Pavlov's Dogs

by Snell, D. L.

  “It fell apart.”

  Donovan felt the click of metal-on-metal as Jaden pulled the hammer back on the gun.

  “Honest to God! I swear! Do you know how quickly the retina deteriorates? Once the eye is removed from the skull?”

  “Doctor,” Jaden said, his voice no longer menacing, which was somehow worse. “I know all about what happens to eyes outside of the skull.”

  Donovan’s mind whirled. Could he fool this man? Could he lead him toward the Dogs somehow and entrap him? The Sigmas accepted Donovan as Master, and they wouldn’t let this treachery stand.

  “I’m really considering making this easy on myself,” Jaden said, shattering Donovan’s train of thought. “I don’t even have to make any noise by pulling the trigger. I have a knife on my belt that would fit nicely between the C5 and C6 vertebrae. Or is it the C6 and C7? I may forget at the last moment and just paralyze you instead of killing you. Head on a stick. Either way, I know the eye’s around here somewhere. You were headed right this way when I found you.”

  “Fine,” Donovan spat. “Fine! But you’ll have to unhand me.”

  Jaden smirked at that, but stepped back, keeping the 9mm trained on Donovan. The doctor went around to the maintenance panel and popped it open, revealing the red cooler.

  “Scan it,” Jaden said.

  Donovan held the eyeball up, and the scan illuminated it from the inside, a cool blue glow that made the doctor feel sick.

  As they stepped into Command, Jaden immediately noticed the black square on the big screen.

  “Why is McLoughlin’s screen blank?”

  Donovan looked down, and Jaden stepped closer, the 9mm leveled at the doctor’s navel. “You son of a bitch.”

  Eyes rolling all the way up to track the gun, Donovan saw the tip of Jaden’s finger whiten as it tightened against the trigger. The gun didn’t make its one note, though. Instead, Jaden tilted his head at the Command station.

  “Show me,” he said.

  Stiff-legged, Donovan walked over to the big screen and motioned with his fingertip to one side, sliding McLoughlin’s black square away. He expanded his thumb and forefinger over Hayte’s screen, zooming in. The Theta was in the barracks, talking to Rose and playing cards.

  “This... this is, ah, from here we can either take direct actions, using the Dog as a puppet, or...”

  Donovan thought furiously. Was Jaden trying to take over? Already? That was totally, completely unfair.

  “... or, through a series of commands, we can adjust the Dog’s neuro-chemical impulses to alter his actions, or reactions.” He thought about calling one of the Dogs to Command to end this treachery once and for all, but Jaden would see him do it. The security man wasn’t stupid. And he now had two guns. And that knife.

  Donovan typed in a string of code designed to increase Hayte’s heartbeat. “See, just this one thing, that will alter the outcome of his game. Watch how his focus changes.”

  Jaden stepped closer to the large monitor, and Donovan lunged sideways, whacking the security chief’s gun hand with his clipboard. Jaden turned, and Donovan was on him, hands wrapped around his neck. As they fell, Dr. Crispin’s sentimental coffee mug came with them, shattering next to Jaden’s startled face.

  But his surprise didn’t last long. He swung a brutal elbow down across Donovan’s forearms, and the neurotech let go. With an easy sweep, the security man reversed their positions. He leaned down, keeping his right forearms across Donovan’s throat.

  “Thank you, Doctor. I didn’t really want to kill you. I just wanted to make you suffer. But since you’re giving me this wonderful excuse...”

  “Radio,” Donovan croaked out. “Attack plan.”

  Eyes wide, Jaden sat up, and Donovan’s hand swung up in tandem, bringing the broken handle of the WORLD’S BEST DAD cup with it. The triangular shard on the business end stuck into the security chief’s neck.

  Everything stopped.

  Jaden’s eyes got even wider.

  Donovan pulled the handle away and blood spritzed all over his face.

  Something in the neurotech snapped. He jabbed the shard into Jaden’s neck again, over and over, and the blood kept coming, spurting out with the failing action of Jaden’s heart and the force of Donovan’s thrusts. Sprays and squirts flooded the director’s cheeks and forehead; he could taste its coppery, salty tang. He grinned, getting the blood on his teeth.

