Baxter’s War

by A. L. Roberts

  Molly hurled up the hill with urgency, yapping at Akiko who followed the cute dog into the thicket. Within seconds Molly returned, barking at the pit bulls. The dogs swung their blocky domes at the fear washed captives.

  Erik straightened. “Here they come.”

  Gladys fumbled, dropping her food. “Who they after, Erik?”

  Molly waded into the anxious mob. The group made room for the eight pit bulls marching ahead. The German shepherds pivoted with military precision to confront the filth-crusted humans.

  Erik grabbed Casey, placing her on his lap. He bounced her on his thigh to calm himself as Molly weaved through the fleshy obstacles.

  Molly stopped before Erik.

  She yapped once and approached, slow as to not startle Erik. She placed her snout on Casey’s shoe, eased her tiny mouth onto Gladys’s right pinky finger. And waited.

  Gladys blinked. “She's asking me to take Casey, Erik.”

  Molly barked and spun, panted and wagged her tail.

  “Nobody is stealing my baby,” he said and stood, ready to defend his daughter. One pit bull growled. Molly delivered a short bark stifling the dog.

  “Erik, they won't harm her,” Gladys said, “They are looking for you, Erik.”

  Molly pranced at Gladys’s answer.

  Erik hugged Casey tighter. “No. Not my baby I said.”

  “Give up the kid.” A fat woman shouted from the crowd.

  “Fuck you,” Gladys snapped. “Erik, pass her, sugar. So they won’t hurt her by mistake.”

  Erik figured if they planned on killing him, he didn’t want his girl to die with him. He handed Casey to Gladys. “Step back, Gladys.”

  Gladys slinked aside holding Casey against her body. “I’ll protect her, Erik.”

  Erik grimaced, the fierceness of hate dominated his mind. Moraine always fought while he sat at home. Now, he needed to prove himself a real family man. “They’re not taking me that easy.”

  “No, Erik,” Gladys said. “No.”

  Molly escaped the scene as if her senses picked up the human’s rising rage. Everything happened fast.

  Erik punted the first pit bull in his solid chin. The dog skidded a few feet from the enraged man. The other Canines lunged at him, driving their bulky heads into Erik’s legs, arms. One leaped up and slammed its head against Erik’s chest. The blow knocked the air out his lungs. The same Canine head-butted his gut, doubling him over at the waist.

  Casey screamed, high and pitiful as Gladys turned the girl away from her father being battered to his knees by the powerful dogs.

  Erik turned up his face, a dog drove its muzzle into his nose, the same way they attacked Moraine. He fell back, pain joined by dazzling blues and yellows exploded across his vision.

  Another dog struck his temple. He twirled, his stomach sickened as the bodies swarmed around him. He kicked out, hitting the quick compact bodies attacking him.

  A sudden railroad spike of pain flashed through his right hand. He shrieked and found himself stretched out on the dirt. A wet and warm maw clamped his left hand. He lifted his head to face two pit bulls, one on each hand. Their teeth deep into his flesh, their jaws locked.

  “Don’t fight them, Erik.” Oliver’s warning came through the haze of pain beating through his body.

  Eric cried out, attempting to pull free but the pit bulls added more pressure. Erik sensed the bones in his hands snapping underneath both their formidable grips. He moaned, tried to struggle.

  “Oh my God, Erik.” Gladys’s voice shrilled along with Casey’s continuous wails.

  Casey wiggled from Gladys’s arms and ran for her tortured father. A twelve-year-old girl, an Akiko acolyte, took Casey and headed for the other children.

  “Don’t resist, Erik, or they will rip you apart,” Oliver said again.

  Erik hitched and sputtered. The iron tang of blood graced his tongue, tears blurred his world. He stared at the tween sweeping Casey from the violence. She continued reaching out for him, fingers opening and closing.

  Erik felt his body sliding. White heat flared through his hands and wrists as if someone stabbed him with a hot knife. His screams reduced to guttural moans as the pit bulls dragged him through the dust. He fainted as his legs ceased kicking. One of his shoes tumbled off, setting an awkward marker and threat to the others watching.

  46

  Moraine pitied the teenager standing to the left of the motley group. “What are you, his spokesperson?”

