The Way of the Dogs (The Colter Saga Book 2)

by Joel Baker

  The Way of the Dogs

  The Colter Saga

  Joel K Baker

  Book 2

  Introduction

  This is the second in a series of novels known as The Colter Saga. The first novel entitled Friends of the Family followed the struggle of Jesse and Sarah Colter as they face the overnight end of civilization. They are forced on a journey through a desolate landscape, testing the courage and resolve of the family and the friends they meet along the way. As they reach Haven, Jesse’s childhood home, they struggle to fight evil and build a life of love and decency for their family.

  The second novel entitled The Way of the Dogs begins some eighty years after the Colter family arrived at a place called Haven. Sarah and Jesse’s son Paul, now in his nineties, is the sole survivor of the family. The Colter family has prospered, unaware of the storm of wickedness swirling around them. James Colter, the only Grandson of Mark, is a loner, and very much like his great grandfather Jesse. Not comfortable with the progress around him, he could be the last best hope as evil descends on Haven.

  Chapter 1

  The early morning sunlight filtered through the mist rising off the waters of the lake. The canoe emerged from the haze, a ghostly image. A large black dog sat forward of the man paddling softly into shore.

  James Colter feathered his paddle as the nose of the canoe edged gently into the sand. He sat for a moment listening to the silence. A splash sounded behind him as a large fish rose to a dancing bug breaking the mirror surface of the lake. The chill of the early April morning hit James through the dampness of his leather shirt.

  A burned out rusted shell of an old car was sticking half in, half out of the water to his right. It was a remnant of the strange time before the Go Back. Old people say it was a time of cars, planes and televisions.

  Everyone bought their food and clothes right out of a store. Governments told people what they could and couldn’t do. Now those are just stories old people tell. Hard to believe, but they say it was true.

  James picked up his rifle. He made sure a round was chambered and stepped onto the wet sand. The dog entered the woods as he hid the canoe in the brush along the shore. James found signs in the sand that told him what he needed to know.

  It was apparent from the prints the men still had the girl with them. She was being dragged along and resisting as much as she could. She was slowing them down. He wondered how long they would put up with her before she was abandoned beside the trail.

  He doubted they would kill her, but you never knew for sure. The dog returned and stood by James looking down at the prints.

  “Well Samson, it looks like we found Becky.”

  As if to answer, Sam huffed and trotted down the beach following the tracks in the sand.

  James and Sam were constant companions. They had been since James saved Sam as a pup. A litter of pups playing in the woods stumbled upon a feral hog. The hog had turned and ferociously attacked the litter. James was nearby and heard the squealing of both pig and puppies.

  Although only twelve, James kicked the two hundred pound razorback in the side before jumping on its back. The hog dropped a puppy from its mouth and slashed the boy on the leg with his yellowed tusks.

  As the hog turned to finish the boy, two massive black dogs tore into the clearing and ripped the throat of the hog open. One of the pups lay on the ground unconscious next to the boy. The other puppies formed a circle around them and sat quietly looking up at the adult dogs.

  The male dog quickly turned and ran for Haven and human help. The female sniffed the fallen puppy and nudged it with its nose. The pup moved a little and made a soft crying noise. The female studied the soft puppy.

  James knew the way of the dogs brought to Haven by his great grandparents all those years ago. The dogs were found outside a government research facility on the trip south from Liberty, Ohio. The genetically engineered dogs were created as a part of a project gone horribly wrong.

  Intended as guard dogs, the researchers altered their genetics for size, intelligence, and enhanced sensory perception. They patrolled their territory like wolves and killed other dogs they came across. Any pup that was sick or had a minor defect was killed by the pack or allowed to die slowly on its own.

  Injured as James was and bleeding from the gash on his leg, he dove and covered the pup with his body. He lay in the dirt and leaves looking up at the massive chest and jaws of the female. She turned away as humans arrived. They carried both the injured puppy and James back to Haven. The puppy was Samson. He and James had not been apart since.

  James knelt and took a sip of water from a spring whose water ran into the lake. Before grabbing his rifle, he made sure his razor sharp tomahawk was secure in his waist band and his knife sheaved and strapped tightly to his leather leggings.

  He shouldered his pack and began a gentle lopping gait following the trail and Sam into the woods. He was afraid he’d find Becky hurt along the trail if he didn’t overtake them before dark.

  Becky Warner was the youngest daughter of the widow Warner who lived in Springhill, about twenty miles from Haven. Becky was a fifteen year old bright, blonde beauty, and a bad judge of boys. According to her mother, Becky was sneaking out to meet that low life Billy Hinkle.

  James had known Billy’s older brother Vern for some time. He knew the whole Hinkle clan lived in a compound back in the mountains towards Eagles Nest. It wasn’t far from where he stood.

  James wasn’t sure what the Hinkle brothers would do once he caught up with them. He didn’t want to start a blood feud, but it really depended on how Vern and Billy wanted to play it out.

  The sun was straight overhead as James knelt on one knee and studied the ground for signs of the Hinkle brothers or Becky. From the track in the moist ground, they could be no more than fifteen minutes from this spot. Becky was limping.

