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

by Robert Udulutch

  The man grabbed Christa’s gun and shoved her back through the thorn bush. She fell onto the river bank as he disappeared into the shadows of the thicket.

  Spot flooded his system with a massive shot of adrenaline. He leapt from the chopper and made it to Christa’s side in two great leaps as she was clutching at her neck and kicking her metal legs in the water. Blood jetted out in a stream, spraying a line across Spot’s face and the rocks of the riverbed as she looked up at him with terrified eyes.

  Spot slapped Christa’s hands away from her neck and clamped down on her wound, feeling for the pumping opening in her jugular with the little pads of his modified paws.

  Rook and Seamus darted past, rocketing into the bush as Sholto came to a stop next to them.

  The big old shepherd stomped the ground and nervously, tenderly licked Christa’s forehead.

  Christa reached up with a bloody hand, grabbed a big hunk of Sholto’s neck fur and pushed her towards the brush.

  Spot barked at Sholto, Go! Help them, I’ve got her.

  Sholto returned a sharp bark right in Spot’s face.

  As much as Spot gave his sister grief for over-interpreting the intentions of non-accelerated animals’ communications he clearly heard, Don’t you dare let her die.

  Sholto took one last look at the bleeding woman who had raised her from a pup before she crashed into the thorns after Rook and Seamus.

  As Spot found the pumping hole he lay on top of Christa and brought his face right in front of hers. His big brown eyes held hers, and he nodded. Christa stopped struggling and stared back at him. Her fingers searched for Spot’s other paw. He grabbed her hand and closed his split paws around her trembling fingers. As he stared down into her scared eyes he willed another, slower release of adrenaline into his right forepaw. As he felt the strength flow into his pads he started to narrow his focus, removing everything not related to holding the torn flesh of her throbbing neck closed.

  The two remaining rangers arrived, and Spot heard them shouting into the radio as if they were very far away. A few seconds later he heard distant barks followed by a scream, and gunfire.

  Chapter 88

  Ayo’s red-smeared Rastafarian hat fell to the gravel as Musa yanked the poacher’s body from the back of the truck and tossed it over his shoulder. The big ranger carried the mangled corpse through the back door of the clinic. He dropped it onto a black plastic body-bag spread out on a table in the clinic’s storage room. Ayo’s long legs hung off the end of the table and Musa roughly shoved the bloody boots together as he left the room.

  The poacher’s body was lined up next to nine others, four human and five canine. All of the dead human soldiers from the chopper were large and very fit, and the dogs were big German shepherds.

  Musa walked down the short hallway and joined the team standing around Christa’s bed. Her neck was wrapped with an inch of thick bandages and her eyes were closed. There were a circle of police dogs around her bed, and all of them had blood-stained snouts and paws.

  The big head ranger nodded to Hamish, who was holding Spot in his arms. The black dog was flexing his cramped, bloody paws.

  “You’re a damn idgit, you know that?” Hamish said to Spot.

  Smudge was standing at Hamish’s side. She nodded up at her brother.

  Spot leaned forward and licked Hamish’s gray-bearded face as he looked down at his sister.

  “Aye, you better bloody apologize. You lot ever scare me like that again you won’t have to worry about poachers,” Hamish said, “I’ll skelp you my damn self. Just wait ‘til your Mimi hears about this, we’re both away for sawdust.”

  He set the dog down and turned to Dr. Lewis and Kelcy. “You sure she’s alright?” Hamish asked as he gently picked up Christa’s pale hand.

  Dr. Lewis said, “We’ll know more in a few hours, but she should be fine. She needs some rest but she’s got good oxygenation, and hemostatis had already almost completely sealed the wound by the time she got here. It looks like she barely dipped into shock. Good thing our wagging buddy here has strong little paws. That’s not an easy wound to keep closed. I doubt a human could have held her neck just right for almost an hour, not on those roads.”

  Kelcy pulled on one of Spot’s ears as she checked Christa’s IV bag and said, “It also helps she’s healthy as a horse. She might still be a quart low so drink lots of juice and eat something, Unc. I might need to tap you again.”

