“Jesus, what is that smell?” Kari complained as she and Mike pulled to a stop near East 17th and Granby Streets.
Mike looked around the city streets, finally nodding at the remains of a broken sign. Welton’s Seafood Market. “There’s your best bet,” he said. They both looked at the Seafood Market, a bit puzzled.
“That should have stopped stinking a month ago,” Kari muttered. She held the shotgun loosely in her arm, the holster of her M11 unsnapped for easy access. She kept guard vigilantly while Mike added fuel and rearranged the supplies in the sidecar. The first of the fuel cans sloshed when he stowed it away again, a reminder their supplies were far from unlimited.
“I was wrong. It’s coming from over there,” Mike nodded toward a building directly opposite the abandoned seafood market. Kari’s heart sank like a bowling ball.
“Oh. Oh, Mike, no.”
Mike looked over to the building, then to her. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said softly.
“What if there are any -”
“There won’t be, Kari. When one was put down, they probably all were.” He hesitated. “Besides, we have to put the mission first now. The charges are set, so our priority is to make contact with Hardin and get his people moving.”
Kari nodded. “You’re right, of course,” she said, in her most professional soldier’s voice. Still … she was drawn to the building, painted a clean, cloud blue with romping dogs and playful kittens creating a happier motif than most shelters could exhibit. ‘Norfolk SPCA’ the sign read.
When Mike fueled them both up and was ready to go, Kari walked over to the animal shelter. Mike winced, but followed. He knew what they would find, and he knew Kari was an even softer touch for animals than he was. “Come on, babe,” he said softly. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
Kari stopped, torn, only a few feet from the entrance. “What if there are any alive?” she asked hopefully.
Mike shook his head. “There won’t be.”
Kari stood for a moment, and then nodded. She sighed sadly and turned back toward the bikes. That was when they both heard it.
One sharp, strained, desperate “yip!”
Hershey
Hershey trembled in excitement and a vague sense of terror. He knew – he could tell it by the sadness in their voices – the humans were leaving. He also knew this would be his last chance. If he were ever to get out of the coffin work had become, these humans would have to be the ones to open the door. So, he put every ounce of strength he could muster into that one bark.
And thank hailmary, the humans turned toward the door to work, not toward their loud, two-wheeled trucks! Hershey couldn’t maintain his excitement. He wanted to stand and greet them, head held high, tail waving proudly, as a properly behaved good dog should … but he couldn’t. He slumped down in front of the door, waiting impatiently while the humans struggled to open the door. Finally, there was a loud “bang,” like the ones he and the other animals had been hearing, off and on, since the Badness came.
This bang was much louder and much closer, and when his ears stopped ringing, Hershey saw that a human man had kicked open the door to work. The man looked at Hershey with as much surprise as Hershey felt looking at the man. A woman pushed next to him and she was down on her knees beside him, sobbing and hugging him. Hershey found the energy to wag his tail for a few thumps. He hoped these humans knew what thirsty eyes looked like!
They did. The man pulled water and a small cup from one of his human magic places, and Hershey lapped it all up. His stomach cramped painfully, but he kept drinking. As soon as he was finished, he walked back into the room where the pen with his friend the black lab lived and threw up. Hershey and the black lab both began lapping the water up again.
“Oh, god … the stench!” he heard the woman say. He wondered if that meant more water, or maybe food. He hoped for water, actually. He knew humans always had food, and he was content knowing he would get some of that later. For now, though, he simply couldn’t get enough to drink, even if his stomach did keep rejecting it.
“Easy boy,” the man said, and Hershey immediately fell in love with his voice. It was deep and rich, but still had some of the lightness of a pup. He could like this man very much! “This one has a collar, Kari. He’s named Hershey, and Clare Bonham is his owner.”
Hershey thumped his tail again, recognizing his name.
“I bet she worked here,” Kari agreed, as she began filling a bucket of water. “She – or someone – has obviously kept this place functioning. I wonder what happened to her.”