  The trail was leading down towards the Hinkle homestead and James knew he must overtake them now.

  He jogged up hill, above the trail and over a shallow ridge. Sam circled left and took a position behind anyone approaching. After several minutes the brothers and Becky emerged on the trail, a hundred yards from where James sat.

  He watched quietly as the three drew closer. He pulled the hammer of his rifle back and laid the rifle across his legs.

  “Nice day for a walk,” James called out.

  Both Vern and Billy dove to the side of the trail and looked quickly up to where James sat.

  “Just leave your guns where they are and everything will be fine,” James called.

  “James Colter? Is that you?” Vern asked. “Damn! You scared the crap out of us!”

  James saw Billy rooting around and knew he was trying to pull his gun from his holster.

  “Vern,” James said. “Tell Billy to stop moving around before he gets shot.”

  James watched as Billy stopped squirming and lay still. Becky sat down hard on the trail. She looked dirty and exhausted. The midday sun filtered through the trees and steam rose from the forest floor.

  “Becky, are you alright?” James called. Too tired to answer, she nodded her head. “Well boys, I think you know I got to take Becky back to her mother. Are we going to have a problem?”

  Billy stood up and started towards James, his face a purple cloud of rage. Vern grabbed Billy and pushed him away.

  “You start anything Billy, and I’ll shoot you myself.” Vern said. “James, you got that big dog with you?”

  Billy glared at Vern and then up at James.

  “Yeah, sure do,” James said. “He’s about a dozen yards up and behind you, sitting quiet and watching you. Just be careful and move real slowly. You�
��ll be alright. Becky, get up here behind me. Vern, take Billy home and I’ll take Becky back to her Mom.”

  Becky scurried up the slope and crouched behind James and peeked over his shoulder.

  “It sounds good to me” Vern said as much to Billy as James. “I’m sick of dragging her all over hell and back. Billy, head on out towards home.”

  James watched both men disappear over the hill towards the Hinkle homestead. He waited a few minutes before he stood up and started walking back the way he came. After a few steps Sam joined him and he heard Becky stand and follow him.

  “Aren’t you going to wait for me?” Becky asked.

  “Not really,” James said. “You better keep up. It’s going to be late before we get back and you don’t want to get lost out here in the dark.”

  James figured it was an hour past sunset when they got back to the canoe. Becky was home before midnight. He and Sam left her to suffer the wrath of her mother alone.

  Chapter 2

  After several hours sleep the rising sun crept through the shades of the boarding house windows. James splashed water on his face, sat on the edge of the bed. He considered his next move. He and Sam were searching for Mason Lowery, the monster responsible for the mutilation murders of the Watson family over in New Port.

  Lowery had managed to escape from him three times and James still wasn’t even sure what he looked like. The trail had gone cold again. James figured it was time to head back to Haven.

  Haven was a large valley homestead where James was raised along with about forty other members of the Colter clan. The valley was well known throughout the region, going back as far as his great grandfather Jess Colter and his wife Sarah. They settled Haven shortly after the Go Back. Now all James wanted was his horse and a rain free ride home.

  A brown sorrel peered around a post at James as he and Sam entered the livery stable. The smell of horse sweat and ripe straw, overwhelmed the dusty sweet smell of the hay in the loft over his head.

  The horse nickered when the saddle blanket was thrown over its back. The saddle cinched, James paid the livery man and headed north through town.

  In the early morning light the town of Springhill was asleep. Two mangy dogs wandered behind the buildings lining the main street. The town mutts appeared to be looking for something to eat and went behind the local food store. Sam continued beside James and didn’t do more than glance at the mutts now scrounging through someone’s trash.

  Springhill had the usual odd assortment of businesses. The blacksmith shop sat away from the other stores. Everyone worried about the possibility of fire spreading from the forge.

  A large stack of wooden telephone poles sat outside the blacksmith shop in a neat pile. Each pole had a metal ring imbedded and a strong chain ran through the rings. The metal rings and chains made sure no one stole them.

  The poles from before the Go Back were soaked in creosote to make them insect and rot resistant. The creosote also made the wood burn with white-hot intensity. They were hoarded by blacksmiths in every town.

  James rode slowly by the depot, easily the largest building on the street. Most towns of any size had at least one. A depot sold windows, doors, sinks, boards, nails, railings, wire and any other material from before the Go Back.

  If you needed something, and had something to trade, you could usually find what you needed in one of the depots. Now much of what they carried was made locally for resale.

  James slowed his horse by the church on the right side of the main street. It was a white building with a steeple and a cross. A hand painted sign out front said the church service started promptly at nine A.M.

  Most towns had only one church. The church and school usually formed the center of most town activity. A hitch rail ran across the front of the church. There was room on the side to park buggies and wagons. James took the northeast fork in the road just outside of town. The sun was up and it was going to be a hot day for April.

  The man and dog stopped by a creek along the road for lunch. James rested under a tree dozing while Sam ran off into the nearby woods to find lunch for himself.

