Enter the Rebirth (Enter the... Book 3)

by Thomas Gondolfi

  Katie shook her head. She wanted to find out who he was first, and what he wanted, before she dared to tell him anything.

  "What bodies?" she asked, batting her eyes and playing dumb.

  "The diplomats. Where are they!" the man moved closer, until he was snarling at her from only inches away.

  She lowered her eyes and curled her shoulders up around her ears as if cowed by his looming and shouting. "I don't know," she blabbed, pretending to panic. "We were attacked, everything happened so fast."

  The man growled and stalked away. "Private Pallas, guard the prisoners." He raised his voice. "Rest of you, fan out and find the diplomats."

  The woman, Private Pallas, herded Katie to where Tank stood and kept a watchful eye on them while the commander and the rest spread out around the wrecked car.

  Her arms were getting tired, so Katie turned to the private. "Can we sit down?"

  Pallas glared at her, but no, Katie realized, the private’s disdain targeted Tank. "No."

  Before Katie could protest Tank let out a little woof, a sigh really, of agreement. "Katie, do as she says."

  "I'd listen to your dog." The last bit was said with enough derision that Katie jerked back as if slapped.

  "No, you listen, I—" Katie growled until Tank slapped a paw over her mouth.

  He leaned over and said into her ear as quietly as he could with his low voice, "Katie, don't antagonize them. They're part of Genesis."

  Katie stopped struggling against Tank's grip, her mind whirling. Genesis 1:26 was the human foil to Survivors of the Holocene, claiming that evolved animals like Tank or the elephants needed to be cleansed from the Earth.

  The man who'd given Pallas orders returned from his search, marching up behind Pallas and then passing her by, making a beeline right toward Katie and Tank.

  "Where is Mr. Holness?" the man growled, stopping about a foot away. "And that other woman, the one from the UN?"

  Tank kept his paw over Katie's mouth and answered for them. "Taken, by the Survivors."

  Katie pulled down Tank's paw. "How did you know who we were carrying and where to find us? This mission was supposed to be secret."

  The man wasn't listening to her; his attention had shifted to Tank, who he was considering thoughtfully. "You're a bloodhound."

  Tank nodded and shifted up against Katie, in a gesture that reminded her of something her family’s pet dogs used to do before the virus hit, a gesture asking for reassurance from their human companions that everything was going to be all right. Katie wasn't even sure that Tank was aware of what he was doing.

  As a terrorist organization, Genesis’s stated goal was wiping all evolved animals from the Earth. The only reason they were keeping Tank alive now was because he was a witness to the attack. Katie realized this as the further implication of the Genesis commander's words sunk in—Tank was useful to them.

  Evolved animals retained their heightened senses, for the most part. Tank had used his superior sense of smell to track targets on missions in the past. Katie hadn't seen tracks of any vehicles, which made sense as the Survivors eschewed modern technology in favor of their own animal advantages. They would be on foot and Tank would have no trouble tracking them through the wasteland.

  "Private Pallas, bind the girl's hands," the man snapped to the woman who'd been keeping guard over them. Then he turned to Tank. "You, get to tracking. And don't even think of betraying us. If you fail to lead us to the Survivors, we'll kill the girl."

  * * *

  Katie's whole body ached as the motorcycle bounced along. The Genesis commander led them at a brutal pace through the wasteland. She and Tank sat bound in the sidecar of Private Pallas's motorcycle as Genesis followed the elephants through the wasteland.

  Every few miles they stopped and pulled Tank out to scout around for the Survivors’ smell, to make sure they were on the right track. At first Katie thought she'd been mistaken about the commander's need for Tank. The evolved elephants had left a clear track in the mud. However, a few miles in, the tracks disappeared at a small river.

  Tank led them down the stream a ways before signaling that the elephants had left the water at some point farther back. After a bit of scouting, Tank located their scent on the opposite side and the hunt was on again.

  The sun started to set below the horizon when Tank woofed loudly to catch the attention of the Genesis commander, who drove a bit ahead of them.

  The commander held up his hand and the caravan stopped. The commander got off his bike and walked over to Tank and Katie with a scowl. "There better be a good reason why you barked at me, dog."