“Careful on the water you give them – even half a cup made ol’ Hershey ralph. If you can take care of the watering, I’ll move the dead ones out of here. There are some cats you may be able to take care of, but I’m pretty sure the parrot is dead.”
Kari got an odd grin on her face and immediately adopted a bizarre English accent. “He’s not dead, guv’nor, he’s restin’,” she said with a wink. Mike looked at her as though she had sprouted horns and Kari's grin faded slightly. “Monty Python,” she muttered, looking at him expectantly. Mike continued to give her a blank stare and Kari rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It’s pathetic! The pitiful lack of the education of American youth is going to be the ruin of our nation!”
“Uh-huhhh,” Mike said sardonically, and then nodded again toward the watering bucket.
The woman nodded acknowledgement, and the two humans acted as if they had worked for years – they knew exactly what to do! The woman cried, just as Hershey’s human did, but she didn’t talk to hailmary at all. Mostly, when she talked, it was to motherfucker. Hershey didn’t know who that was.
He could have given the humans a tour of the place, but honestly, with water cramping deliciously in his belly, he was too sleepy to move. He and the black lab lay close to each other, touching noses with the relief of having humans nearby again.
The woman – Kari – was not a good worker after all. Whenever she gave the dogs water and cleaned the pens, she left their doors open! Hershey could have told her he was the only dog allowed to go in and out of the pens as he chose, but she didn’t even notice his curled lip or slight warning growls to the other dogs. They were too tired to care, anyway, and most didn’t even curl a lip back at him. They had been without water a day longer than he, so none of them even had the energy to leave their pens. Hershey considered that a good thing; he’d rather not have to show them he was the boss while he was still recovering from his own recent dehydration.
The man and woman were named Mike and Kari. Hershey was good with names. He had had four names in his lifetime, including “Puppy” and “Brownie,” but he liked Hershey best. He liked it better than anything when his human said it, but Hershey didn’t think he would hear Clare call him anymore. She must have gotten lost somewhere. She would never have left work, even if Mike and Kari did come to help. Work was important to her. It was the most important thing a human could do; she told him so many, many times. The thought of not having his human close to him was uncomfortable, so Hershey thought of other things.
The sun was gone, and the humans turned on the small lights they sometimes used. Hershey followed Mike everywhere, even to the scary room in the back that smelled like bitter chemicals and dogs that would never come play anymore. Mike had had to euthanize a puppy, two older dogs, and a cat in the room, while Kari stayed in the pens and cleaned. Mike cried when he put them up on the cold steel table. The puppy and the older dog thumped their tails at him, letting him know everything was fine; this was what they wanted, too, but the cat just hissed. It wanted to be left alone, to find its own corner, and do its dying there. When it was done, Mike hugged Hershey for a good long time, and Hershey licked his face and thumped his tail encouragingly. When Mike went back into the main room, both he and Kari pretended Mike hadn’t cried at all. Humans were wonderful!
These humans slept in the pens! In all of his life, in every work he had ever been kept, Hershey never knew any humans who slept inside a p
en with the dogs before! Mike and Kari brought their smelly, two-wheeled trucks inside Clare's office and unpacked stuff from them to make the floor a little softer. Hershey would have offered them his bed from under Clare's desk, but only Kari could have fit into it, and she would have needed to curl up tight. Humans didn’t often curl up to warm themselves, Hershey knew. It was sad. They probably didn’t know how.
Kari lay on the ground near the big black lab, and Mike, of course, lay near Hershey. Kari had the three puppies with her, holding them close to her body. They were sick, and probably not going to live, but she flat-out refused to let Mike take them to the smelly room. She woke them up every hour to give them water and food from a baby bottle, even though they were grown and didn’t need mother’s milk anymore. They drank it, mostly so they could go back to sleep.
The man and woman talked long into the night, and then, just when everyone was getting comfortable, they decided to have a wrestling contest! After that, they held each other as well as the puppies and Hershey and the other dogs. One by one, each of the dogs in the kennel came into the lab’s pen to join in the pile of warmth and comfort, and to be held in the security of humans and pack. The cats were either standoffish or not invited, but either way, they stayed in their room. Hershey was just as glad. Cats were useless.
