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hours.
    Several animals had gotten close enough that both officers had blood on their uniforms from the blowback of the round. It was disgusting and heart wrenching work. They didn’t even have time to properly document all the rounds that they’d fired and the county had temporarily suspended the requirement to file paperwork within twenty-four hours of all events. There were just too many things happening right now and the department was in full-on reaction mode.
    “Any word when the coroner will figure out what’s going on out here?” she asked her partner wearily.
    “Nah, they’ve got no clue. The coroner is working closely with several veterinarians in the county, but they’ve got nothing. So far, they think it’s some new strain of rabies, maybe Lyme disease.”
    “Som is it the same thing that’s happening in the southeast?”
    “Got me, Pam. I just work here. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
    “Same bad time, same bad channel,” she called after Andrew’s retreating form.
    She wandered into the women’s locker room and sat heavily on the wooden bench in front of her locker. God, she was tired. She looked forward to the shower and then vegging out on the couch with the news off in a pair of sweat pants and a bucket of ice cream.
    Before long she was driving down the back streets of Sin City towards her home. Most people would have taken the longer route on the highway, but she patrolled these streets every day and the pushers and gang bangers all knew who she was, so they left the single white woman alone. The streets were eerily vacant and even stranger, the city was quiet. Usually at this time of night there were street walkers, partiers who’d wandered too far off the strip, drug dealers and kids blaring music from cars that they had no business driving.
    She pulled up to a stop sign and rolled down her window enough to allow the sounds of the city in. The only noises she heard were far-off sirens and the occasional report from a gun being fired. Pam felt naked without her uniform on at that moment. She still had her gun, but the city was under siege and she didn’t think that they’d be able to survive without discovering what was causing the animals all over the United States to turn on humans.
    She continued through the neighborhood until the street opened up to a transitional area and before long she turned onto the road that led to her suburban home. Pam pulled into her driveway and scanned the area surrounding her vehicle. She’d been through too much today to be caught unaware by a dog waiting to jump out at her.
    When she was satisfied that the way was clear, she stepped out of her car and jogged to her front door. After a few attempts to fit the key into the slot, she forced herself to settle down and slid it in. The bolt slid from the door jamb and she pushed her way inside. She felt completely ridiculous for being so paranoid at her own home, but after the day she’d had, it was expected.
    The first thing she did was open her pantry and pull out the plastic bottle of Fireball whiskey. She needed something to calm her nerves and took a slug directly from the bottle. The sweet, fiery cinnamon burned down the back of her throat and she licked the sugary sweetness from her lips. The liquid warmth spread quickly through her belly and she took another belt of the liquor.
    Pam wasn’t an alcoholic, but there were days that she needed a drink to help calm her nerves. Days like today—actually, there had never been a day like today in her career. If she got a little tipsy as a coping mechanism this one time, then there was nothing wrong with it. She took another shot of the whiskey and started to feel a little queasy from the sugary mixture.
    The face of one particularly cute dog surged to the forefront of her memory. The Labradoodle’s furry face was covered in the blood of its former owners. The designer canine must have been the family’s pride and joy before the incident. Pam