  The shard went in one last time and the force of it broke the triangular piece off in the flesh.

  He pushed Jaden away, and the security man fell backwards, trying to hold the ruins of his neck, hands twitching and feet kicking. His face had gone grey, and his eyes rolled up to meet Donovan’s. His lips moved, but there was no sound.

  Donovan got up on his knees. “What?” He put his ear closer to Jaden’s mouth.

  “Fuck yourself,” the man said, and his chest rumbled as he gurgled out his last wet breath.

  Donovan fell back, sitting in the expanding puddle of blood that he—he had released from Jaden’s throat. The project director wiped a shaky hand across his face, smearing the blood.

  He did it. Not Kaiser. Not one of the Sigmas. He did it. He’d never been in a real fight before. And he had survived.

  “Where Crispin failed,” he whispered, “I have persevered.”

  He got to his feet, slipping in the blood, and then stood up straight, hands still shaking. Everything seemed so clear. Every detail in his vision was crystal clear.

  So clear!

  He picked up the handset and dialed 0. When the comms officer picked up, Donovan smiled.

  “Tell Kaiser—hah! Tell him he’ll get his competition.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  KEN RAN DOWN THE AISLE of the supermarket, his cart full. “That’s the toy train set. Kelly’s got the road emergency kit. Is that everything?”

  Julius stood in the aisle intersection, reading his list, one finger in the air. “Blowtorches?”

  Ken stopped running. “I thought you had one?”

  “One. We need two more.”

  Ken turned back, then looked down at the cart and left it where it stood. He caught a glimpse of Mac standing at the front doors of the store, a tire iron in each hand. Even if he couldn’t turn into a werewolf or whatever on command anymore, he was still a big, scary dude with Special Forces training, and Ken was glad he was there.

  Kelly passed by with her cart full. “That’s the road emergency kit, all the CO2 canisters I could find, and all the shotgun shells and ammunition they had under the counter. We don’t even have guns that will fire some of this stuff, Julius.”

  He nodded, checking off items on his list. “What about the chlorine tablets?”

  “Um...”

  He pointed back down the aisle she had come from.

  Running up with a blowtorch in each hand, Ken whistled. “This is it?”

  “Light bulbs and the five-gallon jugs?”

  Ken turned back, and Mac laughed.

  “You are running them ragged, old man.”

  Julius cocked his head. “Teach ’em to read a list right the first time.”

  Ken and Kelly made more trips. Water filters. Mason jars. Nails. Leather belts. When finally Julius folded the list and stuck it in his pocket, the tired pair looked over their haul. “How are we going to get all this back to the shop?”

  Mac laughed again. “Trips. Lots of trips.”

  For the rest of the day, Ken, Kelly, and a handful of volunteers trekked from the store to the shop, with Mac “riding shotgun” each time. They encountered small knots of the dead, but the noisemaker Julius had set up across the street from the shop’s big roll-up door kept them there, away from the survivors’ access to the rooftops.

  On the last trip, Ken came down a fire-escape ladder to find Mac down on one knee, surrounded by a quartet of laid-out zombies. The tire irons were on the street, and Mac looked as if he was having trouble standing. Ken rushed over.

  “You all right, man? D
id one of those things—”

  “I’m fine,” Mac said, heaving himself to his feet. He walked to the tire irons and picked them up. “Let’s just hit the road already. We got more trips to make for food, now that all of Julius’s toys are gathered.”

  He turned away and jogged slowly down the street. Ken watched him go, eyeing him up and down, looking for blood. He waved Kelly down, and she and Ken ran after the old Alpha Dog.

  “What happened?” Kelly said.

  Ken shrugged. “He was down when I got to him. He looks bad.”

  Thuds from ahead drew their attention, and Ken poured on a burst of speed. His hand fell to his beltline, where a police baton hung. They had decided, for these runs, silence was crucial: no guns, no unintentional noisemakers.

  Ken drew his baton and laid into the zombies on Mac’s unprotected side. The Alpha Dog was doing well, but he was slowing. Kelly caught a glimpse of darkened material on his side, and she didn’t think it was sweat.