  “I’m trying to keep you people alive, and he understands every word you are saying, Mrs. Baxter.”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Who doesn’t,” Akiko said.

  Shouts erupted from up the hill, screams, crying, and a rush of explosive barking. Black maintained his calm, staring at the cluster of humans who held his partner hostage.

  Bodies rustled from the brush, and a man’s voice rose, screaming as if someone or something tore out his liver. From the tall weeds emerged two pit bulls, powerful animals with rippling muscles pulling a man forward against his will.

  “Here’s your husband, Mrs. Baxter. But the girl stays to insure our safety.”

  Moraine’s heart sank. Erik arrived, but not by his own power. Pit bulls hauled him before the crowd, one on each hand, towing Erik with ease.

  “Moraine, they snatched her.” Erik struggled, a fruitless act against the Canine’s strength. “They took Casey.”

  Moraine stared at White, jammed the muzzle against his head. “Goodnight motherfucker.”

  And she pulled the trigger.

  47

  A black combat boot swept the rifle off aim, the weapon popped, spending a bullet an inch from White’s head. Moraine reached for her holstered sidearm. Her attacker crashed his boot into her side, sending her tumbling off White and to the ground.

  Moraine snapped to her feet, drew her wicked six-inch knife.

  “Don’t, Master Sergeant Baxter.”

  Moraine remained crouched, ready to attack. She focused on the soldier standing over White with his SCAR rifle pointed at her. A group emerged from the bush. M4 rifles aimed, Team Wendy helmets loaded with technology, vests packed with full magazines and eyes spilling dark intentions.

  General Grisby arrived from the brush wearing a smug smile over his face. “You do not want to do that.”

  “Who are you?” Moraine said the words with a rasping breath. Erik continued shouting. The pit bulls maintained their unforgiving locks on his hands.

  “I’m General Grisby, Master Sergeant Baxter.” Grisby sauntered ahead. White struggled to his paws and limped towards Black with his head lowered. “Take your husband and live well, Delta.”

  Black barked twice. The pit bulls released their hold on Erik. Tears streamed his amber cheeks, his bloody hands trembling and useless.

  Grisby nodded at Black. The Canines moved backwards, Akiko joining them, until they melted into the foliage, phantoms returning to their underworld.

  Grisby jammed a finger at Moraine. “You’re interfering with two special weapons, Master Sergeant. We trained those dogs to do what they do. Understand me?”

  Moraine rushed to Erik, ran her fingers through his dirty hair, trying to calm him. She yanked a pair of gloves from her pants cargo pockets. She cut the gloves with her knife as Jenny knelt next to Moraine, helping her work on Erik’s tattered limbs.

  “They have my daughter,” Moraine said to Grisby. Her face a crimson wash as she worked on Erik.

  “Killing them won’t bring her back. Black and White are on a mission and I must know how far they go before I stop them. Not you.”

  Moraine held her gaze on the general, tried to push her hate forward in hopes he died on the spot. Another individual she planned to kill if the opportunity arose. At the moment tending to her man groaning in pain became a priority.

  Grisby stared at the two women. “Hello, Jenny. Thanks for destroying that research. Robert, come along, don't make me wait.”

  Robert shuffled up
to Grisby. “I need the tracker, Jenny.”

  Jenny pulled out the tracker and flung it at Robert. “You punk. What are you doing?”

  Robert snatched the blood-smeared object off the grass. He struck a few keys before stuffing the device in his pocket. “The self-destruct timer is now off. My invention, Jenny. And I’m able to keep a secret. You broke protocols.”

  Moraine grimaced. “I’ll see you again, every one of you.”

  Grisby winked at Moraine. “Hold on to your weapons, lots of two and four legged assholes out there.”

  Grisby tossed Moraine a white case with a big red cross on its center. “You know, Baxter. I never liked chicks who acted like they had dicks. Stay in your lane.” He turned and the entire cast walked into the woods.

  Moraine sat near Erik, staunching the flow of blood pouring from his hands.

  Jenny grabbed and opened the medical kit, pulling out gauze and blood clot powder.

