Dogs of S.T.E.A.M.

by Ralph E. Vaughan

  Working upon the device, seemingly unruffled by the turmoil about him, was Lord Cerberus himself. Hearing stories about and listening to descriptions of London’s most notorious dog did little to prepare one for the actual sight of him. He was truly like no other dog ever to walk the Earth, and it was easy to understand why some simple-minded dogs, such as Snitch, would imbue him with godlike qualities. Even the way he worked upon the machine, using mouth, paws and tail, was less like a dog and more like a Companion.

  Gearhead shouted, but they never heard him. He did not hear his own voice. He leaped toward Lord Cerberus, to stop him, but never landed. The trilling sound crashed over them, and the light expanded to fill the universe. The world vanished and Gearhead fell though an infinite darkness.

  Chapter 4: A Flurry of Phantoms

  Present Day

  Chula Vista, Calif.

  Earth 1

  “The least you could have done was warn me I was going to be inundated with reports from every dog and cat in the area,” Kim complained. “As you dogs are wont to say, you could have thrown me a bone. Between coordinating info and keeping Little Kitty on task, I had my paws more than full.”

  “If possible, I would have, but once we realized the scope of the manifestation we had to move fast,” Levi explained. “I am confident, however, you quickly adapted to the task. Besides, once you’ve herded Little Kitty, what could really be that difficult?”

  The Torby cat looked askance at Levi. Despite all the years she had worked with these dogs, it was still difficult discerning between sincerity and sarcasm. Well, with Yoda it was easy, she corrected herself, because the snarky Pomeranian was ever sincerely sarcastic, but Levi was a different kettle of fish. He always was.

  “I suppose so,” she finally admitted. “But I still would have appreciated a heads-up.”

  “I promise,” Levi said. “Next time we encounter a mysterious and inexplicable enigma that manifests over a large area of Chula Vista I’ll make sure you’re informed before we do anything.”

  Kim squinted. She was pretty sure he was being a little snarky, but he still looked very sincere.

  “What did you think of Ajax’s story?” she asked. “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

  “Ajax is one of the most truthful dogs I ever met,” Levi replied. “At the same time, he is not always the most perceptive of dogs. Every shadow becomes a monster, and every passing van full of dognappers ready to take him to a gladiatorial compound.”

  “So when he claims he saw a flying dog?” Kim paused half a moment, then added: “Or a dog who was flying?”

  “I think Ajax saw exactly what he said he saw,” Levi replied. “The trilling sound is corroborated by dozens of yarders, ferals and hobo cats.”

  “With a vacuum-cleaner jet-pack on his back?” the cat asked.

  “When confronted by the unknown, any dog will describe it in terms he can understand, images that resemble what he sees in some way,” Levi explained. “If Ajax’s Companion used a Dyson or an ordinary broom, Ajax probably would have used some other image to describe what he saw on the dog’s back, but his Companion uses a canister vacuum…”

  “Or he’s seen one on television or in an old cartoon,” Kim said.

  Levi nodded. “Either way, the description is accurate to what he saw. It’s not the sort of thing he could make up.”

  “What about the dog itself?” Kim asked. “I know dogs can be quite varied, but what that dog looked like…” She shivered. “I can’t imagine coming across a dog like that outside a nightmare.”

  “If Ajax’s needle-toothed flying dog were an isolated incident within the context of the trilling, I might be more inclined to doubt him, despite his penchant for the simple truth,” Levi said. “But there’s June’s vanishing cat with the glowing eyes.”

  “The little top hat and the bow-tie spook me out,” Kim said with a little shiver. “It’s not what cats do on their own.”

  “Then there are the others you told me about,” Levi added. “If we take them as a whole rather than isolated incidents, then we have much more than merely a strange sound in the night.”

  Observations of the trilling were more uniform than they expected, for, usually, when a large number of witnesses were involved, stories differed widely. There were some variations, of course, as to loudness, pitch and duration, but most agreed about the time and, allowing for location, the direction. A few dogs also reported an impulse to follow the sound to its source, as if it were a summons, but whether that was a natural response because of a canine instinct or some quality of the sound itself was unclear.

