21
When Captain Reynolds rounded the curve on the dirt road and discovered the dogs, he considered them funny. He wondered how sweet circus dogs escaped the circus. Then Josh “Dumpster” Dumbarton got closer. They found amusement in the dog’s spinning, whirling, and dancing on two legs.
Reynolds stopped his raucous laughter and remembered the mission. He wanted Black and White, and the roadside diversion slowed their plans. “Dumpster, get those mutts off the road.”
Josh kicked. His size fourteen boot snapped something in the first tiny dog. The other dogs paused their dance with ebony eyes glistening against the Hummer’s headlights as their partner vanished into the velvet blackness. The trio resumed their two-legged jig at a nervous pace. Josh struck again, sending a second rat-dog to its doom.
Josh stomped a third circus dog, sending it off to doggy heaven. A brace of pit bulls burst from the bushes in an unexpected rush. Josh fought with a fierceness, but the dogs downed him like an elephant on the Serengeti.
Reynolds shouted, snatched his rifle. Bill’s strong hand gripped his shoulder. “It’s Josh.”
Bill leaned to Reynolds’s ear. “They’ll kill you too.”
Reynolds made a pained expression. He dropped the rifle on the passenger seat, slammed the Hummer in reverse and jammed his boot onto the gas pedal. As the Hummer’s front tires churned the dust into a boil, someone leaped into the empty passenger seat.
Reynolds didn’t register surprise as Doctor Robert Carver thumped his soft ass into Josh’s seat. The big truck’s engine roared, lurching the vehicle backwards from the chaotic scene.
Reynolds clicked off the headlights and darkness swallowed the road. He spun the Hummer in a perfect one-eighty and negotiated the steep grade while gripping the steering wheel tight. He didn’t want to lose control of the truck.
He drove a mile, halted the Hummer, grabbed his rifle from Robert’s lap, and pressed the barrel against the doctor's head. “What the fuck?”
The two in the backseat remained silent, soft sniffles filled the Hummer’s cabin.
Captain Reynolds shoved the OICW harder against Robert’s head. “What the fuck was that, Doc? What you doing in the middle of nowhere?”
Robert lifted his shaking hands. Tears streamed his round brown face shimmering from the Hummer’s interior lights. “… not my fault.”
“Fuck it ain’t,” Reynolds said, pressing the barrel until a circle graced Robert’s forehead. “Why are you on this hill, Doc?”
Robert said, “I’m searching for the dogs.”
“Why?” Reynold’s said, narrowing his eyes.
Robert cleared his throat, his arms trembled. “To kill them.”
Bill reached forward and moved the gun barrel from Robert’s head with a gentle hand. The muzzle tattooed a bloody imprint against Robert's skin. Blood trailed a line from forehead to nose, dripping off at the tip.
Bill lowered his voice. “Robert, you don’t have the balls to come out here alone. Who came with you?”
Robert wiped the blood from his nose. He looked at his blood-smeared fingers. “Moraine Baxter, her husband and child,” he said in a distant tone. “I left them.”
Reynolds gazed off into the darkness. “Just three of you after those dogs?” He pointed a finger at the trail.
“We didn’t expect them to gather an army so fast.”
Bill hugged Dorothy. Her face hidden in her hands. “It’s ok, D.”
“It’s not ok,” Robert said. “Who sent you, Reynolds?”
“Jenny Chow.”
Robert studied the dark road. A long howl hit the night air joined by several thousand others. “She didn’t tell you? Give you details on the dogs.”
Bill gave Reynolds a quick look. “What? I know they’re dangerous. What else?”
Robert patted his wounds with a shirtsleeve. “We chipped the dogs.”
Reynolds stared at Robert in silence. “You’re not supposed to be talking.”
“Consider yourself informed, Captain Reynolds. Since I helped create them, I will tell your team.”
Dorothy's hands fell to her thighs. Tears streaked the sea-green mascara she wore. “The vet chipped my dog, and he’s no asshole?”
“Jenny altered the Damascus Chips for military use.”
“Shit,” Dorothy said
“They know every tactic of the Joint Special Operations Command, updated through satellites.”
