Pavlov's Dogs

by Snell, D. L.

  It had been one thing letting this stranger into the building, one thing to show him around. For one, Ken had feared they would’ve had a fight on their hands if they hadn’t cooperated. And Ken didn’t want to have a fight on his hands. At least not with something that could survive a fatal gunshot wound to the face.

  He had to admit it, he was scared. Because if he didn’t admit it, he wouldn’t be able to hide it.

  He stared right into Samson’s face as he replied, “No one ever said we were leaving.”

  “This is base to Beta Samson,” the radio crackled, “go ahead.”

  “So what should I tell them?” Samson asked Ken.

  Ken couldn’t figure out whether that was a threat. He kept getting mixed signals from this guy. On one hand, he kind of liked him. But on the other, how could he trust a shapeshifting killing machine?

  Guess it’s no different than owning a wolf for a dog, Ken thought. Could kill you at any time. The more disturbing thought, however, was that he’d never been bitten by any dog, but had certainly been bitten by a man.

  This guy was both.

  “Uh, Ken...” Jimmy said.

  The kid had just been hanging out in the background. Ken had almost forgotten he was there. The redhead had been profusely apologetic and then very quiet after shooting Beta Samson in the face.

  “What if they found my mom, Ken? What if she’s on their island, eating... whatever kind of algae? Don’t I get a say in this?”

  “Don’t they all?” Samson asked.

  Ken wanted so badly to say And what if it’s a trap? Just to see how Samson would react. And to get Jimmy to use some common sense. But at the same time, he couldn’t forfeit any element of surprise he might hope to gain, just in case things went presently south.

  “Base,” Samson finally said into the radio, before Ken could decide what to do. “We have survivors.” And what was Ken going to do about it? Shoot him? Hah!

  “First contact made, numbers are sixty, six-zero.”

  “Actually,” Ken said, “it’s more like fifty-two.”

  Samson cocked his head as if asking him to explain.

  “I was factoring in the force multiplier when I quoted you that first number.”

  Samson nodded as if Ken’s excuse made perfect sense. “Please advise the Alpha,” he said into the radio. “Awaiting instructions, over.”

  “Holy shit,” said Base. “Sixty, copy. Base out.”

  Samson put the radio down and turned to Ken. What he said next was enough to trump any of Ken’s fallback plans. Because Ken didn’t have that kind of force multiplier.

  “Before we go any further,” Samson said, “perhaps I should introduce you to the rest of the Dogs.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE SURVIVORS FILED onto the bus with a mixture of relief, awe, and fear etched into their faces. Fear and awe of the Dogs themselves, relief they were being rescued, and an extra dose of fear for the families who were splitting up.

  Alpha McLoughlin shook Ken’s hand. “You sure you want to stay?”

  Ken nodded. “Absolutely. But do you think you could leave a radio for us or something? So the families can keep in touch.”

  “Better than that,” Mac said. “Two of my finest will be staying with you for the couple of days it’ll take to get everybody settled on the island.” He turned away. “Dunne! Landis! Front and center!”

  A pair of men ran up, both clad in matching black coveralls, their names stitched on the right breasts. Dunne had a shotgun, Landis a submachine gun just like the one Samson carried. He also wore a backpack with a protruding antenna.

  Mac said, “Samson told me you guys have gone on successful food runs.” He waved a hand at the bus. “The sound of this will bring them around, I’m afraid. I’d be remiss if I didn’t leave you with a little extra protection.”

  Ken nodded, watching the people board the bus. The process of choosing who would go and who would stay had been difficult, especially for the families. For the most part, the men had insisted their wives and daughters go first, in most cases their sons, too. Ken had heard a variation of the same speech being given several times, words designed to bolster young men’s sense of familial duty, underscoring the importance of keeping their mothers and sisters protected in this new place among strangers.

  Mac saw the object of Ken’s attention and smiled.

  He cares about his people.

  “Don’t worry about them,” Mac said. “A couple days in quarantine, then we’ll be back out to pick up the rest of you. All right?”

  They shook hands again, and Ken headed back inside with Dunne and Landis. Samson approached Mac.

