by Mark Tufo
“Oh, oh,” was all I could manage to say as a fawn-colored bulldog came bursting through the fence to the side of me. The pickets swung out to allow her in and then fell back into place. I didn’t have much time to think about it as she bounded toward me–and not in a friendly way. If I had to take a guess, I’d say this was their home and they’d found a way to leave and hunt for food and come back for safety. The fawn-colored dog slammed into my right leg and knee, dropping me to the ground. We were now face to face and, all things being equal, it was terrifying. Her lips were pulled back, she was growling, drool and saliva flowed from her teeth and hung from her jaws. Her excessively large mouth was inches from mine. She was growling deep in her throat and let go two savage barks, spraying me in a thick mist of spit. At any point over the next thirty seconds, she could have stripped my face clean of meat and I couldn’t have done much about it. I knew instinctively that to reach for my gun would end painfully for me.
By this time, the white one had got into the fray. She had circled in behind me and was sniffing at my neck. Pulled apart by two bulldogs was not how I envisioned me leaving this plane of existence.
“Fuck, Talbot! You could get in trouble locked inside a padded room.” BT was framed in the French doors, his rifle raised.
“Don’t fire!” I had my palms facing outward and was showing them to the dogs, letting them know I had nothing in them. The fawn-colored one let out another bark as she reacted to BT’s words; I noted she adjusted her angle so I was in between her and him. Again, the white one did not react, though she did take a cue from the fawn-colored one and turned when she saw BT. Then she began to bark as well.
“Mike.” BT didn’t know what to do. Neither did I.
“Not unless they start biting.”
“You want to take it that far?” He took a step towards us; the fawn-colored one moved closer to me, her whiskers rubbing against my face.
“I’m a friend; I won’t hurt you.” I was speaking as soothingly as I could, can’t say I felt like I was defusing the situation. “Gonna get something for you.” Like diffusing a ticking bomb, I slowly moved my hand down to my pocket. As I reached in, powerful jaws wrapped around my neck. As of yet, she was not applying pressure, but clearly, if I pulled out something she didn’t like, I was going to be in some serious trouble before BT could extract me from it. I grabbed a granola bar. The fawn didn’t let go. I moved my hand to the side of her face so she could see it. “Food,” I said with some difficulty, as she was getting nervous. I moved my other hand to grab the wrapper; she liked that even less. It wasn’t until I ripped the food package open and she got a whiff that her attention was diverted. “Food, I have food.”
“You better hope they’re vegan.”
“Haven’t met a bullie yet didn’t like a good granola bar.” And luckily, this was no exception. She let go of my neck and grabbed that bar lightning-quick. I expected her to inhale it whole and then go immediately back to not trusting me. Instead, she did something I’d been completely unprepared for. She nudged her partner in crime and showed her the bar, which the white one gladly took half of. They did eat quickly, but did not go back to attack posture. They settled a few feet away, watching us warily.
“Now what, Cesar?”
“I’m far from a dog whisperer. Put your rifle down.”
“You see the maws on them?”
“Then go back in.”
“My momma, bless her heart, said I should make some white friends because they’d be more likely to get out of any kind of jam with the police. I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing she never came across anyone like you.”
“BT.”
“Yeah, yeah. Asshole.” He shook his head, but he put his rifle down.
The fawn-colored one started sniffing around me.
“You got any more bars?” I asked.
“I’m hungry too you know.”
“Give me the fucking thing.”
“It’s so far past hate I don’t even know what to think about you.” He was fishing through his pockets.
“Slow, man,” I said as the two dogs began to give warning rumbles deep in their chests.
BT tossed five bars my way.
“How many of these do you have?”
“You know how much fuel it takes to run this body?”
Couldn’t argue with him there. I scooped them up and unwrapped them quickly, I had one in each hand and my arms were extended to each dog. The fawn-colored one took hers first; the white one waited to see what the other did before she followed suit. BT dropped a magazine, the fawn-colored one jumped back, dropping the bar; the white one did not react. It dawned on me then that she might be deaf. I whistled, the fawn’s ears perked up, the white one was busy scarfing down her treat.
“You watching out for this one?” I asked soothingly. I had picked the bar back up and was holding it out. I could see in her eyes she was hungry, not starving, but definitely skirting the edge of the gut-twisting sensation. She looked over to BT then back to me before taking it.
“Sir,” Winters came over my comm, “we have got to go.”
“I can’t leave them here.” Not sure if I said it to him, BT, God, or myself; most likely all four.
I stood slowly, the fawn one backed up.
“You two want to come with me?” Nothing from either, until I showed them the other three bars. Had their interest then. “Hey, behemoth. Back up. We’re coming your way.”
“Loathe, yeah, I think loathe begins to touch on it. That’s like an all-encompassing kind of dislike. Hate is something said in the heat of the moment; it dissipates quickly. But loathe…well, you can marinate a person in that word.”
“Just get your ass out of the way. You can feel however you want about me once we are heading back home.”
