Baxter’s War Page 2

  “I’m sure. A black collie and a white collie, both wearing Livermore Labs collars. Those funky green ones.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “They are presiding over a Jim Jones gathering of sorts. Lots of breeds here that shouldn’t be getting along, but none are fighting.”

  “Leave, Moraine. Leave now. And tell the others to leave.”

  Moraine covered the mouthpiece and turned halfway from the boisterous throng. “Why the urgency?”

  “Don’t stay there any longer. You are in danger. Everyone who stays will die.”

  Moraine took a few steps from the agitated crowd. “What are they?”

  “That’s classified, Moraine.”

  “Classified. You created them and I’m looking at two dogs holding court over a vast breed of dogs that should be killing each other, but not. What gives?”

  “Where do you live, Moraine?”

  Moraine gave the doctor her address. “Are you picking them up?”

  “I am.”

  The line died in Moraine’s ear. She pocketed the phone, watching the doggy mom and dads approach their fluffy family members, calling out cute names. King, Blackies, a Duke, a spray of Jasmines. The dogs ignored their parents as Black and White continued to command the hill.

  Moraine called Erik and waited a few seconds before he picked up. “Erik.”

  “Yea?”

  “The dogs from work are here.”

  “I thought you didn't talk shop.”

  “Well, I’ll fill you in later.” Moraine thumbed off the cell and gazed at the scene.

  Owners and onlookers became anxious, shouting at the animals that grew silent. A few made little noises at most of the dogs.

  Tom Flattery eased through the pack unafraid. She flicked her eyes to White. Black’s head perked up, and the dog stared at Tom in an expression far from a dog. She caught disdain in the animal’s face. And then everything fell apart.

  3

  Moraine shouted a warning when the ground swayed underneath her feet. The earth jolted, staggering her. She landed hard on her knees. The shake rumbled through her bones, chattering her teeth. The onlookers screamed, scattering to seek cover.

  When she looked up Tom Flattery seized his neck. Blood pulsed from his throat. Bright red and shocking. Molly danced at his feet, leaped up, clamping her fangs on the man’s crotch. He doubled over as dogs piled on him.

  Moraine shivered. She struggled to stand, competing against the formidable trembling. A low hum greeted her ears as the screams hitched a pitch higher. The dogs broke from their concert and drove at the humans in a snarling rush.

  Moraine did her best to escape. The aftershock slowed her sprint. Dog owners and the simple curious bystanders collided. Dogs dove into the thick mass of moving bodies, resembling college kids rushing for a tropical ocean.

  She dared a glance to her rear. Three white lap dogs raced at her. She didn’t recognize the breeds outright, but with a burst of energetic speed they reached her. Long-haired, ratty, wearing purple collars decorated with sparkling bows, they charged.

  The leader nipped her right ankle, pain flared from punctured skin. The other two jumped at her thighs. She battered them away. Her left foot punted another, hurling the beast into the air.

  Moraine scrambled over a car hood and sprinted for the condos. Erik watched from the balcony, his mouth opened. Barks and distraught voices clashed into a horrific roar. Her adrenalin fueled her. She bounded up the stairs in twos and threes, swung the front door wide, slamming it close after she entered.

  Moraine secured the lock, swallowed ragged breaths. Her skull throbbed, overpowering the stinging ankle bite. She forced herself from the door, approached the balcony and hauled Erik inside the condo. She shut the sliding glass, drew the heavy curtains together.

  Erik gazed at his wife. “You see that, Moraine. Holy shit, you see that, baby. What happened?”

  “Dogs, Erik.”

  “I know dogs, but what happened? Why did they attack?”

  Moraine shook, calming her nerves became a herculean effort. She wanted a few drops from her feel-good stash. Her heart continued racing, tears welled, blurring her vision. She witnessed her favorite neighbors die, mauled to death by animals they once loved. The noise weakened from beyond the drapes.

  “Mommy,” A tiny voice floated out the hallway.

  Casey arrived, dressed in her blue onesies, yellow hair disheveled, her fists balled as she knuckled them against her closed eyes. Erik scooped Casey up, held her.

  Moraine bent, hands propped on knees. She fought to catch her breath from the run. The fright she experienced after the mauling lingered in her memory.

  Erik rubbed her shoulders. “Sit, baby.”

