by Allen Zadoff
“She won’t. I promise,” Chance says.
Dr. Pao cautiously steps out of the house and closes the door firmly behind her. She stands on the stoop looking down at us.
“Approach slowly so I can get a good look at her,” she says.
We take a few steps toward the doctor, and she holds up her hand.
“Close enough.”
She studies my face and body for a long moment. Then she shakes her head.
“She’s not one of mine. Sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
“I thought you didn’t breed any dogs,” Junebug says.
The doctor stops, and her face turns red with anger. “Do you believe everything you read on the internet?”
“Tell her about the chip,” I say.
“We found a chip inside of her,” Junebug says. “It had BreedX printed on it.”
“Prove it,” Dr. Pao says. “Show it to me.”
“We had to throw it away,” Chance says. “We were being tracked.”
“I don’t believe you,” the doctor says, but her face tells a different story. She’s flushed with fear.
“We’re telling the truth!” Chance says. “She still has a big hole in her leg.”
I turn to the side, and Chance points to the place where Junebug sewed me up at the 7-Eleven. I look back to find the skin has healed, and the stitches have fallen out.
“It’s gone!” Chance says. “That’s impossible.”
Junebug looks, too. “How could it heal so quickly?”
“The chip was right here,” Chance says. “I swear.”
The doctor looks upset, her eyes darting from Junebug to me and back again.
“What do we do now?” Chance asks me.
“Tell her we just want to sit down with her and—”
“Were you talking to the dog?” the doctor asks, her voice on the edge of panic.
Chance is too slow with his denial, and without warning, Dr. Pao jumps off the stairs and disappears around the back of the house.
“Follow her!” I shout, and we take off after her.
The doctor is faster than she looks, and the yard is like a maze that thickens as we move deeper into it. We run through paths overgrown with trees, scraping past branches and leaping over thick roots that grow up out of the soil.
I only want to question the doctor, but she’s running from us like her life depends on it. We nearly catch up with her when she leaps over a hedge, racing toward a barn hidden in the rear of the property.
I speed up, outpacing Chance and Junebug and gaining on the doctor. She makes it to the barn a split second before me.
She flings open the door and races inside. I leap from twenty feet away and hit the door, pushing it open and tumbling inside after her.
The scent of dogs hits me full in the face, and my eyes instantly adjust to the low light inside the barn. The interior of the building is a kennel, and there are more than two dozen labradoodle dogs staring at me. They seem nearly identical, crossbreeds with big friendly faces and curly hair.
Dr. Pao wades into the center of the pack, and the dogs shift to let her through, then close in around her like they’re trained to protect her.
What kinds of dogs are these, and how are they communicating?
I edge forward and sniff at the pack. They react instantly, tightening the circle around the doctor.
My heart quickens with excitement at the idea I might have found my pack. “Are you the BreedX dogs? I’m not here to hurt you or the doctor.”
They don’t respond.
“Can you understand what I’m saying?” I ask, still hopeful.
They bark at one another, passing messages in a language more sophisticated than normal dogs’, but far less sophisticated than human language. I hear barked warnings to be cautious and reminders to protect the doctor from outsiders.
It’s obvious they can communicate with one another, but they can’t speak to me.
I turn away, disappointed.
The barn door flies open, and Chance and Junebug run in, breathless.
“Whoa,” Chance says. “They all look alike.”
“And they’re cute!” Junebug says.
“Stay back,” I warn them. “These aren’t regular dogs.”
“Are they like you?” Chance asks.
“Not like me, but not normal. They’re protecting Dr. Pao. She’s hiding behind them in the shadows.”
“Dr. Pao!” Chance shouts. “We’re not trying to hurt you.”
“We just want to talk,” Junebug says.
Dr. Pao shouts a command from somewhere in the barn, and the formation of dogs separates and splits down the middle. Dr. Pao walks forward, and we approach through the pack to join her.
The doctor looks up. I see tears glistening on her cheeks.
Why is she crying?
“I thought you were them,” she says.
“Who?” Chance asks.
“Maelstrom.”
“Are they after you, too?” Junebug asks.
“I need to know what Maelstrom is,” I tell Chance.
“We heard the word Maelstrom before, but we don’t—”
The doctor cuts him off. “You talked to the dog again, didn’t you?”
“Tell her the truth,” I say.
“Her name is Wild,” Chance says. “She told me to ask you about Maelstrom.”
Dr. Pao’s eyes widen. “In human language?”
Chance nods.
“Oh my gosh. They’ve done it. They’ve broken the language barrier.”
Dr. Pao comes toward us with the natural curiosity of a scientist overcoming her fear.
“I only heard barking,” Dr. Pao says. “How can you understand her?”
“There’s a translator in her collar,” Chance says, “and I can hear her through a special device in my ear.”
“Don’t leave me out,” Junebug says. “I’ve got a device, too.”
Dr. Pao looks from Junebug to Chance and then to my collar.
“Come to the house with me,” she says. “There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
“YOU DON’T REMEMBER ANYTHING?” THE DOCTOR ASKS.
