Akiko wanted to run, she mulled the idea. But on her east, a hill filled with eucalyptus and brush, hampered her escape. A sheer drop bordered her right, revealing small towns nestled at its bottom. Up ahead a few fallen trees covered their route, felled by the terrible earthquake. If she ran, the tykes might die without her.
Last week the town's dogs acted normal. After the black and white collies arrived, the local dogs turned on their owners.
Akiko concluded the smaller animals put on a display to catch the neighborhood off guard. And drop their guard they did, long enough for several pit bulls to attack. After the attack, the collies entered the subdivision, resembling conquerors.
Akiko hated the dog sporting the pink collar. A letter M dangled from the dog’s throat. She ached to kick the teeny animal’s ass. She knew the dogs understood what happened. How could the mutts not? Before the attack, Akiko told her mom the little dogs made her uncomfortable. Her mom said something, God sending them a sign He cared for them.
She stared at her dirty blue Nikes powdered in soil and blood. A five-year-old boy stumbled knees first to the ground, Akiko scooped the weak child up in her arms as a German shepherd readied to launch at the baby. Earlier, two dogs yanked an exhausted tyke into the foliage.
Akiko gave the dog a hard stare while holding the child against her chest. The boy gazed at Akiko with swollen eyes. Greenish-yellow snot clotted his face in a pitiful smear. He laid his head on her shoulder. She assumed the dogs kept them alive for food. She shook the potential nightmare away and continued up the path, weary and angry and missing her kin.
16
Captain Charles Reynolds couldn’t tolerate Jenny Chow when she became talkative. She ordered him to catch the dogs. He prepared to refuse until she sweetened the offer with a bonus. Soon, he realized she didn’t request his help for the public’s well being. Someone above her demanded the capture of the escaped experiments.
Jenny handed him the code for the Vault, a Level X room reserved for active military. The Vault contained prototype weapons and equipment still in its infancy. Only Special Forces or CIA got to play with the toys in the Vault.
Charles chose three team members for the outside mission. Most of their off-site assignments focused on VIP escorts from the airport, or a quick trip to L.A. to snag up scientists. Black and White fell in the shadow category. According to the Lawrence Livermore Labs procedure, the dogs never existed.
The earthquake rendered the elevator to the sub-level useless. With the shaft ripped in half, he tried the stairwell. His visit below spooked him with cracked steps and walls and random pools of dripping water. He calmed his worries and ventured underground.
A happy giddiness percolated through him. The big guy wore a smile as he descended into the semidarkness. He bounded the steps in ones and twos. Once at the secured door, he swiped his card. The door’s click surprised him. He figured nothing worked in the basement.
Filled with energy he arrived at a hall lit with amber emergency lighting. He removed a Leatherman from his pocket, slipped the multi-tool between the doorjamb by the floor as a prop. He stoked his gait with excitement, moving fast until he reached his destination.
Charles poked the keypad built into the wall. The keys flashed blue, and his prize waited on the other side of the sliding door.
Charles crossed the armory's threshold with a parted mouth. He owned an M4 rifle, but these caused him to salivate. Mounted on racks, they gleamed black and new from the overhead lights. With ease he guided his fingers over the futuristic looking tools of war.
Alone, he packed four olive hued bags with what he needed, including the tranquilizer gun and night vision goggles. Satisfied, he moved the entire load to the doorway.
Charles used his radio to contact his team. Within minutes three noisy and excited security guards dressed in black jumpsuits stepped out into the hallway.
Captain Charles Reynolds straightened, presenting himself with command presence. In the army he stayed in the green zone in Iraq working as an admin clerk. He experienced mortar fire, but he lounged inside the wire drinking coffee and getting blow jobs.
“The Vault,” Dorothy Jacobs announced. “How did you pull this, Boss?”
Charles maintained his sturdy face. “These duffles contain experimental weapons.”
He unzipped one. “Do you understand why you’re here?”
