The Tsunami

by Marshall Miller

  Scarman moved his right hand up to her face. “Skin is soft and clear. If you was a horse, I’d check your teeth.” More laughter.

  “Why don’t you leave her alone, asshole?” Torbin yelled in his direction.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Scarman snarled back. “Unless you want me to stick you up the ass first, faggot.”

  He moved his hand to her jawline, and pulled her face up to look at him. “How about a nice big wet kiss, darlin’?”

  Scarman screamed as Abigail quickly shifted her head and sank her teeth into Scarman’s right hand. The Kraken had gotten sloppy due to his desire, and was now paying the price. Abigail’s strong jaws and good teeth nearly amputated his thumb. Scarman’s eyes bugged out, and he grabbed Abigail’s jaw with his free left hand, squeezing her face hard to make her let go.

  Abigail released her jaw, and Scarman stumbled back, screaming, holding his ruined thumb with his good hand. “Hey!” Big Ears exclaimed, then he too screamed. Sloppiness in prisoner control techniques must have been contagious, as he had momentarily lost track of Abigail’s hands. Though he had ahold of her arms, he neglected to notice that she was just the right height to easily grab his family jewels with both hands. She squeezed, twisted, and yanked.

  Big Ears started screaming soprano, and shoved his captive away, before collapsing into a heap of blubbering manhood. Freed, and pushed in the right direction, Abigail took a long stride and then planted her steel toed right boot into Scarman’s scrotum. He was too involved trying to keep his right thumb attached to his hand to notice her move until it was too late. He jackknifed over at the waist, and Abigail planted a perfect left crescent kick alongside his right jaw. The Kraken toppled over, trying to hold his thumb and testicles at the same time.

  Everyone froze for just an instant. Then, Talbot yelled at Grizzly, “Don’t just stand there! Get her!” Grizzly produced a switchblade knife and advanced with practiced ease. Almost immediately, he yelped as a concealed shuriken throwing star from Abigail sank into the back of his knife hand. He dropped his weapon and scrambled back, holding his injured hand.

  “Fuck this!” Talbot yelled. He pointed the .44 at Torbin’s head. “One more move and his brains are splattered all over the fucking asphalt.”

  “Now, now, Talbot. I bet the Church wants me alive for interrogation, don’t they?” The Kraken Leader cursed loudly, then pointed it at his right knee. “I’ll just cripple you instead.”

  “And I’ll just bleed to death. That .44 will blow a right big hole in me. I may not survive.”

  With that comment, Talbot aimed the large pistol at Abigail. “Wait!” yelled Grizzly. “Here comes Dogman in his bus. His dogs’ll take her down, and we can still have what’s left of her.”

  The huge modified bus braked to a stop some twenty-five yards back. As it did, the large front access door popped open, and three large Black Mask Cur hunting dogs burst from the bus. The first one out was the mother, seventy pounds of muscle that, following some command from inside the bus, went straight for Abigail. The Avenging Angel had stooped to retrieve the dropped switchblade. She prepared to meet the new threat.

  The large hunting hound bounded toward her. Then, just as quickly, the dog decelerated, so fast that it started to skid on its nails along the asphalt of the Interstate. She came to a stop just feet from Abigail, and began to wag her tail. First the tip, then the whole tail, then the whole hind end. She whined, barked, and made noises like she was giving a speech.

  “Pepper? Is that you?” Abigail asked. She let out a small yowl in response, and was soon up in Abigail’s arms, licking her, whining in joy and affection, almost knocking her over. Black Mask Cur hounds tend to air scent their prey, rather than track on the ground. Smart dogs rarely forgot the scent of a human member of their pack.

  Mouths dropped open as Dogman, with two young male dogs bookending him, walked from the bus toward Abigail. “Abby? Little Abby?” the giant Adonis-shaped man asked. He seemed to Torbin to be a solid wall of muscle.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Talbot screamed.

  “Uncle Buck. Is that you?” Abigail asked. For the first time in recent memory, Dogman’s mouth gave a hint of a smile under his dark beard and mane like hair.

  “Hi, Little Abby, You’re all…grown.”

  “You know this bitch?” Talbot screamed.

  “Shut up,” growled Dogman. “She’s my niece.”

  Talbot stared. “She’s about to be your dead niece if you don’t take control of her.”