  Snapping out her Maxam collapsible baton, Kelly swung and knocked away a zombie approaching from Ken’s blind side. “Back to back,” she said.

  Mac stepped away. “You two go back to back,” he replied, grunting and swinging the tire irons with deadly effect. Kelly saw the web of black iron he wove around himself and urged Ken a little farther away.

  The trio made quick work of the knot of walking corpses. Preparing to move on, Mac fell to one knee again. His bald and newly-healed head was pouring sweat. Ken stepped over to help him up, but the Alpha Dog snarled and waved him off.

  Hands up and backing away, Ken said, “Fine. Fine, whatever. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Once inside the store, Mac closed the security gate and chained them shut. He collapsed in a heap there, waving Ken and Kelly on.

  Kelly stepped forward, but Ken stopped her, shaking his head. “We have to fill these bags. People got to eat.”

  Pulling on her arm gently, he guided Kelly away from the reclining Dog.

  She pulled her arm away. “I know that. But he could be really badly hurt. You macho boys don’t like to fess up to shit like that.”

  Ken turned to her. “He could have been bitten,” he said in a low voice. “You’ve seen him go at it when the zombies get close. He’s used to a melee fight when he’s got teeth and claws and fur. Don’t get me wrong, he scares me plenty. But he’s not as fast as he’s used to being, and yet he still throws himself at them anyway.”

  She thought back to the stain on his shirt and frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe. When we get back, I don’t care how scary he is, we’re checking him over.”

  Ken raised his eyebrows and put cans of soup in his duffel bag. “I’ll stand with you for it. But if he takes it into his head that he doesn’t want to get checked...”

  Shoulders stiff, Kelly turned away and started filling her bag with pre-prepared dry meals. Ken put his hand out, but stopped himself from touching her. Instead, he put more cans in the bag.

  His two-way squawked, and he jumped. “Jesus. Forgot that thing was there.” He picked it off his belt and hit the XMIT button. “Yo.”

  “Yo? Is that how they taught you to use a radio?” Julius sounded either amused or annoyed. Sometimes the two were the same.

  “Is that how who taught me? What do you need?”

  “You and Kels are loading up on horrid foodstuffs. So get antacid. Lots of it. And if you forget my Cheez Whiz, I’ll let Mac use the chainsaw on you.”

  Kelly raised her eyebrows. “You going to tell him?”

  “Tell him what?” Ken said. “We don’t know anything, so what do I tell him?”

  Shrugging, she kicked her bag away and moved down the aisle.

  “Thank you, very helpful,” he called after her. Into the radio, Ken said, “When we get back, we got to have a talk with Mac. Maybe, um, check him.”

  The radio stayed silent.

  “Did you get that?”

  “I got it. Talk later.”

  Ken put the radio on his belt and loaded his bag. “It’s so easy. We’ll talk later.” Grabbing his bag, he walked to the end of the aisle and looked at the meat section. What hadn’t been ransacked had rotted, so he moved on to the snack section.

  Hard cheeses and salamis should be okay, shouldn’t they?

  Not if the Dog’s been bit.

  Half an hour later, Ken and Kelly were back at the entrance. Mac was standing, leaning on the security gate and looking pale. “What took you guys so long? I’ve run out of ways to have this thumb up my ass while I wait for you two.”

  Ken hefted Kelly’s bag onto her shoulders, then lifted his own. “Underachiever. You were in the military. Should be used to ‘hurry up and wait’ by now.”

  Mac laughed, and it turned into a cough. He cleared his throat. “Can we get out of here now?”

  Peering out, Mac pronounced the way clear and opened the safety gate. The supply-laden pair rushed out, and he closed the gate behind them, wrapping the chain around the handles but not locking it.

  “I hate that lock,” Ken said. “I always feel like I won’t be able to open it when I really need to.”

  “Ditto,” said Mac. “Let’s go.”

  He jogged off, still moving as quickly as he had been, but no longer carrying himself with the easy athletic grace. Now he reminded Ken more of himself, a lumbering bear, using momentum more than agility to keep himself going. He and Kelly kept up, and the road was relatively clear. There were only three or four knots of zombies about.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” Ken said, “but this time of year, this place is usually jammed with tourists. Where the hell is everybody?”

