Baxter’s War

by A. L. Roberts

  Erik stared off in the distance. The campfire glowed amber. A child sat near the flames. Every few minutes he tossed a branch into the fire. Several low humps surrounded the burning glow, enjoying the warmth. Dogs, he surmised.

  “I’m surprised at how they control the children.”

  Gladys made a noise in her throat. Half laugh, half grunt. “Sad and freaky as Hell. Akiko, her name is Akiko. Poor babies. Do you think they can control the adults?”

  “They might try. They humiliated the big guy.”

  “Humiliated? They dominated that boy. Told him who’s the boss.” Gladys laughed, not loud, but enough to draw a growl from a dog. “Go hump your momma,” she whispered.

  Erik smiled, but controlled the outburst his lips wanted to deliver. “How do you keep your sanity?”

  Gladys fell silent. “It’s hard. My brain isn’t wrapping around this dog running the show stuff. If I can only take my shoe and whip sense into them. How you holding?”

  “I’m doing ok. My girl is keeping me going, my wife is out there somewhere looking for us.”

  “You sure she's alive?”

  “Yea. A boxer knocked her unconscious. They made the mistake of not killing her.”

  The wind shifted, feces undesirable fume blew across the captive’s section. A few people coughed, curses hit the air. Gladys twisted her nose.

  “The bastards can even set the toilet.”

  Erik closed his eyes watering from the foul odor. “I want to leave.”

  “Don’t do that. See there,” she said and pointed a finger towards eight slender dogs bunched under a nearby tree.

  “Yea,” Erik said.

  “Those are Greyhounds, honey. Their top speed is forty-five miles per hour. If you can run faster than that, I say go for it.”

  Erik gazed at the dogs. One lifted its head, performed a visual sweep over the captives then lay its sleek head on the ground. The German shepherd team worked in shifts. They never slept while on duty. He couldn’t argue with Gladys’s reasoning.

  “I understand what you’re saying. But we can’t sit here and act hopeless. Look at that child feeding the fire.”

  “That white one warned us, he’s hard hearted. The black one is mellow.”

  “I don't trust none of them, Gladys.” Erik reset the blanket to a more comfortable spot. “We might be food on feet.”

  Gladys smiled, her bright teeth shone against the night. “Funny one, honey,” she said. “The dogs had a feast after the attack, a regular Chinese buffet.”

  Eric focused on the stars again. His mind drifted off to Moraine. Sleep crawled into his tired and battered body. He heard Gladys talking, but soon her voice faded off as he floated into an uncomfortable slumber of nightmares.

  41

  Black detected a strange sensation travel inside his head. A brain hiccup of sorts. He couldn't place the feeling. He opened his eyes, greeting both the eastern morning glow and a dead campfire. The boy who fed the flames lay asleep, drool oozed from his tiny mouth, glistening in a silver strand.

  White awakened and the pair glared at each other across the lifeless campfire. Uneasiness flittered between them, their trust pulled silk thin to the breaking point.

  “What is going on,” Black said. “Did you sense that?”

  White gazed up at the sky, stretched his body with paws out first and yawned. “Three days.”

  “Three days until what?”

  “Until we die, Black.” White glanced at the sleeping child. “Someone activated our internal self destruct mechanisms.”

  “Who?” Black stared at the captured slumbering in heaps. Their fear nauseated him, akin to the aroma of rotten onions.

  “No one here. It came from the Labs.”

  Black struggled against the nervousness lodged in his chest. He preferred traveling to Los Angeles and search for Mother on his own. But Mother demanded Black and White stay united.

  White neared the youngster, nudging him awake with uncanny tenderness. The seven-year-old sat up, rubbed his eyes and gawked at the white dog.

  He took to his feet and stumbled off, joining the other children.

  Black kept his gaze on the child before shifting his stare to White. “Why kill us?”

  White shook his shaggy mane. “You are naïve my friend.” The Canine sniffed. “They consider us weapons.”

  Black understood the threat they posed. “Why now?”

  “How many did we kill?”

  “Hundreds or thousands with our summons to war. Are we playing human games?”

