“Sit, honey,” Erik advised. He located a space to set up his tent. Robert erected his in record time and helped Erik raise his own.
Moraine wanted to relax but couldn’t. Past echoes of Afghanistan swept up to her. Ghosts not too eager to vanish from her mind lurked forward, reminding Moraine about the horrid results of unawareness in the field.
She enjoyed her old job at Lawrence Livermore Labs. The place presented her with a comfortable shell, easy to handle and hide.
Moraine abhorred visiting the malls and mingling with crowds. Her instincts always buzzed, alerting her to nonexistent car bombs and snipers. The current predicament became a waking nightmare, accompanied by false visions of ambushes from cute kids and teenagers.
Moraine squatted by a tree, keeping vigil on her environment. Below her Milpitas bloomed, lit by spotlights running on generators. The quake whipped California’s ass, and the dogs chances of finishing the state looked possible.
Robert eased next to Moraine. “What is it, Moraine?”
Moraine dropped onto her bottom. “I can’t sleep, Robert. If I did this alone...”
“Yea, I know we're slowing your progress.” Robert pulled out his cellphone and thumbed on the device. An amber glow showed against his eyebrows. “Those dogs are moving slow.”
“What do you mean?”
“Inhale, Moraine.”
Moraine inhaled, stiffened after noticing the fume of dog feces. She exhaled, a breeze arrived, sending dog musk her way. She admonished herself for missing the scent.
“They’re up there,” she whispered. Her heart pounded hard, eyes darting to where Erik worked.
Robert stowed his cell. “How close?”
Moraine prepared to check and halted. “We went up too far. They are hiding.”
Robert stood to a crouch. “What?”
“Take Erik and Casey below.” Moraine adjusted the sling on her rifle, flipped off the safety to fire. “Go,” she said in a tight whisper.
Robert headed for Erik. Their voices brushed against each other with urgency. Erik crept over to Moraine.
“Now, Moraine?”
“I have to see what is happening.”
“Why can’t they smell us?”
“We’re down wind.” She rubbernecked, hoping to confirm the enemy's whereabouts. “Grab the bags and follow Robert. I’m going up to investigate.”
Erik kissed Moraine on the lips and slipped away.
She waited for them to gather the rucks filled with ammo and food. Erik held a silent and curious Casey in his arms. Casey’s calm surprised her.
Moraine hiked up at a creeping pace. She ensured her steps landed on ground padded with dead leaves and not an errant branch. The dog odor strengthened as she climbed higher, stopped, and moved up again. At each pause she stared offset, not straight ahead. She expected slight movement from a dog, or a shadow not formed right against the blackness.
Moraine caught an engine’s distant roar. The rumble started with a low hum, building up as if powered by a diesel/Allison. Sweat broke her forehead. She laid flat on the damp grass. A howl rolled from above.
The dogs heard the same engine. A chorus of yips and yowls rippled overhead. The bushes rustled, small figures bounded between the oak trunks, stopping yards from where Moraine pitched their tents.
Moraine pressed herself against the earth, inhaling the wet green of leaves and moss. She hoped Erik used enough common sense to duck and avoid the truck. Headlights flooded the road where four tiny dogs hid in ambush.
Moraine’s mouth dried as more rustles emerged. To her front, several medium-sized objects slid across the vegetation in silence. They remained beyond her eyesight, but her ears picked up their stealthy moves.
The Hummer drew closer to where the dogs sat. Bright European headlights revealed the animals and threw a thin film against the tents. Residual light splashed against a partial white sneaker in the bush. Robert’s shoe melted from sight.
The dogs trotted out into the truck's path without a care, taking to their hind legs in a stand. The Hummer slowed to a stop. Dust swirled around the Hummer’s fat tires as the dogs danced, rolling, and swirling.
Moraine understood the trap. A door slammed on the Hummer as a huge man stepped out. He halted, observed the dog’s spinning. Frightened laughter erupted, adding an oddity to the absurd performance. A gruff and familiar tone yelled at the shotgunner to move the dogs.
