by Snell, D. L.
There was dry laughter at this, and Ken smiled. He hadn’t expected to knock them dead anyhow.
A shape blocked the entrance to the hold. Ken turned and saw the hulking form there. “Mac?”
Kelly went halfway up the stairs. “Come on, I’ll guide you down. Hey!”
The bestial shape was gone, and Kelly with it. Ken ran to the stairs, shouting out.
He tripped over Kelly.
She lay prone in front of the door, breathing but playing dead. And as he fell, the god-awful smell hit him. One of his childhood friends had had this old dog, with maggots in its flesh where a foxtail had drilled a hole in its hide. This smell now was way worse.
Ken looked up at Mac and gasped.
The Alpha Dog stood on deck, powerful legs apart, claws extended, teeth bared in a feral show. But there was nothing of Mac in those eyes. Ken saw into the twin pits of black rage in Mac’s face and recoiled. The Dog was covered in oozing sores, and the wound on his side had opened, gaping horribly from being stretched during the Change.
“What is it?” a voice said from behind him, and Mac leapt. He cleared Ken’s body and collided with the wall of the sailboat.
“Get back!” Ken shouted. He swung his shotgun by the barrel, hoping to stun the Dog until he got ahold of himself. They couldn’t afford to have Mac either out of commission or out of his mind.
The shock of the impact vibrated all the way to Ken’s shoulders, and he looked, expecting to at least see the Alpha Dog staggered.
Instead, he found himself staring again into those empty black eyes.
The Dog threw back its head and howled, the sound of it carrying over the entire island.
Ken dove and grabbed Kelly, pushing her through the hatch and closing it. As he began to dog it shut, a fist the size of a frying pan collided with his side, and he went flying to the handrail.
“You have incoming,” Julius said over the radio.
Mac threw open the door to the hold and dove into the darkness below.
’
Hunt. Feed. Mate?
Movement in the hold excited the old Alpha Dog, his senses coming alive with the hunt. Figures scurried before him like mice fleeing a housecat. One of them struggled with a box by the door, flicking the light switch.
The rapidly dwindling cognitive centers in Mac’s brain registered that they’d disabled the lights to keep a low profile on the approach.
Snarling, he charged the one at the light switch, jumping and slashing. The man opened up from shoulder to hip, spilling hot blood and greasy entrails. Burying his snout in the open wound, Mac tore and pulled, nuzzling around for the best parts.
It all tasted the same to him.
Tasted... familiar.
Like...
Samson, he thought, but couldn’t remember why.
Didn’t care.
Three more people ran behind him, headed for the stairs. They were fast, and he only had time to snap his teeth at one, catching a tiny amount of flesh.
Grunting, he went back to his meal.
Kelly and two other women came out of the hold as Ken was rousing himself.
“He’s lost it!” Kelly said, winded. “Mac’s gone!”
She was answered by the heavy whump-whump-whump of the .50 cal they’d mounted on Julius’s fishing boat. Looking out, she saw the old man had powered away from the pier and was firing on a multitude of shaggy beasts, all running down the beach toward their sailboat, toward the sound of Mac’s howl.
“Oh, shit.” From her messenger bag, Kelly pulled out a double-handful of mason jars. “Give it to them!” she shouted.
Three of the jars went hurling overhead, arcing out into the night. One of them hit a Dog’s shoulder and bounced away, the other two landing on the rocky shore. When the glass and plastic broke, the gas fumes and potassium permanganate reacted, turning into little fireballs that shot iron nails everywhere.
If the Dogs even noticed, they didn’t show it.
One of the smaller Dogs went flying sideways as Julius’s skill with the .50 cal improved. Two of the smaller ones peeled off, heading for the water. And for Julius. The rest of them powered on toward the sailboat.
“Ken, get up!” Kelly yelled, and the door to the hold burst open. Mac stood there, covered in gore. Catching sight of Ken and Kelly, he stepped forward. Then he stopped, lifting his snout into the air. His head snapped around, and he saw the rest of the Dogs coming.
A growl born of frustration loosed itself from Mac’s chest, and he launched himself over the handrail into the ocean, just as five other Dogs came aboard. There was a loud splash, and he was gone.