We’re in Dr. Pao’s living room, and she’s on the sofa across from me wearing the earpiece that Junebug loaned to her. One of her labradoodles is by her side, and she runs her fingers through the dog’s curly hair.
“I don’t remember much,” I say. “Flashes of training, blue uniforms, and a yacht.”
“A yacht?”
Chance perks up behind me. He’s across the room with Junebug, drinking juice and eating snacks.
“I woke up on a sinking ship,” I tell Dr. Pao. “I saw an article in the LA Times yesterday saying a yacht belonging to Helen Horvath sunk last week.”
“Horvath? The rich woman who’s constantly in trouble?” Chance says.
“You’ve heard of her?” I ask.
Junebug shoots Chance a quizzical look. “She’s surprised I’ve heard of Helen Horvath,” Chance explains.
“Everyone’s heard of her,” Junebug says. “She’s rich and beautiful, and people think she’s shady because she gives away a ton of money from her foundation.”
“What’s so shady about that?” Chance asks.
“It’s not the money, it’s who she chooses to give it to,” Dr. Pao says. “Her foundation has been under investigation for a while.”
“I don’t know anything about her or her foundation,” I say. “And I have no idea why I was on her family yacht.”
“Very mysterious,” Dr. Pao says.
Her labradoodle hops off the couch, walking toward Chance and Junebug.
“Oh my god, I’m having a cute attack,” Junebug says, and Chance rolls his eyes.
“Is it okay to play with her?” Junebug asks.
“Her name’s Maddie,” Dr. Pao says. “She’s very friendly, and she loves kids. Wait until you see what kind of tricks she can do.”
The big labradoodle happily eats chips from Junebu
g’s hand while Chance scratches behind her floppy ears. Maddie seems like she’s in heaven, oblivious to the conversation around her. I try to imagine what it would be like to be a normal dog, to live with that kind of freedom.…
Who am I kidding?
I’m not a normal dog. I have to find out what kind of dog I am so I’ll know what to do next. I turn away from Maddie and the children.
“I need to know about BreedX,” I tell the doctor.
“It was my life’s work and my passion,” she says, her eyes bright. “I wanted to create the greatest pets in history.”
Across the room, Junebug squeals with laughter as Maddie squats down and nudges Junebug onto her back, galloping around and snorting to imitate a horse.
“I told you she knew tricks,” Dr. Pao says.
“I want to try, too!” Chance says, and he trades places with Junebug. He shouts with pleasure as Maddie lifts him into the air and prances around the room.
“You see what I mean about creating great pets?” Dr. Pao says. “But BreedX wasn’t just about fun. We were practical, too. It started with the idea of service animals. Drug-sniffing dogs, guide dogs… Imagine a family pet who could detect if your children were using drugs, who could tell if you were getting sick when your scent changed, who could keep your family safe crossing the street in traffic. All of this without much training, because it would be bred into the dog.”
“One dog could do all of those things?”
“Those capacities already exist in different breeds,” Dr. Pao says. “But I found a way to merge them into one optimized animal. A BreedX dog would have the qualities of a working dog combined with the sociability, loyalty, and friendliness of a family pet.”
“Like Maddie!” Junebug says, pulling the labradoodle onto her lap.
“Exactly,” Dr. Pao says.
“But the article online said you never delivered any dogs,” Chance says.
Dr. Pao’s face goes red with anger. “I couldn’t deliver them because General Rupani stopped me!”
“Who stopped you?” I ask, sitting up and cocking my ears.
“His name is General Rupani. He’s head of a supersecret arm of the military with the codename Maelstrom.”
“Finally!” Chance says, and he leans forward, all attention on the doctor. Junebug shuffles nervously behind him.
“Rupani,” I say, trying to remember the face that goes with the name, but nothing comes to me.
Maddie senses the doctor’s distress and disengages from Junebug, trotting across the room and planting her head on the doctor’s thigh. The doctor runs her fingers through Maddie’s fur.
“Two men in uniforms showed up at our offices,” Dr. Pao says. “They said the military would like to license our technology for a pilot program.”
“But you didn’t go along with it,” I say.
“Absolutely not. My dream was to create next-gen pets, not the next generation of—”
She looks at me, her voice trailing off.
“Of what?” I ask. I sense she’s going to tell us something vital—that I’m close to finding out who, and what, I am.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Pao says. “I lost control of myself for a moment.”
I whine, frustrated.
A movement outside the window draws my attention. I look at a bank of trees beyond the compound. I watch the branches swaying for a few seconds, and I decide it was just the wind.
I look back at Dr. Pao. She seems tired, her face older than it was a few moments ago.
“I said no to those soldiers,” she says. “But that wasn’t the end of it. I had no idea who I was really dealing with.”
“Maelstrom,” I say.
Dr. Pao’s face goes dark.
“You keep saying that word. What is it?” Chance asks. We’re all listening intently.
Dr. Pao stands up. “I’d like to speak to Wild alone.”
“No way!” Chance says. “I’m never going to find out what that Maelstrom thing is!”
“Give us a couple of minutes,” I urge Chance. He pouts and relays the message to Junebug.