The bulky figure approached the animated targets, drawing back a large boot, he kicked. A petite crack sounded, followed by a yelp. The dog hurled skyward, vanishing into the jumbled branches. The others paused for a second, seeming to consider their dance. They resumed their boogie with a rushed intensity.
The man punted again, another dog soared upwards, a furry soccer ball floating into the night. Weak whimpering rose a few feet from Moraine’s head. The things hidden in the bramble quickened their stride. The huge man stomped, smashing another dog to bloody mush.
“Hurry, Josh,” someone shouted from the Hummer.
Moraine sensed more familiarity from the voice and called name, a coincidence too coincidental. She refocused on the guy cocking his boot for another lethal punt. A wicked smile played over his face.
The first pit bull launched at his target, striking the man in the chest, forcing him from their dancing comrades. A pack charged from the thicket, crowding in on the two legged attacker who began stomping the pits. He screamed, and a shrilling voice joined him.
Casey.
19
Moraine jumped from cover, descending at a fast clip as Casey’s high-pitched voice cracked above the big guy swarming with pit bulls. He resembled an antelope overtaken by hyenas.
Erik burst from the clustered vegetation, eyes wide and shiny. Robert ran for the Hummer. Moraine descended in leaps and bounds, snatched her husband’s bicep and continued moving.
“To the Hummer?” Erik gripped Casey tighter.
Moraine took in the embattled giant's fruitless fight against the pit bulls. His meaty fists thrashed the canines with no effect. His face transformed into a bloody sheet of raw meat.
Moraine recognized the swollen belly, the thin stork legs.
“Yes,” Moraine answered. Erik dashed for the military truck.
Moraine retrieved the ammo ruck off the ground, threw the load over a shoulder. She made out Robert opening the Hummer’s passenger door and entering. The driver revved the engine, the front tires spun, blanketing the scene in thick dust clouds.
Erik paused as the Hummer slammed into reverse, fleeing the boiling chaos. He turned to Moraine for help. Casey screamed, her alarming call resembled a klaxon.
Moraine yanked Erik by the belt buckle. She sprinted for the ledge without considering its steepness. Her priority, escaping the madness.
Moraine chanted a Buddhist prayer and shoved Erik while locking eyes with her daughter’s own drowned in fear. The two vanished beyond her sight and into the abyss.
Moraine leaped. Her heart beating a frantic rhythm. Fearsome growls sounded as blood-wetted flesh tore. The man’s screams garbled into an abysmal moan as her boots kicked above emptiness.
Moraine landed awkward. Air blew from her lungs. She became a tangled tumble. Brush crashed against her rolling frame. Her rifle butt bashed against her chin and forehead. Her mind rested on Casey and Erik as she accepted her fate, rag dolling into darkness. A huge bush stopped her momentum.
Moraine’s body ached, her long limbs trembled. She forced herself to stand, driving pass the pain. Her wounds didn't matter. Her reflexes fired with uncanny speed. No longer did she tromp through California. Moraine pictured herself in a combat zone. Her mission delayed.
She found the first pack and hauled it on and untangled her twisted weapon strap. She controlled her scrambling thoughts with effort and started her desperate search for her family. Her head swiveled until she saw a cheek smeared with blood.
Moraine limped to Casey. Tiny scratches lined the toddler’s cheeks. She leane
d over, placing the girl’s puckered lips against her ear. Casey breathed in weak puffs. Erik, standing against a tree trunk, held her with a half-mast gaze.
“Up, Erik,” she shouted. “We got to move, baby. Up and on your feet.”
Erik’s eyeballs scrambled, fighting to focus on Moraine as he stood and staggered ahead.
Moraine grabbed the bruised Erik by his tattered jacket and dragged. They trudged for the lights not far away. Silence dropped from where the man engaged the dogs.
Moraine battled the rising sickness in her stomach. She wanted to sit and sleep but pushed on while cradling Casey and pulling Erik along.
Her skull swooned, and she vomited. Moraine stumbled to her knees with Casey. Erik grunted, falling beside her. From above tumbled distant howls. She placed Casey next to Erik. The girl flopped on her side and Moraine hoped nothing too delicate broke inside her daughter.