  “We’d better hit the road, Alpha. The engine noise...”

  “I know,” Mac said. “Get us moving.”

  Ken watched all this from the entrance. He looked to the bus and caught Jimmy’s eye through one of the portholes. They exchanged a nod, which was all that was required. As happy as Ken was to have his people “rescued,” he wanted to go into this eyes wide open.

  Jimmy would be those eyes.

  ’

  Two hours later, the yacht was tying up to the island dock and people were unloading into the newly-renovated quarantine area. People from the previous batch of survivors had gathered to see the newcomers, some out of plain curiosity, others looking for friends and family.

  Donovan counted heads with something close to alarm; the reports had said these were only half of the survivors. “Huddled masses,” he said, spitting afterward. “I am the one yearning to breathe free here. Bah!”

  He turned on his heel and walked away, hands clasped behind his back, brow furrowed in thought. He almost collided with Alpha McLoughlin. “Excuse me,” he said. “You must be very happy.”

  The Alpha exhaled noisily through his nose. “I am, Dr. Donovan, but I’m also very... I don’t know the right word. Kaiser has crossed a line, and Dr. Crispin was in no state to hear it. Is he...?”

  “Sober?” Donovan finished for him. “Yes. Sober and jovial.”

  “Well,” McLoughlin said, “I’m fixing to ruin his mood.”

  He stomped off toward Crispin’s office, and Donovan found himself tagging along. He was interested by this bit of intrigue with the Dogs, and if nothing else, it might get his mind off the boatload of survivors that had just showed up to eat Donovan out of house and home.

  McLoughlin noticed that the neurotech was following him when he knocked on Crispin’s door. “You’re here.”

  “I am,” Donovan said. “As before. Dr. Crispin has taken me into his confidence, and if I’m to fully understand your enhancements and how they affect you, then I should have a better understanding of the Dogs as individuals, don’t you agree?”

  The look on the Alpha’s face told Donovan that Mac certainly did not agree, but the weight of his Master’s authority overrode the Dog’s misgivings.

  “Enter!” Crispin yelled.

  McLoughlin opened the door and waved the neurotechnician through. They found Dr. Crispin in a jovial mood indeed, playing the 1812 Overture on his stereo system and banging along in time on his desk.

  “Excellent work today, Alpha,” he said, turning the volume down with the remote. “Excellent work. And of course, with zero casualties.”

  “Actually, sir,” McLoughlin said. “I have a report on Theta Kaiser. I believe he might be unstable, sir.”

  Dr. Crispin put his palms flat on the desk. “Explain.”

  McLoughlin shifted his wide shoulders inside his coveralls. “On the previous rescue operation, in order to distract a mass of the undead, Kaiser purposefully and willfully sacrificed a civilian by tossing him off the yacht to the wharf.”

  Donovan’s eyebrows went up.

  “He threw a man off the boat? Bodily hurled someone to the zombies? Someone whom your group had gone to rescue?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Crispin drummed his fingers on the desk. “Well. This is certainly a situation. Had the man done anything to a
nger or insult Kaiser?”

  Face reddening, McLoughlin shook his head. “No, sir. The man had been bitten, though.”

  “Ah,” Crispin said, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers before his face. “That does change things, you understand?”

  Muscles bunched on either side of McLoughlin’s eyes. “It shouldn’t, sir.”

  Crispin sat quietly for a moment. “The world has changed, Alpha. You should know this better than I. You’ve been out to see what the world has become.”

  “That doesn’t excuse—”

  “No, of course not. But if the reports are correct, and we have every reason to believe that they are, then the morbidity rate is one hundred percent. As is the mortality.”

  Donovan cleared his throat. “I might go so far as to thank Kaiser.”

  McLoughlin’s head turned to the neurotech. “I’m sorry?”

  “The bite is fatal,” Donovan said. “Transmission is a certainty, as is everything that follows. If you had brought this bitten man to the island, well, I don’t know what the protocol would have been. For certain, we would have liked to study him before he died and turned.”

