Moraine snatched her rifle. “Look on my left, park near that red car and wait for us.” Moraine exited the cab and dashed off. She skimmed over a blue Honda’s hood, landing on her feet. “Pete, get in your cars.”
The crowd paused. Pete approached Moraine holding a hotdog on a stick. He stared at the Asian chick with the rifle.
“Pete, move,” Moraine shouted. The guitar player quit his strumming in mid-stride, throwing an awkward tune. “Dogs are coming.”
The first dog scrambled over a car. Nails scraped against metal, setting everyone’s teeth on edge.
“Everybody run.” Pete warned those nearest him.
Jenny spun, shot the beast off the hood. Twenty more poured into the encampment in a flood. Barks and howls raged.
Moraine’s heads up to the others arrived too late. Their bonfire signaled more canines to the fray. She worried over Jenny, her primary concern and sole source in stopping the current insanity. Within six strides she grabbed Jenny's lanky arm.
Dogs surrounded them, blocking their path of retreat. Moraine unhanded Jenny and both gunned down the four legged fiends. Back to back, they killed attacking canines tumbling over the parked cars.
The students, armed, untrained, and undisciplined fired their weapons as if afraid to pull the trigger. Several froze with glazed stares. The dogs overran their fear stiffened meals, dropping them for the kill. Blood pulsed from convulsing bodies as the animals ripped into their victims.
Moraine stayed focused on her task. As the dogs attacked in waves, she realized more waited beyond the barrier. Winning flew far from her mind, staying upright dominated how she handled herself.
The Unimog’s horn blared over the barking and screams. A metallic crash resounded and a pair of pig iron push bars exploded through the cars.
The Unimog stopped amidst the hectic battle. Robert popped up from the Unimog’s gunner’s roof. Firelight reflected against his glasses in amber and orange, sweat sheeted his face. He held a shotgun, firing and pumping. Flames spat from the barrel, dogs yowled.
Robert, half out the gunner’s roof, resembled an enraged ground squirrel. The campfire became immense, enhancing the truck’s black exterior. People and dogs plowed into the fire, fueling it into a larger tempest.
Their blackened forms struggled against each other until a fiery death stilled their limbs. Singed fur and flesh unleashed a noisome odor into the air.
Moraine whirred left, a canine leaped up, clamping its fangs onto her left forearm, another dog gripped her right ankle.
Jenny acted, butt stroking the ankle biter's back until a dull snap erupted. The furious and furry creature rolled over, legs kicking until Jenny shot it.
Moraine tossed the forearm dog to the ground. She planted her knee into its ribs, trapping the canine beneath her.
A glint flitted her peripheral. Jenny knelt and jammed a knife into the beast’s neck. The scientist screamed and stabbed again until the canine’s mouth opened, releasing its dying hold on Moraine.
Moraine took a chance to steal a glance at Pete. The young man rallied a few students and led the group towards a Ram truck. Keys sparkled in his grip as he raced around the bonfire filled with burning bodies.
Moraine shoved Jenny, and both darted for the Unimog. Robert swung open the rear door, urging them inside. Breathless, they clamored into the rumbling truck shutting the cargo door.
Robert didn’t exchange words. In silence he got the Unimog going, plowing through the barricade’s opposite side. The truck swerved for a few seconds until Robert regained control. He drove a straight line with no headlights into the blackness.
Moraine flexed her right hand. The big dog’s fangs failed to penetrated the thick leather on her motorcycle jacket. Its bite, a powerful bone breaker, caused her forearm to ache. She faced Jenny who’s eyes riveted on the truck’s window pulling from the intense clash.
Moraine assumed guilt swam inside her for helping create Black and White. Regardless, Moraine let Jenny contemplate her second skirmish alone.
Moraine pulled off the cumbersome motorcycle jacket. She climbed to the passenger seat, needing to calm her nerves and stay aware.
Robert weaved his way through abandoned cars on the freeway. “We’re being followed,” he said while stealing glances at his driver’s side mirror.