  To his credit, Tank was not cowed. He lifted his bound paws and pointed to his nose. "I caught a whiff on the wind. They are close by, up ahead of us. If we keep going they'll hear the noise of the bikes."

  The man nodded and looked around them. The growing darkness made it hard to see far, but they were near the top of one of the rolling hills. The only trees were merely bare trunks, although about a mile back they'd passed an intact grove nestled at a low point in the hills. The Genesis commander ordered them to fall back to that sheltered copse.

  Katie and Tank waited helplessly in their seat while their captors prepared for a raid on the Survivors. Private Pallas stayed behind and guarded Katie and Tank while the rest of the group pulled on night-vision goggles and vanished silently into the night.

  Katie still had the 9mm Sig hidden in her pocket. They hadn't thought to search her. With the way her hands were bound Katie thought she might be able to reach a finger into the pocket and retrieve the gun.

  Tank had been her partner long enough that when Katie lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head in Private Pallas's direction he knew what she needed without her having to say a word.

  "Private," Tank said in a submissive tone, lowering his head. "I need to pee."

  She scowled at him. "Pee your pants for all I care, dog."

  Katie bit back a growl of frustration and instead tried to appeal to the Private's practical side. "We're sitting in your motorcycle's sidecar. Who'd you think will have to clean it up if he pees all over the seat?"

  Pallas scowled at Tank, grimaced, and then looked around. A few crickets chirped in what remained of the underbrush, but otherwise the night was silent.

  "Fine." She walked over and grabbed Tank's arm, hauling him up and out of the bucket seat with one hand.

  Tank stumbled and fell to his knees in the mud. Pallas let him go with a snarled curse and kicked him in the ribs when he fell forward onto his bound paws. Katie winced in sympathy.

  "Get up and move, dog," Pallas said, giving him one last kick.

  She grabbed her M4 with both hands again and pointed it at him until Tank stood. Mud covered the entire front of his uniform and coated his front paws. Tank limped off toward the closest tree. Pallas gave Katie a sidelong glance. "Don't try anything, or I shoot him. Got it?"

  Katie gulped. "Yes, ma'am."

  Of course, as soon as Pallas turned her back on her, Katie wiggled and turned her body so the pocket with the gun faced away from Pallas. Keeping a wary eye on Pallas, she stretched her arms as far as they would go, wincing as the zip-ties dug into her wrists. Using two fingers she caught a bit of the fabric of her pants and tugged hard until she could wriggle her fingers into the pocket opening.

  Tank, bless his heart, fumbled with the front of his pants, pretending to struggle with the zipper with his bound paws. Pallas looked impatient though, so Katie needed to hurry.

  Her fingers brushed on the cold metal of the Sig's grip. By the time she wriggled it free blood dripped down from where the zip-tie had rubbed her skin raw, running down her hand and slicking her fingers.

  Katie tucked the gun between her clenched thighs, hiding it from view just as Pallas glanced in her direction. Katie twisted back on the seat to face forward, rolling her neck like she'd just been trying to stretch.

  Pallas watched her for a moment before turning back to Tank, so her ruse must have worked.
Katie took a deep breath to center herself and wrapped her hands around the Sig. She'd only have one chance to incapacitate Pallas.

  Katie stood up and raised the gun into a modified firing position hampered as she was by the ties on her wrist, and sighted down the barrel on the back of Pallas's head. Her training had been to aim at the torso, as the bigger target meant an easier hit, but a torso shot had a much lower chance of killing Pallas than a head shot. Katie let out her breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

  Pallas glanced over at her, her eyes widening in shock a little too late. Katie's bullet hit the side of her head, just above her ear. It exploded in a spray of blood, bone shards, and brain matter. Pallas staggered a single step, wobbled, and collapsed.

  Tank turned and stepped back to avoid the red puddle forming under Pallas's body while he finished zipping up his pants.

  Katie stood frozen in place, gulping down big lungfuls of air. Tank moved quickly and efficiently. He yanked free the folding knife from the corpse’s belt. He managed to pry open the knife with one claw before flipping the tool around and awkwardly sawing through the zip-ties on his wrists. The plastic parted after a few quick jerks and fell to the ground.