  “Call this what you choose, Black. The game we play is dangerous. Our human instilled wisdom is spreading to our fellow Canines faster than what our makers expected.”

  Black caught human voices in the distance, feeble and thick with hopelessness. He saw this as a good sign, no hope, less violence. “We should leave.”

  White leaned towards the charred campfire. He inhaled and sneezed, turned and cocked his leg. Golden pee streamed onto the white ash and charcoal. Steam hissed and curled. He lowered his leg. “And our captives?”

  “We'll free them.”

  White huffed in dissension. “No. They are adults and will attack us if they get their senses back. I can’t allow their release.”

  “The Cadre will vote on the matter.”

  “The Cadre,” White said in thought.

  Black winced as a twinge danced through his skull as if a plucked tuning fork set between his eyes. A dull, humming pain bloomed behind his shut eyelids. “The pain.”

  White growled low while tucking his tail near his testicles. “Wake the army. We leave.”

  Black spoke. His jaw muscles ached and popped. “The defeated must stay alive, White.”

  White howled. The sound drew out over the camp in a dreadful wobble. The noise covered the field blanketed in a cool mist. Both human and Canines rose from their slumber. “Romulus.”

  Romulus the pit bull emerged and prostrated himself before White. “Yes, White?”

  White yelped. If only he knew how to scream. “Gather our slaves, kill the humans.”

  “No,” Black said. Pain blinded him in a red stab from spine to forehead. “We will not kill them.”

  White barked at Black. His voice exploding in a senseless flurry filled with expletives. Romulus jerked in surprise at the outburst. Dust kicked up as the general ducked his master’s wrath.

  Black braced himself, refusing to retreat. To him enough humans died from their abilities. The Canine’s sudden rise and their sweep through the Bay Area shocked their creators into action. “We are not ignorant strays, we are Canines.”

  White bared his teeth in anger at Black’s challenge. “We must set up power between us.”

  “There is no establishing power, White. We share the victories and rule as equals.” Black paced, his heart skipping hard. Foam frothed at White’s jowls. “Arguing who leads the pack reduces us to mere dogs.”

  White scrambled as he balanced his footing. “From this day onward, there shall be one leader.”

  Black noticed the thickening throng. The Cadre stayed away, not prepared to take sides. Their temporary neutrality a relief for him. But, they watched, and the victor won both dominance and an army.

  If White killed him, the captives died. He searched his mind on whether he ever engaged in fight training. Human battles on a grand scale assaulted his thoughts, from Navy Seal tactics, Delta Force firefights, things useless to a four-legged Canine.

  He needed lion or wolf battles. The Damascus Chips gave him wildlife videos from the National Geographic. Films from jungles to city streets entered Black’s inner movie player.

  Black blinked, emerging from his deep meditation with the proper videos flashing before his minds eye.

  White swiped out a right paw, his claws ripped Black’s right ear and scrapped his lower eye. The wound burned, blood flooded into his maw with a coppery tang.

  Rage stormed through Black, an emotion he never experienced. He pushed up on hind l
egs, claws out, and battled with White for survival of the army and human captives.

  The Canines tangled, their bodies colliding in a blur. Yen and Yang interposed amongst dust, blood, and ash. Human slaves and captives gathered, watching the battle.

  Black wanted to bite White’s neck and end the match before either suffered a fatal injury. With front paws wrapped around White’s head, he bit at White’s neck.

  White twisted, escaping Black’s grab. Frustrated, Black bit again and missed the fight-ending maneuver he attempted to deliver seconds ago.

  The rent skin underneath Black’s eye parted more, spilling blood along his snout. At the moment he deemed his pain irrelevant. Life and peace mattered, and in the fight’s midst an epiphany flowered.

  Black fought for peace, and this peace he sought required a savagery reserved for mongrels. Fury swelled in him. He drove his spirit up to destroy a precious life. He lunged and clamped his jaws on White’s neck, forcing White to the dusty earth.

  White peed and shat from the painful pinning Black applied. They shuffled until dust coated them both, obscuring the scene. Jagged growls flowed from the tan cloud.

