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sand. He didn't want to think about all the crabs who likely dined on the multitude of human flesh available.
    He was surprised one morning in his tent on the beach by the dogs barking their fool heads off. Sam imagined being attacked by more giant feral pigs or maybe a huge sea turtle, and looked out of the tent with rifle in hand. What he saw made him smile in surprise. Dozens of horses played and ran in the surf and sand. They were a hodge-podge of different breeds, colors, and sizes along with what might have been actual wild ponies. The equines seemed unconcerned with the barking dogs or the strange human-like creature whose appearance may have stirred memories of days gone by.
    Sam fished on the beach each evening and was astounded at the number and size of the fish he caught. He supposed nature was recovering rapidly without mankind's demand. After lots of trial and error he'd learned that cooking fish was easier than he had been making it. Initially he'd tried to de-scale and fillet the fish, but soon learned it was easier to just stick a pole or branch in the fish's mouth and then lean it over a fire. The charred skin would peel off easily and he could chew the meat right off the bone.
    After about a week the distant horizon showed signs of storm clouds and the pressure on the barometer began to drop. He could have probably sought shelter and rode any storm out, but decided to play it safe. He headed back towards the mainland and continued further north, again on unfamiliar roads.
    Making his way gradually on secondary routes around roads blocks and through sad dead towns, Sam encountered a scene that wasn't foreign to him, but one he hadn't seen outside of a major city. At the North Carolina and Virginia border he had a strange feeling something wasn't right. Traffic was clogged along the road, but fortunately the median was clear and the ground dry allowing them to drive between lines of abandoned vehicles.
    Sam saw large white tents ahead with giant red crosses on them. He next saw barriers blocking the road and providing a perimeter around the tents clear of vehicles. The inside of this perimeter was piled nearly knee high with bones upon bones and the ground underneath appeared to be still moving with vibrant insect and rodent life. Sam tried to avert his eyes as he saw a roach the size of a gerbil crawl out of a skull's eye socket. He .looked away from the field of bones and saw about a dozen tanks and armored personnel carriers facing him with Virginia National Guard stenciled on the sides.
    "They shot them down," Sam explained to The Pack who didn't understand or care what had happened here. "Likely closed the borders as if that would do anything and both the military and the civilians terrified out of their minds went at each other. It would be tragic if death weren't already inevitable for them." Sam laughed at his own cleverness looking at the dogs, but his wit was lost on them.
    He hated backtracking worse than just about anything in the world, but there was no way in hell he was going to drive over those bones and that pit of purification. Sam imagined the SUV sinking into the dirt and all those roaches, ants and other unspeakable scavengers covering him. He shuddered. They turned around and went back the way they had come.
    It took most of the day to get back to a major intersection which allowed them to continue further west in order to then turn north again. He stopped to check a map and the dogs jumped out to explore. Sam, focused on the map, thought nothing of it. An unfamiliar bark in the distance brought his head up sharply. He heard Scotch's barking in return and it was alarmed, a warning. Sam whistled for The Pack, but only Tanner and Molly came to him. He put them both in the SUV as he heard the unmistakable sounds of animals fighting in the nearby field.
    Sam was terrified as he ran towards the sounds. He came through the thin woods to see Scotch and Raven surrounded by a motley pack of thin