Author's Note: Flat out warning I wanted to write a story that will wreck a person when they read it because its brutal and so hard to imagine anyone can live but also have it relatable. I cringed writing bits, but I hope someone enjoys this or considers them true to character. Mostly I wanted to write a fic about human nature. Its a slow start because really-no people, no technology, no music, etc...there's not much for Clarke to do in a solitary life.
Her fist clenched and unclenched as it hovered over the door. Was knocking the best idea? Logically she thought-I don't have much to lose. Maybe get more supplies...maybe...someone else survived. Her breathing became uneven with thoughts in circles and she kneeled so long her knee was starting to ache more than usual. Yesterday she thought she would kill for a cortisone shot for her arthritis but she hated that expression. One of her life's greatest ironies that although she had training to be a doctor she had killed so much. But those thoughts never helped and before she could think more she knocked. She waited. Rubbed her knee and waited. She could have guessed there wouldn't be a reply. The world was barren now.
Smoothly she unsheathed her knife and gripped it firmly as she tried the metal handle that was strong, cold, and locked. Of course impassable, but not impenetrable she reasoned as the worked the knife between the groove., mimicking what Octavia had taught her. If she had a watch she figured a half hour had passed of her trying to break in. Occasionally she had looked up to see if any carriers or predators were present. In a vain attempt to release tension she rolled her shoulders and with narrowed eyes set back to work on the door. But it was getting darker and colder, she could feel it in her joints without having to look through the dense forest. With a low groan she got up, stretched and walked over to a tree. She carved an x about the size of her palm, leveled with her torso into the bark, brushed her hands on her thighs and turned to the direction of her bunker but paused.
It wouldn't be safe to be out at night, she had a self regulated curfew, an internal clock and knowledge that she didn't have any engagement plans for the rest of her days. Tomorrow would be another chance she promised herself. After all she had nothing better to do than read and search for food. Quickly she moved the leaves back over the door and then made the trek home. With another deep breath she considered how home had changed over the years-the actual place of it and the concept. Home was a concrete, square hole but it was empty. The home in space could feel empty but people were always around, friends and family you loved and occasionally wanted to get away from.
Humans are so adaptive. We can get...accustomed to chaos or peace...any setting given time...and sometimes we become complacent...and accept the chaos. Two years ago I didn't think I would be on the ground and the only living person for miles...and its our weakness and strength...that express? A...a double edged sword? That we're so adaptive because who the hell would tolerate this? And...have the ability to actually stand this unstable, fucking environment? She reminded herself to not be angry as she kept hiking. Anger required too much energy. And...she stopped mid thought when she heard a sharp yip and then crying. All she had seen in the woods were elk and this sounded nothing like deer, but also pitiful.
Before she saw the creature she lowered her knife, knowing intrinsically it wouldn't harm her. Next to tree, in a poorly dug hole was a furry creature with what she considered floppy ears, a body that was missing patches of fur and what she took to be kind eyes. Slowly she kneeled in front of it and looked it over. No fatal wounds were seen aside from the stubby ear, the other was intact. They stared at one another. It was curled into a ball with large feet sticking out when it picked its seemingly too large head up. Those eyes looked over Clarke with the same intensity she looked on. Both curious, cold, and alone. Without any sudden movements she removed her thick scarf around her neck and tentatively placed it on the creature like a blanket. Just as slowly as her movements it tilted its head and nudged the scarf with its nose. She realized it seemed to be breathing it in and was surprised when it stood up, shook, clumsily walked to her and buried its face into the crook of her neck.
"Oh boy," she whispered and caught herself as she almost toppled over from the force. Now that it was standing the size was surprising, but she let out a barely audible laugh as it licked her face. "Ok. Want to come home with me?" She asked it, feeling silly trying to have a conversation with an animal, but it felt natural, To her amusement it wagged its tail as she cupped the side of its face, looked into those trusting eyes and scratched behind its one ear that was remaining. Already she was considering the medical treatment, but it was nice to focus on something. Gently she picked him up with effort, having given him a full look over now he was on all fours. He was remarkably heavy but he seemed to appreciate it when he burrowed into her further.
