Let Slip the Pups of War: Spot and Smudge - Book Three

by Robert Udulutch

  Smudge had heard Tian’s claim from the paddock where she and Vuur were playing with the rhinos, and keeping an eye on the poachers.

  She stopped and looked up at Ben.

  Ben had caught Tian’s comment too, and he leaned close to Mimi and said, “Unc did say he wanted them freaked out. Soooo, can she go play a little?”

  Mimi looked at the wagging Smudge, and then at the poachers who were fixated on the strong men rolling around in the ring. She smiled, and nodded.

  “Hey Nikki,” Ben called down to the ring, “Smudge says that hold is easy to escape.”

  “Oh really,” Tian yelled from below Dan. He craned his neck to look up at Ben and said, “Maybe she should come and show us.”

  Nikki folded her arms across her chest and took a few steps back. She questioned if this was exactly what Hamish had in mind, but curiosity beat out any objections she could come up with. Tian had told her about his first encounter with Smudge, and she had to admit she’d always wanted to see a rematch.

  Smudge leapt over the paddock wall and trotted down the slope to the sparing ring.

  Fisho and Fulfort looked at each other. They looked at the smiling kid, and then at the nodding grandmothers on the wall next to them. They stared as the dog hopped over a log and entered the ring. Fisho thought it might have been the same black dog that had treed him, only he thought that dog had been bigger. It switched places with the tall white man who had so quickly disarmed his son. The sweating, winded father folded his arms and stood next to the strong, manly woman with the short haircut. The strangeness of the reserve was making Fisho’s head spin. He had never heard of such a place, and it appeared everyone in the camp was as lethal as they were smart, and kind…and then there were the dogs.

  Smudge climbed on top of Tian and he started to loosely apply the gogoplata. He smiled at her and said, “Remember, no biting.”

  Smudge raised an eyebrow, and then nodded.

  Tian said loudly, “Ben, which paw does Smudge favor?”

  “You mean is she right of left handed?” Ben asked.

  “Yes,” Tian said as he looped his foot over Smudge’s neck.

  “You know it’s funny, I never asked her” Ben said, “Hey Smudge are you right or left pawed?”

  Smudge looked down at Tian and then looked at her paws. She smacked Tian hard across the face with her left paw.

  “I guess she’s left pawed,” Ben said.

  Nikki, Dan, the circle of rangers, and the wall near the paddock erupted in laughter. Kelcy laughed from the top of her elephant and Jock let out a trumpet blast. Even the bewildered poachers couldn’t help but smile.

  “Okay Smudge,” Tian said as his eyes narrowed and he sunk in the choke hold, “If that’s how you want it.”

  Smudge stared at him, nodded, and immediately twisted and rolled, and Tian rolled with her.

  The circle of men stepped back as straw flew and the two tumbled around the ring. Smudge flailed, and kicked, and Tian adjusted and moved over her like an octopus. Muscular arms and black furry paws flew in a blinding barrage of moves and counter-moves.

  “See,” Tian said between big breaths, “If you lock it down…”

  Smudge stopped struggling. She looked at him, and twisted her snout. An instant later she expanded in his arms. Her back and shoulders turned from normal trim dog muscle to rock hard bulk in an instant. Her paws spread and wrapped around Tian’s wrists as she tucked her head down into his chest.

  Tian fought to stay locked around her neck. He scrambled for purchase on her wide shoulders as Smudge rolled onto her back. She concentrated and dumped a load of epinephrine into her back and leg muscles an instant before she uncoiled, kicked out, and flung him out of the ring. Tian landed on his backside in a large aloe bush.

  The men laughed and clapped once as Smudge jumped up on a log and extended a paw to yank Tian to his feet. She pulled him back into the ring, and he smacked her on the rear as they walked together to the center of the circle of trainees. Dan and the rangers took turns clapping Tian on the back, and patting the wagging Smudge.

  “So,” Nikki said as she knelt to give Smudge a rub, and marvel at the six pack of muscle that was her head and snout, “I guess the lesson here is this hold is effective unless you run into a genetically modified Cu Sith hell hound.”