  “I said, shut up.” Dogman growled again. Torbin tensed. There was death in the air, the feeling of electricity that warned of danger.

  Talbot had had enough. After months of putting up with Dogman’s disrespect in front of others, he had reached his breaking point. “Well, fuck you!” He yelled as he swung the .44 to aim at Dogman.

  No one had noticed that the young male dog at Dogman’s left, about one and a half years old and eighty pounds of pure coiled muscle, had begun to swing wide left just a few moments earlier. Some unnoticed signal or command from Dogman had told him where to position. Before Talbot could draw a bead, the male exploded toward Talbot. The Kraken Leader screamed in pain as the dogs teeth sank into the wrist of his gun hand. Wrist bones began to crack under the pressure of the bite, and the pistol flew from Talbot’s hand. The dog yanked him toward the ground

  Skinny let go of Torbin and drew the Marine’s Ka-Bar. He started to scramble to protect his leader when the second dog went for him. Skinny saw it coming, so he began to slash at it with the Combat Blade. Skinny had so unexpectedly released Torbin, that Big and Fat did not have time to grab both arms. Torbin seized the moment.

  He twisted right, into Big and Fat, throwing a high left hook into the other man’s right eye. The large Kraken gang member tried to twist and get a new grip on Torbin. He received a knee to the groin for his efforts. Then Torbin proceeded to beat the big man to the ground. The smacking and thudding sounds of blows landing had a rhythm all their own. The last blow broke the man’s jaw. He did not get back up.

  Skinny was trying to ward off the male dog with the Ka-Bar when Torbin came up behind him. He grabbed a handful of hair from behind and yanked him back, hard. That gave the Black Mask Cur the opening it needed. It lunged and connected with the wrist of his knife hand. A satisfying chomp and the weapon dropped from Skinny’s grasp. Weaponless, Torbin yanked him around, the young dog letting go. A palm strike to Skinny’s nose smashed it. Then, a straight punch to the jaw. Skinny folded like a cheap suit.

  Grizzly, having removed the throwing star from his hand, made a dash for the shotgun on the handlebars of his bike. He managed about three strides, when Pepper caught him and sank her teeth into his left thigh. He was fine as long as he was not moving. Once he moved, Pepper identified him as a threat. He screamed in pain, tripped and fell down. Pepper let loose, trained to take targets down, then wait for Dogman to finish them. At that a moment, Grizzly made a grave mistake. He kicked out at Pepper. She jumped back, barking and snarling.

  As he tried to kick the Dark Mask Cur again, Abigail was on top of him. With a smooth series of moves, she grabbed his long hair, yanked his head back, and slit his throat with the switchblade. The man Torbin had identified as Grizzly gurgled in his own spurting blood, fell back as Abigail released him, and died.

  Dogman called a command in a language Torbin he did not recognize and the two male dogs went to his side. Pepper went to Abigail’s side as she approached Talbot, trying to rise to his feet, grasping his ruined wrist. Abigail twisted sideways and smashed the Kraken leader’s face in with a vicious side kick. Talbot fell over onto his back.

  “How dare you!” Abigail shouted. “How dare you molest me and mine? I am an Avenging Angel of the Lord. Pure in purpose and body. You dare to sully me and my mission. The wages of sin are death!” Just then Dogman walked toward her.

  “Abby, it’s okay. It’s over,” he said in a calm, cool voice. Blood and death all around, and Dogman still act
ed like it was a day in the park.

  Abigail was shaking with rage, tears running down her face. Pepper nuzzled her hand, whining, trying to tell her in the language of dogs, “Hey, Mistress. It’s okay. I’m here. I love you.” Abigail suddenly knelt, threw her arms around Pepper, and began sobbing as her head buried in the dog’s side.

  “I missed you so much.” Torbin heard her say, knowing that she was talking as much to her Uncle Buck as she was the canine. Torbin strode over and grabbed the double barrel from the bike handles. He held it at low ready and fixed his gaze on Dogman.

  “Are we good?” he asked. Dogman looked at him with eyes as cold as Torbin’s, eyes reflecting a person in a killing mindset.

  “Are you her friend?” Dogman asked.

  “Yes, I am. Ask her.”

  Dogman kept staring at him. “No need to. I can tell. So can the dogs. If you weren’t her friend, you’d be torn up.”