  Of greater interest were the other reports, the ones like June’s and Ajax’s, incidents that apparently had nothing to do with the trilling but occurred about the same time. A dog named Roscoe, living in one of the big houses where F Street curved into Hilltop Avenue, happened to be outside at the time of the trilling and reported seeing a dog wearing a maroon fez and some sort of a Bulldog wearing a dark blue vest bearing an heraldic crest and the ornate letters VR.

  Other animals, mostly ferals, wanderers and hobo cats, also reported seeing phantom dogs who either vanished like mist or were weirdly transparent. Some of the apparitions seemed vaguely aware of their surroundings while others passed through walls obviously not seen. Some dogs seemed extraordinary because of their uncanny accouterments such as hats, goggles and the like. Others seemed ordinary enough, such as three large bully-dogs marching abreast down the street as if they owned it, but who rose above the mundane because their paws never touched the asphalt and cars passed through their vaporous forms.

  Oddest of all, though, were stories told by dogs who cringed and whimpered or gaped with wide-eyed awe as they recounted the vision of an impossible dog. He was far larger than any dog had a right to be, no matter the breed, a dog who peered down at them with three eyes on each side of his massive head, whose tail writhed like an angry serpent, its tip actually bifurcated. Some of the dogs admitted they might have dreamed this spectral dog, while others swore they had awakened from disturbing dreams to find the dog either looming over them or watching them from a distance with fiery eyes before dissipating like mist. Though the dogs told of meeting this unique canine in various ways, experiencing sensations ranging from abject fear to ecstatic wonder, the descriptions were all uniform. The giant hound had appeared to dogs of all breeds, but what the witnesses all had in common was a sensation that the trilling was a summons of some kind, that the giant hound had come to collect them.

  “I wonder how many answered that summons,” Levi mused. “If we heard only from those who did not respond, frozen by fear or awe, how many more leaped their fences in the night and followed the trilling to its source?”

  Kim shivered. “I’m glad no cats were affected that way.”

  “That we know of,” Levi pointed out. He paused. “I think we have enough information for a general meeting of the Agency. How is Little Kitty coming with plotting the data?”

  “I put her on the job as soon as I figured out what was going on, and checked on her every time I brought her new reports,” Kim said. “She should be finished within the hour…unless a squeaky mouse fell out of her toy box…or a butterfly fluttered by the window.” She paused. “I had better check on her again.”

  As Kim walked down the hallway, Levi heard the Torby mutter something about ‘Calicos,’ ‘ADD’ and ‘scatter-brained.’

  Sunny and Yoda came in through the kitchen door from the driveway, both quite excited.

  “Something up?” Levi asked.

  “We received a report from South San Diego,” Sunny replied.

  “A hobo cat brought it,” Yoda added.

  “That is unusual,” Levi mused. “But it would be a hobo cat.”

  From time to time, cases took them far a-field, such as to National City to the north or Eastlake far to the east out Telegraph Canyon Road, but it was highly unusual that a case took them as far south as Coronado Avenue and the Tijuana River.
Dogs living in the apartments and houses down there were surrounded by roving outlaw packs from both north and south of the Mexican border, and were sometimes inadvertently caught up in the often violent conflicts between those packs and canine units of the US Border Patrol and Drug Enforcement Agency. Few dogs entered that area of their own free will, and even fewer returned. That a report had come out via a hobo cat was not surprising, for as a group they were fearless and went wherever their whims took them.

  “It was some hobo cat Smokey happened across while he was out and about,” Sunny said.

  “What did the hobo cat have to say?” Levi asked.

  “That there are two dogs down there, both Shih Tzu, named Kelsey and Sammy, who told him about a dog wearing a fez,” Sunny answered.

  “We already have a report of him,” Levi said. “Roscoe. And he said there was another dog, a kind of Bulldog wearing a vest with a crest and some initials. But it is a corroboration of his sighting.”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t talk to the dog in the fez,” Yoda said.

  “The dog in the fez actually spoke to them?”

