DogForge

by Casey Calouette

  Samus ran out between the two groups and turned to face them. His eyes glistened in the sun and he bared his teeth. “Now! Now is our day! They fear us so much that they’d doom our children to be exiles.”

  His words hung in the air and he swung his head from side to side and peered into the eyes of those before him. “Now! Now we show them what the chosen ones can do. It’s time to finish what we started. Run! Run like we own this place,” he turned and howled. “Because soon we will!”

  He trotted forward, turned one last time, and howled back. “Fight now for your pups!”

  Denali, as nervous as she was, felt a stirring in her chest. She was proud, she didn’t quite know why, but this was her moment. If she failed, she failed while striving to remain a conscious being, not as a pawn or a wild thing. Then she remembered that Samus, and Samson, wanted her dead. She set her muzzle low and waited for the call.

  “Come!” Grat bellowed to Denali.

  She ran to his side and listened as he bowed his head.

  “Get the other young ones, all of you stay together.”

  “We can help!” Denali said.

  “No,” his voice boomed. “You’ll stand by my side another day.” Grat rested his nose onto Denali’s neck and then stood straight again. “Now go, get ready!”

  Denali yipped through the pack and rounded up the others. They followed her grudgingly with heavy packs weighing them down. They feigned disinterest until the marauders made them snap to. No one wanted to follow the lead of the runt.

  They began to move, at first in a tight bunch but then into the shape of two wedges. Wedges tipped by fang and claw with an eye for violence and a taste for blood. The ash bloomed behind them in a great billowing cloud. Through it the light drifted in clouds of darkness with a shift of red. The dogs marched forward, faster, almost at a gallop.

  The defenders emerged in even greater groups and came together to meet the attackers. Howls and barks grew louder and more dogs emerged, wild eyed, covered in dirt and rust.

  Denali could smell it. A smell like she’d never known, a smell of violence, anger, and fear. She ran faster and snapped her head from side to side. She yipped out in excitement and the others around her followed suit in a cacophony of song. The marauders said nothing and trotted faster.

  The two lines grew closer and the groups formed into clusters directly opposing each other. The pace was set by the maulers, the heavy armored mercenaries loped as fast as they could manage. Ivan snarled in the lead and thrashed his head from side to side.

  Then, they met.

  There was a crashing of meat on meat. It was a heavy thud echoing in rib cages. It was followed by a gnashing of teeth that sounded like ivory smashing onto ice. Then the roar, a deep guttural thing, violent and filled with rage. The lines merged and the wind engulfed them all in broken ash, the remnants of some long lost war.

  Denali charged with the other unblooded dogs. She heard the violence, the roaring, the thrashing and was afraid. But still, she ran towards the sound. The first corpse she came upon was of a brown dog with his throat shredded and raw.

  The other unblooded dogs set upon the wounded and the dead and relished the task.

  Denali turned away and felt a sickness rising in her stomach. She knew then that she was different, there was no pleasure in her at the dispatching of the wounded.

  They pushed farther into the ash cloud. The first of the rust covered hulks emerged and Denali knew they were past the edge. The defenders line had broken.

  The wind, broken by the wreckage, lost all energy and the gathered ash fell. Beyond was the wastes of machines.

  Denali stumbled past heaps of shredded wire. She stopped in the clear air and stared down, just for a moment, at one of Karoc’s disciples. His name was Rader and his eyes were gone from his head. The other young ones slowed and the yipping stopped.

  They sprinted past the somber wreckage and skirted over metallic feet, thrown tracks, and dead devices. On top of the wreckage lay the wrecked corpses of dogs. They came thicker and the wounds were terrible.

  Denali stopped on the backside of some metal behemoth and panted in the shadow of rust. She jumped to the side and saw a grey dog she didn’t know trailing intestines behind him. His face was set in a grimace of pain. She fell back onto the rough metal and couldn’t do anything. The sight was terrible to her.

  Mjol ran over to him, raised a leg, and pissed on his back. A few others ran over and did the same. The grey dog snarled and whined and tried to roll. Finally Mjol clamped his teeth onto the dogs neck and thrashed his head from side to side.