Moraine shifted to the right mirror. She spotted three sets of trailing headlights. The weaving drivers tried to keep up with the Unimog. She deemed her responsibilities enough and cared little to oversee anyone else at the moment.
Moraine poked a button for the Unimog’s interior light. She inspected her forearm. Red indents trailed her skin. She counted ten curved teeth marks lined over her arm, five on each side. She rubbed the sore spot and gazed out at San Jose.
Muted fires glowed red against the darkness. Buildings burned. The residents, she surmised, hid in every crack and crevice they could find. She knew a few dogs remained loyal to their masters, just a few. Her thoughts settled on Casey.
“What is the fastest way to Los Angeles, Robert?”
“Highway one,” Robert said as he exited the 680 onto Highway 101 south.
Moraine managed a weak grin. “Blood Alley ahead, Robert.”
Robert angled his chin, hit the headlights on the truck. “Is Jenny okay?”
Moraine glanced behind her. Jenny sat on the Unimog’s floor. Knees up with arms crossed over them and head tucked. “She’ll be fine, Robert.”
“What made her do that? I mean jump out and try to save those kids.”
Moraine shrugged. “We do weird shit under stress. You slept.”
Robert nodded. “That I did. I wasn’t tired. Sleep was my escape.”
Moraine placed two fingers against her broken nose, pressed them along the damaged cartilage. Pain spiked, traveling up her forehead. “It’s ruined. I will never be a Vogue model.”
Robert laughed. Before him the road looked free of heavy traffic. “You’re a strong woman, Moraine.”
Moraine didn’t respond. Her peaceful world turned violent too fast. What bothered her the most, she functioned, relishing the frantic high paced madness and ferocity. The deaths, the killings, the chaos, melded into her and she used the pandemonium as fuel to fight.
Her service in Delta Force taught her the combat zone is normal for soldiers. The clean, sterile world belonging to civilian life killed faster than a terrorist's bullet. Her high tolerance for pain and grief overrode the civilian’s thrown into what she considered a domestic conflict.
“How do you do it?”
Moraine reached up and switched off the overhead light. “I relish this madness.”
“You what?”
“You’d think me crazy.”
“But you were a soldier once. So I can get your direction.”
“Yes, with a purpose much higher than watching over altered dogs and arrogant scientists who only wounds may have been paper cuts and blisters from spilling hot coffee on themselves.”
“You dislike the educated, Moraine?”
Moraine turned to stare at Robert. Her eyes refracted the green and red lights from the Unimog’s panel. “I have a masters degree in English. I abhor the arrogance from untested people.”
“Education is a test.”
“Maybe, Robert. But now you’re fighting to stay alive with direct threats trying to kill you.”
“I can't argue with that, Moraine.”
Moraine snuggled her head against the backrest and closed her eyelids. “Wake me when the shooting starts.”
39
Black enjoyed the darkness. He sat under the thick branches of a tremendous oak with bright stars splashed above his head. Tree branches stretched out, pleading hands asking for unknown wishes. Leaves swayed from a gentle breeze as fireflies flashed their lime colored glow against the night air.
White came and lodged himself next to Black, followed by the pit bull Romulus, the Golden Retriever Alexander, the Chihuahua Alvito, and the Rottweiler Draco. The dogs
formed a perfect circle, their silence broken by their panting breaths, or a tail swish. As they waited, children approached the center, placing twigs into a cone-shaped pile.
Akiko emerged from the darkness, entered the perimeter of dogs with a supplicant's mien. She knelt, flicking a lighter until blue flames sparked. She set the flame against the jumbled wood, and everything went up in a whoosh. Akiko nodded towards Black and White each before stepping out the circle and into the darkness.
The dogs lost themselves in the crackling flames shifting in amber and burnt orange. Heat poured off the fire, enveloping them with comfortable warmth. Each canine waded in their own thoughts, a fresh understanding pushed upon them by Black and White.