  Hamish nodded and said, “How about your other patient?”

  Kelcy led them into the second exam room and they circled around a metal table. Connected to an IV and a heart monitor was a large German shepherd. The dog was unconscious but breathing on its own. Its front leg and neck had been shaved and bandaged.

  “Well,” Kelcy said, “This girl’s in tough shape. She’s got a good laceration on her leg and a puncture wound on her neck but most of the damage is internal. A few cracked ribs, bruised spleen, some blood in her lungs. If she lives through the next few hours she’ll probably recover but won’t be tap dancing anytime soon. The odd thing is she’s got other wounds, too.” Kelcy pointed to puckered lumps along the dog’s back. They were covered in new, shorter fur. “This animal’s been in a fight, or several,” Kelcy said, “They’re recent wounds.”

  “Thanks, Kels. Nice job,” Dr. Lewis said, “So now you can all leave.” She raised her arms and herded the group outside to the clinic’s porch, shuffling her feet to move the dogs along in front of her.

  A group of Theo’s men from the provincial police had arrived and were patrolling the ranch. Armed pairs of men were stationed outside the clinic and the ranger’s building, and walked the perimeter of the paddocks. Smudge and the police dogs noticed there were also men patrolling the parking area and outbuildings over at the ranch house.

  Hamish and the team stood near a truck piled with gear taken from the stealth helo crash, including the gear the men and dogs inside it were wearing. Spot was in the bed of the truck, picking through it.

  Spot got Ben’s attention and signed, I want to get a closer look at this stuff. Please ask Hamish to have it all put in the workshop and I’ll meet you there.

  “Okay,” Ben said, “where are you going?”

  I need my tablet, Spot signed before he jumped down from the truck.

  Chapter 89

  Smudge tapped Ben on the shoulder until he jerked awake and picked his head up from the workshop’s back table. He shoved a half empty plate of food away, rolled off the pile of blankets, and yawned as he and Smudge crossed the room.

  “So, professor,” Ben said as they joined Spot at the workbench, “What does all of this junk do?”

  Spot held out a paw, and without looking up from the knot of cables in front of him signed, Wait just a sec.

  After tapping a few final numbers into his mini-tablet he pointed to one of the helmets on the bench. Ben picked it up, and rotated it slowly in his hands. There was optical gear seamlessly built into the curve of the Kevlar, and a clip-on headset that fit perfectly into the earhole. Spot reached over and flicked a switch inside the helmet. A quiet chime sounded.

  Put that on, Spot signed, and flip down the eyepiece.

  Ben strapped on the helmet and slid down a small round window over his left eye. He could see through it, but everything had a yellowish tint.

  He looked around the room and saw Smudge clipping on a black vest. It was made for a bigger dog, and had several curved lumps on its bulky sides. The back and sides were rigid panels and appeared to be carbon fiber. A small flexible antenna stuck up from a bump in the back, and several fat black removable plastic canisters were mounted low on the sides.

  “Alright,” Ben said, looking around through the tinted monocle, “so this is kinda cool. Now what?”

  Spot raised a paw for Ben to be patient, and went to help Smudge put a small black tube into her mouth. The tube ran from the vest and ended in a small clear plastic clamp that looked like a dental appliance. The top and bottom was shaped l
ike the reverse crown of a molar and was separated by a center hinge with switches built into it. Spot held up Smudge’s lip as she seated the device in the back of her mouth.

  Spot took a smaller version of Ben’s helmet off the bench and strapped it to Smudge. It was stouter than Ben’s and had cutouts for her ears. Spot flipped down a small earpiece and connected a black cable from Smudge’s helmet to her vest.

  He jumped back up onto his stool, tapped his tablet, and Ben’s eyepiece flicked to life.

  Ben could still see through it, but it displayed a series of icons around the outside and stats along the bottom. As he turned his head the numbers moved, and when he looked at Smudge she was outlined in flashing red.

