The Armageddon Protocol

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An autumn rain had been falling for days now, running through the canopies of the spruce trees and lashing the conifer cone-littered forest floor below. Henrik Andersson’s normal pathway through the trees had become no more than a bog, and even Karo, his faithful black labrador was struggling to make headway.

Most days, Henrik and Karo walked for at least an hour in these woods, but today both had been worn down by the conditions and decided to go back to the cabin early. There, they both knew a crackling fire and a warm bowl split-pea soup awaited them. It was late in the season now and already the days were drawing in.

“Karo!” Henrik whispered a curse as his old dog slipped out of sight and disappeared into the trees. “Get back here!”

He moved forward to chase the dog but the slippery mud slowed him down. “Karo!”

Henrik turned the corner to see Karo giving chase to a rabbit. “Get back here!”

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