Wild & Chance

by Allen Zadoff

  “Wow, you’re fast. You’ve got good instincts, girl.”

  More meat appears from his pocket. This time he flings it high into the air. I jump for it, all four paws leaving the ground as I snatch it from midair, land, and back away from him in a split second.

  He laughs and applauds. “Bravo. My name’s Ruben. I’ve been looking for a dog like you. A dog with game.”

  “I don’t know what game is.”

  “It looks like you ate right through that thick leash. You must be strong, huh? Strong and agile. I could use a dog like that.”

  “Use me for what?”

  Ruben disappears around the corner without answering, and I follow him, peeking around the wall.

  He’s standing by a truck with a lightning bolt painted on the hood and an enclosed cargo bed in the rear, the doors open wide. He spills an entire bag of meat cubes across the bed of the truck, and my stomach does somersaults.

  “I think you earned yourself a feast,” he says. “I’m going to treat you like a princesa.”

  A wave of dizziness comes over me. My body feels like it’s floating, and I’m having trouble concentrating.

  Ruben pours water into a bowl, and he gestures inside the truck, offering it to me.

  My instinct screams for me to be cautious around him, but it’s hard to think clearly with food and water so close—

  I give in to temptation and hop into the truck. I bury my nose in the water bowl, tongue lapping at top speed. The bowl becomes two bowls, then three, the images dancing up and down.

  “What’s happening to me?” I ask. My voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from a different dog.

  “I’ve got a good feeling about you,” Ruben says. “I think I’ve hit the jackpot.”

  I swallow hard, and I notice a bitter flavor in my mouth. There’s something wrong with the water, a chemical aftertaste I missed in my desperation to fill my belly.

  Get out of the truck!

  I panic, knowing I’m in trouble. I try to run, but it’s like I’m moving in slow motion. By the time I turn around to jump from the truck, it’s too late.

  The door slams shut in my face.

  I DREAM ABOUT A SOLDIER IN A BLUE UNIFORM.

  The dream happens in flashes like a memory that’s been chopped into pieces.

  At first I see a soldier with blond hair. He’s tall and lean in a military uniform, and he calls me by a name I don’t recognize.

  Next, I am running toward him, breathing hard, anger driving me forward.

  A moment later we are on the ground. The blond soldier is beating my chest and screaming in terror.

  Why am I attacking this soldier? Why am I so angry?

  “Girl!” a man shouts.

  The dream disappears, and I open my eyes, my throat still clenched in anger. I don’t know where I am, at least until I look up and see the strange man with tattoos looking back at me through the open cargo doors of the truck.

  Ruben.

  I jump to my feet, ready to attack him for tricking me, but I’m unsteady, and I fall down.

  “You were having a bad dream,” he says. “You’d better go slow. I put a little something in the food to relax you. It will wear off in a minute.”

  “You drugged me!” I shout, but the words come out muffled.

  I try to open my mouth, but I’m restricted by a leather muzzle over my jaw. I shake my head, trying to get it off me.

  “I put some gear on you. It’s a safety issue until we get to know each other better.”

  Know each other? Why would I want to know you?

  “I got rid of that ugly wet rope you were wearing, too. Put a black leather collar on you to give you an edge. Ruben takes care of his animals.”

  I get to my feet slowly, the dizziness lessening.

  The moment my vision settles, I make a break for it, trying to dart past him. He yanks an unseen leash and pulls me up short, surprising me. The leash is attached to my new collar. I choke and growl, fighting him.

  “You’re angry. That’s good. You’ll need that anger in a few minutes.”

  What’s happening in a few minutes?

  He pulls at the leash, forcing me to jump from the truck.

  We’re in a large dirt lot with fancy cars parked in neat rows. The air is filled with the smell of expensive leather as we weave between BMWs, Teslas, and Porsches. For some reason I recognize cars like these. Some part of me wants to hop into the backseat of the Tesla and settle down for a ride.

  Have I been in a car like this before? I try to remember, but nothing comes to me.