  Black steadied himself as White squirmed beneath him. He focused on the kill, the act he tried to avoid. But White knew nothing else except brutality and brute strength.

  Blood gushed against Black’s tongue as his fangs punctured the flesh at White’s throat. He held on as White continued struggling against his grasp. White refused to give in to defeat.

  White collapsed with a sigh, his breaths deepened, and the crazed growl he once issued ceased.

  Several small barks exploded nearby. Molly rushed the brawling leaders, yapping. She circled Black until he relinquished his hold.

  Exhausted, Black staggered from his battered and bloodied opponent. Pain wracked him from the self-destruct timer and scar etched below his left eye.

  Molly went to White. “Why are you two fighting?”

  Black could find no sane reason for the conflict, save stopping White’s wish for complete control over the army. Blood haloed White’s head, soaking his knotted fur to crimson.

  Black acknowledged the wary Canines. A fearful hush fell over the masses. “We are Canines. White and I are one.”

  Molly perched herself besides White who remained on the dirt breathing in shallow huffs. “Black, he needs help.”

  Black considered forgiveness from White an impossible idea. If he could only bridge the chasm and rekindle their friendship. “Medics!”

  Four tremendous Saint Bernards arrived from the crowd and surrounded White. Three stepped forward, one on either side of White and the other facing White. The dogs flanking White nudged him up, shoving White atop the third dog’s large back. The third dog remained still as the others made White stable.

  Black observed how gentle the Canines cared for White. The four, with White, trundled off with their charge and vanished into the spectators.

  Black approached the fresh blood on the ground. The spectating Canines returned to their camps. Alexander advanced.

  The Golden Retriever stood before Black and bowed. “I know you will not accept my form of respect, but by fairness this you earned.”

  Black trembled at Alexander’s words. He tapped his right paw upon Alexander’s head. “I'm not asking for power over White. We are equal.”

  “You can no longer decide this, Black. The Canine Cadre has recommended a vote for leadership.”

  Black studied the various groups. Dogs ate in silence as slaves distributed the food. The scientist created both Canines for one purpose. And it did not include their insatiable demand for power.

  Alexander bent to Black’s ear. “You have no choice, Black.”

  “I know, Alexander. Let the Cadre start their vote. Whatever their decision, I will accept.”

  42

  From a distance Erik and the other captives gawked in horror as Black and White clashed. At first Erik believed the two dogs engaged in a deep conversation with their barks and shuffling.

  Erik realized the leading Canines did more than discuss what to eat for breakfast. They batted their arguments back and forth until White neared Black and swiped with extended claws.

  The captured woke from the icy mist covered grass for a better view. The German shepherds who guarded the humans lost interest with their duties and focused on the fight.

  Casey rushed to Erik, wrapping her small arms around his legs. She crushed her face against his thighs. A contingent of dogs massed in silence, spectators to the unhinged wrath playing before them.

  Ferocious howls and growls erupted from the dust cloud. Black and White tangled with each other. For a few seconds they wrestled upright on rear legs, each struggling for dominance.

  Erik turned to Gladys. “What’s happening?”

  “Lord Jesus, Erik. They are fighting for the Alpha spot. And that’s not good.”

  Erik stroked Casey’s face, brushing away tears streaming over her pink cheeks. “It’s okay, baby.”

  “I want mommy,” she said and cried harder as the battle intensified.

  A sharp yelp cracked across the field. Dogs and humans flinched from the sound. Finality accompanied the abrupt noise as if someone met an undesirable demise.

  One great inhale poured over the mass. The dogs in various shapes, sizes, and colors stood enraptured by the scene. The dust cleared in slow increments, even Erik forgot to breathe.

  Gladys placed a palm against her mouth. The earthy powder dissipated and Black commanded the battlefield. Beneath him, in a bloody ruin, laid White.

  Erik pressed Casey closer to him. A tiny white terrier he spotted at the National Guard camp yapped at Black from the sidelines.

  “Are they going to kill us, Erik?” Gladys lowered her hand. Her eyes locked on the dogs.