  The rangers’ training continued as Smudge deflated and walked back up the hill. She paused to stretch, and nodded to the gaping poachers before she hopped onto the wall. She high-fived Ben, and they dropped into the paddock together to join Vuur and the rhinos.

  Mimi and Faith exchanged a smile as they watched the poachers. The men’s faces were frozen. They were transfixed with the boy and the dogs getting chased around the paddock by the huge, happily braying beasts. The men had stopped nibbling on their coconut bars and the crumbs had pooled in their laps. The father and son shared a long look before turning back to the sparing ring. They sat for a long while in silence, watching the rangers and their instructors tumbling around in the straw.

  Mimi and Faith noticed as much as Fisho and Fulfort had been blown away by Smudge, they seemed equally fascinated with Nikki. The woman was almost as strong as Tian, nearly as tall as Dan, and her techniques were flawless.

  They could tell Nikki puzzled the poachers, and she made them uncomfortable. Just as she had with Musa’s men when they first started to train with her.

  The rangers weren’t initially receptive to sparing with the woman, in fact they were belligerent and almost insubordinate about it. To a lesser degree they’d given the same cool reception to Christa, but in her case the standoffish pity for the crippled girl quickly turned to respect when she grabbed one of the men’s well-worn hunting rifles and shot a smile into a target at five hundred meters. When she finished the nose and eyes with pistol shots while riding in the trucks towards the target the session ended in back clapping and hand-shakes with the ex-Canadian Army officer.

  Learning to shoot was different than rolling around in the straw. Not only was Nikki’s gender a problem for the men, but with her outward appearance and masculine mannerisms Nikki was quickly labelled a lettie. Attitudes towards homosexuals in the rural areas frequently included ignorance, insults, and even open hostility. The more progressive environments in Cape Town or Joburg faded quickly outside of the cities, and the insanity of things like corrective rape were still practiced in parts of Africa.

  Nikki was fully aware of her hurdles and addressed them head on with the men, just as she had learned to do in the states from a very young age, starting with her parents.

  Hamish and Musa had set the tone on the first day after one of the rangers made a comment about her just needing a behoorlike oprighting…a proper erection.

  Nikki hadn’t heard the comment but she’d heard the chuckles of the men followed immediately by the distinctive thud of a strong punch being thrown, and the crunch of it being received by a nose. She turned, and when she saw Hamish and Musa’s boiling faces she quickly figured out what had happened. She helped the bleeding man up from the dirt and came between him and the big Scot, and the even bigger head ranger. They weren’t done with the loutish ranger but she waved them away and spoke to the ring of stunned men. “Let’s put this issue to bed once and for all, shall we?” she said as she looked each man in the eye, “New rule. If you have something to say about my haircut, or my choice in partners, you can only say it to my face, and you better have your fists raised when you do it.”

  Faith had just happened to show up when the training broke for lunch, and Nikki never got her to disclose how she had heard about the incident so quickly.

  When she handed Nikki a sandwich she called her, “N'Nonmiton,” loud enough for the rangers lounging nearby to hear. Faith caught one of the men’s raised eyebrow and said, “Well the woman clearly has Dahomey in her.”

  Musa smiled, and nodded, but it was clear most of the men didn’t understand.

  “Shame on you,” Faith said to their questioning stares, “Y
ou men should have listened better in school. It’s a sin how little you dummies know about your own history.”

  As Faith circled the ring of men, delivering sandwiches and filling cups, she told them about the legendary all-female fighting corps from western Africa. The Amazon-like woman warriors from the eighteen hundreds rose to sacred status among the Fon peoples, and their enemies. Faith told the men heroic stories of the Fon’s annihilation of the much larger Savi army. She told them about N’Nonmitons’ strict training regimens, and how some of the girl warriors had learned to fight starting at eight years old. They were said to be immune to thorns and impervious to pain. Many of them eventually became generals, and sat on the tribe’s grand council. For nearly a hundred years they were some of the most respected and feared fighters in Africa. Faith explained that Nikki was obviously descended from them, at least in spirit.