  We approach a large warehouse and a thick man in a three-piece suit steps out and blocks the door, a bulge under his shoulder.

  It’s a gun.

  I pull back on the leash, recognizing the weapon and the danger it poses.

  “You know he’s packing, huh? I hope you’re not a police dog,” Ruben says under his breath.

  The man greets Ruben with a wave, and I growl at him.

  “Easy, girl,” Ruben says.

  The man at the door just laughs. “She got something against a good-looking man in a suit?”

  “Maybe it’s the cologne, Vasily. I could smell you across the parking lot.”

  “I want to smell good for our fancy clientele.”

  “You can smell like them, but you’ll never be one of them.”

  “Ain’t that the truth. For both of us.”

  Ruben grunts and adjusts his belt. “Full house tonight?”

  “Full house and deep pockets. Didn’t expect to see your face around here again. I heard you gave up the wrestling game.”

  Ruben shrugs. “I owe some people, you know?”

  “The kind of people who play rough. Watch yourself, my friend.”

  “I hear you. But I’ve found a special dog this time. Wait until you see what she can do. One last match, then I’m gone like the wind.”

  Vasily looks me over and sighs. “I hope she can get you out of trouble.”

  “Me, too,” Ruben says, and Vasily swings open the steel door.

  We step through the entrance into chaos. The air is filled with the scent of dogs. They are everywhere inside, big dogs wearing muzzles, restrained by rough-looking men and women who hold them on short leashes. I recognize breeds like pit bulls, rottweilers, and Dobermans. I can feel their excitement at being here. They pivot this way and that, snapping at one another when they cross paths.

  There’s a raised platform on one end of the warehouse where a tuxedoed bartender pours cocktails for a group of people in expensive clothes. The crowd mills around, chatting and drinking as they look down at the noise and chaos below them.

  I’m instantly distrustful of these wealthy people. What are they doing in a warehouse filled with dogs?

  A woman in a sleeveless vest blocks Ruben’s way, a gray rottweiler by her side. The huge rottie sports a thick chain collar and a muzzle with silver spikes. He’s nearly twice my size, and he stares at me over the muzzle with undisguised hatred.

  “What’s with you?” I ask him, but he doesn’t respond.

  “I thought they ran you out of town,” the woman says to Ruben.

  “I don’t run, Jackie. Not when I have this kind of talent. Meet La Secreta.”

  Jackie reaches toward me, and I jerk away, not wanting to be touched.

  “She’s nervous for a wrestling dog. Maybe the secret is she’s part Chihuahua.”

  “She’s special. You’ll see.”

  Jackie scoffs and walks away.

  “I hope I’m right about you,” Ruben says.

  A loud whistle cuts through the noise. A heavy man in a tuxedo shouts, “Take your places, ladies and gentlemen!” The wealthy crowd cheers and rushes down the stairs from the platform, fanning out around the warehouse.

  “That’s the Commissioner,” Ruben says. “We have to get ready.”

  “Ready for what exactly?” I ask.

  He pulls me through the crowd, and I have no choice but to follow, s
till dizzy from the drugs and not yet fully in control of my body.

  Ruben stops briefly to slip money into the Commissioner’s pocket. The two of them exchange a wink and a nod.

  “Change of roster,” the Commissioner shouts. “First match will be Thunder versus Secreta!”

  “Match?” I say.

  The room erupts with shouts as money is waved in the air. I hear a hundred simultaneous conversations, people discussing the merits of my physique versus Thunder’s and predicting how long it will take Thunder to win.

  Thunder and Jackie position themselves on one side of a dirt pit, while Ruben takes us to the other. Jackie pulls a leather vest on Thunder. There are storm clouds painted on its sides.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” I say.

  Ruben leans down and whispers in my ear. “I owe a lot of money, girl. They would have broken my legs if I didn’t bring a dog tonight.”

  “I’m sorry you’re in trouble, but what does it have to do with me?”