  “Runt!” Mjol added excitedly. His tail swished from side to side. “C’mon, runt!”

  And they were off again.

  The front line of the battle raged. Grat stood alone with a pack of dogs dwarfed beneath him. His line surged to reach him, but he had no issue holding his attackers away.

  Denali ran forward and stopped. She yearned to fight beside Grat, but knew she’d never push through the line to get to him.

  As quickly as Grat was surrounded he was free. His massive head swung into a black dog and bowled him into a strut of iron. On the return he picked up a smaller dog and shook him until the body was limp. A marauder sprung up next to Grat and protected his flank while other marauders fought forward.

  The ash covered everyone. All of the dogs took on the same look.

  Denali came upon body after body, unsure at first if friend or foe, and always trusting her nose. She lost sight of Grat. Fear shot through her that she’d find his body. More dogs fell. Marauders and defenders. Even the armored mercenaries following Ivan suffered casualties.

  She stopped and leaped on top of an armored vehicle with the turret flipped off. The wall of the complex loomed large above her. She caught her first sight of the gates and felt despair. The dark openings were still a long way off.

  Denali yelped and shivered. The fear of being a wild dog, losing all consciousness, and descending to the animal place drove her onward. She looked for the other unblooded dogs but saw none in the battle around her.

  The battle line shifted and suddenly the fighting erupted around her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Charge

  Denali leaped down into the fight. Walls of fur, limbs, and snarling mouths thrashed around her. She raced between legs, under stomachs, and scrambled to find cover.

  She screamed out. A searing tear shot through her shoulder. She rolled back, wild eyed, and saw a dog with no lower jaw.

  It thrashed at her with its front claws. The dog wobbled from one side to the next. Its eyes rolled up and back down again. It made no sound and tried to leap forward.

  She scampered away, drawing it farther from the line of battle. Her stomach tightened and the deep scratches in her shoulder wept blood. “Come on!” she growled back at the dog.

  It charged in again and threw both of its paws up. The claws slammed onto the ground. Denali dodged away.

  Denali rushed in and bit down on the dog’s throat. She could taste the dog and wanted to let go. He tasted like old caribou and summer meadows. She shut off her mind and squeezed with every bit of muscle she could bear. There was a taste of blood, a metallic tin taste, and then the dog broke free.

  He tried to bark, but it sounded like a gurgle. He flailed about and set upon Denali with his claws.

  She fell to the ground and tried to escape. Her feet slipped in the ash, she couldn’t get away.

  Grat erupted from the line of battle and snapped his bloodstained teeth onto the dog’s spindly rear leg. He heaved the dog back, whipped it to one side, and threw it against a rust pitted walker.

  “Get back! The line is failing,” Grat barked. His voice was hoarse and he stunk of blood. His shoulders and hind quarters were covered in bites and searing scratches. The taint of battle was upon him.

  Denali leapt to her feet. “No! It’s so close, I can make it through the line!” She knew she could. Failure on this day was not an option. “I have
to get in!”

  Grat swayed and dropped down on one leg. He lowered his head close to Denali. “We’ll assault it again, we have more time. We can break the line.”

  She knew it was a lie and felt angry. If they couldn’t break the line today then they never would. She’d be doomed to the life of a stupid animal. Her eyes caught the canister and saw the blue light. “I won’t become an animal,” she growled angrily.

  “Denali,” Grat said. Even with the battle raging behind him, he focused everything on her.

  Denali leapt up, snagged the caribou bindings in her mouth, and tore them loose. The knots held for a moment, and then snapped. The canister clanged onto the ground and Denali snatched up.

  “Denali!” Grat boomed.

  She leapt away from him and towards the line. Her eyes snapped back and forth and saw an opening in a fight. One group of defenders had shifted to the side to assault the maulers. She saw Ivan not far down the line and knew it was a good spot to go.

  Denali sprinted through the gap and into the zone where the fighting was thickest. Casualties were taken and given and the line ebbed like a high tide of violence.

