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Franks supplies had dwindled rapidly, more so than expected. He was almost out of water and his food supplies now consisted of cereal and dog food. The dog food was Wood's, though.

Now Frank had to make a decision. Stay here and wait to die, or meet the wolves at the door and fight…

"What do you think, pal?" he asked the dog, who looked at him with sad eyes.

From down stairs there was a sudden crash. It was followed by a lot of moaning. Woods looked in the direction of the stairs and barked. Frank poured and drank another shot.

"Looks like we don't have to decide after all." He said grimly. Frank retrieved his shotgun and the pair started down the steps, side by side.

Author's Note: This is all based upon a dream I have been having every night for a week now. I hope it makes for a good short story. I also hope it stops the damned dream. You never know.