  Abigail stood up, regaining her composure, and walked toward her uncle. The two young Curs could smell the family scent and wagged their tails at her approach. She threw her arms around his thick, muscular neck and kissed his cheek. “Where have you been? I thought I had lost you forever.”

  “I’ve been around.” He showed a hint of a smile, and gently patted her head with his large hand.

  “Torbin, this is my Uncle Buck. He’s the one who brought me to Deseret. Pepper there was in the last litter I saw before Hanford blew up. I guess she remembered me.”

  “Everyone remembers you. You’re special.” Torbin saw a softness in Dogman’s eyes that he could tell was reserved for his dog family and Abigail, but no one else.

  “Pleased to meet you, Uncle Buck.”

  “Call me Dogman. That’s how I am known. That’s what I am.”

  “Well, Dogman, I have some unfinished business with your companions. Or is it former companions?”

  “Former,” Dogman grunted.

  “Good. Then, please excuse me for a moment.” Torbin walked over, recovered his Ka-Bar from the ground, and then found his .44. Placing them back in his tactical vest, he quickly surveyed the scene.

  The man he had called Grizzly in his mind was dead, bled out. Big Ears was going into shock, possibly dying. Scarman was beginning to come around, groaning, his nearly amputated thumb still flowing blood. Skinny and Big and Fat were both down for the count, unconscious, their ‘looks’ rearranged, possibly permanently. Then there was Talbot.

  He was on the ground, moaning, holding his mouth where Abigail’s boot had caught him. He probably had some ruined teeth.

  “Hey, Talbot. Rise and shine. It’s time we had a little talk.” He toed him in the side.

  “Fuck you, asshole,” Talbot spit out past his bloody teeth.

  “Well, is that any way to talk to someone you just met? Now, like I said, we need a short conversation, just the two of us.” Torbin pointed the 12 gauge at him.

  “Fuck. You.”

  Torbin chuckled. “Well, no talkie, no walkie.” He fired a barrel into Talbot’s right foot. Talbot screamed, and started to thrash around on the ground. Torbin turned and returned to Dogman and Abigail.

  “Sorry to bother you all, but I need some answers, Dogman. Where did you come from?”

  “We drove from the Florida Panhandle, around and up through Nevada. Then we cut through Oregon and South Idaho, where the radiation has lessened. We got here about ten hours ago.”

  “Who sent you?” Torbin asked.

  Dogman shrugged. “Talbot talked to somebody from the Church of Kraken. He and the other guy seemed angry. Guess they felt that their local gods, the Squids, were letting them down. They really believe that shit about Kraken. Their faith is just as strong as the Mormons.”

  Abigail looked at her uncle. “But ours is based in Christian brotherhood, the love of Jesus Christ and the Lord our God. Not hate, or… eating people.”

  Dogman snorted. “That’s what everyone says, until someone gets in their way. Then, it’s all about what’s in it for me.”

  Torbin interrupted, “Well, be that as it may, I need to find out if they have long term plans, or that was just Talbot’s ramblings. I can’t wait around and find out. I take it he probably has some backup nearby, besides you, Dogman.”

  “There’s another SUV with four guys waiting in downtown Evanston. It’s pretty well deserted, still lots of Eaters around.”

  “And with that, Abigail, it’s time to leave. Transfer your stuff into their SUV. We’ll haul ass up the road until I find another telephone booth that is connected, and find out where our guys are on the trip down here. You’re welcome to come along, Dogman.”

  The large man shook his head. “You have a bunch of darker folks around. Grew up around them, had nothing but trouble with them. Sure as hell not going to fight for them.”

  Abigail regarded her uncle. “Are you sure? I’ve missed you, a lot.”

  He gave her that slight smile he had. “Sorry, Abby, I do better with just dogs. Get your stuff, I’ll hang around until you leave.”

  Abigail quickly went to their sedan, and recovered her backpack and sheathed Marlin rifle. She located her pistol belt and strapped her Glock back on. Torbin kept an eye on the damaged Krakens until Abigail had loaded her weapons into the commandeered SUV. Then Torbin jogged over to the sedan, dragged the cooler out from the back seat and transferred it to the SUV.

  “We need our food in case we have to hole up somewhere. We’ll bypass Evanston and look for a telephone booth later on.”

