Rat ran into the distance, his golden-brown coat glinting in the setting sun. Shit. I thought, quickly stomping after him and preparing for our next encounter.

  Rat ran between two houses, right down to the water’s edge, barking in a tone I could only describe as concerned.

  The wailing howl-like screams were coming from what looked like a small dinghy floating about 30 metres offshore, which was largely obscured by shadow. As I finally caught up to Rat on the banks, I chastised him lightly: “What are you doing?”.

  Rat looked up at me, shifting his weight between paws in a nervous motion before looking back towards the boat.

  I pulled out my torch and shone it towards the noise, but the beam was too weak, only illuminating a better outline of the dinghy. After a moment shining the torch, trying to get a better view, I looked over and saw two eerie red eyes glowing in the distance.

  Oh god, are there vampires in this game as well? I thought, concerned of a potential new threat.

  The harrowing gruff wails continued, and I was keen to leave to a nearby house.

  “The last thing we need is a vampire, Rat,” I said, but he didn’t listen. Following a particularly sorrowful cry, Rat could take no more – he walked into the lake, proceeding to swim out to the dinghy.

  I was flabbergasted. I honestly didn’t know if I should follow Rat or go to fetch some garlic from a nearby house, just in case. Pensively, I stayed by the shore, torch lighting up Rat’s path and crowbar ready to go.

  The vigorous splashes of dog paddle got quieter and quieter as Rat approached the boat – but upon reaching the craft, the quietude was broken with a mix of loud barking, frantic scream-wailing and exasperated splashing. After a good minute of the animalistic cacophony, it once again went silent, without the sounds of Rat’s previous enthusiastic paddling.

  My heart sank, fearing that whatever creature was on that boat had vanquished little Rat. I slumped down to the ground and stared blankly into the distance, light diminishing with every moment that passed. I set down my torch; I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my companion, and, knowing the gorey nature of this game, seeing the eventual flotsam that would confirm it.

  I curled up, hugging my duffle bag and gently rocking as I considered my next move. After about ten minutes, I heard something coming from the lake. The red eyes started coming closer, still partly reflected in the light of the torch on the ground.

  Filled with a mixture of grief and anger, I stood up, crowbar in hand as I prepared to avenge my dear Rat.

  “Glug glug glug glug”; the sound of laboured paddling approached the lakeside. About a metre in front of the menacing red eyes were a set of glowing green eyes.

  I picked up the torch and properly aimed it. There was Rat, swimming slowly and smoothly, pulling along the dinghy with a frayed rope. I turned my torch to the dinghy and inside sat a plump black-and-white husky, its red eyes reflecting back in the light.

  “Are you serious!” I said aloud, relieved but somewhat embarrassed about my vampire speculations.

  Rat pulled the boat’s rope to shore and clambered out, with the dinghy floating about a metre out. He shook, covering me with salty water. The husky stayed put, sitting in the boat.

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  “Come on… Out you come…” I called to him, but he was not roused.

  I opened my duffle bag, plunging me into the menu. I quickly closed out and plunged my hand inside, retrieving a packet of jerky I had looted from one of the previous houses.

  “Look, I’ve got a treat” I said as I pulled out a piece, waving it in the air.

  The husky started drooling and stood up, but the movement of the water seemed to spook him and he quickly sat back down.

  “Come on, who wants a snack?” I asked again. I threw a piece of jerky to Rat, who caught and gobbled it in one swift motion.

  “Rawarawrar,” the husky screamed, distressed by the lack of treats.

  It appeared the husky could not swim.

  I reached down to try to pull the boat closer to shore, but the slope of the banks made it impossible.

  “God dammit!” I said, reaching down to untie my boots.

  I removed my socks, rolled up my cords, dropped my bag and crowbar, then trudged into the lake, the water only coming up to my knees.

  I bent in and grabbed the husky, his legs dangling under my grip in an almost swim-like motion.

  “Seriously? Now you want to swim?” I said to the husky.

  I walked the five-odd steps back to the shore and plonked him down, a few drops from my legs dripping on to him.

  He looked horrified as the water touched him, and he proceeded to shake thoroughly for at least a minute.

  “Righto, it’s dark now, let’s get settled as soon as possible,” I said to the dogs.

  Rat followed me as I picked up my gear, refitting everything but my socks and boots – the cuffs of my pants wet and dripping onto my feet. The husky sat belligerently at the shore.

  “Come on,” I said as I gestured for him to follow.

  “Awroo,” the husky said, indignant in his tone.

  “I see,” I said to him, realising he still wanted his piece of jerky. I threw it to him and he tried to catch it, but the jerky walloped him in the nose.

  After picking up and scoffing the treat, the husky scampered over, following me and Rat with his tail in the air.

  As we approached the road again and started back towards the car, we passed between two houses, both which seemed silent and still.

  “Maybe we should try one of these tonight,” I said as we walked closer to the house on the left. Before approaching it directly, I knelt down to put my socks and boots back on.

  Eew, I thought to myself as I slid the socks and boots under my cords, water seeping up the calves from the cuffs.

  The three of us approached the small weatherboard house. I motioned to Rat with my finger drawing a circle and he quickly started a patrol around the building. I crept towards the front door, peering in through the windows that flanked it. The husky parked on the grass in the front yard, staring quizzically at me and Rat.

  Rat returned to me and we turned the handle of the front door, finding the home unsecured. Rat ran indoors and started his usual reconnaissance. I followed, every step squelching on the linoleum floors. I turned back to the husky and called out softly “Hey, come in here”.

  The husky remained in place. I grabbed at the jerky packet I had stashed in my tool belt, and as soon as the plastic rustling hit his ears, the husky was by my side, his gaze fixed on the treats.

  I closed the door behind us, throwing him a small piece and proceeding to check the rooms, closing curtains and checking that the doors and windows were locked.

  We soon came to know there was no-one inside the home, and as the windows all had curtains and blockout blinds, I thought it would be safe enough for us to turn on a light.

  I looked down at Rat and gave him a pat, forgetting he was sopping.

  “Well, it looks like you are a drowned Rat!” I said to him with a chuckle. I removed his boots, backpack and bandana, retrieving a nearby towel to dry his fur.

  I then pilfered a pair of trousers from a bedroom and took off my cords, laying them out to dry beside Rat’s outfit.

  Feeling much more comfortable now, I turned to the husky. I reached down to pat him and he accepted, a goofy smile plastered across his face as I scratched his ears. He was wearing a collar and tag.

  ‘Jagger’ the tag read, along with a landline phone number.

  I stood up and the three of us walked into the kitchen. Rat and Jagger pounced around the kitchen floor, a sense of levity hereby unseen showing in Rat. I pondered for a while about what to do with Jagger, knowing how little food we had found so far. Looking in one of the cupboards, I found a solitary bowl and two more cans of dog food.

  I guess it’s meant to be.