Her arms ached once she was inside. Thankfully she had been a mile away from the bunker. When she set him on the floor he jumped on her bed and rolled on the covers.
"Excuse you." She said with a stern voice but smiled seeing him roll on his back. "Listen, don't get blood on the blankets," she said firmly as she got out the metal box that said first aid kit. As she worked on getting the supplies ready the creature he laid still, allowing her to drift to any thought that came with quietness. If only people listened this well to her if might have been less dramatic when they first landed. Or maybe not. She huffed when she caught the baby creature chewing on the corner of her book. As she took it away she scolded him with a firm no then she looked at the book with a bit of heartbreak taking in the damage to the Sherlock Holmes novel. She was starting to fall in love with it. The creature looked content but she frowned down at him.
"Hmmm, how would you like your name to be Arthur?" She asked and smiled when he wagged his tail. "Ok. Arthur, off the bed, lets take care of that ear," she conversationally said as she pat the side of her quad and watched as he nearly tripped off the bed to come beside her and stopped when he pushed his large head into her thigh.
The next hour was dedicated to tending Arthur and any issues as he seemed to wait without any complaints. "You're one of the best patients I've ever had," she said as she scratched behind the good ear. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime ago she felt more at ease as she sat with her new companion. She scanned the bunker as she tried to decide which rations she wanted to eat in a little while and realized she had a book on animals, specifically canines, she was used to calling them. A spine of a book said dogs. In the recess of her mind she knew this would be helpful. With a sharp pain from her knee she raised from the chair, took the short steps over and grabbed it. Arthur stayed directly by her side, following her like a shadow.
"Do you have an attachment disorder I should know about?" She questioned as she looked down at a face that she could swear was smiling. "You're kind of weird." She said without judgment and with her own smile because if he could talk she thought he might say- I know! Isn't it great? Its great!
Her face muscles twitched as though they had lost the muscle memory to do so. She refocused on the book for the next forty-five minutes , occasionally looking at Arthur and the pictures. "It seems," she said in what her father had called her 'analytical tone' "you may be part grey hound," she said as she pet the long neck, "and Stafford terrier," she rubbed near his good ear again and as she read on she thought he had a head like a bulls and could understand, with her limited knowledge why people would call them pit-bulls. "But don't quote me on that. I could be wrong. Hmmm you turned out to be kind of goofy looking mix," She said the last part out loud accidently. Arthur moved his massive head out of reach. "No offense," she added and was again amused he leaned back into her hand. "Hungry?" She asked and watched him tilt his head in what seemed like confusion. Rather than explain food she made a show of presenting and preparing a meal. A metal bowl with scraps and another bowl of water was set down in the corner. Her voice needed a rest after weeks of barely talking her throat felt overused and hoarse. Arthur ate she moved one of the blankets to the ground at the end of the bed after having folded it a few times. If it were her she reasoned she wouldn't want to sleep on a cement floor.
The blankets were surprisingly well kept and still soft. The bunker itself was amazing and a life saver, but it was also lonely. She imagined a guy named Eddie Bauer had owned the dwelling because his name was on all the blankets and some of the clothes that were too big for her but would likely be another aid in the winter months.
Finally after she ate her food she took in the day. It had its surprises to the point that exhaustion hit her. The odd sensation of sleep walking settled in as she operated on auto-pilot; putting the rations and utensils away. When she let Arthur out to do his business she pulled the sweater closer to her body. She could tell she lost weight and she rationalized depression will do that. With a wave of affection she was glad to see Arthur come back of his own volition without having to call out. If he wanted to be wild that was a choice-one she wasn't going to take away. But it was nice to feel needed, no matter how selfish she knew it was.
Once back inside she watched with amusement as he moved in circles on the blanket after she pointed to it and he plopped down with a thud. She was seconds away form getting into bed when she noticed he was curled into a ball shivering. Moving fluidly around the bunker she went to her organized pile of material she had accumulated after weeks of searching for anything usable in the wilderness.