  Moraine flopped onto the sofa. The pain in her ankle burned, her knees ached. Logic did not apply to the scene she witnessed.

  “They, attacked everyone, Erik.” She ran her hands through her black hair. Moraine stood, pulled off her pants and examined the bloody scour marks on each knee.

  “I’ll get something for you, Moraine.” With Casey in his arms Erik vanished into the hall. Several noises emerged from the bathroom. Cabinet opening, falling pill bottles, curses.

  Erik returned with a handful. Gauze, aspirin, rubbing alcohol, and bandages filled the crook of his arm. He set Casey on the carpet and spread the medical items besides Moraine.

  “I help mommy,” Casey said.

  Moraine took gauze from a roll and laid the cotton strip on her thigh. She unscrewed the cap on the alcohol and soaked the gauze while shaking. She placed the cloth against her ankle. The burn made her want to scream. Her last tetanus occurred one year ago while in the Army.

  Erik sat on the floor caring for his wife’s wounds. Casey crawled ahead, snatched a ball of gauze, and proceeded to yanking the material apart. He leaned forward. “Moraine?”

  Moraine stared at her husband, struggling whether to discuss the Labs secret projects, the part she knew.

  “You can’t tell anyone, Erik.”

  Erik finished bandaging Moraine. “The Labs, huh?”

  Moraine cringed. “Yea. This project focused on dogs.”

  Erik glanced up from his work. “Dogs.” He removed a medicine bottle from his pocket and plopped four rainbow colored pills into his palm. Two pink, one blue, and the last orange. “What about the dogs, Moraine?”

  “They weaponized them.”

  Erik paused. “Weaponized. Is that a new word?” He scrunched his lips to focus on the definition. “I thought you stopped dabbling with classified stuff, Moraine.”

  “Yes, but they assigned me to guard a door and the dogs.”

  “What happened?” Eric got up and grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top, handed the drink and colorful pills to Moraine.

  “This crazy ass quake.” Moraine dumped the pills in her mouth as if eating candy. She chased the medicine with a long swig of beer.

  Erik grabbed a clump of cotton and patted Moraine’s braised knuckles. She flinched her fingers. “Keep still. Weaponized, huh? So these dogs kill people?”

  “No. The dogs have other dogs kill.”

  Erik groaned. “Moraine, God will not forgive you for this.”

  Moraine rose, strode towards Casey. She gathered the toddler in her arms. “I didn’t create them, Erik. I guarded the damned door.”

  “Mommy, bad words are bad,” Casey said.

  Moraine kissed Casey’s pink cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “Now what do we do, Moraine?” Erik cleaned up the medical supplies. “We can’t stay here. My folks live in Virginia, and no flights are leaving after such a big quake.”

  Moraine faced the drapery. The muffled shrieks and barks no longer filtered into their home. Yet a sick dread twisted her stomach.

  “Take Casey.” She handed her to Erik. Moraine neared the curtains and gripped the soft materiel. The beer and medicine worked, softening the edges of her reality. Numbing the things she needed numbed.

/>   Tom Flattery’s anguished face flashed into her mind, the shock and heartbreak he registered when little Molly bit him. Moraine threw back the curtains to satisfy her growing curiosity.

  4

  Doctor Robert Carver propped himself against a sheared wall. He studied the torn floor and the fresh earth and water pipes embedded in the ground cross-section. Beneath him sat twenty-feet of water swirling with debris and raw sewage. The quake, the strongest he ever experienced, stronger than the Loma Prieta earthquake, halved the Livermore Labs weapons research complex.

  His emotions collided into an odious mixture. He swallowed deep breaths, tasting smoke and pungent electrical arcs against his throat. And the caustic fumes of human refuse. Things went from okay, to horrendous.

  The particular lab he stood in should be intact and not resemble a cracked watermelon. He reminded himself someone once considered the Titanic unsinkable. Robert continued to repeat two words in his mind. They escaped.

  Robert replayed the scene. The building shaking, the shifting walls and sudden roller coaster drop. The entire group, dogs included, tumbled in a mass of limbs as lights sparked in psychedelic spasms.

  Masonry and a shoe knocked into his head, drawing a tender knot the size of a baby’s fist just above his right eyebrow. Sunlight replaced the glaring fluorescents. In his painful daze he watched a big black Belgian collie clamp its jaws on a thigh draped in green Army pants. Yelps and snarls drowned his hearing, joined by curses and screams. A large lab table smashed into an Army general’s skull, spilling blood and gray stuff everywhere.