  Moraine’s energy seeped out her body in one mad rush, resembling a deflating tire on an ice-covered road. Her emotions rose, cracking the thick carapace she built over the years. Her mind teetered on shattering. And this worried her, for she needed her strength to get up and fight.

  48

  Moraine grabbed Erik by his legs and Jenny lifted the wounded man underneath his armpits. They fireman carried him, maneuvering the steep slope as his hands spouted blood despite the expert bandage job conducted by Jenny. Peter and the three others hurried to assist.

  Joseph took over at the legs, Peter replaced Jenny while Alice and Ray gathered the rifles. They descended the hill with as much speed and care as possible.

  Moraine canted her head to a familiar sound. In the distance rotor blades from helicopters reverberated through the air as General Grisby and his team flew into the blue. The same slicing pulse rose earlier at the gas pumps, but she ignored the unique warning.

  Moraine looked at Eric’s paling face turning almost translucent. “Hurry, guys.”

  Jenny finished re-wrapping the right hand and rushed to the left. She removed the saturated gauze and added a powdered coagulant from the medical box, yet blood continued flowing from the wounds in steady rivulets.

  Moraine pushed herself through the bushes, ignoring the scrapes from branches. She jogged towards the Unimog, her mind working on saving her husband. Casey and revenge floated into the netherworld of her worry list.

  “Open the truck,” Moraine said.

  Jenny unlocked and opened the rear Unimog door. She shoved aside the stowed gear as Moraine helped ease Erik into the truck. She laid him on the floor, placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

  “He’s getting cold, Jenny. Can you keep him alive?”

  Jenny swallowed a breath. “I need more supplies, Moraine. The medical box is rudimentary. I need a sewing kit, more bandages. There’s a pharmacy in the mini mall down the street.”

  “I’ll be back.” She departed from the group.

  “One of you go with her,” Jenny ordered as she unwrapped Erik’s hands. She inspected the terrible puncture holes from the pit bulls teeth, and the ripped flesh. A sharp dull yellow object glistening with blood, protruded from Erik’s hand.

  Ray pursued Moraine sprinted off.

  She no longer dwelled on the dogs or the other dangers percolating in a land torn by both natural and unnatural disasters. She reached the parking lot, pushing herself until arriving at the CVS Pharmacy entrance.

  “Wait, Moraine,” Ray said.

  Moraine gazed at the young man’s sweaty face. She entered the pharmacy's glassless door and confronted toppled shelves and stock scattered everywhere. The sight amazed her.

  She paused as Ray's foot falls crunched over broken glass, making enough noise to rival a clumsy ten-year-old. “Don't move.”

  Moraine's ears picked up her hard heartbeat and Ray’s unsteady breathing. She stepped ahead slow, a painful thing while her man suffered. But she didn’t want to rush and die trying to save her Erik.

  She moved into the store, stepping over fallen goods. No clerks, no customers. She expected dead bodies, or a violent scene where she could define what happened.

  The pair ventured their way to an empty white counter. She aimed her M4, expecting an attack.

  “This is surreal,” Ray said.

  Moraine jumped the counter. “Grab a bag, load it with bandages and whatever might help.”

  Moraine found a canvas bag as Ray began a further search. She faced rows of wall-built shelving lined with white bottles. With a hunch of her shoulders she swept her arm, dumping the pill bottles into the bag. She turned and hurtled the counter again, ready to leave when she saw Ray standing near a photo kiosk with his twenty-two rifle pointed.

  Moraine dropped the bulging bag and readied her M4. She padded forward, silent, cutting around a row until she spotted the muzzle of a handgun.

  “Drop your weapon.”

  The stranger sporting a thick beard side-glanced Moraine who stood on his right. “Drop yours,” he said with a Spanish accent.

  Moraine slipped her finger over the trigger. “I’ve had a rough day, and I’m out of giving a fuck.”

  “He has a dog,” Ray said.

  Moraine glimpsed a big brown dog sitting next to the man. She lowered her rifle. “Lower your weapon, Ray. Get your things and let’s go.”

  The man tucked his pistol into his waistband. “What is your name?”

  “Both of you either stay here and kiss, or follow me. I’ll talk later,” Moraine said.

  She gathered her bag and headed outside. Her thoughts worked on one problem at a time. A man and a dog didn't appear a threat to her. Unlike the teenage girl hanging out with a dangerous Canine army.

