Robinson Crusoe 2244 by E.J. Robinson

Avenue—blisters from his new shoes had become companions to the previous ones. He took off his shoes for a spell to cool his feet in the clover.
    The gates bore signs of some violent ingress with a number of carriages strewn upside down, lying in ruins in the festering weeds. Many were pocked with holes like the ones at the military base, making it painfully clear that some kind of battle had taken place.
    Of all the curious sights, none matched the one Robinson discovered on the lawn. Hidden under a blanket of flowers was the cracked shell of an ancient flyer, its gangly rotor appendages bent and snapped, with a number of oval windows looking up from the earth and with several distinguishable letters: —ITED STA—. A tail section hung in scorched pieces in a nearby tree. Had this ship been fleeing to this place when it had fallen, or from it? And had Robinson escaped their fate or had they escaped his?
    A gust of wind kicked leaves across the yard. The breeze felt cool, but a prickling sensation struck Robinson once again and told him he was not alone.
    Robinson felt an odd sense of excitement as he approached the twin doors beneath the portico. Maybe inside he would get a glimpse of this mighty empire before it had fallen. If he was truly lucky, the building might prove a capable shelter in which he could strategize what to do next. He tried the door and it clicked. Maybe the stars aren’t aligned against me , he thought. And as he pushed them open, he heard the whine of cables and gears as a weighted pulley sent a metal plate swinging down from above. He barely had time to turn his head when the booby trap cracked him flush on the ear and catapulted him backward in an explosion of stars and pain. The last thing he remembered was the sting of gravel and the warmth of his own blood before everything went dark.

Chapter Fifteen
Visitors

     
     
    The animal was chewing on his face.
    Robinson screamed and scrambled back on his haunches.
    The animal also leaped back and began baying in sharp, staccato bursts. The sound was foreign to Robinson, but somewhere in his mind, he knew it had a proper name that was intrinsically tied to the animal itself.
    It was called a bark. And the animal was a dog.
    He had never seen a dog before. He’d been told, like so many other animals, that dogs had gone extinct in the Great Rendering. But this dog was real. It was stout and lean, between four and five stones. Its muzzle was extended with a protruding jaw under dark eyes. It had a brindle coat that bore the distinct scarring of rendering infection.
    Robinson’s hand went to his face, which was slick with blood, but to his relief, he found no bite marks. The blood stemmed from his brow, brought about by the booby trap. The dog, for its part, hadn’t been biting him but licking him. His immediate fear was that he’d been infected. But he remembered his mother telling him that the disease could only infect a person when it entered their bloodstream. Could a dog’s saliva do that?
    The dog continued to bark. Robinson sat up, confused as to why it wasn’t charging. He was easy prey. Maybe it feared him. Or maybe it was waiting for others of its kind to arrive. His walking stick lay just inside the front doors, out of reach. He considered running, but the dog must have sensed his intent because it whined and padded closer.
    “Back!” Robinson shouted. “Get back!”
    To his surprise, the dog obeyed. There was no way it could have understood him. It must have been responding to his tone. Then it lay on all fours and whimpered.
    The ringing in Robinson’s head sounded like the tinkling of brass keys. He had taken the kind of blow that would put a man in the House of Healers for a week, but he hadn’t a week to work through this and no healers to call on. He needed to get away. But something stymied him, like a tick buried beneath the surface that continued to itch.
    When the truth finally came, it arrived in three realizations.
    The