“Try to go to sleep, little girl. We’re just gonna have to suffer with that smell for a few more hours.”
Laylea turned around three times, navigating his bony knees and the seat belt and the yoke over her head. She climbed over into her passenger side bed and dragged her stuffed lizard back to his lap. Holding the lizard by the tail, she tried to circle three times again, kneaded his left thigh a bit, and finally collapsed, unconscious before she hit his legs. She slept like a baby for the next few hours.
Silence woke her when Clark landed in a clearing. She cleaned her lizard sleepily as the plane slowed until she noticed the view held more than just sky.
She stood on the yoke and saw trees in every direction. Greens of every shade punctuated with browns and the piercing blue of the sky over it all. Not knowing how a plane worked she couldn’t be amazed at Clark’s ability to land in such a small clearing but she licked his nose anyway.
Clark set a rock in the leather sling hanging from his belt and scooped Laylea into his chest as he got out.
“Ah, fresh air.” He inhaled deeply. “Don’t worry. We’ll clean out your accident after we meet these guys.”
This world smelled even better than roses. She craned her head around looking at the enormous trees and got stuck in a backbend watching two men approach. One walked far in front of the other, moving swiftly towards them. She tried to bark, choked, and twisted around so she could look at the hermits upright. Clark seemed to expect their appearance so she tried to take it in stride as well, barking through her teeth just to let them know she was taking their measure.
“Hey Captain, nice pup. Keep her close or the coyotes around here will grab her for lunch.” The taller man stopped about four feet away from Laylea and the dad. He stood alert, feet set in a way that could take him quickly in any direction. His empty hands hung at his sides but Laylea saw the thick muscles of his biceps flexing beneath his waffle-cut shirt. A slight wiggle in the fingers of his right hand drew her eyes to the knife sheathed on his hip. The closure was unsnapped.
Her hackles stood of their own accord. Clark smoothed them down. “Thanks for the advice, Stretch. You and Mike have any need for a hunting dog?”
“Yeah.” Stretch responded tersely as his quiet, loping friend caught up and passed him. “You got one hidden in the plane?”
Mike held a hand out for Laylea to sniff. Her nose stung at the smell of burning wood and rotten eggs. But then she caught a soothing undertone of frothy dirt which curled into her belly like broth moistened kibble. Underneath that she smelled loss and sorrow and kindness. She approved his smell by tucking her nose under the hand and when he scratched her ears, she peered up into his face, wondering if this was one of the CF Clark wanted her to help.
A smile softened Mike’s face when he let Laylea look into his eyes. But then he glanced at his tall friend and shook an apologetic no at Clark.
Clark nodded. He clipped the end of a rope onto Laylea’s collar and set her on the ground. He attached the other end of the rope to the plane.
“You stay close,” he said. “Holler if you need me.”
Laylea sniffed Stretch’s legs. Her eyes watered at the sharp scent and she sneezed. But Clark put an arm around the guy and led him away so Laylea tottered off to chase bugs and leap on flowers until she passed out under the plane. When she woke, the world was all blue again and she lay on Clark’s lap with her lizard under her head. The stench of sick had been replaced with the scent of oranges. She craned her neck to watch Clark sing softly.
I will
not kill
Another soul today.
Their life is in my hands and I will not throw it away.
She yawned. Her front paws pushed against an object in the zippered pocket on his thigh.
“Hello there. Stretch and Mike didn’t think you were their kind of dog. Are you disappointed?” He waited for her response but she just tilted her head. “I didn’t think you would be staying with them. But at our last stop, you’re gonna meet a few families and we’ll be spending the night. I can think of one little girl that’s gonna love you. You let me know if you don’t like her. Okay?”
Laylea uncurled and stretched. Then she stood up on his chest and tried to lick his face. She couldn’t reach.
“I need you to stay in the plane at our next stop. Jay just rescued Red a few weeks ago. She’s still learning to control her impulses. Chances are she left her payment at the tree and I’ll just trade it for her clothes and medicine and we’ll be on our way. But if she is there, I’d feel safer with you here in the cockpit. She got some memories back that . . . well, she makes me glad I can’t remember a thing.”