Black savored the fire. He sensed freedom with the ability to think on his own without humans giving him simple orders reserved for apes. His stomach growled as food entered his mind.
The same children returned with several silver bowls heaped with dog food and drinking water. They set the bowls before each dog with care, and as they arrived in silence, in silence they dispersed, waiting close by to serve their betters.
Black dug in, eating fast, self-conscious of how he worked his jowls, and the sheepish selfish glances he displayed. The feast noises introduced an awareness he could never shake. The pack lived as canines. Neither dog could open a can, cook food, drive cars, or write books.
At least he no longer dined on human flesh although he admitted to its honeyed flavor. But humans carried too many diseases to eat without the worry of contracting a lethal pathogen.
White delivered a short bark. The others paused from their meal. “This meeting has a higher purpose than eating fancy dog food.”
Black swept his eyes over the members. “It is to create a council to decide on our activities.”
White’s tongue flicked from his mouth, swiping food remnants away from his muzzle. “The younger humans have proven trainable. As you can see, they feed us.”
“Through constant fear, White,” Romulus said. “We do not want them to rebel and kill us.”
“Our numbers are too big for them to think of attacking, Romulus. I thank you and your soldiers for the jobs you have performed, for the sacrifices made to get us this far.”
Romulus bowed his large head. “You have awakened me. And I do not mean to speak for the others, but we thank you for blessing us with enlightenment.”
“But we still eat like mongrels,” Black said. He didn’t intend for the words to come so harsh. “I believe we can do more to distance ourselves further from the human leash.”
White’s teeth shown, they glowed yellow against the flames, similar to a human grin. “Oh, Black. I know you strive to go beyond the four paws and wagging tail. But we have our limits.”
Black lapped clean water from a bowl, enjoying its freshness. He detected no poison. “Imagination can only limit us.”
White huffed, the closest he could get to an audible sigh. “We start this meeting with thanks for our ability to rule and conquer. But, we must think beyond the machinations of a stray pack.”
Alexander, who sat majestic, slid his bowl forward with a right paw. “You suggest we learn as humans?”
“We focus on what makes them great, feared, loved…”
“… and hated,” Draco said.
Black gazed at Alexander with his yellow coat glowing from the comforting blaze. Despite their journey, including the blood and the dust, his fur remained immaculate. He maintained a team of human children grooming him throughout the march.
“What do you ask, Alexander,” Black said.
“We should drop the word dog. It’s a low name, base, and vile. It brings images of rolling onto one's back, tongue lolling out, taking shits in yards with dumb looks on our faces. We are beyond that now.”
Romulus looked around at the crowd. “I still think it is okay to hump fire hydrants from time to time, Alexander.” This brought howls and yaps of laughter from the circle.
Black relished the warmth of his comrades. “I agree, Alexander. We will no longer use the word dog. We will call ourselves Canines.”
“Canine is a more civil word, Black,” Alexander said. “The humans say dog in hated tones, as if we are beneath them.”
“Same as the word, nigger,” Draco said. “Someone called my master that once. He ordered me to attack, and I did so with relish.”
White took a hearty bite from his silver bowl. “It’s settled, Canine, with a capital C.”
Black wished to venture into another matter. A delicate topic focused more on power than the mere name-calling. “Should there be a vote on matters?”
The group fell silent.
White fixed his head inches above his silver bowl. The fire reflected light from the bowl and White’s obsidian eyes. Both glittered on its surface and revealed no emotion.
“Power,” White said. “A heavy word.”
Black steadied his gaze upon White. “I believe it’s a word we should hash out amongst us, the Cadre.”
The other dogs kept their peace. Fire crackled and popped, fragrant wood smoke snaked in white tendrils towards the sky. Embers floated into the air akin to tiny souls escaping dead bodies.
White sniffed his food. “Power and the Cadre.”
Black’s stomach trembled, not in fear, but White’s sudden ambivalence to discuss a subject he deemed important. “We will share power. Even the president of this country shares power. It is difficult not to do so.”