With quick fingers Moraine clicked on her M4 green laser and swept the barrel towards the dense bramble. Several commanding barks erupted, and the noise ceased.
Moraine kept her position, her breathing hard. Hurt and trembling, she held her breath for steadiness. Erik and Casey remained still, puffing breaths as the night creatures resumed their chirps.
She needed to unfreeze herself and get going. With teeth clenched, Moraine climbed to her feet. Pain blared up her ribs. She clamped down on her lower lip, stifling her scream. She hung her rifle, pulled on Erik, and slapped him.
Erik’s head rocked back. His eyelids fluttered and for a moment she wondered if he suffered a broken neck. Too late now, and she struck him again. His eyes opened, anger rose behind the dull stare. She lifted her hand to deliver another blow.
“I got it,” he said. He fought the words from his mouth.
“Then wake up.”
Erik stared at Casey, tears streamed from his weary browns as he scooped her up.
Moraine held onto Erik’s shirt. She walked and Erik followed with slow painful steps. She couldn’t carry him, and she preferred Erik in the present and not drifting into unconsciousness.
They emerged from the woods akin to zombies confronting soldiers. The aroma of food drifted to her nostrils and voices reached her ears. Someone spotted them and called for the medics.
Moraine worried about her loves. Unseen hands removed her backpack and rifle. She sensed her world turn as if raised and laid upon a soft bed. She struggled to stay alert. A pinch pricked her forearm. Moraine slid into a deep blackness, and the dark came warm and sweet.
20
Akiko woke from her nightmares shrouded in darkness. Barks and growls sent the surrounding children into a crying frenzy. She pushed herself up from the earth, alerted by their dismal calls.
The German shepherds maintained their security vigil over the young captives as other dogs hashed out a new problem they faced. From below arose an engine’s incredible roar. Hope of rescue entered her heart.
“Stay calm,” she said to the bawling babies.
Akiko’s encouragement drew a growl from a snarling German shepherd. Dim moonlight glowed against his yellowing teeth.
She dismissed the beast and pressed her warm palms against tear damp faces. This comforting act originated from her mother. And sure enough, the children’s wails became muffled sniffles.
Akiko did her best to pay attention to the action. A team of pit bulls raced off into the night. Black and White waited on their commanding perch, generals viewing the battlefield.
Akiko forced herself into an uneasy quiet. She brushed a soothing hand against a girl’s forehead. The youngsters gathered themselves in a tighter knot. Their glassy eyes focused on her for comfort.
Akiko’s belly gurgled. Hunger pains harassed her with sharp stabs. She hugged her midsection, doubled over for a few seconds until the achy emptiness subsided. The captured went a day without food and water. Four succumbed, eaten before their last breaths escaped their bodies.
She stilled herself, curious. A mangy row of dogs dominated the hill’s crest, witnessing the events play out beneath their gazes. Human shouts echoed off the pines. Molly the schnauzer cried.
A scream rushed from below and the engine roared again. Soon the entire mass descended the slope except for the German shepherds. Twenty minutes passed before everyone returned. Akiko assumed someone died.
A Saint Bernard trudged over the rise with a furry thing clamped in its jaws, two others trailed him with their own hairy item locked in their sloppy jowls. The dogs resigned their deceased comrades into pre-dug graves. A hush pervaded the canine army. The white collie yowled in soulful warbles.
Akiko shivered from how the white collie conducted a service for the fallen. Molly joined the somber ceremony, letting out a long sorrowful howl as bulldogs shoveled dirt over the deposited departed.
After the burial rites, White padded to the hole crammed with children. He studied each child. Akiko imagined him picking the fattest kid to eat. He neared Akiko, brushing his moist nose against her cheek. He then nudged her arm.
Akiko stood in increments, fingers splayed. Another shiver danced through her body. She cautioned herself not to make a sudden move. Although no dog growled at her, they watched her with intent, ready to rip her apart if she moved too fast.
White gazed at Black and barked again in quick succession. Black appeared to agree with whatever plans the two concocted. This time the tiny dog with the pink collar appeared, yapping at Akiko. The dog took two steps back, stopped, and yapped again.