  Tank walked over to Katie and gently pushed down on her arms. She looked down, only to realize she still held the pistol in a white-knuckled grip.

  "Come, Katie," Tank said, throwing one leg over the motorcycle seat. "We need to get to safety before the rest return."

  "Safety?" Katie looked around them, at the dead Private Pallas, at the trees rising up above them with the tops scorched. "No one will be safe until this war is over." Katie shook her head. "We need to rescue Holness and Waldheim, and get them to the armistice meeting."

  Tank frowned at her, which deepened the wrinkles on his face and muzzle. "It is just the two of us, with one gun." He paused and glanced at the M4 sticking out from beneath the corpse. "Two guns," he amended.

  "Tank, if we don't get the government representatives to that meeting the armistice will fail and the fighting will resume, more vicious than ever. Besides, it’s better that it’s just two of us. With Genesis attacking the Survivors we can take advantage of the chaos to sneak in and rescue them."

  Tank whoofed out a doggie sigh, which flapped his long jowls. "It would be a suicide mission."

  Tears welled up in Katie's eyes and she dashed them away with the cuff of her jacket. "Tank, I've already lost my entire family to the fighting. I lost—"

  More tears came and she let them fall. "Corporal Eggen and I were in love, but we couldn't openly have a relationship because of his position as my superior officer. We were talking of getting married when the war was over. Maybe starting a family." She stopped, a lump closed in her throat, which made talking impossible.

  "I know," Tank said softly. Of course he did. Katie hadn't told him, but he was very good at reading body language, and had seen the looks Katie and Eggen had always thrown each other across the mess hall or during training. Or he had smelled it on her, after she and Eggen had managed to sneak away to a private spot for a rare, always too brief, make-out session in the janitor's closet or unused office.

  Tank pulled a handkerchief and handed it to Katie. He got up and left, going over to Pallas's body to search it for useful items, giving Katie time to dry her tears. She knew he was only pretending because in the time it took her to stop crying she watched him search the same five pockets a dozen times over.

  When her purge ended, she stood. Tank crept up next to her carrying the M4 and a small pouch of ammo. He stashed them in the sidecar by Katie's feet and settled into the driver's seat of Pallas's motorcycle.

  "Let's go rescue some diplomats," Tank said. The motorcycle came to life with a throaty roar and they raced away toward certain death.

  * * *

  Katie crawled on her belly to the top of the rise, the M4 strapped securely to her back, and peered down. The crack-crack of gunfire came from the hollow below, the source hidden beneath the pall of smoke haze from multiple small fires scattered throughout the Survivor's camp. The smoke would make their job both harder and easier, hiding them from both sides but also concealing enemies and making it more difficult for them to find the captive humans.

  Seeing the way clear, Katie gestured for Tank to join her. When he got to the top of the rise Katie pointed to a corner of the camp below them, close to their position. The stack of crates there would provide cover for their infiltration. Tank nodded in acknowledgment.

  She pushed herself over the lip of the hill and climbed to her feet, dashing down the steep grade as fast as she dared. The rain had lessened but not stopped and the bare mud was slick. Her boots lost traction so many times she slid more than ran. She reached the crates and dashed between the stacks, pressing herself into the shadows.

  Tank jogged up behind her a moment later, panting hard enough that his tongue lolled out of his mouth. He carried Eggen's Sig in one paw. Katie jerked her head toward the camp.

  "Can you smell Holness or Waldheim?" she whispered, pitching her voice low.

  Tank shook his head, chest heaving. "Too much smoke."

  Katie cursed, barely audible over a sudden burst of chattering gunfire.

  An elephant bellowed, the sound echoing oddly in the smoke so Katie couldn't tell the direction or the source, or if it were near or far, but Tank stiffened.

  Katie opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but he held up his empty paw, signaling her to silence and then pointed. Katie nodded.

  Tank pressed himself against the crates by Katie and sidled down them until he reached the edge. He poked his nose out, sniffed hard enough to make his nostrils flare, and then froze. Katie followed suit, holding her breath.