  As Faith wove her tale Hamish saw she had taught Theo everything he knew about spinning a great story. The rangers were riveted, and were still staring as she collected their lunch plates and finally said, “You boys have fun now. If you’re smart you’ll pay close attention to everything our N’Nonmiton here has to show you.”

  Faith shouldered her bag, patted the ranger with the red napkins stuffed in his nose, and left the sparing ring.

  Hamish chose the biggest rangers as her first sparing partners, and it didn’t take too many loosened teeth and swollen joints before Nikki was also being called N'Nonmiton by Musa’s men. They did eventually start to poke fun at her haircut as well, but only after protecting their groin and preparing to run quickly in the opposite direction.

  While he watched Nikki from the safety of the paddock wall, Fulfort said something under his breath in Bantu.

  Mimi didn’t need to know Bantu to understand what the young man had implied. She leaned forward and said, “What’s that, Fulfort? You’d like to get a little revenge? I’m sure my son would let you spar with them if you’re interested, but you have to promise not to hurt anyone.”

  The young man scowled at his laughing father. As he picked crumbs from his lap he said quietly, “No ma’am. I think I am fine right here watching.”

  “We could start you out with the woman,” Faith said with a broad smile, “If you’re afraid of the men.”

  Fulfort didn’t reply, he just stared down at the sparing ring.

  Fisho rubbed his son’s shoulder. He turned to the women with a smile and said, “I think you’ve made your point.”

  “I’m not so sure we have. Come with me,” Faith said. She slid off the wall and motioned for the men to join her.

  At first they didn’t move, but Smudge jumped up on the wall and stared at them.

  They followed the old woman down the small dirt slope to stand at the edge of the packed straw.

  The rangers gave the poachers a dirty look as they approached. Tian waved them back to the far side of the ring as Dan walked over to speak with the visitors.

  “Enjoying the show?” Dan asked the men. He was sweating and drawing big breaths.

  “Most impressive,” Fisho said.

  “Daniel,” Faith said as she took his hand, “I believe Fulfort here was just asking his father how you removed the knife from his hand so quickly. Would you be a prince and show him?”

  “Of course,” Dan said, “I’d love to.”

  Fisho gave his son a nudge and Dan led the young man into the center of the sparing ring. The rangers all smiled, and one of them roughly tossed the poacher a foot long piece of wood that had been whittled into the shape of a knife.

  “Do you remember how you lunged at me?” Dan asked.

  Fulfort nodded, and looked back at his father. Fisho waved him forward and said, “It’s okay son, show the man.”

  Fisho turned to Faith and the elderly woman nodded, and patted the father’s arm.

  Fulfort grabbed the wooden knife by the handle and pointed it at Dan.

  Dan said softly, “Just come towards me. It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”

  Fulfort took three big steps forward and a heartbeat later he was face down on the straw. The knife flipped away and Tian snatched it out of the air.

  Dan easily pulled the young farmer to his feet and dusted the straw from his shoulders. Fisho clapped once along with the circle of rangers. His son shot him a dirty look as the whole group laughed.

  “You want me to show you how to do that?” Dan asked.

  Fulfort smiled broadly and nodded as Tian tossed the knife to Dan.

  For the next hour the two poachers stood side by side, and were shown some basic moves by Nikki as the rangers continued to train near them. At one point Dan corrected one of Fisho’s out of place feet, and Pili stepped forward to help move Fulfort’s foot into the proper position as well.

  Sometime later Mimi and Faith heard the squeal of brakes. A few moments after that Hamish and Musa walked past the paddocks and joined the women at the wall. The big men stared down at the two poachers who were laughing from under a tangled pile of smiling rangers.

  They both scowled and folded their arms across their chests. Hamish said, “Aye, and which part of ‘let them watch’ did you numpties not understand?”

  “You’re both very bloody welcome,” Mimi said, “You agreed to not kill them under two conditions, right? If they saw how bad ass your little team was, and if we made sure they weren’t going to stab your boys in the night. Mission accomplished. You can thank us now.”