  A faint noise woke James and he spotted a small boy watching him from the brush on the other side of the creek. He stood and stretched not looking at the boy, then led his horse to the creek for a drink of water. The boy didn’t move.

  “Nice day isn’t it?” James said not looking up from the water.

  The boy pulled back a little, but didn’t bolt. He isn’t feral at least, James thought. Many children today were forced to fend for themselves. They were wild as rabbits and it usually ended poorly for them.

  “You’re too little to talk I bet,” James said.

  “Am not,” the boy said defensively.

  “Why you sitting there watching me?” James asked.

  “I own this creek, and people pay me to drink the water,” the boy said.

  “Is that true?” James asked. “What are you, six, seven years old?”

  “I’m almost nine, if you gotta know,” the boy said.

  “Does your Daddy know you got nothing to do except bother people resting by this creek?” James asked.

  The boy stood up favoring his left leg. The grimace on the boy’s face told James he was in a lot of pain. The boy turned and hobbled into the brush. James decided to follow him and see if he was alright.

  The brush was thick by the creek, but thinned as James followed signs of the boy’s hasty retreat over the next two rises. James stopped on top of the third hill and looked down on a small cabin in a clearing.

  Samson sat next to him with a somewhat quizzical look. He turned his head and looked up at James. James noticed there was no livestock in barnyard. Smoke rose from the cabin’s chimney as a blue thread. James was in time to see the boy sit down on the front porch and look up at him.

  “Stay, Sam,” James said.

  He nudged his horse and started down the hill towards the cabin. As James drew closer, he could see the boy had his arm around a small dog who was barking its head off. A woman stood in the doorway with a towel draped over her right hand, her left hand held the door ajar.

  “Gabe, shut that dog up!” the woman said.

  James pulled his horse up ten feet short of the porch. The woman shaded her eyes with her hand. She looked up at James, a worried look on her face.

  “Sorry to bother you,” James said. “I saw your son down by the creek and when he took off it looked like his leg was hurt. I wanted to make sure he was alright.”

  “He stepped in a hole a couple of days ago and twisted his ankle is all,” the woman said. “My older brother and his son are out in the barn right now, so if I was you, I’d head on out. Thanks for looking out for the boy.”

  “Where’s his father?” James asked pretty sure the woman was lying.

  “His pa is dead,” the woman said. “He died in the Gypsy Wars about a year ago.”

  “I don’t think there’s anyone in the barn,” James said. “I know you’ve got an old revolver in your right hand under that towel. I’d feel better if we just talked where we are.”

  The woman stood for a few moments weighing her options and stepped out on to the porch. She was tall and thin with a dress made out of cheap, but clean material. She seemed to be in her thirties, although forties was not out of the question.

  The towel dropped to the front step and the old revolver in her right hand pointed at the floor. The boy limped over by his mother. James dismounted and stood by his horse.

  “I’m not here with any bad intentions,” James said. “I just wanted to check and make sure the boy is alright. Can I ask how you’re getting by without help around here? You’ve got no livestock, no crops in the ground, and with your husband on the other side, well, it seems like a hard scrabble life.”

  “You got no idea, mister,” the woman said. “What’s your name anyway?”

  “I’m James Colter, from over in Haven,” James said.

  “You’re a Colter from over in Haven?�
�� The woman asked. “Why didn’t you say so when you rode up? We heard nothing but good things about you folks over there. Sweet Jesus, you scared the daylights out of me!”

  “I’m sorry,” James said. “Like I said, I was concerned about the boy. Could I get a glass of water?”

  “Of course you can,” the woman said. “Gabe, run fetch a dipper of water from the well. Make sure it’s fresh drawn too.”

  The boy set the dog down and limped around to the side of the cabin.

  “Is it true you people got electricity over where you’re from?” the woman asked. “I heard about it, but found it hard to believe.”

  Gabe returned with a metal dipper of cool water.

  “I wouldn’t put too much stock in those rumors,” James said. “We got some things we’re playing with, but nothing worth getting all excited over. This water is very good.”

  “Unfortunately it’s about all we got,” the woman said. “My garden is just starting to produce and I have some bacon put back for supper tonight. You’re welcome to it if there’s a need. By the way, my name is Katherine Osborne.”

  “It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Osborne,” James said. “Would it be possible for you to keep the little dog up in your cabin? I’ve got a dog up on the ridge watching us now. He doesn’t really get along with other dogs all that well.”

  James took another sip of water and wondered if he was getting sucked into a bad situation. He knew he could do only so much. This seemed to be a slope getting slicker by the minute.

  “Call me Kathy, Mr. Colter, please,” Kathy said. “Gabe, take your dog and shut him in the back room for now.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Osborne, Kathy,” James said. “It’s getting a little late in the afternoon to press on. I saw some sign by the creek, and think I might be able to shoot us dinner. My dog and I can sleep out in the barn for the night, if it’s okay with you.”

  “That would be just fine,” Kathy said.

  James rode back the way he came. He looked back over his shoulder as he approached the top of the hill where Sam waited. Gabe sat on his porch long after his mother disappeared back through the door.