Josh Dumbarton, nicknamed Dumpster, shrugged. “Miss. Chow told us to ask you.”
“You’ve performed classified missions before, Josh?”
“I have.”
Bill McCabe settled his focus on Charles. “Be honest, Charlie. What gives with the fancy stuff?”
Charles admired McCabe's steadiness. “Our aim is to retrieve those dogs that fled yesterday.”
Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “What dogs?”
“Right,” Bill added. “I’m not too cool chasing after Black Ops projects. Our clearances don't even rate.”
Charles gave them a thumbs up. “For this high risk task, you're all elevated to Level X.”
Dorothy whistled low. “Since when?”
“An hour ago.” Charles studied his crew. They kept their heads up. He liked their boldness. “The overflowing toilets need watching. Or, go stand next to a scientist’s chemistry set while it’s oozing purple smoke. The choice is yours.”
Josh shoved his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. “I don’t want to do that.”
Charles nodded. “I know. Look at those guns. An OICW. These are Special Forces weapons.”
Bill hefted a rifle from the bag. “It’s heavy and boxy. A grenade launcher attachment, this spits out five point five six NATO rounds.” He peered through the scope.
“Night vision, laser targeting.” Bill tucked his chin against the bullpup stock.
Charles grabbed Bill’s shoulder. "Nice, huh?"
Bill lowered the weapon. “I’ll join you on this safari, Charles. But if shit gets too real, my ass is heading home.”
Dorothy gazed at the beefy rifle. “How long are we gone?”
“A week, maybe sooner.” Charles answered her question with confidence. “Josh, you're on the Winchester tranquilizer.”
Josh snatched up the rifle, now resembling a toy against his large frame. “Reminds me of my pea shooter when I was nine.”
Charles clapped. “Do I get a joint agreement?”
Dorothy smiled and picked up an OICW. “I’m with you.”
Bill slid open the GL tube and sniffed the chamber. “Yea. I will enjoy shooting this.”
“And you, Dumpster?”
“Yes. Motivated and pumped for the fight.”
“Calm yourselves. Let's pack our ride, and return home to beer and war stories.”
Eager to start their outing, they hauled their necessities up the stairs, dragging everything onto the loading dock occupied by eight Hummers and beefier armored trucks.
Charles pointed to the last Hummer parked close to the garage entrance. “Number sixteen is ours.”
The group maneuvered their stuffed duffles to the Hummer stenciled with Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory on both the driver and passenger sides.
After the team stowed their gear, Bill approached a red button near the vehicle entry and punched it. The garage motorized door scrolled upwards. As this occurred Jenny Chow made her way into the garage.
Charles thought Jenny done with them.
“Captain Reynolds,” Jenny said.
“Boss?” Charles wanted to depart. He glanced at his watch reading 15:04. “We’re ready.”
Jenny surveyed the busy people and the Hummer. “Spray paint those words.”
“What?” Charles cringed, he hoped to be on the road.
“Lawrence Livermore Labs.” Jenny aimed a thin finger at the doors. “This operation is secret, Captain.”
Charles winked at Bill. “Get black spray paint.” Bill rushed to search for a can. “What else?”
Jenny inspected the bags lodged in the Hummer's trunk
. “Oh, the XM29. Did you find the grenades?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Josh, grenades.”
“Twenty millimeter,” Jenny prompted in a faux whisper. Josh left the scene. Dorothy followed, taking the hint.
Jenny hummed a tune until they vanished to complete their separate tasks. She came up to Charles and encircled his waist with lithe arms. He hugged her, kissed her forehead. “Please be careful, Charlie.”
Charles hated to leave Jenny. “Consider those mutts bagged and tagged.”
Jenny canted her head. “We call them Combat Canines. Their code names are Black and White. They are dangerous and programmed to kill. But you must bring them back breathing. That's the important part.”
Charles thumbed tears from Jenny’s cheeks. “I’ll be fine.”