“Loathe, though, it just doesn’t have enough oomph…needs something more immediate.” He was looking up and off to the side. “Wish I had a thesaurus…wait, abhor. That’s the ticket!” He shouted loud enough that the fawn dog began to bark again. “Detest? That’s a good one, too.” He at least moved aside from the doorway.
“Dogs…come on…running out of time.”
“Give them some names, maybe that will help.” He poked his head back through. Tough to say if he was giving me a hard time or was trying to be helpful.
“Give them names? I can’t just think up something on the fly like that.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You are constantly thinking up things on the fly.”
“Yeah, but this is important.”
He froze up for a moment like his internal operating system seized. “I’m sticking with abhor. You realize that the vast majority of your ‘on the fly’ shit involves our lives, right? And now you don’t want to name the dogs quickly because it’s too important? What the fuck is wrong with you? Like, seriously, man. I’d love to know.”
“Fine, asshole, I’ll call the fawn one Holly and the white one Chloe. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. Can we go?”
“Holly, girl.” Her ears perked up. It was doubtful I had nailed her actual name, but it was likely it had been two syllables, and the way I delivered it was in a universal dog language. She knew I was talking to her. “Holly.” She cocked her head to the side, her aggressive stance lessened. “I know Chloe takes her cues from you and we really need to establish a little trust in the next thirty seconds.”
“Just grab her.”
“You see that mouth?”
“What do I care? It’ll be you she’s biting.”
“Loathe works both ways.”
“Moved on to abhor; keep up.”
“Holly.” I held up another bar. It was Chloe who came closer.
“Sir.” It was Winters again.
“I know, I know, we need to go.”
“Well, yes, but now we have real incentive to get gone.”
“Zombies, it’s always zombies. How many?”
“Many and moving quickly,” he respond
ed.
“Mike.” BT was serious now. “I like dogs too, but…”
He left it there. We could not risk the mission, or more importantly, any of our people. I had all of my attention focused on Holly and was not prepared for the emotional grip I felt when Chloe came up to me, her stubby tail wagging, tongue hanging out as she gazed at the proffered treat.
“You going to be my in?” I got down on a knee; Holly backed up thinking this was some kind of trap. Chloe inched closer; I pulled my arm in. As she moved to grab the granola, I reached out and wrapped my arms around her. If I was going to get savagely ripped into, this would be the time. Luckily, she was all bulldog and was too busy eating to give much of a care that I was carrying her. I was running for our van, hoping beyond hope that Holly would follow, not willing to let her charge be kidnapped. I was right, though it wasn’t happening quite as well as I had planned. There’s that word again, planned. Let’s all agree I use that word liberally, as opposed to literally.
Holly was following, that was a fact, but in an attempt to halt my forward progress. She was pawing at my ankles and nipping at my calves–not enough to break skin, but enough to let me know she was not on board with whatever the hell I was doing with her sister. Her tune changed the moment we made it through the house and were now out on the main street. I looked down and over my shoulder when she stopped biting me. Her nose was going and she was smelling what she’d not seen yet: zombies. She looked up at me, I swear I could see the decisions warring in her head, bite me and make me drop Chloe so they could retreat to safety, or trust the human who had shown them a small kindness in the form of food. All of a sudden, we were best buds as she came up beside me. She saw the people waving us forward. I noted she did not bark; alerting the enemy was never a good thing and it was a lesson she had learned well.
Not gonna lie, I stood in amazement when she hopped in without prompting, though, in hindsight, I knew she was a survivor. She’d done the math. So far we’d shown nothing but kindness, meanwhile, the zombies they were an enemy she knew. We were speeding away without a shot fired. Chloe licked my face twice and then lay her head down in my lap; she was fast asleep. Holly was guarded and kept as much distance as she could in the confines of the van, but even she could not resist the pull of sleep. She was of the: “if you can’t beat them, join them” ilk. She pushed BT over so she could lie against my thigh.
“Happy now?” BT asked.
“You have no idea.” Pretty sure I was beaming like a proud papa.
“Lieutenant Talbot, this is Major Eastman. Can we get a progress report?”
I looked over to Winters; he held up nine fingers.
“Twenty minutes,” I replied.
Got confused stares from BT and Winters. I held up a finger.
“You have ten,” he said curtly.
“I’ll see what we can do.”
“You know how Northerners always thought Southerners were slow and not very smart because of the way they spoke?” BT was leading his question, all I could do was reply with a “Yeah?” “Well, that’s how I feel when I look at your face. You seem like the type of person that would be stupid and uneducated, but then without warning, you go and do a smart thing. It’s very disconcerting.”
It got the rest of the people in the van smiling, and I was fine with taking a small barb if it was all in the name of morale.
“Love you, buddy,” he mouthed.
I flipped him off.
We showed up to the airfield eight minutes later; one of the planes was already running, and I could see five men working on our ride home. I’d no sooner stepped out of the van when a major I didn’t know walked over to me.
“Nice of you to finally show up, Lieutenant.”
“Don’t,” BT said so softly his throat mic barely picked it up.
I was stewing, but I walked past the major and over to Eastman.
“I’m talking to you, Lieutenant Talbot!” The major turned as I passed.