  Faith nodded and said, “And you can go down and thank the team, too.”

  The big men grumbled, and Mimi took Faith’s arm as they followed the striding men down the hill.

  The rangers saw them coming and snapped to attention, trying to wipe the smiles from their faces.

  As Musa raised a massive pointing finger his radio crackled quietly.

  He kept his scowl fixed on his troops as he pulled the radio from his hip, turned a dial and hit the talk button. “Go ahead Christa,” he said.

  “It looks like Fisho and Fulfort remembered the correct valley,” Christa said, “We hear an incoming chopper. It must be damn low. Sounds like its coming just over the ridge behind us but there’s no sign of that poacher, Ayo, yet.”

  “We’re on the way,” Musa said as he rolled his finger in the air and pointed towards the trucks.

  Chapter 86

  Spot and Rook pressed closer to Christa as the small bush chopper streaked overhead and its blade wash beat the branches above them. The sickly engine burped and whined as the helo dropped quickly into the valley.

  From their well-concealed hide at the top of the ridge Christa followed the little chopper with her huge sniper rifle. As it curved towards the valley floor she pressed the talk button on her mic. “I got one pilot, and no co-pilot,” she said, “We wait for the poacher to show. I want a clear shot at him before you move so wait for my go. Remember, we’ve got five dogs out here so pick your targets carefully. Don’t shoot at noises.”

  “Copy that,” came a response from the rangers on the opposite ridge. There were three men stationed there in a hide with Sholto and Seamus.

  “You two can go ahead,” Christa said to Spot and Rook, “Just stay out of sight.”

  Before the dogs reached the thick bush she called after them. “Hey Spot,” she said, “Don’t be stupid down there.” He looked back at her and tipped his head. She added, “Okay, I didn’t mean stupid, but I’m serious. Let me take him from here, you got me?”

  Spot nodded, and the two dogs disappeared into the brush.

  Christa watched the chopper hover and make one full rotation before it dropped into a small clearing near the river. The blades clipped the thorn bushes before it bounced to a stop. The pilot kept the engine running and a moment later a tall thin man in a dirty Rastafarian hat ran low from the shadows of the bush to the side of the chopper.

  Using the trees to gauge windage Christa doped the scope and picked a spot on the poacher’s chest. She drew a breath, and started her shooting mantra.

>   As she started her finger-pull another pair of helicopters cruised over the ridge right above her.

  Christa let off the trigger as she pulled away from her scope and looked up. She hadn’t heard them approaching. They only produced a low thumping sound that she could barely hear moments after they passed overhead.

  The helos were strange birds and she didn’t recognize their type. Both had the same sleek lines and were stealth black, with a long sloping nose. The main rotors were dual counter-rotating blades and the vertical tail rotor faced backwards, like an airplane propeller. She thought they might have been civilian until she saw the side-mounted rocket launchers and belt-fed minigun pods behind the choppers’ sliding side doors. They were smaller than a Huey, she guessed they could hold about eight troops including the pilot and copilot, and they looked like they could lay down some hellacious fire.

  Inside the lead chopper Harley wheezed into his headset, “This is a bad idea.” He took another draw from his oxygen mask and clutched the helicopter’s padded grab bars with his deformed hands as they rapidly descended. It felt like they were falling into the valley.

  “Niet,” Semion said loudly into his headset, “I have to talk to the poacher face to face, and I need to know about the father and son.”

  “They’re dead,” Bawa said, trying hard not to puke again. He took a big breath but had forgotten to close the half-full bag and almost vomited again from the smell.

  He turned his round face away, closed the air-sick bag and sucked in a fresh breath. He said, “They haven’t been turned over to the provincial Priscillas. Poachers caught in this reserve never are. Uncle Theo’s a madman, I’m telling you they’re dead.”

  From his copilot’s seat Semion dismissed them with a flap of his huge hand. He turned forward and waved for Berluti to land. He unbuckled his seatbelt as she reached up to hit a button on the overhead console. The landing gear slid out from the helo’s fuselage just before it touched down.