Jenny pursed her lips. Charles bent, giving Jenny a deep kiss. He savored the waning moment with her. With abruptness she pulled away.
“I'm going.” She dipped a hand into her lab coat, retrieving two radios. “Use these in case of trouble, Charlie.”
Charles's stomach tightened, he forced the emotion aside. “I will, baby.” He took the radios. Jenny turned and walked away, vanishing into the building.
Charles caught Bill coming around the corner, disguising what he saw. The man held up the cans.
Charles checked the fuel, engine fluids, and oil. Once finished, Josh and Dorothy lugged in a backpack bearing grenade bandoliers. They dumped the items into the Hummer’s rear compartment.
Together they painted over the company's name.
Charles paused with hands on hips. “We’ll return with our trophies alive or dead.”
After painting they piled into the Hummer. Charles climbed behind the wheel, started the truck and pulled out into the dying daylight washed in orange and reds.
17
Black saw elevated ground despite the growing darkness. He wagged his tail, a hated trait he yet controlled. The hill overlooked the dried out terrain below. Towns and a spread out city shimmered in the valley underneath a spring moon and dark sky. He faced the scouts returning from their reconnaissance.
“What do you think, White?”
“This is perfect. The position provides protection and an excellent line of sight.”
“I agree, Sir,” a pit pull named Romulus added. Dubbed a general, Romulus led pit bulls and Rottweilers into battle. Their strike against the subdivision tested their abilities.
“No hikers out for a walk this evening either.” White sniffed the dirt.
“Or they fled once seeing us,” Black said.
Their journey started off eventful, ebbing to a manageable low. Black savored the lull. The few hours allowed him to search the incredible enlightenment the humans gifted them. The chips offered a fresh perspective on his once constrained life.
No person ever owned him. The scientists cared for them, but kept a clinical distance he and White appreciated.
“General Romulus,” Black barked. Romulus bowed. “Set up camp on that hill.”
“Yes, Sir.” Romulus issued directives to a team of American Bulldogs to build a sturdy overnight bivouac.
“What of the children,” White said. “They are food or slaves.”
Black gazed at the disheveled urchins knotted together. Exhausted from the march, the youngsters collapsed on the dusty road, their grimy faces streaked with tears. He sensed no remorse for the troublemakers.
“Have the Huskies dig holes for the children to sleep.” Black pointed his snout at Molly. “You're my runner, Molly,” he said. “Call the labradors. I need to see them.”
Molly bounded off to do her duty.
A pair of mangy dogs cantered up to Black and White. Neither showed the proper greeting and locked stares with the collies.
“The problem?” White stiffened.
A bulky mutt with a dirty brown coat raised its head higher than Black and White. “The problem is you,” the dog growled out. “Why do you get to give orders? And why only to the pure breeds?”
Black blinked, surprised. He didn’t recognize one breed. He ordered the more capable dogs to perform their specific task. “I fail to comprehend your question?”
White snarled at the dog. “Who are you?”
“It’s okay, White,” Black interjected.
“No, Black. This is not a democracy. We order, and you do.”
The thin furred dog displayed a few yellowing fangs in a side mouthed snarl. “We are freezing and starving while we watch you prance about.”
White padded forward, his long nose inches from the raggedy speaker's. “In a few weeks more will have overgrown hair and die. We are liberating you from the human collar on your neck.”
“I’ve always been free to do as I please.”
Black yowled, doing his best to break the tension. “What do you do?” He eased ahead, hoping to end any arguments. “What do you know how to do?”
“We scavenged,” the noisy one's partner spoke.
Black considered this. “Scavengers. Were you any good?”
The speaker puffed up his chest. “Yes.”
“Is that your only talent?”
“Yes,” the first dog answered.
Black watched several Dobermans saunter into view. “What do you say, White? Should we forgive them?”
The first dog maintained his haughtiness. “Who wanted forgiveness?”
White's throat rattled. “Destroy them.”