  “I know you can’t understand any of this,” he says, “but you’re getting me and my family out of a jam. I just need you to stay in the match for two minutes. It’s like wrestling, only with dogs. Keep your head down and do your best.”

  I look into his eyes and see the sincerity there, but whatever is going on with this man and his family, I can’t forgive him for putting me in this situation.

  “Release!” the Commissioner screams, clapping his hands together.

  Ruben unsnaps the muzzle and whips off my collar in one motion. He aims me toward the center of the ring.

  “Get him, Secreta!”

  “Not a chance,” I say, and I go in the opposite direction, looking for a way out.

  The crowd yells at me and surrounds the pit, packed in tight. There’s no way to get past them.

  I hear a roar and I spin around. Thunder is racing toward me at full speed, his vest flapping around at his sides. He’s so fast he covers the distance in a few seconds.

  “Stay back,” I warn him, but he can’t understand me. I bark instead, a deep staccato warning that he ignores.

  He’s nearly on top of me, and I react without thinking. I pivot left, avoiding the head-on attack. Thunder is moving too fast to stop and he runs past, crashing into the dirt where I was standing a moment ago.

  I hear laughter in the crowd, punctuated by the enraged snorts of Thunder.

  It’s been less than fifteen seconds, and Ruben said I had to last for two minutes. Maybe I’ll be able to dodge Thunder for another minute—

  “Watch out!” Ruben shouts, interrupting my train of thought.

  I whirl around to see Thunder coming at me again, chest heaving.

  For a split second, I don’t know what to do. Then something inside me shifts, and I feel rage in the back of my throat.

  Fight! My instinct demands, and I imagine myself taking on this dog, knocking him back or maybe even taking a bite out of him—

  What? No!

  I’m not going to fight a dog I don’t even know. I dart to my right, hoping to avoid Thunder again. But the big rottweiler learned from his last attack, and he pulls up short, stopping his charge and bringing us face-to-face.

  He’s smarter than I thought. I cut left and right, and Thunder does the same, matching me move for move, edging me back against the circle of screaming bystanders. I try to run between their legs to get away, but they kick at me, boots connecting with my hindquarters.

  I hear snorting behind me, and I have no choice but to turn and face Thunder.

  The rottie is three feet away in a low crouch. The moment I turn, he leaps at me, mouth open wide as he springs for my neck.

  I hesitate for a moment, shocked by the violence I see in Thunder’s face. This is no wrestling match for him. It’s more like life or death.

  I feel a hot energy surge through my body. It seems there’s no way to escape this fight, but I no longer want to escape.

  I want this dog’s throat in my teeth.

  Attack!

  This time I listen to my instinct, and I push off my front paws, meeting Thunder’s leap with my own. My smaller size and greater agility allow me to come up from below and surprise Thunder as my teeth close around his throat. He whimpers beneath my bite, afraid for the first time.

  My stomach churns, sickened by the anger I feel. Thunder squirms in my grip, snarling as he fights to get free. I can hear the shouts of the crowd demanding that I finish him off. All I have to do is bite down—

  No!!!

  I twist to the side, flinging Thunder away from me, hearing him yelp as the big dog goes airborne across the pit, landing hard and spinning through the dirt. He crashes into Jackie, and the two of them go down in a heap.

  The crowd gasps and falls silent.

  What just happened?

  I look back at Ruben. He’s as surprised as I am, watching me wide-eyed.

  “Did you see that?” he says, elbowing the man next to him. “She just tossed a giant dog like it was nothing. I knew she was something special the first time I saw her!”

  I can still taste Thunder’s fur in my mouth. Memories of past fights flood my mind, but they are as vague as shadows.

  Have I killed before?

  The idea repulses me, and I shake the thought away, whipping my head from side to side. I cough and drool, trying to clear the taste of strange dog from my tongue.

  I turn and walk back toward Ruben, relieved that the match is over, but a handful of people in the crowd are pointing across the pit at something behind me.