  “That sounds enough like complaining to me,” Kelly said, breezing along next to him. “Shut it.”

  Mac snorted out a laugh and jumped for the fire escape ladder, catching the bottom rung and pulling it down. He waved the civilians forward.

  At the top, Ken looked down to see Mac following, but slowly. The big man’s cheeks expanded as he blew out huge breaths, just forcing himself up the black iron ladder. He kept shaking his head to clear his eyes of sweat, and his grey shirt was several shades darker than before. And as grateful as Mac had acted when Julius presented him with a pair of boots, Ken was ready to bet the footwear felt as if it were cast from concrete.

  “Problem?” Mac said, looking up.

  “Nope,” Ken said, and then he hurried to the top.

  ’

  He and Kelly stood in the pantry over the machine shop, unloading the bags. She still hadn’t said much to him, other than “Move,” or “Move.” He got the hint.

  Julius appeared in the doorway. “We got stuff to talk about. You mean Mac?”

  “Yeah,” Ken said, stacking cans of beef stew on the shelves. “He’s acting funny. Been moving like he’s hurt, but he doesn’t say anything. Sweating, slowing down. And he... he...”

  Julius turned.

  “He’s right there.”

  Mac stood in the kitchen, his face pale. He’d stopped sweating, his skin looking cold and clammy instead. One corner of his upper lip twitched, sending his face in and out of a sneer. And he stared at Ken.

  “Hold on, big guy,” Ken said, putting his hands up. “We’re just worried about you.”

  Taking a faltering step forward, Mac put his hands up too. Coming from anybody else, the gesture might have been a funny mirror to what Ken was doing; but coming from Mac, it looked as if he were contemplating murder. Again.

  A rumble started deep in his chest, and his lips peeled back to reveal pale red teeth.

  “Oh, shit,” Ken said.

  Mac took another step and started bleeding from his nose. His eyes rolled back, and he fell over, blood coming from everywhere; his eyes, his nose, his ears, even his fingernails.

  Julius ran over, straightening the Dog out on the floor. He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and stuck it between the Dog’s teeth. “Help me get this shirt off.”

  Ken jumped forward, grabbing the Dog’s shirt collar
and pulling it apart. The material split and he tore the shirt away. He and Kelly pulled Mac’s arms out of the sleeves, and Julius snapped on a flashlight.

  There was no bite.

  Not a single unhealed wound.

  “Well, now what?” Julius said.

  Ken just sat down and stared. For some reason he couldn’t even shrug.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “OH, NO!” KAISER YELLED, laughing as Theta Rose tumbled away across the concrete floor of the sparring cage, clutching at his arm as it flopped at his side. “You’re so brittle. Not enough milk?”

  Rose staggered to his feet, panting. His short, dark-brown hair lay plastered to his scalp. He backed away, keeping an eye on Kaiser. Rose was the third Theta to be rushed into the cage; Kristos and Landis had fallen to Kaiser in a matter of seconds. The fights had all started the same way: human Dogs facing off. Neither of the previous Theta Dogs had lasted long enough to even start the Change.

  Knowing he was the exception, Rose grinned, not sure whether to be happy about his achievement. The way Kaiser had manhandled the others... maybe Rose would be lucky to get off with a broken forearm and dislocated shoulder.

  We’ll see how much Dog he really is, then.

  The cameras set up on the enlarged posts of the sparring cage whirred, capturing the fight from every conceivable angle. Donovan had a ringside seat, and he was happy in the knowledge that if he missed anything, he’d be able to play it back later, in full color, full stereo sound.

  Grunting in pain, Theta Rose dropped to all fours and made himself change. The pain was something new this time, a red agony that resounded in his broken bone and loose shoulder joint. As he’d hoped, the radical movement of bones and tissues inside his body had snapped the limb into place, and the increased flow of hormones and everything else had kick-started his healing processes.

  He rose to his full, shaggy height, his yellow eyes glistening. Rose glared at Kaiser, who had yet to change. Snapping his teeth and chuffing, Rose moved carefully to the side. He feinted in and then back, gauging Kaiser’s reaction to attacks in full Dog form.