  She'd expected to be scared; she'd been terrified while looking down on the terrorists’ campground, but now her heart pounded with excitement laced with anticipation.

  After a long moment of stillness, Tank relaxed. He leaned over toward her and woofed into her ear, "Wind changed. Smell the packages. They're close. Also, I smell guards."

  "Elephants?" Katie said, cringing. "Plural?"

  Tank shook his head, which sent his floppy ears flapping against his face. As he began to speak there was a concussive boom and the ground shook slightly beneath their feet.

  "No, as you can hear, the elephants are busy with Genesis. The guards are a species I'm unfamiliar with. Perhaps some kind of horse?" He shrugged.

  More chattering gunfire and a large animal trumpeted in pain. Katie waited until the cry died away. "We'll have to risk it. We don't have time to scout."

  "I agree," Tank barked over the chaos. The gunfire was getting heavier and seemed to be moving their way.

  Without glancing back to see if he followed her, Tank stashed the Sig in his pocket and then dropped to all fours, toward the center of camp.

  Katie brought her gun up and ran after him. As she ran she pivoted her upper body back and forth, scanning the surrounding area with her gun held in the low-ready position. The smoke hampered her vision and irritated her throat. She had to fight the urge to cough, which would give away her position to the sensitive hearing of the evolved animals that made up the Survivors.

  They passed the last of the crates and boxes of supplies and continued through an open area. Ahead of them were the nylon tents and straw nests that made up the animal's main camp. To the left, the smoke momentarily cleared enough to reveal a haphazard collection of cars and trucks.

  A shot whizzed past Katie's ear like a mosquito. Katie swiveled her front, lifted her M4, and pulled down on the trigger. Pop-pop-pop. The smoke and the tent walls blocked her vision. She couldn't see who or what she was firing at but a cry of pain told her she'd hit something.

  Tank never slowed down as he skidded around a sharp corner and disappeared behind one of the tents. Katie followed him, her boots squelching in the mud.

  A walled canopy came into view. The side facing Katie was rolled up, and inside was a folding table. A laptop and a radio sat aband
oned on top of it. Behind the table sat Holness and Waldheim, sitting back-to-back in folding chairs. Zip-ties secured their arms and legs to the chairs’ frames.

  Three black-and-white striped horses stood guard around the two humans, assault rifles clutched in their hooved hands. The horses were zebras, Katie realized with a flush, and they gave a cry as they spotted her and Tank. Two of them opened fire with their guns.

  They aimed toward her, ignoring Tank entirely. Katie cursed and dove backwards and sideways, throwing herself behind the tent she'd just come around.

  Bullets ripped the air above her, perforating the thin nylon walls. She landed hard, but hours of basic training had her turning it into a roll over her shoulder and back onto her feet before her thoughts had time to catch up with events. She crouched low and froze.

  The shots stopped and she could hear voices. She recognized Tank's low growl immediately.

  "Thank you, awakened brothers," Tank said. He must have realized at the same time as Katie that the zebras had heard Katie's gunshots and then seen them. A supposedly unarmed Tank, panting hard from their mad dash, being chased by an armed human with her gun raised, smoke wafting from the barrel. They obviously thought Tank one of their own being chased down by a member of Genesis intent on gunning him down. That was quick thinking on his part, throwing out the "awakened brothers" greeting, which cemented this story in their minds.

  The zebra's response was too faint for Katie to hear, but there was no gunfire or cry from Tank, so he was probably safe enough for the moment.

  "Better go check that it is dead," Tank growled. It was a good idea, splitting them up like that.

  The zebra must have moved closer, because this time Katie could hear most of his response. "—like cockroaches, yeah."

  If she shot the one that came to finish her off, the rest would hear, so Katie let go of the M4, letting it swing from her side by the strap. She drew the folding knife from her pocket and flipped out the long blade before taking up an ambush position at the end of the tent.

  The zebra’s hooves squelched in the mud, giving Katie a good idea of his position. From the uneven sound of the steps she guessed that two of them had come. Smart of them, but unlucky for her.