wants to take care of its human.

"Cooper, you're amazing!"

Of course I couldn't understand his words, but that didn't stop me from praising him. I processed the birds into lunch for all of us.

After learning they could hunt, I felt much better. At least I wouldn't run out of food anytime soon.

From then on, Cooper and Duke hunted daily. Cooper favored birds and fish; Duke preferred ground prey. They brought back different catches each day, occasionally including flowers.

They'd apparently discussed it—one would hunt while the other stayed to protect me, allowing me to move around safely.

My life became quite comfortable.

During supply runs, I occasionally encountered other survivors. We'd eye each other warily from a distance, then move on.

I hadn't expected the opportunity for cooperation to come so quickly.