  She dodged groups that swirled and stabbed forth with snarling teeth. Her small body fit in between legs, under stomachs, and went places the larger dogs couldn’t go.

  She grinned past the canister. The line was growing thin and then as suddenly as it started she was through. She sprinted around the corner of an ancient vehicle and came face to face with a massive dog.

  The dogs tilted his head at Denali. He looked down his scar stubbled nose at her. There was a questioning moment, a pause where his eyes unfocused and took it in. “What’s dis, eh? What’s dis?”

  Denali, thinking of nothing better to do, dropped the canister and snapped her teeth down onto the scarred nose.

  The beast of a dog roared and rose on two legs.

  Denali snatched up the canister and sprinted directly between his legs. She passed between his tree trunk legs and met the rest of his pack. She tried to run, but was caught between the two.

  Scar-nose swung his body around and snapped at Denali. The bite just missed her. The pack circled around and yipped in excitement. Denali was trapped.

  She dodged from one side to the next and met snapping muzzles. Fear coursed through her and she saw no escape. The canister was still heavy in her mouth and it tasted horrible. She didn’t dare drop it to run, and saw no point anyways.

  “You bit da wrong one, sweety,” he said. He was totally oblivious to the battle raging not far behind him and his eyes were only for Denali.

  Denali knew she couldn’t run. She couldn’t hide. And she couldn’t dodge. So she did the one thing she could do, she stood proud and growled back.

  Scar-nose laughed a sound like tumbling stone. “I’m gonna bite your pretty nose off.”

  Grat bowled through the line and howled a savage roar.

  Scar-nose spun with surprised eyes. The two met with a thunderous clash and both dogs rolled to ashen ground.

  The pack attacked Grat. They darted in close and snapped down razor sharp teeth. Grat focused his attention on the dog beneath him and snapped and snarled, tooth meeting tooth.

  Denali leaped at one to try and do something. A dog bit her on the shoulder and tossed her aside. She watched, helpless, as they all leaped upon Grat.

  He came for me, and I let him down. All for nothing. She watched, unable to do anything, as he disappeared under the pack.

  Grat rose, the picture of fury, and snapped his jaws into one dog after the next. They hung like fleas from his flanks. They darted in, haunches low, and struck snapping bites. Scar-nose leaped again and came down hard on Grat’s shoulder. His teeth sunk in and Grat couldn’t shake him.

  “No!” Denali yelled.

  “Go!” Grat roared. He snapped his jaws onto Scar-nose and shook his head from side to side. But now the others came in.

  Denali wanted, more than anything, to stay. But she knew it was futile, he was lost, there was no way he could survive. If she stayed, she’d die, and do him no good. She turned and sprinted away.

  On the other side, Samus’s line pushed in farther. They had broken the line of the defenders. Wounded dogs raced past, escaping as they could. Ivan stood with his maulers in the front of the line and tore through the defenders.

  Denali ran and dodged past the horribly wounded. She raced towards the line of maulers. “Ivan!” she barked. “Ivan!”

  Ivan dropped the corpse of a yellow dog and turned to face Denali. His mouth dripped blood and drool. “What?”

  “Grat!” Denali panted hard. “He’s in trouble!”

  Ivan stared down the line. His eyes narrowed and he barked orders to the maulers. “Go! To Grat!”

  A group raced towards him, but a line of defenders blocked them off.

  “Get inside before the sun sets! Then the doors will close.” Ivan said to Denali.

  The sun sat low on the horizon.

  Denali raced towards the wall. Her heart slammed in her chest, she was almost there.

  Mjol sprinted inside one of the holes and a steel door dropped down.

  Denali stopped and turned. She could see the battle line and almost dropped the canister in awe. On one side, the fight was clearly won, Samus stood out from the pack as a victor. On the other, Grat’s side, the fight was not over. Then she saw him—Grat still lived.

  Those who fled from Samus’s group had joined with those assaulting Grat’s side. The maulers still beat against one flank but couldn’t break through.