  “That’s what Smokey said the hobo cat said,” Sunny replied. “It gets a little vague from there. The hobo cat just wasn’t all that interested at the time, only mentioned it because Smokey asked him if anything weird had happened recently.”

  “What did the dog in the fez say?” Levi asked.

  “That’s where it gets vague,” Sunny explained. “According to Smokey, the hobo cat wasn’t much interested, didn’t pay much attention. You know how hobo cats are.”

  “I don’t suppose the hobo cat is around to interview,” Levi said.

  Yoda rolled his eyes. “You know how hobo cats are.”

  “Then we have no choice but to pay a visit,” Levi said. “Do we have enough information to track down Kelsey and Sammy?”

  “Oh yes,” Sunny confirmed. “Hobo cats may not be much for conversation, except for the stories they trade for, but it’s like someone stuffed Google Earth inside their tiny little heads. Smokey was able to extract a step-by-step description.”

  Levi smiled. “I’ll bet he was.”

  “Yeah,” Yoda interjected. “He asked nicely.”

  “We’re going to have an Agency meeting to discus what we know so far, what it might mean,” Levi said. “Please ask Smokey and Groucho to attend. Hopefully, Little Kitty will have finished plotting the data about the trilling sound before we set out for South San Diego. I’d like to get an idea of its origin before we set off.”

  “We’re going today?” Yoda demanded, surprised.

  “I don’t think we can let it go till tomorrow.”

  “Unless you know of some way of getting down there that I don’t, we won’t get there till night,” Yoda pointed out. “That is not the best area to be in after dark.”

  “And being far from home, there will be no allies upon whom we can call,” Sunny added. “It will be safer if we wait and start out very early in the morning.”

  “Safer, yes,” Levi agreed. “But if we do not follow up this clue immediately we may miss an opportunity to learn something vital about this mystery.” He paused. “But you are correct—it is a long journey into a dangerous neighborhood. It does not take all three of us to interview two dogs. I’ll make the trip alone.”

  “The report is vague and it may come to nothing,” Sunny said. “You know how hobo cats are.”

  “Besides,” Yoda added, “maybe the dog in the fez didn’t say anything more important than, ‘How do you do? Do you know the way to San Jose?’ It may be a lot of something for nothing.”

  “It may be,” Levi allowed. “But I don’t think so.”

  Sunny demanded: “Why do you think it so important?”

  “My gut,” Levi replied. “I feel it in my gut.”

  Sunny and Yoda looked at each other and sighed. If there had been a logical reason for Levi’s urge to interview the two Shih Tzu dogs without delay, they might have been able to talk him out of an immediate trip down south. However, he was not motivated by logic this time, or even by deductive reasoning, but by some strange, ancient and indescribable instinct that he chose to call ‘his gut.’

  “I hate it when he channels his inner Gibbs,” Yoda quipped.

  “Almost as bad as when he channels his inner Sherlock.”

  “I’m right here,” Levi reminded them. “I can hear you.”

  “At least we don’t talk behind his back, do we, Yoda?”

  “No, we don’t,” Yoda replied. “We talk in front of his back.”

  “Well, we can’t let him go alone, can we?” Sunny said.

  “He wouldn’t be alone, would he?” Yoda pointed out.

  “Oh?” Sunny questioned, playing Yoda’s straight-dog. “If we’re not along, wouldn’t he be by himself?”

  “Not at all,” Yoda protested. “He would have his gut to keep him company. Maybe they could travel along, singing a song…you know, a duodenum duet.”

  Levi closed his eyes, hung his head, and sighed. “Just get the two outside cats so we can get started.”

  Smokey was a cat whose name fitted him. His coloring was black with swirling silver highlights. Even in daylight he appeared wreathed about in smoke, and at night some cats mistook him for a ghost-cat. In a fight, however, he resembled a hurricane with claws. His battles, however, were rare, as most felines and canines were well aware of his prowess. Of all the animals who called the large brown house on Fifth Avenue home, he had traveled farthest to reach it, starting his journey in Central Europe. He had steamed the seven seas as a ship’s cat, and while it was Fate that had landed him in Chula Vista, it was love that kept him from straying.

