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Alone again. Bing pushed through overgrown bushes, past toppled trash cans. The hospital grounds must've been real nice before everything went to s**t, he thought, noting how everything was laid out nicely.

Meet me in the bower, lover boy.

Bing swatted at the air near his ear, as though at an annoying insect, a sudden spike of anger at the voice prompting the move. It was uncharacteristic of him, but the place they were in was really starting to get to him. It felt like someone was watching him, and the sensation made his skin crawl. He scratched at his shoulder, trying to relieve the feeling.

He hoped he could find someone else soon. As he continued onward, he kept hearing whispers. All different kinds of people spoke to him with comments snide, kind, mocking, sorrowful. And then he heard a dog barking.

Most of the other voices became quiet after saying something, but the barking came again, and this time it sounded closer. Bing looked into the overgrowth incredulously. Could there really be a dog alive out here after all this time?

Minutes or maybe hours later, it was hard to tell underneath the perpetually gray skies, Bing was still lost in the hospital's grounds, but at least he had Crosby with him.

"You know, my Mom named me after 'im, Bing Crosby." Bing said to the little terrier as it trotted along beside him. "Only fittin' you get the other half, I'd say. She was nuts about that singer, and I bet she'd be nuts about you, too."

Crosby barked in agreement, then paused suddenly, ears perked to some noise to their left. Bing paused, too, waiting for the dog's verdict. Crosby laid his ears back and quietly growled at the sound. Bing tapped the terrier's shoulder, which broke him from his fixation on the noise. Bing motioned for Crosby to heel, and began quietly walking in the other direction. Crosby looked back in the direction of whatever he had heard, snorted a good riddance, and then ran to catch up with Bing.

---

They eventually came to a spot with benches that hadn't fallen apart or been completely overgrown. It was a quiet spot that held some memory of what the grounds must've been like before the apocalypse, so Bing decided to rest. After Crosby gave the okay, Bing stretched the kinks out of his back, and took a seat. Crosby jumped up beside him, and climbed into Bing's lap.

Bing chuckled, but allowed it, one giant hand reaching out to stroke the terrier's wiry fur. For a minute, they just rested.

And then Bing noticed something on Crosby's back.

"Hmm? That's weird." he said, inspecting the area a little more fully, pulling back the fur around it. Crosby whined, but allowed Bing to do so. There seemed to be a patch of scaly growths on the dog's back, pushing up through the fur.

"Poor guy. Guess you didn't escape the apocalypse completely unscathed, huh?" Bing said, running a finger over the growth. They looked painful, so he tried prying one up, but Crosby immediately yelped, and whipped his head around towards Bing's hand. He didn't bite, but he did lick the spot and Bing's hand.

Bing transferred his hand to Crosby's head instead, and patted him.

"Sorry 'bout that." he apologized, and looked around their spot. There was no shortage of sticks... "Hey, wanna play fetch?"

Crosby's ears perked up, and Bing could feel him tense. He chuckled.

"So you know Fetch? Wanna play?"

Crosby leaped from Bing's back with a happy bark, and scrabbled over to a loose stick. Picking it up, he trotted back over to Bing, and dropped it on the ground, then dove into a play bow. Bing chuckled again, stood up, then crouched near the stick, Crosby watching intently, tail wagging like mad. Bing picked up the stick, lifted his arm, and threw it for all he was worth. The stick sailed away, and Crosby exploded off after it, dead leaves flying in his wake.

He ran out of sight, but Bing could still hear him scrabbling around. There came a satisfied 'woof', and then the tick-tack of Crosby returning. He ran right up to Bing, stick in mouth, and bowed again. Bing crouched, grabbed one end and a game of tug-a-war ensued, Crosby growling playfully and shaking the stick vigorously. Bing laughed as he held onto his end. And then he noticed something odd. Was that and extra paw growing from Crosby's leg? How had he not noticed that before?!

Crosby finally let go of the stick, and Bing tried to get him to stand still long enough for him to investigate, but the little terrier was too riled up. Bing decided to throw the stick, and wear the little guy out so he could inspect him a bit more closely. So he threw the stick, Crosby ran after it, and returned shortly. Still full of energy, he dropped the stick at Bing's feet, and started jumping up at Bing's legs, barking loudly. Bing shushed him, worried about any Infected hearing him, but that only made Crosby more frantic. Bing finally picked up the stick and threw it, just to get Crosby to quiet down.

When he returned, he wanted to play tug-a-war again, and this time, the growling sounded less playful, and more aggressive. Bing could swear he saw an extra eye rolling around on Crosby's head, too. It was difficult to tell through the terrier's thrashing, though. Bing finally pulled the stick away, and Crosby started leaping up at him, barking furiously.

Okay, Fetch was over.

"Down. Bad dog." Bing said, putting all his feeling into the reprimand. Crosby immediately stopped jumping, and seemed almost surprised to Bing. The terrier seemed confused, his stance somewhere between aggressive and submissive, but eventually the submissive won, and Bing felt like a right a**, when Crosby whimpered and tucked his tail beneath him.

"Ah, it's okay, Crosby. Everyone gets carried away sometimes." he said, crouching beside the dog. Crosby rolled onto his back, showing belly, but his tail wagged a few times since Bing didn't sound angry anymore. Bing indulged the terrier by petting his belly, prompting more tail wagging. All seemed forgiven, until Bing ran into something strange on Crosby's stomach.

"Are these... teeth?" he asked, touching the small, hard, white growths. Crosby stilled, and gnashed his teeth, not liking the inspection. He started growling low, and Bing grunted warningly. The growling faltered, and then continued more quietly. Bing kept following the trail of teeth up the terrier's belly, and found they were joined by another trail, like two halves of a jaw. Bing was concerned. There was no way he could have overlooked these defects, was there? Was the little guy growing these now? He parted more fur, near Crosby's neck, and found a gash forming between the two sets of teeth. He did not like where this was going, and Crosby was growling in earnest now. But he kept following the teeth lined gash up the dog's neck, as it deepened, and then, well below Crosby's jaw line, the gash twitched, as though it was an extension of the dog's mouth. Bing could even hear the growling more acutely from within.

"Poor little guy." Bing lamented, and finally left the defect alone. Now that he wasn't being poked at, Crosby stopped growling, but the little terrier didn't return to his cheerful former self. He rolled to his feet, and warily stared at Bing with all three eyes.

"I'm sorry, little guy, but I had to. You're in a lot worse shape than I thought." Bing said, holding out his hand in a peace offering. Crosby stared at Bing, then the hand, and back to Bing. He finally sniffed the hand, and tentatively licked it. Bing could see Crosby's tail wag a few times, and then still.

"Okay, good boy." he said, prompting a few extra wags. Bing stood up, and motioned for Crosby to heel. "Think it's time we moved on, okay, boy?" He started to leave the area, not checking to see if Crosby followed. He eventually heard the little dog trot to keep up, and Bing could hear the dog's breath wheeze, as though through two openings...