The End of the World As We Know It: New Tales of Stephen King's The Stand

by Christopher Golden

Corey’s moment of self-annihilation was perhaps just one more second away when he felt the dog’s tongue lap against the back of his hand, conveying an insistent urgency tinged with desperation. When he opened his eyes, the dog lifted a paw and placed it lightly against his arm. Corey eased the gun out of his mouth and stared at the ugly lump of metal. He looked at the dog again and said, “You know what, buddy? Fuck this. Fuck all of it, actually. The fucked-up mind games. The dreams. Even the guilt. Every goddamn bit of it.” Corey got to his feet and so did the dog, the animal turning in rapid, tight circles, wagging its tail in a frenzy of joy. Corey laughed. He reared his hand back and heaved the gun away, sending it clattering down the street. Then he looked at the dog and said, “Let’s let all the gods and demons and whatever else play their big game of good against evil. It’ll all take care of itself without us, for better or worse, somewhere down the line.” The dog tilted its head, ears perking as Corey talked. “What do you say you and me go for a walk? You like that idea, boy?” The dog pointed its snout upward and snapped off three quick, enthusiastic barks. He liked the idea a lot, it seemed. Corey and the dog started walking. They walked together for a long, long time.