Ashes by Ilsa J. Bick

something about to go very wrong, because it let out a short, almost playful yelp.
    Ellie laughed. “It wants to play.”
    Now that she knew what she was looking for, Alex’s frantic eyes scoured the forest right and left of the collie. She spotted two more dogs in the underbrush: a dusky, speckled hound and a ragged German shepherd, its left ear hanging in crusty tatters.
    Four dogs . Four. Less than a week since this nightmare began, and none of these dogs looked like they’d ever been anyone’s pet.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Ellie said as Alex pressed back. She let out a yelp and then Alex heard something splash. “Alex, you made me knock the tackle box—”
    â€œMove back,” Alex said, injecting as much urgency as she could without outright screaming. “There are more dogs, Ellie. Move, move !”
    â€œWhat? I don’t see …” Alex heard Ellie gasp.
    â€œGo.” She felt the girl begin to inch away, and she followed, legs still straddling the trunk, palms cupping the icy bark, eyes never leaving the dogs. She watched as the other three slid from the tangle of brush and briars. The collie was no longer wagging its tail, and the playful look on its face had been replaced by what almost looked like rage. The dogs were rigid, ears pricked, nostrils flaring as they sampled the air. Sampled them.
    â€œGo away.” Her voice shook and Alex thought, God, I sound like dinner. She tried again, putting some steel in it. “Go on! Get out of here, go !”
    The dogs did not go. Instead, they tossed looks at one another. Alex could almost hear them debating; felt the air go alive with thoughts. Then four pairs of glittering eyes swiveled back, and the hound and the very big mutt began nosing along the bank.
    â€œWhat are they doing?” Ellie said in a high voice. “Are they going away?”
    â€œNo. They’re looking for a way across.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œSo they can come at us from both sides.” The mutt and the hound were picking their way down the bank, slithering on wet leaves. She kept hoping they’d take a tumble, maybe break a leg, maybe get so wet and discouraged they’d just give up, but they didn’t look like the kind of dogs that gave up. Then she remembered the dried blood on the collie and she thought, Gun.
    â€œEllie.” She craned her head over the hump of her shoulder. The girl’s face was bleached of color, and she was crying, silently, huge tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ellie. The Glock. Get it.”
    Ellie’s eyes went even wider, but she nodded—a quick jerk like a puppet. She started backing away in little hip-hops, up and down, like a kid hitching along a balance beam. Every bounce knocked a gasp from Alex’s chest, and she hissed, “Not so fast. We’ve got some time, be careful .”
    â€œAlmost there!” Ellie wailed. She’d made it back to the V butt-first, but instead of turning, she swept her right hand back to reach for the Glock nestled in its thick cradle of branches—
    Alex saw it right before it happened. “Ellie, no, stop !”
    Too late.
    Ellie’s hand knocked the gun, a good solid hit that sent the pistol sailing. Ellie let out a shrill no! She tried to snatch at the gun, but then her body shifted, and she screamed again, throwing herself forward this time and wrapping her arms around the tree. Alex watched in a kind of dumb horror as the gun tumbled butt over bore, once, twice, three times, and then hit the water with a dull, wet thawunk , a sound Alex had heard countless times as a kid dropping rocks into a pond from a tire swing. She watched, helpless and sick, as the water swallowed the gun. Swallowed her dad.
    â€œI’m sorry.” Ellie’s teeth showed in a tight, terrified rictus grin. She hugged the tree with both arms. “I’m sorry, I lost my balance. I’m sorry, I’m—”
    There had