Soft, thick material should do it, but Arthur smelled it then gave a low growl. "Hmmm." With a curious frown she placed it back then grabbed her own scarf, wrapped it twice to make the loop smaller and held it out as an offering. Arthur was selective but kept nuzzling it. She had never had a pet before. Thought she didn't view Arthur as one. On arc she had read certain species had been domesticated, but it wasn't her intent. She hoped, which she knew, was a dangerous thing Arthur would be a friend, strange as that was to think. With a tilt of her head she accessed he was an intimidating looking creature. Giving a burst of energy she noted he wanted to play. Quickly she looked around and found a piece of material that couldn't be salvaged, tied a few knots in it and began to play tug of war. With a smile she thought if this was real warfare I'd volunteer for it everyday.
When Arthur yawned and let out a small groan it triggered her to yawn. Smoothly she kicked off her shoes, burrowed under her own blankets as her thoughts drifted back to door. She would inspect it the moment the sun allowed it.
For days she had tried to go back to Mount Weather but couldn't bring herself to stand more than a hundred feet from it, staring at the door thinking they were haunted catacombs with power to traumatize the living. A part of her sense of morality was left behind there. It was a welcomed mental embrace she had something to distract herself from trying to gather the nerve to go into the fortress of ghosts.
The door. Even if nothing functional was inside it could be used as a backup home. Slowly she stretched as she woke. Arthur did the same and looked back with a 'hey, I'm doing what you do' expression. "Good Arthur. Good stretch," she said through a yawn as she pat his large head. After she gave him breakfast and ate a small bit herself, too excited to go back to the door she put everything away, let Arthur out after peeking her head above ground and scanned the forest for anything malicious. He bounded out and came back when he was done, going down the thick wooden steps like a brute. She pointed to the blanket again and told him to stay. Again she was surprised and relieved when he returned but when he looked confused she ruffled his fully intact ear and said, "sit, stay, save the day."
In minutes she had pulled on her boots and said, "I'll be back soon." As she grabbed her coat she added firmly, "and don't destroy anything" before she ducked out, quietly closed the door and brushed some leaves over her door that on the second day, with the help of super glue that was on a shelf applied some twigs and bark to it to provide better camouflage. It could only be locked inside and she wanted it hidden. More so now that she felt protective of Arthur.
On the surface the walk felt longer due to her impatience and anticipation, but her eyes were hunting for the subtle X. She had brought tools to hopefully work open the door. Slowly she brushed away the leaves to avoid creating noise in a quiet forest. She felt the cool metal on her fingertips, the only part exposed of her fingerless gloves. Her pockets felt heavy with the tools. She reached in and grabbed the one she thought would work best. Before she lined it up with the grooved she waited and knocked again. Nothing. No response after a long pause and feeling her pulse in her ears. Every few minutes she could look up. Prudence and caution were default approaches now. This world was unfit for recklessness. She already felt too vulnerable out in the open but this was worth exploring if there were supplies or even weapons. After an hour of trying to quietly pry the door open something gave with the sound of a break.
Author's Note: Arthur and Clarke as a duo is a reference to a good sci-fi author Arthur C. Clarke. Anyone pick up on that? "Quote-Psychoanalysis-contagious disease originating Vienna circa 1900-now extinct in Europe but occasionally outbreaks among rich Americans. Unquote. Funny?" also "and it was no coincidence that with the general improvement in mental health, religious fanaticism also started its rapid decline." 3001 The Final Odyssey is an amusing book, but that's just my opinion (someone with a psych minor who thinks psychology is a pseudo science). In no way am I trying to offend people but writing something (hopefully) thought provoking. Let's be honest-a mutated dog that is part grey hound (built for speed) and a pit-bull (strong, jaw impact given square footage and strength) mix who in this future world would reach the height from feet to head 5 feet is disturbing.
Anyone remember the show Wishbone? Even as a kid I think I liked literature and stories (didn't understand videos games) so sit, stay, save the day is from that. Also the subtext of Arthur's presence is how animals tend to be more pure than humans in my opinion and how companionship with animals help people live longer (there are studies, even if its common sense).