March 17.
Hershey
One of the puppies died in Kari’s arms during the night. Mike took it from her as she sobbed, her heart broken. Hershey was confused by the woman’s keening – couldn’t she smell the puppy was too sick to live anymore? She had saved the other two puppies, so why wasn’t she happy? He listened as Mike gently reminded her to water the rest of the dogs and cats, and he followed Mike and the dead puppy back to the foul-smelling room where they left the dead animals from the day before. Hershey followed along right at Mike’s heels, like a good dog. He didn’t like the bad room, but he knew his being there made Mike feel better, even if Hershey’s tail was tucked down between his legs.
Mike looked around the euthanasia room thoughtfully, so Hershey looked too. “Yep, everything here’s just the same, boss,” he said with a wag of his tail that Mike, like all humans, didn’t understand. With the four sick animals Mike had put down the night before, and the small corpses he’d transported while Kari tended to the survivors, there were twelve animal carcasses in the room. Fortunately, they were mostly cats. Hershey waited calmly while the human’s eyes scanned the entire room, as if he were looking for something.
Mike set the dead puppy down gently on the steel table and continued to look around pensively. It took a few seconds, but he found the door.
Hershey began whining as soon as Mike walked toward the door. If he knew this human well enough, he would butt up against his legs to hip-check him away. He barked once, to warn him. Part of the Badness was behind that door.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Mike said, stopping to scratch Hershey’s head. “You don’t like something back there, do you? Okay, I’ll be careful.” He took out one of the oily, hard toys the humans liked to wear at their hips, and he held it up in front of him, easing the door open a bit and waiting a few seconds before slamming it open fast and hard. When the door was open, he ducked into a crouch, holding the toy in front of him as if it could possibly help! Nothing was as good as bared, snarly teeth!
Hershey couldn’t stand it anymore. He lunged in front of the man, the hair on his neck bristling and his teeth pulled back in a vicious snarl. This man was not his human, but he was the one who had brought Hershey and the black lab food and – much more importantly – water. He took away the headache and the swollen tongue, and he had a smooth, deep voice, as rich and pleasurable as lying in a field of grass on a hot summer’s day, and then rolling over for a belly rub. Hershey’s deepest instincts drew him toward humans, and he knew he would die for this man. He would attack whatever Badness waited for them.
Only … nothing waited. The Badness had come and left this place. Hershey stood snarling, his hackles raised … and there was nothing there but the small yard with the wooden privacy fence and the cart where the dead cats and dogs were placed. And …
And his human.
Hershey knew that scent as well as he knew his own. While Mike coughed and made words, Hershey’s keen nose zeroed in on the scent of his human, near the small pile of dogs and cats. Hershey sat down, and for one long, mournful moment, he howled as his ancestors did, to lament the death of a pack leader.
Kari
Kari shivered as she heard the dog howl. The sound was filled with inexpressible grief; as it died down, she felt some of her own tension ease just a bit. There was something to be said for a good long cry every now and again. Even tough guys and mixed-breed hounds needed to let it out sometimes.
While Mike took care of whatever he was doing in the euthanasia room, Kari rearranged their supplies and made a nest on the floorboard of the sidecar for the two puppies, keeping them low in the well so the sides of the car and the windshield would protect them as much as possible. The rucksack with Mike's handhelds leaned up against the seat of the sidecar, leaving room for their water to fit, both fuel containers, two small bags of puppy chow, and metal food and water bowls. The backpacks holding the weapons and the food supplies would have to rest on the seat – not optimum, but it would work. They would just have to drive more slowly so Hershey wouldn't be able to fall or jump from the sidecar. The tarp and blankets would have to be left behind – Kari couldn’t fit anything else into her bedroll or saddlebags. It was a tight squeeze, but both bikes were secure.
