Spot and Smudge - Book One

by Robert Udulutch

  Bad smells were just part of living and hunting in this environment. It was a mixed blessing keeping the den close to humans. There were quieter places farther in the woods, away from the shore, but here there was far more food. Alpha’s ability to navigate the risks of hunting around humans was exactly why he was the pack’s leader, and would remain so until someone better challenged him for the job. He didn’t think that was likely to happen anytime soon.

  Alpha signaled, and the hunting party moved closer to the fence, silently.

  Chapter 9

  Jerry let out a long breath as she was finally able to maneuver the van down the dirt road and up to the tall chain link fence that circled the kennels. She opened the van door and jumped down, stubbing out her cigarette on the rearview mirror and kneading her numb ass as she walked stiff-legged to the gate. One of her little fucking pills would be wonderful right now but she tried to push that thought away, as well as the future consequences of having lost them.

  She paused at the gate, listened, and noticed that for the first time of the entire fucking trip the dogs were silent.

  “You little fuckers finally figure out what’s coming next?” she said.

  She found the right key and squinted just enough to see as she held the padlock up to the bright wash from the headlights. She was trying to balance opening the lock with not letting the glare trigger another damn headache.

  After pushing the complaining gate open and driving down into the little lot she backed the van up to the kennel’s double doors. She cut the engine and went around to pull open the squeaking back doors of the van. Inside it were stacks of large cages bungee-corded together, and each cage was full of puppies and young dogs.

  They had been virtually silent at the gate of the pen and were just barely starting to whine and yap. Normally the dogs inside the kennel would also be barking away like idiots but they were strangely quiet as well. There were some huffs and barks from the bigger dogs but they were few and far between. Jerry didn’t like being out here in the dark by herself, and the odd silence of the dogs and puppies was creeping her out. She never thought she’d miss screaming at them for carrying on.

  Jerry hurried to remove the chain securing the solid double kennel doors and flicked on the overhead light. She blinked at its sudden brightness, and although she was grateful to be out of the dark she paused to make sure it wasn’t going to trigger a head pounder. Seconds ticked by without even the slightest ping. She smiled, and let out a breath, and the dogs finally started to vocalize again and paw at their cages.

  “It’s about fucking ti—,” Jerry had started to say until she turned and saw the stacks of white steel barrels, “Holy fucking fuck-a-billy.”

  The center building of her kennel was a large square cinderblock barn. Jerry’s husband said it had been the cow milking building when this land was a dairy farm before that fucking crazy old Scot couple bought it. The kennel was a big open space, a dozen feet tall and more than twenty feet on a side with a metal support post holding up a center beam and the overhanging corrugated steel roof.

  Each wall of the kennel held rows of large dog cages, stacked three cages high. The cages were the plastic clamshell type with steel grid doors used to transport large dogs. Flanking the doorway was a thick red water hose, and a table and shelves built from odd lumber and plywood. A power cord and outlet strip hung above the work table and there was an ancient boom box plugged into it.

  The huge pile of stacked steel drums ran from the center support to the far wall. “Doug, Doug, Doug,” Jerry said, “What have you friggin’ gotten us into?”

  She ran her fingers over the yellow seals as she walked down the row of barrels. After noticing the symbols on the warning labels she quickly drew her fingers away and wiped them on her jeans.

  As she reached the back of the kennel she stopped in her tracks and said, “What the frankenshit?”

  A few of the barrels stacked up on the back wall were dented and leaning at odd angles. They were canted against the cages. Jerry could picture that big dipshit Aaron hurrying, and just tossing these fucking barrels instead of stacking them up neatly.

  One of the cage doors was open. The barrels had obviously tumbled, hit the middle cage and popped open the latch. The cage was empty, and whatever had been inside appeared to have exploded. There was blood and crap everywhere, and little bits of black fur.

  The top of one of the barrels had come loose and was askew, with the retaining ring cocked at an angle around it. Some oily purple shit from inside had leaked down the front of the cages and pooled on the concrete floor. Jerry stepped closer to look into the barrel but a horrific smell lit up her nostrils and her eyes immediately puddled up.

  She took a few steps back and just stared for several long minutes, letting her eyes clear. She chomped on a fingernail, not completely sure what her next move should be. She noticed all of the dogs in the remaining closed cages were silent, and looking right at her.

  “Oh go fuck yourselves,” she said as she nibbled on her fingertips.

  She looked at the open cage again and realized that there was not enough material to be a whole dog, and she tried to remember if there had been just one dog in there. Based on the bits of fur it had to be black. She was also struggling with just where the hell the dog could be as the kennel’s gate and doors had been secured when she arrived. At least her idiot fuck toy had gotten that right this time.

  There was nowhere inside the kennel for the dog to hide. After some earlier problems they had learned to intentionally setup the room so there were no safe havens for the little bastards to scramble into. Even with the comically large stack of white barrels running down the middle of the room she could easily see there wasn’t a shit-and-blood covered black dog anywhere. She swaggered up and down the rows of cages, hitting and kicking them to make sure they were secured. There didn’t appear to be any other missing dogs.