He talked to her throughout their descent, yawning a few times right in her face. She yawned back and felt her ears pop open. Clark’s voice with the suddenly loud droning of the engine distracted and entranced her so that she didn’t realize they were on the ground until Clark cursed as he battled the plane to a stop on the rocky outcropping. Laylea rolled into his body as he flexed every muscle in his legs. She bounced against his flexed abs, claws fully extended with nothing to grip.
She relaxed when the bouncing stopped but Clark tensed more. He lowered an elbow to keep her from sliding off his lap when the plane banked left. They kept turning until they were headed back onto the bumpy ground they had just escaped. Laylea trembled and the dad talked to her.
“This plane” he told her, “is a solid piece of equipment. Made a few modifications, of course. I may make a few more. But you don’t need to worry. Gonna park way back here. You keep your head down and stay quiet. Looks like Red isn’t about, but you never do know.”
His monologue slowly ran out of steam until, by the time he shifted Laylea to her little blue bed he was just chanting, “I will not kill. I will not kill.”
Laylea tucked herself down into her poofy bed. She glued her eyes on Clark but he didn’t say anything else to her or even look her way. She ducked low when he tilted the seat back over her to pull a black garbage bag wrapped with duct tape from the cargo space behind them. He hefted the bag under one arm and slipped out of the cockpit. He set a rock in his sling and just before he clicked the door shut, he held up his palm and pushed it firmly into the air.
The Hand of Stay.
Laylea wanted to watch. She wanted to jump over to his seat and stand on the door to watch him through the window. But she was a good girl. She stayed. She snuggled down in her bed with her lizard listening to Clark chant.
“I will not kill another soul today.”
“That’s mine.”
Every hair on Laylea’s tiny body stood up when a strident female voice cut through the comforting rhythm. She sat up and then dropped to a crouch when she remembered her orders.
“It is.” Clark’s voice held steady, even friendly. “And this is mine. Right, Red?”
The pause was too long. Laylea’s muscles vibrated though she kept silent. Feet scuffled among leaves. A rock pinged off the plane. Laylea held her position even when she heard Clark grunt. A sharp sound of flesh on flesh echoed in the mountains followed by a series of flat thuds. Clark never grunted again but she heard Red cry out. The puppy perked both ears and rotated them toward the sounds. She didn’t hear anything except heavy breathing for several moments. Fear overwhelmed the minty brightness of pine and water that had blanketed their runway. Laylea ducked her nose, wiped at it with a paw. She was about to disobey the Hand of Stay and leap to the window when Clark inhaled deeply.
He sang.
I will
Not kill
Another soul today.
Red’s breathing calmed to near sleeping levels as Clark softly sang in her ear. When he got to the last line, her crisp soprano tones joined him.
His life is in my hands and I will not throw it away.
The silence returned after the final extended note of the verse drifted into the wind. Laylea kept her head down because Clark had told her to. And because the smell of fear had drifted away w
ith the final note.
“I’ll see you in the fall.” Laylea’s tail bust out as she heard his steps returning to her.
He’d gone seven paces when Red called out, “Can you use some jerky?”
Clark hesitated. “Yes. But I don’t have anything else to give you right now.”
“No. Later. When you come back in the fall. I know how to make jerky.”
“Sure.” A genuine smile warmed Clark’s voice. “I’ll trade for jerky. Good idea.”
Red hummed the tune of the chant. Clark opened the plane door just enough to get in. He ignored Laylea as he stowed several large bundles of plants in the cargo area. His face smelled funny. A distant sweet smell like Sher’s hands after she escaped from her tinkering room. That smell was overwhelmed by the sharp odor that hit her from the plants. She blinked the sting from her eyes as she leaned in close to examine the dad’s face. His cheek glowed red with bright blue and purple lines outlining the shape of a hand. As she watched, a streak of blood absorbed into his skin.