Akiko got the hint. They wanted her to follow. She stepped forward until a small boy wrapped his arms around her calf. “I’ll return,” she said in an easy whisper while fighting the awful tremble in her voice. “It’s okay.”
The boy stared at her. He nodded his grimy face tracked with tears and let her go.
Akiko wondered if she could kill the little dog and escape. As the thought slipped through her mind, two powerful Rottweilers lumbered up to either side. They panted hard, starring at Akiko, their expressions resembled bored county clerks. Her thoughts on escape evaporated.
Molly yapped again and bounced forward twice.
Akiko took a breath. The dogs understood she posed no danger. Molly kept bounding ahead and Akiko followed with the Rotties on either side. She worked her way down the hill careful not to trip.
Molly stopped at two tents and two backpacks stuffed full.
Akiko dared a glance to her left. On the road she spotted crimson in a big splash, akin to a gruesome water balloon fight where the combatants traded blood for water. Her stomach did its twist. She fought back the dry heaves. Nothing filled her stomach anymore but air and digestive fluids.
A liquid burn crested her throat. The Rottweiler on her right approached. With an uncanny gentleness the dog seized her left hand in his big wet mouth and pulled her along behind the tiny dog.
Once the group stopped at the two tents, the dog released her and sat on his haunches along with its muscled twin. The tiny dog yapped and approached the two backpacks. Molly rested her forepaws on a bulky pack. She dropped, spun in a quick circle and placed her forepaws on the bag again.
Akiko nodded, as if the dog understood her movements. She remained silent while grabbing both backpack straps. Molly did a two-legged dance, turned, and scampered up the hill.
Akiko pulled the bags, taking one slow step at a time. Yaps came from the hilltop. Both Rottweilers grabbed a strap on each bag, dug their rear paws into the ground and pulled. This helped Akiko drag the bags along until she reached the hilltop.
Akiko, exhausted, let the straps fall. She stumbled to the other children and sat, her lungs and thighs burning from the steep climb. She wanted to cry again.
Molly barked and turned to the bags.
Akiko found her legs too sore to get up and walk. She crawled on hands and knees. Rapt silence held the pack as she reached the first backpack. She loosened the securing straps, turned up the flap, and watched several cans roll out.
“Food,” Akiko said whi
le gazing at cans of pork and beans, corned beef hash, and canned tuna. Akiko unstrapped the other bag. Water bottles, more canned tuna, Tapatio Hot Sauce, and other food items packed the backpack.
She slid her hands into the backpack, searched its soft folds. Her fingers touched two familiar objects. One watered her mouth. The other made her shake. She plucked out a can opener and left the gun tucked inside its pouch.
Akiko took a deep breath. She snagged the pork and beans first. “Bush’s beans,” she said. The kids eased towards her, mouths agape, a girl moaned in anticipation.
She set the can opener on the can and rolled the knob. The dogs didn’t move as Akiko breached the can. She dipped her hand into a bag, removed a bowl and shook out the pork and beans into its hollow.
The ravenous children attacked with dirty fingers. Their voices hushed, mindful of the dogs as they ate. Akiko handed out water bottles.
Molly trotted up to Akiko and sat. The tiny dog licked her chops as the children feasted. Black and White, riveted by the unfolding scene, restrained themselves from leaping at the meal. Black turned to White and produced a low bark.
Akiko opened a few more cans, a mixture of corned beef and stew. She dumped the meat into another bowl and on the ground for Molly. Molly dipped her head, taking a few bites of the corned beef.
Akiko reached towards the meat with two fingers and scooped a glob into her mouth. She ignored the lumpy yellow grease and ate slow, fighting the temptation to gobble the food.
The hungry children behind her smacked and licked their grease slick fingers. Despite the grease, the meat mixed with potatoes agreed with her empty stomach. And she hated corned beef. Her deceased dad's favorite meal.
Molly stepped back, watching the event with the interest of a college student. Akiko hoped the dogs didn’t feed them for an ulterior purpose. Her dead mother’s voice rose within her, telling her to be careful.
Baxter’s War Page 7