Ken pointed his shotgun up, and it was swatted out of his hands. Contemptuously.
A scream cut through the night, and the lead Dog looked out over the water toward the fishing boat. A pair of howls came up and he gave an answering bark.
“Julius,” Ken whispered.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“KEN BISHOP,” Sigma 37 said. “Remove your shirt.” The Dog stood in front of a roaring fire, a pair of needlenose pliers in one hand and a sadistic smile on his face. Working as Kaiser’s Sigma had prepared him well for the Omega Dog’s eventual rule.
Squaring his shoulders, Ken returned the Dog’s glare and set his jaw out.
37 pulled a long piece of metal out of the fire. “Have it your way then. Hah. I should swap these around so they read BK.” With deft movements, he rearranged the entwined wire hangers so that the loose ends formed Ken’s initials. “If you don’t take your shirt off, I’ll put this on your face. See how much your lady friend likes you after that.”
Sigma 37 raised the brand, and Ken could feel the heat coming off the glowing metal.
“You’ve got until the count of... one.”
Resigned, Ken shrugged out of his long-sleeved flannel shirt and tee.
“Good idea,” Sigma 37 said. “Wouldn’t want to catch that Grizzly Adams on fire. Hold still. You’re going to feel a little pinch. And then it will burn like hell, hah.”
He jammed the glowing brand into Ken’s right shoulder, and the hiss of cooling metal and burning flesh wasn’t quite loud enough to cover the strangled sounds coming from Ken’s throat. His face went red, and sweat sprang from his forehead and chest. Droplets fell on the haft of the brand, sizzling.
“There we are. That wasn’t such a chore, now was it?”
Ken breathed fast, like a locomotive getting up to speed. “I’m going to make you eat one of those.”
“We live in the land of opportunity,” 37 said. “I’ll make sure the boss gives you yours. Next!”
Ken was herded off by the uniformed security force, who had taken to wearing balaclavas. He stared loathingly at the man, knowing that he himself couldn’t do this to survivors.
A familiar yell caught his ear, and he turned to see Jorge being pushed back and forth between a pair of shirtless steroid freaks with MORITURI TE SALUTAMUS tattooed across their backs.
Jorge looked terrible, like he had been through a blender, and Ken wondered whom he’d had to fight. He waved, whistling through his teeth to get Jorge’s attention. The Latino troublemaker saw it and waved back.
Kaiser also saw it.
Ken slowed his walk. “Hey, I know that guy,” he said to the security guard. “Come on, I just want to say hello.”
The guard prodded Ken with the barrel of his SPAS-12; the automatic shotgun was cold against Ken’s skin and he realized how hot he was.
The guard said, “Keep walking, dead man.”
“Just a minute, you shit.”
The black stock of the shotgun jabbed down, catching Ken on the shin. “I said move, dirt bag.”
Ken straightened, his blue eyes glaring into the guard’s. The shotgun came up under his chin.
“It’s okay,” Ken said. “I’m just remembering your eyes. For later.”
“You don’t have a later. Sit here.”
The guard pointed a black-gloved hand at a folding chair. Ken sat and w
as handcuffed to a handrail. The guard walked off, and Ken had nothing else to do but watch the gladiatorial matches as they unfolded in the sparring cage.
He saw Kelly, sitting quite a ways down from him, looking as if she might be ill as she stared down at her feet. He called her name, but she didn’t seem to hear him over the sound of the crowd.
A deathmatch had just ended, a vicious knife fight between a short, stocky Latino with MT branded into each shoulder, and a fatter curly-headed man branded with HA. The bigger man was down, bleeding out into the dirt. MT discarded his knife and stepped away.
The Dogs all yelled their approval. A fat man stood by the cage in a white coat, spattered with red. He was shifting from foot to foot and was wet, as if he had just showered. With him was a pair of thin nurses, one of each gender.
Meet the medical staff, Ken thought.
The masked guard opened the cage, and the fat, wet looking doctor, with a peculiar rolling gait, jogged to the bleeding man’s side. Ken couldn’t make sense of the way the physician moved.