Captain Reynolds opened the Hummer’s driver door and exited into the warm evening. “I can’t believe this. You talk as if you admire the fuckers.”
Robert cleaned his blood-encrusted hands against his pants. “I created the Damascus Chips, but Jenny Chow did the alteration. She rebuilt the collies for war, intending to dump them on our enemies.”
“What changed your mind,” Bill said.
“They brook loose during the quake. A Lab wall cracked, compromising the building.”
Captain Reynolds hauled his muscled bulk into the Hummer. “How do we stop them?”
“You kill them.”
“Well, we blew that?”
Robert mulled the question. He peered out the window at the lights in the distance. “We recruit an army.”
Bill nodded. “Ok. We go to Milpitas or San Jose. Find out if the National Guard is somewhere and destroy that canine army.”
Dorothy huffed. “Why are they on the hill, Robert?”
“Surveying,” Reynolds said.
Robert pursed his lips. “Milpitas, San Jose. Did you see the subdivision?”
Reynolds drummed his fingers on the dashboard. “No, we headed straight here, following the turd trail.”
“They killed everyone in the subdivision.”
Bill sat back and gave Robert a confused stare. “You evil nerdy motherfucker, Robert.”
“It’s not my fault. I told Moraine the same thing.”
Bill sucked his teeth. “I take it Moraine must be dead. She was a hard ass. You're responsible. You knew.”
“Yea,” Dorothy chimed.
Robert took a deep breath.
Reynolds closed the driver’s door. “I ought to kill you, Robert. We lost an excellent man. Josh shouldn’t have died.”
Robert side glanced Reynolds. “No one should die.”
Reynolds started the Hummer. “We’re going to Milpitas. We warn them.” He put the Hummer in drive, but before he stepped on the gas, he punched Robert’s temple. The doctor’s head careened off the glass, and he sagged unconscious in the seat.
Bill grunted. “We should kill him.”
“Not yet,” Dorothy said. “We’ll feed his black ass to the dogs, while alive.”
Captain Reynolds crossed himself and rested his foot on the brake. He glimpsed at the rearview mirror. “Time to come to Jesus, folks.”
Reynolds readjusted himself, looking at Bill and Dorothy. “I can drop you guys off at the Labs. Or, you can keep going.”
Dorothy smirked. “And miss the chance to meet my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ earlier than expected.”
Bill delivered a rough laugh. “Well. I’m not leaving you, Charles.”
Dorothy gave a lazy salute. “I’m with you assholes.” She hunched her shoulders.
Captain Reynolds turned and patted Robert on his cheek. “Let's get going. Rest easy Dumpster.”
22
Moraine woke with a headache joined by an iron and iodine tang in her mouth. A heaviness saturated her body, and she detected a distant ache smothered by drugs pumped into her veins. She breathed in air, filling her nostrils with the perfume of cooking food. Her ears picked up several voices and vehicle engines.
She bolted up too fast, causing her injuries to protest with a painful flash. A low groan crept from her lips. Hands touched her shoulders. Kisses caressed her cheek. Moraine sensed Erik nearby.
“What happened, Erik?”
Erik's warm breath brushed her ear. “You pushed us over a hill last night after the dogs attacked.”
Moraine
pressed a palm against her aching forehead. “Where’s Casey?”
“She’s sleeping, Moraine, and ok.”
Moraine focused on Erik’s brown eyes, a hard thing to do. Thin scrapes crusted with dried blood etched his face. His left arm sat in a sling. “I’m sorry, baby. I needed to get us off the hill.”
“It’s ok. We’re alive, you kept us alive.”
Moraine swept her feet off the cot and onto a plywood floor. “What’s the uniform outside the door?”
“National Guard,” Erik said.
“Did you warn them?”
Erik shook his head. “No. I told them we stepped off the road and fell.”
Moraine wanted to stand. Her world slid to the left, she blinked, forcing the dizziness away. “We need to warn them, Erik.”
“Let me check on Casey.”
Erik walked to their sleeping daughter. He sat on her cot, stroked her blond hair with his thin fingers. Casey’s eyes fluttered open, staring at Moraine from across the room.