White climbed to his fours paws and padded out to the fire. He stopped to consider the hot flames before pacing akin to a college professor contemplating words he wished not to repeat.
White’s mouth opened. “Power must stay between me and you my friend.” He turned to Black. “Don’t you agree?”
“I don’t agree. We could make mistakes, others are necessary to protect us from ourselves.”
White sneezed. “The humans gave us intelligence to use any way we please. Fate placed us here. So the line both starts and stops with me and you.”
“I disagree,” Black said. “The Cadre corrects…”
“… the chips will correct us.”
“Chips made by human hands, loaded with human philosophies and errors, that have killed millions.”
White snarled, his black edged lips crinkling, eyes narrowed, glittering red from the firelight. “The Damascus Chips perfected us, Black. Do not forget.”
Black rose with tension rippling underneath his shaggy coat. “We need balance. We are not the absolute authorities on our actions. How do we know if we used Hitler’s or Pol Pot’s tactics?”
White approached Black, their noses an inch apart. “What of it? We make sure their mistakes stay with them.”
Black stood his ground, unflinching. The others sat, gaping in awe at the two powerful Canines. “The Cadre will maintain a balance. That march is one example of power gone wrong. We lost too many, White.”
White stared at the others, and they stared back. “Then the Cadre stands, Black.”
Black returned to his near empty bowl and sat. “What will happen if one of us dies, or both?”
White showed Black is back, circled his bowl three times before sitting. He ate for a few seconds. “Let’s hope that does not happen.”
Black stared at his friend. He then looked at the flames. Alexander gave Black a slight head shake, imperceptible.
Black realized he and White exercised separate styles. White wanted the world, but washed in blood. Too much blood might get them killed and fracture their power. Black lay his head on the ground. Soon he drifted off into a sleep filled with screams.
40
Erik’s personal comfort became an irrelevant notion. The frigid night ached his joints. He held Casey against his skin to keep her warm. An hour ago, children arrived from the gloom and handed the captives military MREs, one for each family.
They dined on turkey meat and crackers. At first Casey refused the food given to them by the spooky kids walking amongst t
he dogs. She soon ate and afterwards cried until her eyes fluttered close.
An older girl appeared, the one who told them to stay calm. She gave him a military blanket. He lay on the grass near a tree along with a few others. The big man from earlier sat in his own spot, not quite clean from the defilement of the dogs.
Erik tried to name the stars scattered above him in the velvet sky. He failed. His thoughts seized up in exhaustion after the dogs displayed intelligence far beyond what he considered capable. The long march should have proven their uncanny ability, but he rejected the idea.
His strength didn’t run as deep as Moraine’s. God, she could walk through fire and still fight. For the moment his survival depended on keeping Casey alive and healthy.
After a few days with no shower, his body odor soured along with the others. The dogs appeared not to mind the collective stench. Their scent brought tears to his eyes, and he wondered if their own funk bothered them as much.
“You can’t sleep either?”
Erik turned to a husky black woman sitting crosslegged. His eyes glittered from the campfire where the Canine leaders yowled back and forth at each other. “No, I can’t sleep,” he said.
“What made the dogs do this?”
Erik lied. “Maybe the earthquake leaked a poisonous gas or something.”
The woman shook her head. “These dogs are smart,” she said. “My name is Gladys.” She reached over and took Erik’s hand.
“Erik,” he said. Casey groaned and snuggled closer against his chest.
“How she doing?”
“She’s okay. This here is Casey.”
Gladys scooted over and leaned her head against the tree trunk. “We don't obey dogs.”
“Nature’s revenge against humanity.”
“Is that how you see it? Hell, I was at the National Guard camp when this tiny dog announced himself with barking. After that, every dog in the dog park went wild. A slaughter followed.”
“Did you lose any family?”
“No. I was driving my way to Los Angeles from Oregon. The earthquake happened, and I ended up in Milpitas.”
Baxter’s War Page 15