Fighting a whimper, she crawled forward to reach him. But Clark, without glancing in her direction gave her the Hand of Stay again. She backed up to her crouch in Sher’s bed. The fabric poofed up around her as she forced herself to settle in. Her eyes watered from the fresh plants so she shut them as they bounced along the ground, picking up speed. Laylea imagined she was running through the grassy field of their last stop. Bailey rode his bike beside her but he still couldn’t keep up.
In no time they were in the air, soaring through the blue again. Laylea rolled on her back and shut her eyes when Clark reached over. He hummed as he rubbed her chest. She tried to harmonize but her long thin tongue, so good for picking prickles out of her paws was no good for singing. Her ear brushed his wrist and she turned to lay her muzzle on his hairy arm. A perfect pillow.
Chapter Seven
Clark recovered his arm while Laylea slept. She woke to find the teddy lizard under her head. A huge pff turned into a yawn. She stretched out her back and legs with a long downward dog and a quick up dog, after which Laylea hopped over onto the dad’s lap.
“Welcome back, sleepy.” Clark rubbed her belly.
His freezing hand startled her. Laylea rolled to look up at him. One entire side of the dad’s face glowed red. Even from his lap she could see the fingerprints swelling. He gave her ears a cold scritch and then took a white bag from the dash and held it to the bruise with the back of his hand.
“That stop went well. I’m very proud of you. Next stop is our last for the night, so one more easy landing like that and you’re clear until tomorrow.”
They flew on in silence for a while. Laylea rolled again. Cold air issued from a vent below the yoke. She reached her head toward it, breathing deeply but her stomach still churned. She sat up and raised her muzzle to the sunlight streaming into the cockpit. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the dad’s abs and focused on the flickering patterns the clouds made on the inside of her eyelids.
“We’ll be with these folks for a night so there are some things you should know. The people I help out here don’t in general like anybody nosing about their business.”
He worked his jaw from side to side for a moment. The bruise had shrunk in toward his eye. Red still glowed from the swelling but it didn’t smell so bad. Clark flexed his hand and rotated the wrist. Laylea watched, mesmerized as the green bruising around his knuckles danced and faded through yellow to the natural color of his skin.
“Some of them are like me and don’t have any memories. Some don’t even know Sher’s helping them. So don’t you go asking personal questions.” Laylea perked her ears up at the funny accent he affected. “We all get to be whoever we want to be at the powwow. They call me Captain and I call them whatever they ask me to. I think we’ll just call you LG while we’re up here. What do you think, little girl?”
He fell into his thoughts again and Laylea turned to look at the dark clouds gathering out the side window.
When Clark moved his arms, the plane tilted to go higher into the sky. Laylea watched what he was doing. She sat up and licked at the recently bruised hand. Then she reached up and stood her front paws on the thing he was holding.
“That’s the yoke. Tells our plane where to go. I push it away from me and we go down.” Clark demonstrated as he spoke. “I pull it toward me and we go up.”
The plane moved up but Laylea’s stomach dropped. Nothing to do. She clambered off Clark’s lap and leaped to the passenger seat where she threw up on the clean smelling spot on the clothing bags. Her stomach lurched again but nothing came up. Still she lay on the cold blue vinyl with her head draped off the seat, her legs tucked under Sher’s bed. She breathed.
“Sorry kid. Maybe you won’t ever have to fly again after today.”
Laylea dragged her muzzle along the seat to look at the dad. His eyes flitted from the horizon to the instrument readings to his map to the radio doohicky. He didn’t look over at her.
She pulled herself to her paws and dragged herself to the edge of the seat. She did not have the energy to leap across the void. One paw didn’t get his attention. She sat back and tried to wave at the dad with both paws. And lost her balance.
She fell forward. He caught her.
“Silly girl.”
He swooped her over to his lap. Laylea turned a couple of times to find her balance and she stood up, front paws on the yoke. She leaned forward with all her weight until the yoke moved away and the plane tilted down.