  Erik hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know, Gladys.”

  “Lord Jesus, I hope the right dog won,” she said.

  Erik's hands trembled. The dueling dogs unnerved him more than he expected. What if the wrong dog won? Gladys brought up a valid point, a point he tried to ignore.

  Erik watched the event end with four Saint Bernard hauling the defeated Canine into the woods thick with trees. Casey continued crying, squeezing his leg tighter.

  The German shepherds guarding them melted into the congregating Canines. Twenty yards from Erik a huddle formed. One tan pit bull, a German shepherd, A Golden Retriever, Molly, a Chihuahua, a chocolate lab, a Rottweiler, Doberman, and Labrador gathered as if posing for pictures.

  Erik did his best to exercise his observation skills. No mongrels huddled with this group. The mongrels integrated with random breeds. He strove to work out why the dogs broke into cliques. Moraine’s voice whispered low inside his head, telling him to question his eyes and go beyond their limited ability to look at reality unhindered.

  He stayed cool while figuring out their machinations. The special Canine team, he called them, walked off from the main pack. They remained silent while vanishing over a hill.

  Erik searched for Akiko. He saw her gathering the kids together near a fleet of Bucky Browns piled with food and other items. She delivered Erik a quick glance and returned to ushering her children.

  “Try not to show fear,” Erik said. “They can smell it.”

  A woman with a teenage boy at her side grunted. “With these crazy dogs? How can you tell us that?”

  Gladys ran her fingers through her short braids. “I’ll talk to everyone and calm them.” She got up and moved her way through the crowd, attempting to settle their concerns.

  Erik wanted to draw Akiko's attention, but she kept herself occupied with no true purpose. He could see her nervousness. The youngsters she cared for picked up her panic.

  Erik surveyed the captives. Private Oliver crossed from his place, unguarded by the dogs, and sat on the ground next to Eric.

  “You’re Master Sergeant Baxter’s husband?”

  “Yes, I’m Erik.” He took in the soldier’s scratched
face.

  Oliver nodded, licked his lips. “We need to escape from here.”

  Erik gave Casey a gentle pat on her back, she moaned, a solitary tear graced her cheek. “How? Do you know why they fought?”

  “A power struggle, Mr. Baxter.”

  Erik offered a hand. “Call me Erik.

  They shook. “Erik, I’m Jamal.”

  “Ok, Jamal. Here is what will happen. You get up and run, and I’ll witness the dogs catching and ripping you apart.”

  “There’s no leadership, Erik,” Jamal countered. “The black dog won. Now they're deciding on a stronger leader.”

  Erik concentrated on the packs forming into their perspective groups. His stomach fluttered, a weird sickness made him vomit. “Sorry.”

  “That's normal.” Jamal gestured his chin at Akiko. “She knows something. Why is she so worried? Hell, she works with those mutts.”

  “Not by choice.”

  Jamal bit his bottom lip and hummed a jaunty tune, a military cadence to fuel his motivation. “You want your kid working for those bitches?”

  Erik sucked in a breath as the dark rose of worry bloomed in his mind. The terrible possibility birthed a fresh headache. He hoped Moraine still lived. Frantic scenarios raced back to back in his imagination. For the past ten years he depended on his wife. She led the family through their difficulties. Now he held the mantle of responsibility.

  “No. But if you sneak off without getting killed, I owe you a steak dinner.”

  “I’ll leave tonight.”

  “Don’t run, they might kill us all.”

  “And if we don't run?” Jamal grinned, more from fright than humor. “You think they'll free us, or eat us? Remember those people in Milpitas?”

  Erik forced himself to confront his new world washed in blood. What happened in Milpitas knocked the legs from underneath him for a few hours. He doubted either dog followed rules or recognized good or evil. They operated on a program meant to wipe out humanity. Whatever the chips conjured up the dogs used for their advancement and the human’s detriment.

  Jamal reached into his right boot and pulled out a blade. The metal edge gleamed from the morning sun. “I’ll close in, grab the black one by the scruff and take him hostage. We’ll release him once we're safe.”