A woman in black leather leaned forward in her seat behind Ken. “One time, he was too slow to see if the other guy could continue. One of the Sigma Dogs broke his shinbone.”
Ken looked back. “This is disgusting.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah. It’s also your life for the foreseeable future, so nut up.”
A guard came to get her, and she stood, holding out her wrist. He unlocked the handcuffs, and she slid her leather jacket off, revealing the initial S on her shoulder.
“Just one name?” Ken asked as the guard led her away.
“All I need, sugar.”
The nurses and heavy doctor dragged the curly-haired HA out of the arena, and the guard pushed the girl with only one name in to take HA’s place.
The Sigmas began to chant.
“Shay-NA! Shay-NA!”
Ken watched in horror as the girl, Shayna, raised her fists. The insides of both arms were bruised and covered in scabbed-over cuts.
The next one into the arena was a slightly older man, with a wrinkled forehead and a receding hairline. His shoulder bore a TS, and he must have flinched when they’d branded him, because the outline of the letters was warped and dragged out. The guard pushed TS in, and he fell to his knees.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Shayna kicked out, catching TS in the ribcage.
“Fuck you, Todd. You didn’t have a problem killing Scott. Try me, shithead.”
Something ugly peeked through Todd’s eyes. “You know how long I’ve worked in human resources?”
“Go to hell, that’s how long.” Shayna jumped, scissoring her legs, driving another kick into Todd’s ribcage as he stood. He staggered back, hands out to block the punches she threw next. He caught one of them, twisting her wrist. She gritted her teeth as the scabs split and blood ran down her forearm.
She brought a knee up, missing him entirely.
The Dogs gasped.
Then the leg came back down, catching the side of Todd’s knee.
“I knew it!” one of the guards yelled behind Ken. “Bitch don’t miss.”
Todd went down, losing his grip on Shayna. She tried to back away, but he flung himself from his knees, wrapping his arms around her hips. They fell to the ground, but he held on, and she pounded at his temples with the sides of her fists.
Todd let go and curled into a ball, wrapping his arms around his head. Shayna stood, and the cage door opened. One of the Sigma Dogs threw in a machete.
“Oh, shit,” Ken whispered.
Ignoring the blade, Shayna walked around Todd, kicking him over and over. He writhed with it, trying to avoid the blows, but she was too fast for him. Desperate, he swung out both legs and caught her ankles. Shayna fell.
Todd jumped up, hobbling for all he was worth toward the machete. Shayna was up right after him, limping on her left ankle. He grabbed the blade and turned, swinging. She leaned back and the machete whistled past her. Shayna’s hands shot out, catching Todd’s wrist, keeping the weapon at his off-side so that his arm was crossed over his body.
She brought up a deft elbow and nailed Todd’s nose. He dropped the machete into her waiting hand and staggered back. Shayna raised the blade.
“Kill! Kill!” the Dogs chanted.
Omega Kaiser stood, fist out, and the crowd stilled. Sneering, he put out his thumb and pointed it down.
“Sorry, Todd,” Shayna said. “Them’s the breaks.”
With a two-handed swipe, she opened the front of Todd’s neck and swayed back to avoid the spray. The Dogs went crazy, and the human crowd applauded, their eyes full of fear as they looked out through frozen, smiling faces.
The guard brought Shayna back to her seat and allowed her to put her jacket back on. “That’s how you make it through,” she said to Ken as she was being handcuffed to the handrail. “You want to live, you do it one minute at a time.”
Stepping forward to uncuff Ken, the guard grunted a laugh under his mask. “Listen to the girl, big boy. You’re next.”
He led Ken to the cage door as Todd’s corpse was being dragged out, leaving a bloody trail on the concrete.
With the end of his shotgun, the guard prodded Ken inside. Rolling his shoulders, the burly construction worker readied himself for whatever was next.
Another curly-haired man, obviously Todd’s brother, was being led to the cage. OA was burned into his shoulder.
Kaiser stood and shouted, “Halt!”
The guard stopped, and OA breathed a sigh of relief.
