The following is an excerpt from the novel Canis Major

Canis Major

Prologue – A Lone Starry Night
 
Somewhere, a phone that will never be answered, is ringing.
 
1,124 days after.
 
On a clear night the sky is alight with the universe. There are more stars above than people below. 
 
I am alone, save for the company of Major, my companion. She has been with me for longer than I care to remember if only because I know that each day we’ve spent together is one less she has to live in the future. My life isn’t nearly over. But her twilight creeps closer with each sunrise. She is old and aging and the onslaught of time is unforgiving. I do not allow myself to think of it.
 
The sun sets much faster in all this wilderness. The trees seem like a hundred meters tall if not higher and they block out the sun far sooner than the horizon. A grey, dull, dusk falls over everything. It isn’t quite night; it isn’t quite light either. The solar cells and batteries that power all of our electronics grow weaker and weaker every day, only by the smallest amount.
 
Winter is coming soon. The trees know that much and they do their best to tell us. Game is getting scarce and Major grows hungrier with each day. It’s been two weeks since our last feast of fresh red meat. I can survive on the fungi and plant scraps we find throughout the woods but she cannot. We have enough smoked meat for one more meal, maybe two. We have been through starvation and lean times before but I fear this winter may be her last if we are not better prepared. I do not allow myself to think of it.
 
With a full Nightmoon we can walk for hours after nightfall. That is usually our best chance for finding whatever wildlife still exists in these vast, broken, woods. They have evolved to be nocturnal so we must follow suit. Tonight is not a good night for light and this bastard half-moon teases us with enough glow to illuminate the path but not enough for distant sightings. I know Major would like me to let her hunt alone but those days are now behind her. A bear nearly tore her throat out several months back and since then it has been partner hunting only. 
 
We walk for many hours every day. We walk without a clear destination. We walk only to survive, to keep moving. We are the sharks of these woods, moving only to live, living only to move. Our moments of rest are quick. A scant fire for warmth if we need it, really, if I need it, as Major has never once complained about the cold. She’s true and our bond goes beyond anything I can explain. She is not my daughter yet, now she is. She is not my friend yet, now she is. She is my partner in survival yet we both know she would last longer without me and I would perish without her. I do not allow myself to think of it.
 
I wonder if the pack she carries is getting too heavy for her. There is a lot of equipment intertwined into it and when climbing hills her aging muscles sometimes seem to strain under the weight. There are the solar panels, two small ones on the top that power all the gear. They run to a battery pack, which weighs about 5 lbs. The battery is connected to a small computer about the size of a hockey puck. Attached to the computer is a camera mounted to her chest. The computer transmits the images from her to a screen I wear on my wrist. The camera can see in the dark much better than I can so it is especially useful at night. The computer also has a tracking unit that always lets me know where she is. This was more important when we would hunt separately but for smaller tasks like chasing rabbits it still works well. There is a small speaker by the base of her neck so I can communicate with her. There are various other gadgets that at one time had more use to us but now… we need to conserve our power and survive. 
 
My pack is similar: solar panels, battery pack (a larger one), GPS tracking, mobile computer system with lots of gadgets. I carry several boxes of ammunition. Over time I’ve had to be a lot more selective with what I shoot at. I still have enough to hunt with and get by. I learned how to set and make traps so during trapping season I don’t use many bullets. But that was when we only had to fire at game. That was before the Raider and Scout attacks, when Major and I were alone in this wilderness. That was when our struggle for survival was about finding a balance with nature and before we became prey. That was before… I do not allow myself to think of it. 
 
Somewhere, a phone that will never be answered, is ringing.
 
This is our 4th year out in the wilderness. Well that isn’t completely accurate. It seems I have always been out in the wilds of some form or another. This is our 4th year out in the wilderness where we could not go home. New Canada it is called or was called. I can’t speak on what it may be called now. It was a small eco-village on the shores of Great Bear Lake in what was once called the Northwest Territory (NT). When I lived there I was a Sentinel, a job that sounds a lot more exciting and courageous than it was. A hunter and glorified night watchman is what I basically was. I would patrol the borders of our village and kill big game for everyone to live off. Not just me. Major was with me too, of course. 
 
Alexa was my wife. We lived in a small cabin on the edge of the village. Our life was blissful. She taught at the Village Learning Academy and also ran it. We lived off what I could grow in our gardens and shoot while on patrol. She made a rabbit stew that was legendary. Whenever I could I would try to pick her some Wild Lockerbillies that grew only on this one distant peninsula on the lake. Their tri-colored flowers were her favorite and she could grind the roots into a delicious tea. She would flavor it with just a hint of morning glories and honey. They only blossomed for a few weeks a year so I had to “arrange” my patrol schedule to coincide with it. All I have of her now is her note. 
 
Temperance was our child, our little girl, and my life. I last saw her when she was seven. Her hair was mine but her face was her mother’s. No matter what trouble she got up to, that wicked smile of hers could melt me. Temperance had her mother’s strength and my penchant for rebellion. I would give my life if only to see her face and hug her small frame once more. I do not allow myself to think of them.
 
Major has always been my family and now she is all that I have left. When I doubt why we are out here I only need to look at her face. She smiles in that goofy, open-mouthed way that only a dog can. Grey hairs now spot her once dark chin and mane. Major was not the biggest of her litter by any means but her spirit was undeniable. Even though she was assigned to me, I would have chosen her anyway. Her gait was powerful and broad as a lioness. Her large brown eyes could see through the night, through the wilderness, through a man’s soul. There was an undeniable wisdom in those eyes, an instinct I learn never to doubt. Her speed was unremarkable but she moved with purpose. The genetic engineering that had been perfected over the last decade really made her unique. Only Sentinels could have GE dogs and once you were assigned a pup she/he was yours for life. That’s the only way it could be. The engineering made the bond permanent. Major would attach to no one else. I was her master for life and she would race into a burning forest if I commanded her to. At over 160 lbs. she has a physical presence that intimidates most people. She is black and brown like a German Shepherd but much larger. The claim is that she knows over 1,000 commands but I think it’s probably double that. I can send her silent commands using high pitch frequency sound waves. All I need to do is speak the command into my transmitter and it relays the appropriate squeaks and chirps to her. It’s yet another thing I don’t understand so I have a backup. 
 
On patrol one night, many winters ago; we got ambushed by a group of wandering thieves. Uprisers, as they are known. Initially I thought there was only four of them and after disarming two we seemed to have the other two on the run. But a fifth jumped out of a tree and got the drop on me. He must have known that I was a Sentinel because he wasted no time going for my communication equipment. He was nothing I couldn’t handle but he did manage to damage my COM device. Major resorted to instinct and handled the rest with great prejudice but from that day forward I trained her in verbal commands as well, just in case. Needless to say it has come into use many times since our exile from New Canada. I do not allow myself to think of that. 
 
The phones rings and rings until a computer voice, something from another world, another life, speaks its generic message through the static.
 
Pleeeease. Leeeeeave. A message. BEEEEP.
 
“Sweetie, it’s me, dad. I miss you. I hope you are happy where you are. I hope you are safe. I know you are probably wondering where I am. I wonder where you are too. I am going to find you. I promise you that we will be together again. All of us. Mommy too. Tonight and every night, when you look up at the stars I want you to know that I am looking at the same stars. Like we used to…remember? Look at your constellation and know that we are together, always, even if we’re apart. You are a part of me and I am a part of you. I am going to find you, Tempie. Take care of yourself. I love you so much…goodbye sweetie.”
 
***
 
Somewhere, a man named Oren makes a promise that will never be heard.