“Sorry, I’m pretty busy right now. Will it be a problem if I ignore you later?” I asked.
“Shit.” BT buried his face in his hand.
My squad wisely began to shuffle the scientists, their work, and the dogs to their respective flights. Holly wasn’t keen on all the noise the other plane was making, but she was hard-pressed to resist the MRE Harmon was flashing under her nose. Chloe could barely contain herself at the prospect of the packaged meal. Her butt was wiggling double time as she attempted to coordinate the movements between walking and wagging.
“Come on, girl,” she urged, wanting to get away from what was certainly going to be a scene ending with the major dead and me a fugitive from justice.
“You do realize that you’re talking to a major and you will show me the respect due that rank.”
“Mike, no.” BT had stepped in front of me as I turned.
“I’ve got this. Relax…you worry too much.” I placed a hand on his chest as I walked around him.
“One of us has to.”
“Go on with yourself Major Randing, I’m listening. I realize it must have been extremely stressful as you flew thirty-five-thousand feet over the muck, death and destruction that us lowly infantrymen have to mire through.”
“Why you little fucking piece of shit. I’m going to take that puny bar of yours and have it shoved up your ass.”
“Ah, that’s the thing, Major; you’re going to have someone else do it. How about you give it a try? Or is getting your hands dirty beneath you? Why risk anything when you can get some other pleeb to do it? Maybe shut the fuck up about it or give it a go.”
The major took a step but advanced no further. “Those animals are not authorized to get on that plane!” He was pointing to Harmon, who was ushering Gary and the pups aboard. “I will not allow it.”
“While your little pasty ass was riding up in the clouds, I lost one of my soldiers today. Watched him torn apart, actually, and the kicker was that the mission I lost him on really didn’t even need to happen. So I lost a kid today for nothing. Those animals, as you called them, besides not losing any more of my people, are the best thing this shitfest has had to offer, and they’re coming home with me.”
“Are you disobeying a direct order?”
“What was the order? So much sewage was seeping out of your mouth it was difficult to discern the chunks of crap from the words.”
“If I didn’t want you to stand trial for a court-martial so damned bad, I would be ordering that you be banned from that flight, but as it is, those unauthorized animals will not be getting on that plane.”
“Good luck with that. You should get going; the scientists are on your plane. I’d hate for you to have to breathe ground air for any longer than needed.” I was walking away.
Major Randing went over to where Eastman and the others were working on the tail end of the plane. I was hanging out by the nose, knowing full-well this was far from over. I’d started a pissing contest with a dickless man and he was going to go to great lengths to prove just how far he could reach without one. Should be interesting.
Hadn’t seen the SEALs since we’d come back; I knew something was up when they began to file off of Randing’s plane. I nodded to BT.
“What are they doing?” He asked.
“Squad, look alive.” They all looked over to me; wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. Randing was pissed off that I wasn’t following his orders and was going to attempt to use some muscle to get his way. I had no desire to go up against the special forces unit, but I would. Randing pulled the captain to the side and was telling him something. The captain never took his eyes off of me. When they were done, he nodded to his men, who followed him over to where BT and I were standing.
“The major says you have disobeyed a direct order.”
“And?” I asked.
“Just checking. This is what’s going to happen; we’re going to keep talking and you’re going to tell me to go fuck myself or something equally as witty–something a Marine
would be able to come up with on the fly. Then I’m going to go back into that plane. Fair enough?”
“Why?”
“Mostly because Randing isn’t my type of officer, and I much prefer dogs.”
“And me?” I asked.
“Really, man? You need validation from a squid?” BT wanted to know.
“As far as crayon eaters go, you and your squad aren’t half bad. Okay–lay into me a little bit; we were right in the middle of a great game of spades; got a bottle of twelve-year-old Scotch riding on the outcome.”
“Thank you, Captain…?”
“Smoltz.” He shook my hand.
“Get the fuck out of here you puddle pirate!” I yelled at him.
He looked confused. “Puddle pirate?” he mouthed.
I shrugged. He shook his head as he turned and went back to the major. I could hear him say he tried.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to do?” Randing was turning red.
“Sir, I’m not getting into a firefight over a couple of dogs. Best to just let them on.” With that, he and his unit went back onto Randing’s plane.
“Fuck, I wish I had a cigarette,” I said.
“He’s going to try and hang you upside down.” BT said as he watched the whole exchange with disbelief. “On a side note, it looks like the squad and the dogs are growing fond of each other. Here.”
“Menthol? Really?”
“You’re probably the same person that scoffs at the water in an oasis because it’s not Perrier.”
I smoked the thing; it tasted much like I figured the front end of a Corvette did. Fiberglass. I mean it tasted like fiberglass, if that wasn’t clear enough. I was three puffs in when I got Eastman’s call to come and talk to him. I hated the cigarette and was still pissed off I had to discard it before I was finished. I thought for a moment that this might be what it felt like to be a woman; I quickly vowed to keep that thought completely to myself.
“Yes, sir,” I said as if I had no problem with authority.
“Follow me.” We walked far enough away from Randing that he could not hear.