  A portable radio in the SUV crackled to life. “Hey Boss, what’s happening?” a voice said over the radio. Torbin cursed, wondering if he should try to answer. Dogman solved the dilemma by lifting up a portable he had on his belt.

  “Dogman here. Wait a couple. We’re busy.”

  The disembodied voice answered. “Roger. Thought we heard a shot.”

  “Had to convince someone to come along quietly.”

  “Alright, Dogman. Ask the Boss to call us in a couple.”

  Dogman moved over and took the AK-47 off of the SUV hood. “Better head out. You can keep the bolt action. I’m heading back to Idaho.”

  Abigail moved over and hugged him. “We can’t convince you to come with us, Uncle Buck?”

  He hugged her back, his large muscular arms engulfing her. “No. You have a different path than mine.” His steely eyes examined Torbin. “You’ll help keep her safe?”

  “You have my word, Dogman.”

  With that, Dogman kissed his niece on her forehead. He untangled himself from her grasp, stuck his large right hand out to Torbin. “Shake.”

  Torbin took it, feeling his great strength.

  “Deal. Watch out for my niece. I hold people to their word.”

  “So do I, Dogman. So do I.”

  Abigail bent down and hugged Pepper again. “You take care of Uncle Buck until I find you again, alright?” The Black Mask Cur whined and licked her face. Then her two sons came up, tails wagging, and nuzzled Abigail. She scratched their ears, and they licked her. Now, her scent was permanently imprinted in their memory.

  Dogman gave a short whistle, and all three dogs headed toward the bus. Torbin fished into his pocket and found one more of the business cards Aleks had made for him.

  He handed it to Dogman. “Use this if you want to get a hold of Abigail, or me.” Dogman glanced at it, then stuck it in his shirt pocket.

  “See you later. Be careful, Abby. Remember what I taught you.”

  She smiled at him through teary eyes, shaking her head ‘yes’.

  Torbin took the driver’s seat, the keys still in the ignition. He turned the key and it started right up. Abigail hopped into the passenger side, began to belt up as Torbin accelerated down the road. Dogman watched them leave for a moment, then returned to his bus.

  “Goddamnit! Help us, Dogman.” Talbot said to him through clenched teeth as he walked by.

  “Fuck you. You made your bed, now sleep in it,” Dogman answered. He climbed up into his bus,
started it, and put it in gear. His radio crackled. “Hey, somebody talk to me.”

  “Come on up. The Boss needs some help.” He swung the vehicle in a wide turn and started going the wrong way down the Interstate. The chances of meeting anyone was so remote as to be funny. He’d have to find somewhere to turn off before hitting the Deseret border. His other dogs in the back began to bark and howl. Dogman barked and howled back. He was with his family.

  A couple of minutes later, the four remaining Kraken gang members drove up to where he had been, jumped out and began yelling and rushing around.

  Torbin and Abigail traveled in silence for a few minutes.

  Then Abigail spoke. “Torbin, I am sorry I…lost it back there. I should have had more control.”

  Torbin grunted. “If I was a young eighteen year old lady whose breast was being rudely manhandled by a complete asshole motherfucker, I’d be pissed too. Pardon my French.” He glanced over to the passenger seat.

  “Asshole… motherfucker.” Abigail tried the words. “Is that what he was?”

  “Look it up in the new internet dictionary when we get to Malmstrom. Trust me, there will be a picture of him and his buddies next to the definitions. Next to them will be written, ‘see also Sacks of Shit’.”

  Abigail tried not to, but burst out laughing. She knew she should not be encouraging this profanity, but coming from Torbin, it was hilarious. Finally she managed to stop, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Are you really going to protect me, Torbin?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding me? You get to protect me. You’re like a buzz saw when you get riled. Only Aleks can hold a candle to you.” He paused in reflection for a moment. “And maybe one other woman. A Coast Guardsman in the employ of Director Lloyd. Heidi Faust. If Ichiro had not shown up, I would be singing soprano.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You seem very capable no matter what you do.”

  Torbin laughed. “Believe it. Ms. Faust could handle a blade like nobody’s business. But you seemed to flow, move, like you’ve done this many times before. I knew you have experienced combat, but your hand to hand skills were…surprising for someone of your age.”