  Samus’s line fell back. Grat stood alone.

  “No!” Denali cried.

  “Yes!” Samson growled and charged.

  Denali rolled back and dropped the canister. She dodged away from Samson but his teeth snapped down onto her tail.

  “This is my day!” Samson snarled and snapped again at Denali, but missed.

  She spun around and eyed the canister. “Coward!” she barked back and led him away from it.

  Samson chased and caught a tooth on Denali’s back paw.

  She cried out and snapped at Samson. She bit him on the bridge of the nose. He yelped and fell back. “Bitch!”

  Denali ran towards the cylinder. She snatched up the filthy thing and sprinted towards the dark openings.

  Samson trudged under the weight of his pack and glared at Denali. He set his nose and ran parallel to her. “I’ll see you inside!”

  The dark opening approached and yawned above her like a cathedral door. She paused at the edge and stared inside. Nothing. It was like looking into the night.

  Denali stepped into the shadow, turned, and stared out one last time before the door closed. The last thing she saw was Grat, bloody, savaged and tore, straining to see his daughter. When the darkness settled, Denali vowed that Samus would pay.

  Then, the lights came on.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Trial

  The room was tight, the walls scarcely wide enough to hold a single dog. A glass orb hung on the smooth wall.

  She stepped farther in and noticed the floor. No dust, no accumulation of age, no cracking, no weather. It was almost entirely different from the man places she’d normally pillaged. There was a smell, a different smell, that she couldn’t place. She sniffed hard and could only smell the dirty canister.

  Denali felt the weight of the canister in her mouth. Her only tribute to the machine gods. All the other pups had packs of accumulated scrap, she had but a single glowing canister. A cracked canister at that.

  She sniffed.

  A stinky, cracked canister.

  “What do I do now?” she said aloud.

  The room didn’t answer.

  Denali dropped the canister onto the floor. It bounced and her heart skipped a beat that it might break again.

  There was a dull sound like a far off bell.

  Denali cocked up her ears and tensed. There was a mechanical sound, a whirring, a hissing, and then a click.

  The glass or
b on the far side of the room glowed a brilliant shade of green. The door beneath it slid to the side and revealed a chamber that stretched into the distance like a great iron plain.

  Denali looked out into the space with awe and a touch of reverence. She bowed her head, scooped up the canister, and went to move out of the room.

  The door slid close, quickly, and the light went out.

  “I see,” Denali said, and dropped the canister.

  The light returned and the door opened.

  She looked down at the canister and wanted to take it with her. It had meant so much to Cicero. She thought of the dead men and shivered.

  Denali stepped quietly through the door.

  Closed doors stretched down the wall. Above her door, a dim green light danced, the only one. All of the other lights were dim.

  The space around her was cavernous and wide with a single spot of light ahead. Beneath it a shape grew larger and larger. A statue of a man, gray and somber, stared out into the distance. His face was set, serious, with his eyes smooth like glass. One hand hovered over his heart while the other hand pointed to one of two passages.

  Denali stopped at the statue stared up. The dim sense of reverence changed to an all out religious experience. This was what she’d dreamed of, and been taught, all her life. To serve man. And here it was. Whatever it was.

  She glanced behind her and saw nothing. No one else was out yet.

  The passage where the man pointed smelled off. It wasn’t a bad smell to Denali, but she didn’t like it. The other passage smelled of the outside, even a touch pleasant.

  The dog part of her strained to go towards the warm smells, the food smells, the escape smells. The conscious side of her looked up to the man and squinted at the glassy orbs.

  “Trust,” she mumbled to herself. So that’s it, trust. She looked from the hand over the heart to the hand pointing to the door.

  There was a click from one of the doors behind her and Denali spun. A green light glowed on the far wall and a door opened. Mjol trotted out.

  Denali thought about waiting. She knew the others wouldn’t give her any help, and getting called a runt wasn’t going to help her. Instead she went down the path the statue pointed at. Her eyes locked on the gray eyes and a part of her expected it to nod or react, but it did nothing.