  Crispin put a hand out. “While I disagree with the callous way Dr. Donovan has put it, he is, in essence, correct.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The Alpha stood to leave. Crispin looked as if he had more to say, but only stared at McLoughlin’s back with a slight expression of regret. Donovan, on the other hand, was taking great pains to hide his sudden glee.

  Kaiser, he thought. I need Kaiser.

  ’

  He found him an hour later in the Dogs’ private gym, working out with free weights. Donovan noted with interest the number of plates on the bar Kaiser was preparing to bench-press. He wondered whether the Theta was already as strong as the larger Alpha Dog.

  “Excuse me,” he said, interrupting Kaiser’s lift. “I’m sorry, but that is just under three hundred pounds on that bar. Shouldn’t you have a, ah... ”

  “Spotter, Doc,” Kaiser said with a snort. “And, no. Nobody spots for me, and I don’t spot for anybody.”

  He put his hands on the bar in a wide grip, opening and closing his fingers on it several times before grabbing and pushing the bar off the stops. There was nary a tremor in his arms as the weight came down smoothly to his chest, nor as he pushed it back up, exhaling loudly. He did that seven more times and replaced the bar.

  “Look, can I help you, Doc? Or are you here to get some kind of kicks?” He flashed his canines in a smile, seeing the flush of pink on Donovan’s cheeks.

  “I’m here, Kaiser, to see if you’re happy with your lot in life. And to talk to you about the program. To get a new perspective.”

  Kaiser sat up on the bench. “How do you mean?”

  Donovan suppressed a smile.

  “I mean, Epsilon Kaiser, don’t you have any ideas for how things should be run around here? With the Dogs and the missions? Or Jaden’s ludicrous security dictates? Or the living conditions, or—”

  Kaiser put up a hand. “Right, right. Why me?”

  This time, Donovan’s smile made it out. “You’re different. I can see that. You don’t follow the herd. You understand the harsh realities of the new world in which we’ve found ourselves, and you can do the hard things. Things that need to be done. I heard about the dock and your... decoy.”

  “Hunh. I wouldn’t expect someone like you to get any of that, Doc.” Kaiser stood, smiling. “I guess I was fooled by your skinny neck.”

  Donovan nodded. “You’re underappreciated, Kaiser. I could tell right away, when I saw you and the Beta in the sparring cage. That was a very clean, very clever victory. And yet, do they treat you any differently?”

  Kaiser crossed his arms, and Donovan felt something inside him go whoop! He knew he had him then.

  “They don’t even call you by your new rank! You are Epsilon Kaiser! Someone like you should be the leader of the pack. And the Alpha can’t see that.” Donovan lowered his voice. “Neither can Crispin.”

  “You got that right.”

  Nodding, Donovan said, “But I see your true potential, Kaiser. I see more than a Theta, more than an Epsilon. I see the Alpha Dog in you. There’s a reason I understand your situation.” He tapped his own breastbone. “I’m in the same boat. Unappreciated. Underutilized. I say that if things don’t change for the better, then maybe we ought to make the changes ourselves.”

  Kaiser listened, eyeing the neurotech silently.

  “No more fucking hind tit,” Donovan said, and his sudden vehemence surprised both of them.

  “Well, Doc,” Kaiser said, “pleased to finally meet you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TWO DAYS PASSED as the initial group of survivors was removed from quarantine and housed in the hastily-erected quarters designed by the engineer, Holly. In that time, the Communications and IT teams had worked together to rig up a radio line out to the quarantine, so the newcomers could speak with their families and the people they had left behind. Each day, Dr. Crispin went out to the short hill overlooking the sprawl of survivors, and he stood there, watching them.

  They noticed. At first, they thanked him often, and he took it as his due, but as the hours wore on with no communication, the looks his way became a little more wary. Especially from one young man in particular, a tall, gangly twenty-something with flaming red hair.

  Crispin had already made a note to the security chief to keep an eye on that one. If there was something they couldn’t afford, it was a troublemaker. A rabble-rouser.

  On the third day, Donovan found Crispin making his visit to the survivor camp.