  Jerry stared at the open barrel and the empty cage for a few more minutes while munching on a fresh new chip from a fingernail. She finally decided to just bite the fucking bullet and call Doug. She walked out of the kennel and the puppies started a fresh round of low whining and yipping when she passed.

  “Shut the crapping hell up,” she snapped as she pounded on the side of the van.

  She hopped up into the driver’s seat. As she leaned over to grab her phone a streak of black darted past the passenger window and out through the open kennel fence.

  Jerry jumped, and at the same time all of the dogs in the kennel and the van exploded into fits of howling and barking, causing Jerry to cover her ears.

  “Are you fucking fuckering me? SHUT UP!” she screamed into the back of the van as she tried to figure out what she’d just seen. The van blocked most of the light from the kennel and with the dome light on she wasn’t really sure what had just darted past her.

  “Fuck me sideways if that wasn’t a medium size black dog,” Jerry said as she turned on the headlights. There was nothing there, whatever it was must have already cleared the fence gate and ran off into the brush.

  Jerry called Doug while she jumped from the van and headed back into the kennel. As the phone was ringing she noticed a slimy trail of the purple goo leading past the van and through the doorway of the kennel. It led directly to the open barrel.

  The barrel’s lid and retaining ring were now halfway across the concrete floor.

  Jerry walked to the back of the kennel as she pinched her nose closed. She looked into the open barrel and saw a swirl of blood and shit, and bits of black fur. As the phone clicked in her ear she said in a nasally voice, “You fucking clever little bitch.”

  “Well thank you Jerry, what a lovely compliment,” Doug replied.

  “Doug, we have ourselves a fucking escape artist,” she said.

  Chapter 10

  She was sick, bleeding, and covered in something not right, but she was free.

  She was free, and she ran now like she had in her dreams before they were fille
d with biting teeth. She ran like she did as a puppy, floating over bushes and rocks in great bounding jumps. Every leap in the warm early summer night helped to push the clammy damp of the kennel from her bones. With each breath the fresh air was pulling the vile stench from her nose. The moonless overcast night was perfect for her. She could see this new landscape well enough to navigate around obstacles at a run, and she knew humans didn’t see well in the dark.

  After a few hundred yards she slowed her pace. Her shoulders and paws complained and her heavy stomach ached. Considering she may have leapt from one dire situation into potentially a worse one, the initial rush of freedom subsided into reality. She slowed to a walk and her shivers caught up to her. She snorted out great strings of the vile liquid she had to immerse herself in to escape. Artificial human smells were nothing new to her but this was the worst stench she had ever encountered, and she had just been dipped chin deep in it.

  She was only in the barrel for a few minutes, from the time she heard the van pull up until she made her getaway, but they were torturous minutes. She had taken in several mouthfuls of the thick liquid. She had retched from the smell and ended up sucking more into her nostrils. It took every fiber of her will to stay in that barrel and stay quiet while the human was just feet away.

  She stopped and rolled in the dirt, shaking off several layers of the purple goo but it still matted and burned her sick fur. Fur that was already too thin. The exertion of the escape coupled with her screaming stomach and fever overcame her. She lay down under a bush on her side, shaking.

  She sneezed a few times and her breathing got better. Taking a few slow deep breaths she started to catalog the smells around her. There was nothing overly familiar. The plants and dirt smelled different than at home, and there were no bearing cues that she recognized. That wasn’t surprising as it had taken them a day and a night and another day to get to these kennels. Even without being able to see the stars or the moon, and having not seen the sun in weeks, she could still tell she was very far from home.

  She got a disturbing whiff of something else. It lingered just below the nasty slime smell still left in her nose. This must have been the smell the other dogs in the kennel had picked up on, but with the vile barrel right next to her cage she’d missed it. Even the new pups in the van had recognized it.

  Predator.

  Not one she was familiar with, but predator all the same, and this predator had been through here not long ago. She took another deep breath and corrected herself.

  It was not a predator, it was predators.

  She thought she should move but was not sure in which direction. Her nose still burned and she couldn’t get past the stench to determine where the predators might be heading. Her shivers returned with a vengeance and she was paralyzed with indecision.

  Maybe just a little nap, her mind whispered to her, To clear your head. There’s time. There’s always time for a little nap.

  Some rest before she headed off again sounded like a fine idea. She closed her eyes and drifted away, wanting to dream about the little girl feeding her ice cream, but doubting it would happen.

  Chapter 11

  Alpha, One Ear, and the Weasel Twins all saw the same thing at the same time, but from different vantage points.

  They had split up. Alpha had taken up a position near the dirt access road, with a clear view of the kennel’s gate. One Ear was nearest the big box along the outside of the fence. Even though the gate had been left open, entering the fenced area was a risk Alpha was not willing to take with the large animal there. One Ear was close enough to clearly hear the small meat-pups in the back of the smoking box chattering. The twins were just to the right with a clear sight line into the kennel, and they could see some of the other juicy meat animals inside.

