He's 19, and he's driving Killer's truck along the back dirt roads long the river. Wire called them up - his old man needed help getting his irrigation line up and ready. The water board should be giving permission to run the irrigation lines any day now, and all along the river, folks are in a frantic rush to get things ready, waiting for the go ahead.

Kidd likes working with the old ram pumps, he finds their old fashioned simplicity charming, and the rust doesn't bother him in the slightest. Killer's long mastered the art of clearing trees and brush with the scythe and the pair of them are most people's go to these days for stuff like this.

They've got a few more months of work ahead of them, a few more months of savings to hoard. Kidd filed to take a gap year, and his scholarship is waiting for him in September. They've waved the freshman-on-campus rule for him; Wire and Heat have moved into a bigger place and they've got a bedroom waiting for him. Now he'd just gotta convince Killer to go with him.

He pulled them across the cattle guard, but stopped the truck before the bridge. The wood structure is maybe the oldest thing still standing in the area, and Kidd isn't even sure it will hold their own weight anymore, much less the truck. The canal and river valve were across the water - an old fashion gravity system. Most of the work would be digging the valve out, cutting back debris - dealing with any critters that had moved in over the winter. As long as they didn't have to deal with beavers again, Kidd would take on whatever it was. They marched across the old wood - it cracking and groaning with them, river lazily flowing 10 feet below. The wood maybe only had a season or two left, if Kidd had to guess. "Gotta let Wire's old man know this is gonna come down soon."

"Hmm," Killer agreed, his collection of cutters, spades and hand scythes bundled up over his shoulder, Kidd's tool box on his other hand.

They split up once they crossed the bridge, Kidd setting to work on the old metal water gate, wading into the knee deep cold mountain water. Killer set to work digging back out the other side of the valve.

They'd been working for a good hour when he hears Killer call for him, low and urgent. "Kidd. Get out of the water."

Kidd was almost done with his area as it was and pulled himself up to see what Killer needed. The field had gone still and quiet, the river bubbling away the only sound. Killer's back was to him, hand scythes out like a weapons, studying to the tree line.

"Slowly, go back to Victoria, and get the rifle from behind the seat."

Kidd scanned the woods for whatever set Killer off, the stillness warning him something was there, even if he couldn't see it. Kidd made his way back to the truck, never turning his back on Killer or the woods as he crossed the ancient bridge.

As promised, Killer had an old pump action Remington tucked away on a mount on the back of the bench, and a box of extra ammo. Any other time, Kidd be miffed that Killer had never taken him shooting with the gun, hiding her away like this. As he one handed loaded the rifle, Kidd glanced back to where Killer has slowly started backing his way to the truck, their tools left behind. There's movement in the tall field grass between them and the forest, a few skulking bodies stalking them.

Coyotes? No. No, Kidd realizes with dread, feral dogs.

He uses the seat bench to pump the rifle, steadying the barrel on the 'v' of the driver door and truck frame. The last thing he wants to do is hit Killer by mistake. He also knows with feral dogs, he's got a 50-50 chance of the noise scaring them off or startling them into action, and he's not going to be able to reload fast enough to be of any use if he misses.

There's five dogs trying to circle Killer when his heel hits the wood bridge, effectively keeping them from slipping behind him, and he relaxes just a fraction, able to focused solely in front of them.

Unfortunately, the dogs don't care about Kidd's gun or Killer's scythes, and moment they get bottle-necked at the bridge, they rush at Killer. Kidd's got a clear shot at one of them and downs it immediately. Killer's able to slam blades into three at once, but the last one slips though the opening left and goes for the throat.

Kidd's pumped the rifle on the seat as soon as he fired, but he doesn't bother trying to sight down the barrel again, just rushes around the door yelling, using the rifle as a bat to beat the dog away from where its got its teeth around Killer's shoulder.

One dog Killer got with his cutter says down, another streaked with blood makes a break for the field. The last one, cushioned by it's companions from the steel is making to get back up and Kidd has to drag his attention away from where Killer is fighting for his life to fire at dog before it gets any closer.

Its only seconds, but turning his back on Killer - his screaming, the snarling of the dog trying to maul him - so he can put a bullet in the skull of the remaining dog before they get overwhelmed will haunt him for years. He's barely pulled the trigger before he's whirling back around and Killer's got a knee in beast gut, and Kidd's swinging the rifle butt around to smash into the dog's temple, and they rip it free from Killer and over the bridge's edge.

It's not a far fall - but it buys them time and Kidd is hauling Killer up one handed, gun left abandoned as Kidd clutches Killer to himself, awkwardly shuffling and running them back to the truck as fast as he can.

He has to pin Killer to the side of the truck with his hip as he scrambles to get he passenger side door open, bloody hand slipping off the handle at the first tugs. Killer has gone silent and boneless against him, head slumped against Kidd's left shoulder.

Kidd gets the door open, wresting Killer into the cab. His left arm looks like minced meat, shredded and torn apart. His throat is thankfully still intact, but the dog got his face a few times, teeth tearing into his cheek and nose. His ear barely looks attached and there's multiple puncture marks in the back of his head.

Killer seems to be awake but he's not reacting to Kidd's frantic questions; his left eye is bloody and swollen shut but his right eyes is open, dull blue that's not tracking anything, swallowed almost entirely by pupil. Where he's not covered in blood, his skin's cold to the touch, his breathing is rapid and shallow, and Kidd knows innately - they have to get off this mountain now.