  She ran to the Unimog with Ray behind her and the new person not too far away. “How’s Erik, Jenny?”

  Jenny eyes locked on Moraine. “He’s fading, Moraine.”

  Moraine sensed her reality tipping. She braced herself against the Unimog door, climbed in, and swung the heavy door shut.

  49

  Akiko gathered the babies after returning with Black and a ruined White. The captives gawked at her. Many with hate burning in their eyes. She did her best to ignore them as she fussed over the children grouped together. Two girls, both twelve, kept the young ones calm while she negotiated White's release.

  Upon seeing her, the kids rushed Akiko. Over fifty smiling children, ten and under, surrounded her. She touched dirty cheeks, gave hugs. What else could she do with those who parents died vicious death from the same dogs who enslaved them?

  She searched the excited throng and discovered Casey sitting alone, weeping with a red face streaked with dirt and tears. Akiko waded through the sea of bobbing heads and swept Casey up into her arms. A funky wet odor floated from her body.

  Akiko bounced Casey with a soothing rhythm. “Get her diaper bag,” she said to an older girl.

  Casey continued wailing, revealing her small teeth and lolling tongue. The girl screeched, yawning her mouth in a silent rictus. Her crying so terrible Akiko thought the dogs might do something drastic.

  The teenager returned and delivered Akiko Erik’s backpack. She hustled to a tree and sat, placing Casey on a towel, and removed the toddler's clothes to clean her.

  A powerful stench wafted from Casey’s diaper weighted with yellow mush. Akiko twisted her nose, folded the soiled object and tossed it aside. Another tween appeared and whisked the thing to the makeshift dump.

  Akiko dug inside Erik’s bag and found a box of scented wipes. She cleaned Casey, dressing her in a fresh diaper and pink jumper.

  “I can help Casey.”

  Akiko spun to stare at a woman standing near the German shepherd’s perimeter. She spotted the captured soldier a few feet behind Gladys with his hands stuffed in his military pants pockets. “How?”

  “I'm a nurse. Casey, it’s okay, daddy will come back.”

  Casey’s lips scrunched and brow furrowed. Her tear filled eyes held Gladys. Seconds passed befo
re she recognized Gladys and outstretched herself towards the plump lady. Her tiny fingers opened and closed, wanting Gladys to take her.

  Akiko studied Gladys. The woman hung with Erik before the pit bulls grabbed him in trade for White. Casey, the youngest in the child group, needed an adult's care.

  Akiko hefted the bulging bag of belongings onto her shoulder. Casey leaned forward, and the nurse took Casey and hugged her tight.

  “There, there, Casey,” Gladys said. The baby hid her thinning face in Gladys's meaty breasts. “It’s okay.”

  Akiko shrugged off the diaper bag, handing the heavy item to Gladys. “Thank you.”

  Gladys wrenched the bag from Akiko and strutted off without a further word.

  Akiko's torso heated, sweat speckled her forehead. The woman’s disrespect made her want to sic the dogs on her. In her mind she played with the idea. She swallowed, calmed the anger away and headed back to the kids.

  A brown hand flashed out, digging into Akiko’s thick frizzy hair. Her head snapped backwards, painful needles drove into her scalp. Steel glimmered at her peripheral and sharp metal pricked the skin close to her jugular.

  The German shepherds displayed their wicked incisors at the man taking Akiko at knifepoint. A fast scramble occurred, bodies jostled.

  “I’ll kill her,” he said.

  “Oliver, don’t. Let her go.” Gladys advanced and a German shepherd snarled at her.

  Private Oliver yanked the girl. “She’s one of them, Gladys.”

  Molly bounded up to the scene and yowled with her snout pointed at the sky.

  Akiko kicked, an involuntary action as Oliver danced his edged weapon before her face. “Don’t, please.”

  “Shut up,” Oliver warned. “Where’s the black mutt?”

  Black emerged from the bustling mass followed by the Canine Cadre. He barked at the guards who retreated. He padded onward, passing the German shepherds making room for him.

  Oliver freed Akiko. He sprung his plan, snatching Black by his scruff and straddling the relaxed collie.