  Groucho was also a cat suited to his name, but in his case, it was less a mark of mystery than a cosmic jest. Dark patterns over his mouth and eyes gave him a resemblance to a certain old-time comedian. All he needed to complete the look was a big cigar and $64,000. He was a Calico, like Little Kitty, not surprising since they were siblings, but if it might be argued that Little Kitty received a majority of the brains in the family, it was a certainty that Groucho got all the common sense. Like most Calico males, he was mild of manner and reticent to fight, but at least he knew how to get out of the way of a car coming up a driveway. On the other paw, Little Kitty’s ability to sit in the middle of a driveway and look confused was how she became a permanent indoor cat. That Groucho rarely found himself in a fight was due in equal parts to his association with Smokey and the long list of fighting tricks Smokey had taught him to use when he was on his own.

  “Good afternoon,” Smokey purred when he entered the door that had been opened for him. His voice was deep and gravelly with a slight trace of an accent.

  “Hi, everyone,” Groucho greeted. “Been a weird day. You all going to tell us it’s going to get weirder, or what?”

  “With flying dogs, creepy sounds in the night, and vanishing cats I don’t see how it could,” Yoda said. “But it might.”

  “According to Little Kitty, the plot…oh, hello, Smokey,” Kim said as she glided out of the hallway. “How are you today?”

  “I am fine, Miss Kim.”

  “Keeping Little Kitty under control?” Groucho asked.

  Kim turned sharply, as if seeing him for the first time. “Little Kitty? Oh, yes, she’s so easily distracted that I must…”

  “Kim, you were saying something about Little Kitty’s work,” Levi reminded the Torby.

  “Yes, of course,” Kim replied, sounding slightly flustered. “She has finished plotting locations of those who heard the trilling sound. She is now working on adding vectors. Some of the witnesses were…shall we say, less than certain about direction and distance. I only gave her those reports I considered reliable, more or less.”

  “You included June’s and Ajax’s reports?” Levi asked.

  “Yes, despite their…other sightings,” she confirmed.

  The dogs assumed the Sphinx Position, a half-reclining stance they could maintain for h
ours while sustaining clear mental focus. Groucho and Smokey sat upon their haunches, tails encircling them, while Kim crouched atop the couch.

  For the next hour the six animals exchanged information, all that the three dogs and two cats had gathered during their long excursion; Kim added stories told by members of the Fifth Avenue Irregulars, who had come to the house often during the last several hours. Of special interest were sightings of odd lights in the sky, objects and buildings out of place, and phantom animals, particularly the giant hound who seemed to exert such an abnormal influence over every dog who had reported him.

  “That creeps me out more than June’s vanishing cat,” Yoda noted. “It creeps me out more than that Hound of the Baskervilles you told us about.”

  “That was very scary,” Sunny agreed.

  “Yes, but it was just a story, fictional, just as Sherlock Holmes is, unfortunately, fictional,” Levi explained. “This dog is real, at least in the sense that it was witnessed by others.”

  “What do you make of those who said it had three eyes on each side of its massive head?” Smokey asked.

  “You’ve heard of Cerberus?” Levi queried.

  “Yeah, he had six eyes, but he had two eyes per head, like any normal dog,” Yoda said. “I mean two eyes, not three heads.”

  “Yoda is right,” Sunny added. “Cerberus had three heads for six eyes, but this specter dog had only one, by all reports. Besides, Cerberus is a legend, as unreal as the Hound of the Baskervilles.”

  “Maybe not,” Levi suggested. “The story of Cerberus is very old. It did not, however, start with the dogs of Greece as most think, but among the ancient dogs of India, the Pyes, Banjaras and Combai. Like Anubis, Cerberus was an actual dog who became a myth.”

  “I don’t think Cerberus is anything like Anubis,” Sunny said. “I heard stories about Anubis when I was a pup, and I was inspired and comforted. Nobody told stories about Cerberus, but if they had, I would have been terrified.”

  “Yeah, Levi,” Yoda joined in, “Cerberus is a monster. What did you tell us about Anubis a few months ago? Something about bats?”