  “The Dogs are on their way out,” the neurotech said. “I couldn’t help but notice Theta Kaiser is not along for the ride.”

  Crispin nodded. “That is correct. Disciplinary action.”

  Donovan pulled a face. “Is that so? I was under the impression that you had sanctioned his actions at the pier. Once all the facts were known, of course.”

  “Of course,” Crispin said. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dr. Donovan. I’m as happy as the next person that we haven’t had to deal with any, ah, infected specimens. But Alpha McLoughlin is correct that Kaiser is a callous person. Very little thought went into the Theta’s decision to throw a survivor overboard to a horde of the walking dead. As much as I would like to, we can’t save everybody.

  “No, this disciplinary action has more to do with placating Alpha McLoughlin than punishing Kaiser. I’m not a people person, Dr. Donovan, but I know enough about human behavior to keep my team leaders happy.”

  Given that Crispin had missed the power play between Samson and Kaiser on Donovan’s first day on the island, the neurotech found his statement to be highly amusing. But he nodded anyway and said, “Very astute, sir.”

  The project director tipped his head, missing the flash of satisfaction that passed over Donovan’s face. Kaiser’s exclusion from this rescue mission just gave the neurotech more time alone with the Theta Dog. More time to strengthen the alliance.

  As they walked away from quarantine, Donovan was already rehearsing the important points he wanted to make to Kaiser. He would need the Dog on his side if he was to supplant Crispin and his pet Alpha, McLoughlin.

  ’

  Across the water, tensions on the mainland were running just as high. Twice a day, Ken had taken advantage of the Dogs’ radio equipment to get a status report on Jimmy’s group, as well as an update on the progress of the radio line installation. When the report came that the lines of communication were open, he breathed a sigh of thanks and went to break the good news to his people.

  Theta Dunne stopped him as the other Dog, Landis, carried the setup to the roof, where the reception would be better. “Don’t you want to be the one to talk to someone first? No one will fault you.”

  Ken shook his head. “I can’t. There are fathers downstairs, and they deserve it more.”

  Dunne nodded, his estimation of Ken Bishop cl
imbing even further, as it had been for the past three days. Ken was a capable man, and the sheer number of survivors he had gathered in this building and had kept fed (and calm) was staggering. Dunne had tried to talk to Landis about it, but the other Dog was unimpressed.

  “Will you ask him on a date, already?” Landis had asked the day before, and that was the last time Dunne had said anything about it.

  Ken went from room to room, letting the remnants of the sundered families know the radio link was up. Word got around quickly, and soon there was a prodigious line in the stairwell to the roof. Once everyone knew, Ken made his way up as well.

  “St. John,” he said, tapping an ex-cop on the shoulder as he passed, “you’re too far up. Families first, you know that. You, too, Sammy. And Marly.”

  Ken made it to the pebbled roof and watched as people came up to use the radio unit. He couldn’t keep himself from tapping his foot as report after report came in, all very similar: family members in safe and semi-comfortable surroundings. A thought struck him, and he was immediately upset it hadn’t occurred to him before this.

  “Dunne?”

  “What’s up?”

  Ken cracked his knuckles. “Is there a roster or something? A list of the survivors maybe? I’m interested to know if someone in particular has already made it to the island.”

  Dunne scrunched up his face. “To tell you the truth, we’re not really involved on the administrative side of things. We’re more of the ‘hit and bite stuff if shooting it doesn’t work’ end.” He shrugged apologetically. “I can ask.”

  Ken looked at the line. Already, the survivors were separated into two groups: those who got to speak with someone, and those looking for someone they couldn’t find.

  The girl with the dog stood apart, petting the small animal. Ken winced. Nobody had said anything to her about it yet, since she kept to herself, but he was pretty sure the dog hadn’t survived the crash. He wondered briefly who she was looking for.

  “No,” Ken finally said to Dunne. “I’ll just wait my turn.”

  He paced the roof, watching the men walking from the radio with tears of relief in their eyes. Even more closely, he watched people walking from the radio with a different kind of tears. Especially those people who drifted toward the ledge.