  The hunters did as they have been taught and always kept the large animal in sight. It was a female and it was pacing and agitated. They all knew humans were very dangerous when they were agitated.

  Alpha was just about to call this hunt off and move on to the next opportunity when one of the meat animals darted from the kennel and through the open gate. He had the best view and could clearly see their prey was one of the large animal’s domesticated dogs, a black female, and she was just a little smaller than the Weasel Brothers. Even though she was moving fast Alpha could tell she was weak, and she had a telltale abdomen bulge. She was pregnant, and looked to be about ready to pup.

  Perfect.

  The hunters were in silent mode as they were so close to the kennel. They knew to not risk a yap and regrouped in the bush to communicate. They circled up near the fence and were just about to give chase when the road lit up. If they wanted to pursue their prey directly they would have to cross that light, right in front of the human’s box that smokes.

  One Ear challenged Alpha’s decision to go around. She was hell bent on taking the quickest possible path to the prey, arguing she could cover that distance with blinding speed and they could feed the pack well tonight.

  Alpha used the weight of his command sparingly. His experience and success afforded him a wide path of respect and a look was typically all that was needed to keep his hunters, and the whole pack, in line. There were rare occasions when he felt the need to firmly drive home a lesson, like this one.

  He bit down hard on One Ear’s remaining good ear. The big hunter took the correction silently, as was her training. This was one of the lessons that she and the twins needed to learn in no uncertain terms. This kind of light, the light from the noisy smoking hot boxes, was not to be crossed. That double light could move faster than any animal, and the loud box behind the light would end a coyotes hunting forever. Alpha had lost a mate to that double light, and she had been carrying his pups.

  The hunters slipped back into the night and took the long way around the back of the kennel. As soon as he delivered his bite to One Ear they were immediately back on task. The hunters were well aware they did not have the luxury of holding grudges or dwelling on hurt feelings. They were hunters and they needed to catch meat, and to do that they needed to work together.

  They snapped into their well-established roles without discussion or hesitation.

  Alpha and his hunters ran.

  The hunt was on, and they were now in their element.

  Their lives were a constant cycle of teaching the den’s pups, mating, eating, fighting, dominating, and napping. All were important and valued parts of their existence but the hunt was what they truly lived for. There were many different kinds of stalks and chases. They often tracked prey with the larger pack and used simpler hunts to train the pups and let the less skilled in on the action. Nothing compared to this, however. Being far afield, deep in the most challenging places with his elite team. Combining patience with exploiting opportunity and coming away with the team alive, with meat, and with a trophy catch was the pinnacle for Alpha. This prey was also a runner, the best kind.

  They raced through their familiar territory, quickly accessing memory maps of every rock and tree. His team of hunters ran heads down sampling scents, and then heads up getting bearings and communicating with their Alpha. Instinct and training merged into a seamless, coordinated, beautiful pursuit.

  They were far enough apart to cover a wide path but close enough to share visual cues so they could run silently. Alpha was a master at factoring in multiple criteria based only on a one second observation of his quarry. He was overlaying her running speed over broken ground, her weight and stride, her condition, and her obvious unfamiliarity with these trails. The prey’s indecision when choosing her direction was a key tell. The pregnant captive dog wasn’t a local, and Alpha was quickly narrowing down where she would likely run, and where they should strike.

  Circling his team to the north, Weasel Two caught a strong scent of their prey and communicated her direction to Alpha. A few quick head nods were enough for Alpha to convey his orders, and the team’s course corrections. A second later they all picked up the scent. Pulling in mor
e info with each whiff they confirmed the dog was about to give birth. They also picked up the typical human smells that accompany their captive animals, but that other stench was almost overpowering, and it was very wrong. With a look Alpha suppressed his team’s apprehension, after working to push aside his own, and instructed them to press on. They acknowledged, understanding he would make a decision about that smell when they caught up to their little black kill.

  Chapter 12

  The nightmare was broken by her involuntary alert system. The silver fangs retreated and were replaced by an internal voice screaming at her, They’re coming!

  Her ears swiveled and her nostrils flared. They were very good predators. There were at least three of them, but they were not making much noise even at full speed. She was worried her sickness-riddled senses were giving her bad information, but she had little choice. She had to trust her direction and approximate speed calculations and realized she would find out if she was wrong soon enough.

  They were moving in from downwind and seemed to have a good fix on her. She only had a few seconds. As she didn’t know these woods, or these predators, she was at a severe disadvantage. Based on their lingering smell on this trail, and their current gait, speed, breathing, and nails scraping over rocks and dirt they were at least similar to dogs.

  She quickly ran through her options. Running back to the kennel and taking her chances with the humans was ruled out immediately. It was a likely death sentence for her and the pups she carried. Dogs had come and gone in the kennels since she’d been there, and she gambled by their treatment they weren’t being returned home. She fought the urge to just bolt in the opposite direction. Every basic instinct was yelling at her to run, but she was aware that in her motherly condition and as sick as she was she wouldn’t make it more than a few dozen leaps at best. She had messed again in her sleep and was shaking uncontrollably again.