Moraine’s stomach knotted, she hoped Casey didn’t lose her memory, the bitter medicinal bite worsened against her tongue.
Moraine eased off the cot, ignoring her complaining body and walked to Casey. “Casey, its mommy.”
“Mommy,” Casey said in a sleepy light voice. She rolled onto her back and outstretched her arms.
Moraine forced the tears away. Casey’s arms bore scratches and purple bruises. She slid her hands easy over the treated wounds, placing her fingers against the small lump on Casey’s forehead.
“Mommy didn't mean to hurt you, baby.” Moraine scooped Casey in her arms and held her as hot tears flowed from her eyes.
Casey twirled a finger in Moraine’s hair. “It's okay, mommy.”
Moraine hugged Casey tight. Casey wrapped her tiny arms around Moraine's neck and squeezed. Iodine and another antiseptic floated from her daughter’s skin. “Let me see.”
Moraine laid her onto the cot, raised Casey’s shirt. A bluish-red bruise spread three inches across her back.
Moraine pulled Casey’s shirt over the wound. Erik brought over Casey’s pink bunny. Casey grabbed the fluffy toy rabbit and squeezed tight while staring at her parents. A smile graced the girl’s impish face.
Erik kissed Casey on the forehead. “Can you find the general, Moraine? Or whoever is running this place.”
Moraine removed a wisp of hair from above Casey’s right eye. “I can. I don’t think they will believe me though.”
Erik hunched his shoulders. “It’s a try, Moraine. Better than nothing. No one knows those dogs are above us except for us.”
“And the dogs.” Moraine stood, her teeth clenched against the pain in her side.
“Bruised ribs the doctor said.”
“Yea. I’ll be back, Erik.” She approached the tent exit, the soldier next to her nodded.
“Good morning, Master Sergeant Baxter.”
Moraine closed her eyes, enjoying the afternoon sun’s warmth against her skin. “You guys ran a security check on me?”
“Yes we did,” he said while giving Moraine a toothy grin. “I’m your escort.”
“Even to the latrine.”
“Just the front door.”
“Where’s your boss?”
“Follow me, Master Sergeant.”
Moraine trailed the soldier through the crowd of civilians, soldiers, and army tents.
Earthquake victims stood in chow lines, and gathered at medical tents, and huddled in masses underneath canvas living quarters.
She glanced up the hill. Trees and heavy brush greeted her eyes with its thick green coat. The road where they came from remained beyond her line of sight. Her eyes darted back and forth hoping to find a small dog or two hidden amongst the bramble.
Nothing.
The soldier stopped at a larger tent where two armed guards stood. “Here you go, Master Sergeant Baxter.”
“Oliver,” Moraine said reading his name tag.
“Yes, Master Sergeant Baxter.”
“Can you keep an eye on my husband and daughter?”
“Will do.”
Moraine prepared to add words but changed her mind. She patted the soldier on his sturdy shoulder and walked into the tent’s cool innards.
Officers busied themselves with work, sitting behind computers perched on folding desks. A nostalgic emotion flitted through her. Strong black coffee brewed to her left. Used oil and sweat combined into a heady aroma purled off the tent canvas. Radio static crackled, melding the chatter into an incomprehensible hum.
The lax security amazed her. She passed by soldiers who didn’t look up from their work, no one acknowledged her.
“Master Sergeant Moraine Baxter.”
Moraine stopped and turned towards the voice. A huge man with two stars pinned to his uniform jacket’s center stood near a computer desk.
“General Lyons,” Moraine said while saluting.
The two-star general returned the salute. “The first female soldier in Delta Force. Follow me to my office, Master Sergeant.”
Moraine’s stomach tightened. She expected things to go wrong again. Yet she wondered if the dogs owned the balls to attack a military camp filled with armed soldiers. She figured Black and White spent the night weighing their options.
She followed the general around a few areas blocked off by large plywood boards and canvas until they reached a section closed off from everyone else.
General Lyons offered Moraine a seat in a folding chair. “I apologize for the accommodations. Since we’re in the field, the comforts are lacking. But, you’re used to this environment.”