“Bummer,” she says.
The kids leave the room, and Dr. Pao closes the door firmly behind them.
“I haven’t told you the whole story,” she says. “And you need to know.”
DR. PAO STANDS WITH HER BACK TO THE DOOR.
“Before we get into this,” she says, “I have to ask how well you know that girl.”
“Junebug? Not very well, but she’s been a huge help. We wouldn’t have made it this far without her.”
Dr. Pao points to her ear. “Junebug’s device doesn’t match the boy’s.”
“Hers is homemade.”
“Homemade? Your collar and earbud—that’s Maelstrom technology. How could a kid make a device that emulates their tech and translates your voice?”
“She’s a hacker. She creates all kinds of things, and she stumbled onto my collar transmission. It was a coincidence, Dr. Pao.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Maelstrom started with my tech, and they’ve developed it even further in the years since. Even if she’s a brilliant hacker, she’s still just a kid. There’s no way she could replicate their work.”
“Then how would she get her hands on it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m wondering. Be careful around her, okay? Now, let’s talk about you.”
She walks across the room and unlocks a drawer in her desk. She removes a folder and puts it on the table in front of me.
I hop up on two paws and look it over.
It’s a complex diagram of dog breeds, colors, and lines crisscrossing hundreds of breed names.
“This is a genomic map of the family of dogs,” Dr. Pao says. “It lists every trait and the breed from which it arose. And with CRISPR—”
“What is that?”
“Gene-editing software. CRISPR technology allows us to make precise changes in the genes of animals.”
I scan the page, frightened by the implications of what’s in front of me.
“You’re saying you can mix and match traits to create the dog you want in the lab?”
She nods. “Like a recipe. We can include certain ingredients and exclude others.”
She turns to a second page. It’s the same diagram, only now large sections of the circle are blacked out and others are highlighted.
I scan the highlighted qualities on the diagram: courage, intelligence, cleverness, cunning, aggression, and more.
Something isn’t making sense to me.
“But these qualities exist in many breeds, don’t they?”
“Like I said, my specialty was combining different traits into a single breed. This is a recipe for one animal, turned up to one hundred percent. An animal that could fit in anywhere, that would be intelligent enough to understand her surroundings, that would have hyper-aggressive instincts that could be unleashed at will. A super-breed.”
“This is what BreedX was working on?”
She shakes her head. “These aren’t BreedX documents, Wild. They’re from Maelstrom.”
I look at the chart and I shiver, the fur on my neck standing up.
She says, “The soldiers brought me these documents. This is what they wanted. It’s the dog I refused to create for them.”
“They wanted you to breed a weapon.”
She closes the folder.
“When I refused, they stole my company and destroyed my reputation.”
“Then they continued your work on their own.”
“As far as I can tell, they’ve been refining and developing multiple generations of dogs. Who knows how far they’ve gotten.”
She locks the folder in her desk and turns back to me.
“Actually, we know how far, Wild. Because I’m talking to you.”
My fur stands up as fear creeps down my skin.
“I’m not a… I had a BreedX chip under my skin,” I say. “That m
akes me a BreedX dog. Like Maddie.”
I say the words, but they ring hollow. The doctor shakes her head sadly.
“I wish that were true. The only BreedX dogs that exist are the ones I made later. My intelligent labradoodles like Maddie. Like I said outside, you can’t be one of mine.”
“Then why did I have a BreedX chip inside me?”
“We developed an advanced locator chip. Maelstrom is probably using some of my original tech. It’s cheaper than making it from scratch.”
“So if I’m not one of your dogs—”
“You’re one of theirs.”
I blink hard as I remember the copper taste of blood in my mouth, and the rage that filled me with the desire to kill.
Dr. Pao kneels down next to me, her voice gentle. “I can’t know for sure. But if you are and they spent all that time and money to create you, why do they want to destroy you?”
I remember my nightmare, and in my mind I hear the blond soldier screaming, blood soaking through his uniform.
“I think I’m a threat to them,” I say.
“You said you have no memories, only some impressions.”
“But they don’t know that, do they? They left me for dead, and here I am walking the streets.”
I turn away from her and look at my reflection in the window.
“My memory is starting to return. I’m having nightmares about a soldier.”
“A Maelstrom soldier?”
“I believe so.”
I hear the soldier scream, and it sends a shiver through me.
“I think I did something terrible,” I say.
I shudder from snout to tail, then I turn away from my reflection, away from the memories.
“You’ve been more than helpful, Dr. Pao, but I think we should go now.”
She nods. “I’ll return the earpiece to Junebug.”
She pauses at the door.
“After talking to you, it’s safe to assume that the Animal Control officers are actually Maelstrom agents.”
“That’s what I’ve been thinking, too.”
Animal Control is Maelstrom. That explains the mysterious vans, the officers desperate to get me—at any price.
“It’s the perfect cover story,” Dr. Pao says. “They can’t have soldiers running around the streets in broad daylight, but Animal Control officers? They claim there’s a wild dog loose, or an outbreak of rabies, and they can go anywhere without raising suspicion.”