Clark lifted her off. “Not quite yet, sweetheart. We have a little farther to go. Try to go to sleep.”
Laylea gave up. She curled up in the dad’s lap with a paw on her lizard. Soon the drone of the engine and Clarks quiet singing lulled her into the world where memories are as real as life.
One of Laylea’s first memories was of trying to sleep while her four brothers crawled over and around her and the rag blankets in their cardboard box. They tossed each other about just as the plane did.
Laylea’s little mind flew back through the weeks of her life to that box in the basement of the bicycle shop. The sharp gasoline and the dad’s musk in her nose was replaced with the rubber, grease, and sleepy smell of her brothers in the shop. Her brothers who stepped on her face. When they did, she chewed sleepily on their legs wishing Mama would come back because the boys behaved better when she was there. The shop door opened upstairs. The boys stopped fighting. Footsteps that weren’t Mama’s. They huddled close together and tried to be invisible in their cardboard bed because Mama had made it clear to them that they were not welcome in this basement and they must be very quiet if anyone but her ever came in. So they were quiet.
Boots clomped down the stairs. A light turned on that hurt Bayard’s eyes. He whimpered, just a little. Rhemy bit his nose. But they all knew it was too late because the footsteps turned toward them. Their box was jostled in its hiding spot under a workbench. Laylea saw the hand coming down to take Rhemy, her largest brother and the only one who could get out of the box without Mama’s help. She jumped on his back and got herself snatched instead. The hand grasped the fur and loose skin on the back of her neck like when Mama carried her around but this hand was not gentle. There was no warm soothing breath on her neck either. Just cold as he pulled her from her brothers and set her on the filthy workbench. She curled her tail protectively into her belly and huddled, peering up at the man who smelled sickly sweet and mean.
“Not so well hidden after all, are you?” His voice sounded very different from the owner of the basement who sometimes came downstairs to gather tools or work on bicycles. When Mama was around the owner pretended he didn’t know they were there. But when she was out hunting, he would talk to the puppies and leave water and treats for them. They could all smell the treats. But Rhemy was the only one who could get them and he wouldn’t share. This sweet man’s voice was smoother, deeper. His words clipped and unsmiling.
“Not so well hidden at all. Only six weeks it took me. Perfect tim
ing in fact since I don’t need to let your bitch live anymore.” As he said this, not really talking to Laylea at all, he ran his hands along her ribs, felt her paws which tickled even as she hated it, and looked into her ears and eyes. “Do you know? Or are you still just a stupid puppy?” She resisted as he tried to roll her onto her back. “Like mother, like daughter, eh? Curse all blondes. Well, you’ll learn to mind me soon enough, girl.” He grabbed her nape harshly and dangled her in mid-air before him. She tried to curl around her belly until he got her so close to his face that the stink of his sour breath overwhelmed the sweet mean smell of his body. The man was so intently examining her that he didn’t hear the second footsteps or smell the Milkbones. The bike man’s footsteps. The guy who owned the basement crept down the stairs like he was hunting. But he yelled when he saw the dangling puppy.
“You let my dog go!”
“Your dog?” The sweet man laughed at him. “These are not your dogs.”
“Put her down.” The owner stepped forward.
The man holding Laylea sneered and turned back to bend in to inspect Laylea’s fuzzy belly.
Laylea’s fear got the better of her self-control. She peed right into the man’s face. At the same moment the Milkbone man lifted the fork of a bicycle over his head and smashed it into the side of sweet man’s head. Laylea fell, landing on the edge of the workbench on her left haunch. She yelped and caught her breath as the bike man scooped her up. The sweet stranger lay still on the floor, a little red leaking from his skull. Milkbone man bent with her to snake the bed out from under the workbench. It was empty.
“Come on, big boy. Bring them out here. We’ll go find your mother.” He leaned over and peered farther back under the table. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” he crooned.
WereHuman - The Witch's Daughter: Consortium Battle book 1 (Wyrdos) Page 5