  When he looked at Spot a similar flashing red outline appeared.

  “Whoa,” Ben said, “what the heck?”

  Spot signed, Yeah, and that ain’t all. He pointed at his sister.

  Smudge worked her jaw, and two small panels slid open on each side of her rigid vest. There was a soft humming sound and then a low, rapid clicking noise.

  “Umm…Smudge,” Ben said, “you sound like you’re going to take off. What is that?”

  He also noticed an icon along the bottom edge of his display was flashing.

  Spot nodded, and signed, Look in the openings.

  Smudge turned to face the light from the workbench so Ben could get a better look at the front of her vest.

  He knelt down and looked into the open holes the access panels had been covering. Inside each hole was a spinning black metal tube.

  Okay Smudge, cut it, Spot said.

  Smudge relaxed her jaw and the tubes stopped spinning.

  Ben saw they weren’t single tubes, but four small tubes rotating around a center hub, and then it occurred to him they weren’t just tubes, they were barrels.

  “Well lick me and stick me on the wall,” Ben said with his eyebrows raised, “Little miniguns?”

  Spot nodded, and pointed to a stack of black ammo cases on the floor near the workbench.

  He signed, More precisely, they’re recoil powered twin belt-fed rotary machine gun turbines with a nylon disintegrating ammunition line firing modified three-eighty caliber ultra high velocity shells at about eleven hundred rounds a minute…if that had been loaded you’d be in two pieces right now.

  “Dog mounted Gatling guns,” Ben said, “A freaking canine A-ten Warthog. Why am I getting the feeling this could be a big problem?”

  Spot and Smudge both nodded.

  Ben looked closely at Smudge’s helmet. It had the same sleek optics and headset as his helmet.

  He said, “Okay, so I get the need for the earpiece and the mouth trigger, but why the monocle and microphone on a dog’s helmet?”

  Spot looked down at him from his stool and signed, Yeah, so it turns out the gun vests aren’t our biggest problem…

  Chapter 90

  The dog opened one eye and saw an overhead fan slowly spinning above her in the dark. As she followed one of its blades she listened to the sounds of the room. Its walls were close, and there was no one nearby. She could feel the warm breeze flowing softly over her fur, and the hardness of the metal table she was lying on. She looked around and saw the heart icon on the monitor next to her table flashing a constant pulse, and the tubes running from the IV bag hanging above it into her forelimb. She slowly raised her head and opened her other eye. She was indeed alone in the small treatment room, but she’d been carefully shaved and bandaged by someone.

  She dropped her head back down onto the table. Everything hurt, her vision was blurry, and her body complained every time she breathed. She closed her eyes, and played back one of her practiced focusing recitations to clear the grogginess.

  After a few minutes she felt much better. The dizziness began to fade and she started an inventory of the pain, tapping into her sensory cortex and reading the signals her nociceptors and peripheral nervous system were sending. Starting with the acute sting in her lungs she moved through her body, mentally picturing each organ, each process, each muscle group. Her targeted focus manipulated her normally autonomous processes. Additional platelets and fibrin were sent to her cuts as an extra flood of macrophage white blood cells rushed out to fight off infection. She took deep breaths as the familiar itching and warmth of healing cascaded over her. She identified and pushed aside those internal wounds that she couldn’t speed heal. They would take more time and she’d just have to deal with the pain. A little extra release of beta-endorphins helped to deaden the screaming from her spleen.

  She stayed still for some time, breathing deep, focusing, and healing.

  Her strength was returning and she was ready to move. She reached out a paw and shut off the alarm on the pulse monitor before removing the small clamp on her paw. Biting down on her bandaged forelimb, she slowly pulled out the IV syringe and spat it out as she sat up on the table.