Moraine slid a chair up to the desk and sat. The general sat, leaned forward and rested his hands onto the desktop.
“The guards found you at the bottom of the hill. What happened?”
Moraine realized the man wanted to chat. “My husband slipped and fell, I went after them, and here we are.”
General Lyons stood and approached a cooler. He pulled out two Corona beers, popped the tops on both and handed one to Moraine.
Moraine took the frosty beer. She waited for the general to sit before she placed her lips against the glass to drink.
General Lyons sipped his beer. He regarded her for an uncomfortable few seconds. “I don’t care for you. Do you know why?”
Moraine gapped into the bottle’s opening. A frigid fizz speckled the chilled Corona.
“Don’t waste the beer,” he ordered.
Moraine finished her beer and fondled the empty bottle for comfort's sake. “I'm the reason a few men died.”
“Killed by a goddamned eight-year-old.” He threw her a harsh stare. “General Sanders died because you drifted off at the gate.”
“I remembered how they died.” Moraine tossed the drained bottle into a stubby blue trash can reserved for recycled paper. “And thanks for patching up my family.”
General Lyons watched her rise. “Why are you so far from home? Armed the way you are.”
Moraine halted at the doorway. “Because there’s a problem parked up the hill.”
“What?”
Moraine contained her condescending sigh. “I worked at Livermore Labs as a security guard.”
General Lyons grunted. “Did they know your past life?”
“Yes. Can I continue?”
“Go.”
“This information is above your pay grade.” Moraine debated with divulging such delicate secrets. “I’m hunting two escaped experiments.”
“What experiments?” General Lyons reclined in his chair, kicking his clean boots atop the desk.
“Two dogs.”
“Are they infected with a plague?” He swung his feet onto the floor.
“No, General. These dogs are killers.”
“How many dogs again?”
“Two.”
General Lyons laughed. “You’re Gung-ho days are over, Master Sergeant Baxter.” The general rose. “We packed your rucks with food, topped off your ammo. You can go.
Don’t come here again.”
“I’m not leaving, General. And I don’t appreciate you questioning my integrity.”
“You have none, Baxter. I’m done talking to you.”
A soldier knocked on the flimsy plywood barrier.
“Enter,” General Lyons said.
“Sir, we have people here wanting to talk to you.”
“Who?”
“A group of civilians, Sir. They say it’s urgent.”
He waved his hand. The officer vanished around the corner and returned with the four who crowded the entranceway.
Moraine made a fist as anger flashed through her. Robert's face paled upon seeing her.
General Lyons set aside his beer and approached the group. “How may I help you?”
“Sir, I’m Captain Reynolds at Lawrence Livermore Labs. You’ve met Moraine Baxter.”
“I have,” the general said.
Captain Reynolds looked in disbelief at the guard. “Moraine, I’m glad you’re ok.”
“I’m ok, Captain Reynolds. I guess you bumped into Doctor Robert Carver.” She noticed the lump on Robert’s left temple. With haste she banished forgiveness for the coward who abandoned them to die.
Captain Reynolds gave Moraine a slow nod. “Did you tell the general?”
“I tried, but he thinks I’m lying.”
General Lyons interrupted. “What makes these two dogs so special, Captain?” He shot Moraine a short glance.
“Those dogs formed an army, General, and they are waiting to attack.”
“No one in any official capacity told me this.”
Moraine hunched her shoulders. “What the hell. General Lyons, Sir. You have a canine army in the hills above you. It’s a weapon’s experiment and they will attack soon. And I’m giving you the Cliff Notes version due to the security level.”
General Lyons sent off a nervous laugh. “Say if I believed you. How can dogs think on their own?”
Robert approached the general. “Here's my ID.”
General Lyons took the card and stared at the Livermore Labs tag for a long moment. He held the card up to the light. “Looks real,” he said and returned the card to Robert.
Robert tucked the card into his pants pocket. “It’s real. And, Moraine is right. A dog army is watching your camp. We had two experimental dogs escape the Labs.”
Baxter’s War Page 8