The puppies, both female, were already feeling better, becoming more active and squirmy with each feeding, so Kari quickly took them out of their nest and let them play, smiling as they rolled over and tugged each other’s ears with vicious little growls. Like the other animals who survived, they were recovering quickly from the dehydration. The cats took longer to improve and only three of them made it. They and ten dogs would have to be released into the wild to fend for themselves.
The puppies were already weaned, as evidenced by the aggressive eagerness with which they attacked their bowl at feeding time, so Kari approximated they were seven or eight weeks old. Their parents were a blend, seeming like a mix of English bull dog and something else … Jack Russell, maybe? Whatever their pedigree, the pups were adorable. Mike didn’t know it yet, but Kari was definitely keeping them!
“We need to get a move on,” Mike said as he came back into the office with the hound-mix behind him. Hershey’s ears perked as if he were actually listening to Mike, his chocolate brown eyes intelligent and thoughtful. “I found the shelter worker out back. Apparently, she’d opened the gate and someone caved in her skull.”
“God, that’s awful,” Kari murmured.
Mike looked at his watch and nodded. It was 0800 and the last known location of the Resistance cell was in Tarrelton Park, about twenty minutes away, pre-invasion. “Let’s take them outside to feed them, and do it a couple at a time. Maybe they’ll get the hint and wander away once they’re out of the cages.”
Mike’s plan worked for all of the cats and two of the dogs. The other adult dogs stuck around, following either Mike or Kari as they fed each dog and checked their supplies a final time. Mike raised an eyebrow at Kari when he saw the puppy nest, but luckily for him, he didn’t challenge her. The boy was a natural born leader – he knew how to choose his battles! Kari watched with interest as Hershey stayed consistently at Mike’s heel, touching noses with the older black lab whenever they passed.
Hershey had definitely taken a liking to Mike, and it seemed to be mutual. Mike paused several times to scratch the hound behind the ears or to pat him roughly on the side. Kari sincerely hoped Hershey could be a sidecar dog. While Mike fed the last two dogs, she re-packed the sidecar again, managing to squeeze the weapons onto the floorboard, leaving just enough room for the puppies. There would be barely enough room for Hershey and the rucksack of foodstuffs on the seat of the sidecar now. It would be a tigh
t squeeze until they dropped off the handhelds, but it was doable.
At 0820, Mike started his bike, glancing down at the two puppies who yipped anxiously but didn’t try to climb out of the sidecar. He drove off quickly, Kari following a bit more slowly. Hershey loped along behind them, soon panting hard.
It only took a minute for Mike to notice the dog in his side mirror. He stopped the bike, waiting for Kari to pull up next to him before turning off the engine and getting off, heading back to Hershey.
“No!” he said firmly. “Hershey, stay.”
He repeated the words several times. Kari hid an amused smile behind her visor, saying nothing when Mike got back on his bike and drove off, gaining almost a hundred feet before having to repeat the process.
On the third attempt, Mike looked at Kari, helpless exasperation in his eyes. Kari grinned and whistled; Hershey immediately jumped up into the sidecar, wagging his tail expectantly. Mike gaped at Kari, who gave him her most innocent expression. He sighed and dismounted. He pushed Hershey over on the seat and pulled out the backpack of foodstuffs and the first nearly-empty fuel container. He pushed the backpack into the space where the gasoline can used to be, and then moved Hershey down into a more secure position on the seat. Without looking at Kari, Mike walked the half block back to the animal shelter. He made sure the area was clear, and then went inside, dousing the shelter with gasoline.
A few minutes later he came back outside and tossed a burning bottle over his shoulder. The molotov cocktail hit the gasoline-soaked floor of the SPCA. There was a “whump!” and the building caught fire. Mike and Kari watched for a moment as it burned, slowly at first, and then in a harsh blaze more fitting for a pyre. Mike brought the empty fuel container back to Kari without a backward glance. He detached the bungee cord from Kari’s bedroll, straining as he looped it around the handle of the empty gas container.
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