“The loudmouth one instead,” Kaiser ordered, and Ken’s stomach fell. “Since he failed to kill for us yesterday, let him fight his friend.”
Ken paced in the cage as the guard took OA back to the stands and retrieved Jorge. He could see his friend’s mouth moving the whole way to the cage, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Even now, Jorge was being an ass.
The guard pushed Jorge in and the gate slammed shut behind him. He looked into the stands and his face drained of all its humor. Marie was sitting next to Kaiser, her tear-streaked face looking down at him.
“Este perro malo,” Jorge said. “I’m going to kick his ass for this.”
“I’m not fighting you,” Ken announced. He turned to the stands. “I’m not fighting!”
“Fight or die!” Kaiser yelled back.
Ken shook his head.
Jorge took a step toward him. “Come on, bro. He’ll kill you. And me. And Marie, too.”
Crossing his arms, Ken shook his head again.
“Jesus Christ, you’re going to get us killed, for what? We fought before, vato. Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
Ken closed his eyes. His lips moved as if he were praying.
“Jorge!” Marie screamed from the stands. He looked, and Kaiser was holding her throat.
“Mama said knock you out,” Jorge said, and he lunged forward, burying his fist in Ken’s stomach. The bigger man doubled over, but stood back up fast. His face was red, but his eyes were still closed, his lips still moving.
“Ah, you pigheaded gringo maricón, do you want us dead?” He swung again, hooking a punch into his friend’s side. Ken stepped back, and his hands came down, but his eyes stayed shut.
“Shit!” Jorge yelled, hitting him again. “All those times I took the blame for something you did, and this is how you repay me?” He hit Ken again in the stomach. “Remember when you bashed up her Mustang? Divorce wasn’t even final yet, and not only that, but you steal her dog! And you make me hide it?!” He hit Ken again, then kicked him in the shins.
Ken wasn’t budging. His eyes were still closed. Jorge swung and hit him in the face.
“You said I was drunk!”
Eyes flying open, Ken stepped back. “You were drunk!”
Jorge flew forward. “But I didn’t steal the dog!” He hit Ken again, connecting on the side of his neck. Ken staggered back, and Jorge kicked him in the crotch.
The Dogs were laughing, yelling
, enjoying the show. Kaiser had let go of Marie’s neck and was sitting back, a bright and sunny smile on his face.
Jorge bowed and Ken tackled him to the ground.
“Goddammit, Jorge! I’m not going to fight you!”
Jorge laughed as they grappled. “What are we doing now?”
He rolled, straining to the left, but Ken fought him down. Jorge tried again, then again, and when Ken pushed back for the third time, Jorge switched his pressure and rolled them on the ground.
“This is getting boring,” Kaiser said. “37! Make it interesting again.”
Sigma 37 got up and ran to a trashcan full of weapons. He tossed aside someone’s old prosthetic hook and then reached in again and pulled out a Bowie knife. “This ought to do it.”
The other Dogs roared as they saw the blade, and Sigma 37 opened the cage door.
“Bring me the other girlfriend,” Kaiser said to the guard. “Maybe the big one needs an incentive, too.”
The guard ran over and uncuffed Kelly, who looked up at him with completely red eyes.
“What?” he said, and she started bleeding from everywhere. Hemorrhaging, shaking, she flung out her arms. The handcuffs dangling from her wrist caught the guard across the eyes and he fell.
Kelly shook, bleeding from her pores, her eyes, her nose, her ears. Her quick, jittery movements flung red droplets everywhere. In people’s faces. In people’s mouths. And then suddenly she stopped.
The crowd around her tried to get away and wipe off the blood that had gotten on them, but some of them were handcuffed to the handrail and couldn’t go anywhere.
Kelly’s head snapped up, and she hissed.
“What the hell is that?” Kaiser yelled.
Kelly leapt at the guard, knocking his hands out of the way and clamping her teeth down on his face. She yanked back, pulling the balaclava away. Red immediately began to run; it wasn’t just cloth pulling away from his cheek.
Screams rang out, and Kelly stood, running from person to person, sinking her nails and teeth into each one, tearing out throats and eyeballs. Those who tried to run fell first; those who tried to fight back failed.