The Dobermans moved fast before the duo put up a strong defense. Teeth gleamed dull against the high moon. Dust flowed up in thick clouds. Barks and yelps flooded the crowded landscape. The scuffle lasted five minutes, and once the Dobermans cleared a space, two broken and bloodied carcasses lay defeated.
“I gave them a chance, whether they asked is irrelevant.” Black held his gaze on their crumpled remnants.
White paced in a circle, soft powder sifted up from his paws. “This is a new era.” He howled loud enough for everyone to catch his message.
White modulated his tone so the entire pack, from the dullest mongrel to the brightest pedigree could understand him. “Black and I have rescued you from your bonds, both physical and soon mental. We are no longer pets, or objects of affection and abuse. Throw off your collars and declare your permanent freedom.”
Hundreds of dogs headed for the scene. Silence settled through the crowd. Even the captured children paused, absorbing what they accepted as incomprehensible barking. They knew something profound occurred.
White shifted to the deceased. “Don’t be them. Raise your minds. Seek a loftier calling than sniffing assess and licking balls. We are better than humans and mongrels.”
Black sauntered over to the lifeless fur covered husks. He lifted a leg and peed a rust colored stream upon their remains. Once done, he squatted his haunches and defecated. “They are not worthy of a hero’s burial. For they are lower than the dog catcher’s pointer.”
White looked up the hill packed with dogs. “We continue our path south to conquer every human city we meet. Now do your duties.”
Dogs scattered everywhere, resuming their assigned tasks. Three chocolate labs and one yellow approached Black and White with lowered heads. They rolled over onto their backs, allowing their superiors to tap their stomachs with gentle strokes.
White turned his back on the dead bodies and ascended the hill. Black followed, joined by the labs. The group continued until they found a place to rest.
Black stared at the sprawling city not too far from them. Larger than the housing development they attacked a few nights ago, he considered the place a possible boon for recruitment.
White rested himself on the grass. “Sit so we can chat.”
The dogs sat, gathering around White. Their eyes shown bright and eager, ready to absorb their master’s words.
White licked his jowls. “You will teach the others what I teach you. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” they yipped in unison.
“Good. Before we attack another
city, you four will conduct classes on recruiting.”
Black listened to the conversation as he climbed up a rock overseeing the land. The moon spun silver light, gleaming iridescent against the buildings. He enjoyed the freedom, the cool air, and the power he exercised over other dogs. He understood a few dissenters existed amongst the army. In fact he invited questions, but without the disrespect.
White completed his talk and released them. He neared Black. “Do you believe what I did to those two wrong?”
“No. They lacked respect in any form.”
“What a grand city below.”
“Yes,” Black stretched his aching limbs.
“Can we subjugate the humans, Black?”
“We can. Practicing with their young is a start. In the morning we shall hail our brothers and sisters within the cities.”
“If they refuse? I don’t want killing our own a habit. We are not the humans.”
Black focused on what appeared to be a camp below. “We’ll let them go, but kill the ones who fight to protect their masters.”
“That’s a wise choice. I’m glad we are now awake.”
Black narrowed his eyes. A chill passed through his body. “Their cruelty will be their destruction.”
18
High on a hill, Moraine found herself in dreadful awe at the scene spread out to her west. The sun, perched on the horizon, became a halved orange ball flooding the bay and its dreariness in a blood-red hue.
The Bay Bridge resembled a broken beast marred in tar. With its expansions collapsed into the dark water below, and cables snapped, the once majestic expanse appeared lost.
Sudden darkness fell upon the travelers. Moraine despised the current evening. Out in the open did not add to her comfort. The three adults and one child traveled along the dirt trail taken by the marching canine army.
Moraine, after a few more miles of hiking, choose a foliage ladened area to rest. She unloaded her gear on a sloping hillside. She studied the shadows drenching clumps of brush. In every crevice she thought something shifted. Her stomach tightened. Her imagination envisioned wild dogs lurking nearby.
Baxter’s War Page 6