  Jackie is splashing cold water on Thunder, reviving him. He jumps back to his feet, and she urges him into the ring to continue the fight. A ripple of delight passes through the crowd.

  Thunder rushes at me, his paws slamming the dirt as he accelerates to full speed.

  We’re only a minute into the match, but I can see it’s not going to end well. Thunder won’t stop unless I stop him.

  Permanently.

  I scan the room, looking for other options.

  A flash of light from above catches my eye. There’s a window high on the warehouse wall, covered in chicken wire. A streetlight shines through from the other side.

  A plan comes together.

  I let Thunder get close, waiting until the very last second, and then I jump up. I step on Thunder, using his back as a springboard, and leap at the Commissioner, who is watching from just outside the pit.

  The man screams and ducks his head to protect himself, and I push off his shoulder, using the momentum to go even higher, jumping from his shoulder to a ladder rung, to the top of a stack of boxes. I spring up at the window, afraid the chicken wire is going to catch me and knock me back to the ground.

  I pull in my front paws and hit the wire with my chest, feeling the sharp metal and glass scrape my skin as I crash through both layers and sail into the night air.

  I’m out! I made it!

  I come down hard on the roof of a Mercedes SUV, the metal crunching beneath me and absorbing my impact.

  That’s gonna leave a mark.

  I leap to the ground and keep going, racing through the parking lot and onto a nearby street, not stopping until the shouts from inside the warehouse fade behind me, replaced by the sound of my heart beating as I run free into the night.

  I GET AWAY FROM THE WAREHOUSE.

  My body aches from the fight and from the impact of crashing through the window. When I’m far enough to be safe, I curl up and lick myself, assessing the damage.

  I’m scratched up pretty good, but the wounds are superficial.

  I’m shocked by the rage I felt in the ring, and also by my incredible physical skills. How was I able to take on a rottweiler that was nearly twice my size?

  Even stranger, why can I understand people when they can’t understand me?

  I search for answers inside myself, but my memory is as foggy as it was when I first woke up on the yacht.

  I hear a boy’s voice shout from somewhere nearby.

  “G
ive it back to me!”

  My ears perk up with curiosity. I take a step toward the shouting, but I stop myself. I can’t trust people after what I’ve just been through, and I want to avoid any problems.

  “Help!” the boy shouts, his voice high-pitched and afraid.

  I shiver and my fur stands up.

  It’s a child. In trouble.

  I pause in midstride, instinct pulling me toward the voice rather than away. I turn the corner to have a look.

  Three older kids confront a skinny young boy who is backed up against a wall.

  One of the kids has something that the boy wants. It’s a silver cell phone that glints in the streetlight.

  The older kid holds it up, high out of the boy’s reach.

  “I need it back!” the skinny boy says.

  “I neeeeed it,” the older kid says, mocking him.

  “I’m waiting for a call!”

  The older kid puts the phone to his ear, pretending to receive a call. “Hello, Puberty? I’m scared, could you come back in a few years?”

  “You’re gonna break it!” the skinny boy screams, and he grabs for the phone, unintentionally bumping into the older kid.

  Without warning, the older kid punches him in the stomach, doubling him over. The boy tries to get away, but he’s trapped between a brick wall and the three kids hovering over him.

  “This is not your business,” I say to myself, but something won’t let me leave.

  A low growl rolls from my chest, and the gang of kids turn toward me.

  “Leave him alone,” I warn them.

  “Stop barking at me, mutt,” the older kid says, and he punches the boy in the side. The boy gasps for air and drops to the ground, hitting his face on the pavement.

  Something snaps inside me, and I’m overwhelmed by a desire to protect the skinny boy against his stronger opponents.

  I dart between the attackers’ legs and stand next to the sobbing boy on the ground.

  The three older boys look at me, startled.

  “Is this your attack dog or something?” they ask him.

  The boy squints, surprised to find me next to him. His brown hair falls across the bruise that’s forming near his eye. He blinks, uncertain of where I came from.