Yellow hazmats escort him to the farmhouse door to share the news. Inside, his wife strangles a dishcloth, and the sheepdog wanders over to sniff his boots.
“Is it...?”
He nods. “Five cases.”
She looks almost relieved. “Well, that's not so—”
“You don't understand,” he monotones. “The ministry is taking no chances. They're culling every animal.”
She wraps him in a tight hug. “Oh, George! We'll get through this—
“Every animal,” he repeats.
She looks shaken, grips the dog's collar so tight it yelps. “You mean...?”
“You don't understand,” he repeats, as the gas swirls around their feet. “Every animal.”
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alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
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>