  She stood on shaky legs and turned in a circle, noting no immediate danger and taking in a big draw of air. She sifted through the smells. There were the typical hospital odors of medicines and cleaners, and she picked up the stench of large animals that were strange to her. There was also dirt, flowers, humans, and corpses. She closed her eyes again and listened. She heard more overhead fans, water dripping, radio music in the distance, birds and animals in the jungle, some known but most foreign. There were cooling vehicle engines, talking inside another building far away. Her ears rotated and she heard shuffling, tinkering, tools sounds on metal that sounded closer.

  She jumped down from the table and winced at the pain as she hobbled through the treatment room doorway and into a small central hallway. All of the doors in the corridor were open, and the entire building was dark except for the light coming from the parking area. She assumed each room in the medical building would be like her room and have an outside door and a door that connected to the hallway. A typical setup for a warm climate.

  Entering the next room she saw a human female curled up on a small couch. She was asleep and facing the back cushions. On a hospital bed in the center of the room was another woman with a thick bandage around her neck. The woman was connected to IV tubes and quietly beeping monitors. The woman was breathing steadily and was in a deep sleep. There was another hospital bed against the far wall, with another sleeping woman curled up on it.

  As she turned to leave she noticed a full length mirror mounted on the back of the hallway door. She nudged the door closed a little and examined her shaved neck and forelimb, and her bandages. She got closer to the mirror, raised her paw and pushed up her lip. She pressed on her gum for a moment, and then watched the white spot turn pink again while she counted the seconds in her head. Her capillary refill rate was normal, indicating her circulatory system and blood pressure were good.

  She walked back into the short hallway, stretching as she walked to work the cramps out of her stiff shoulders and legs. In the next room she saw large black plastic bags stacked up on low tables. There was a strong smell of dead bodies from the bags. Human and canine. She knew them. It was her team, komanda vosem. Her entire team. She sniffed one of the bags more closely, and pawed it gently. It was her team leader, Titov.

  Sticking to the shadows she moved down the hallway to an arched exit doorway, stopping just short of the wide tile porch. Four men stood under a light at the far end of the parking area with guns. There were more near the dirt road, and one walking at the end of a row of trucks.

  She heard the tinkering sound again and zeroed it coming from the building next to the trucks. One of those sounds was very familiar to her. It was a chime from one of her team’s tactical headsets powering up.

  She walked back into the medical clinic and exited from the far side so she could move to the small building unseen. As she approached the door she closed her eyes and paused to listen. There was breathing. It was a human, and a canine. She moved forward silently, slowly peering around the door jamb until she saw a medium-sized black dog sitting on a stool. It was a male, and he
was hunched over a work bench under a single work light. Also on the workbench was all of her team’s equipment. There was a young human male asleep on a pile of blankets on a back table.

  She took a long look at the boy, and then watched the dog. The black dog’s open paws and small finger tabs were moving dexterously over one of her team’s helmets.

  She recognized the dog, and the boy.

  They were two of the targets on her kill list.

  She stopped after taking two steps into the workshop. The black dog must have clicked a mic button as static crackled loudly in a second helmet’s earpiece. The boy stirred and rolled over but didn’t wake.

  In the gear spread out neatly on the workbench next to the black dog she saw her own helmet and vest, and a stack of the team’s round ammo boxes.

  One of those boxes would have her medicine hidden in it.

  She took another step and lowered, preparing to leap when she heard another familiar sound coming from behind her. It was one of her team’s attack vests. More specifically, it was the sound of the vest’s cover panels sliding quietly open. She spun around to see a large black dog facing her from the doorway.

  She recognized this dog from her kill list as well.

  The overly muscular dog was wearing Titov’s vest and helmet, and had the mouth trigger properly seated in its jaw. The miniguns’ doors were open and the gun barrels were quietly spinning.

  She knew if the powerful dog bit down just a little more the mouth trigger would send a signal to the control system to engage the ammunition belt feeder. A tenth of a second later strings of shells would be pulled from the drum magazines. She would be riddled with dozens of rounds before she could take two steps.

  How about you and I have a chat? The black dog growled from behind her.

  She turned around slowly, and saw the human boy was sitting up on the back table with a Glock pistol pointed at her.