  Robert scrambled from the bodies with a sick stomach and powerful headache. He fixated on the two dogs, searching for them both until Black blocked his view.

  He knelt fast, bowed as not to present himself a threat. Padded paws and claws scrapped against the destroyed linoleum. A low growl reached him followed by a stream of warm liquid flowing over his curly hair. Seconds later the ordeal ceased. He waited a minute longer, snatched a peek. Both dogs bounded the broken flooring leading to the bright outside world.

  He looked up and discovered Moraine above, watching the lurid action with a spectator’s detachment. “Shoot the dogs.”

  But too late, the dogs fled the Labs.

  Then Moraine spoke from above their battered forms. Robert ended Moraine's career, refusing to accept any excuses. Moraine called six hours after, telling him his projects held court near her home.

  Doctor Robert Carver lost himself in the world below as the Labs rocked again. Once the aftershock settled, he ducked inside, needing to write a statement for the loss and the last sighting.

  Black and White, experiments converted into weapons, did not belong in the open. The collies took the word danger to new heights.

  Robert entered a hallway filled with buckled walls and collapsed ceiling parts. He searched for an unobstructed path to his boss’s office.

  Breaking through fallen fixtures, he shoved his way into a hall jammed with panicked scientists. Armed officers did their best to keep crowd control. As he moved ahead he spotted his department head, Doctor Jenny Chow.

  “There you are, Doctor Carver. Is your work safe?”

  Carver gazed at Jenny Chow, a young, twenty-five-year-old who he deemed inexperienced. “They’re gone.”

  Chow’s cheeks reddened. “What do you mean they’re gone, Doctor?”

  Robert swung a hand behind him. “See for yourself, Jenny. The earthquake ripped the lab in half.”

  “Your guard let them go?”

  “I ordered her to shoot them but she refused.”

  “I want them alive, Robert. Not dead.”

  “I want to end their existence, Jenny. Black and White are out and they’ve gathered an army.”

  Jenny grabbed Robert by his arm. A sharp pain jabbed his bicep, he winced at her nails digging into soft skin. She leaned towards him. “They are doing their jobs.”

  “I didn’t create the devices for violence, Jenny. You stole my idea. I built the chips for injured soldiers.”

  “No. I re-purposed your design, Robert.”

  Robert jerked away from Jenny’s grasp and glanced at the pistol packing guards nearby. “I created the Damascus Chips for brain damaged and paralyzed soldiers. And you, Doctor Jenny Chow, hijacked my creation.”

  Jenny clenched her vibrant teeth. “I altered them for military use.”

  She pointed a slender finger at Robert. “I will find those dogs, Robert. I need your help.”

  “Not from me.”

  Jenny flinched as if slapped.

  A heavy ache throbbed against his ears, his neck tensed. The egg shaped lump on his forehead became more sensitive.

  Robert closed his eyes, opened them and stared at Jenny. “I’m going home, Jenny.” He turned and headed for the shattered glass door. “I’ll send my report tomorrow.”

  Jenny caught up with him. “You know the military might hunt them, Robert.” She blocked his path. “Whatever they do is not my fault.”

  Heat flared through Robert. He lifted both his hands. “Black and White has killed.”

  “Well, help us.”

  “To kill them?”

  Jenny’s small mouth twisted.

  “No,” a man answered.

  Robert spun to face an individual dressed in a dark blue uniform with medals adorning his chest. “Who are you?”

  “Your benefactor,” he said. “I’m sending a team to take the dogs. With or without your help, Carver.”

  Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Then without my help.”

  Jenny’s face tightened. “You’re fired, Robert. I’m sorry.”

  Robert pulled off his security badge and flicked the card. The plastic ID smacked Doctor Jenny Chow on the nose and fluttered to the floor. He sensed satisfaction at his juvenile act of defiance. “Good luck in finding them. Those two dogs are weapons, so you better bring your A game.”

  5

  Black's intelligence arrived with a snap, resembling spotlights thrown on at Yankee Stadium. A blackboard covered in white chalky words appeared in his mind. Each letter unscrambled from its jumble. Definitions emerged, followed by synonyms, antonyms, and etymologies.

  Black got his name. He knew he liked dog food and the round thing his human tossed at him in the Labs yard. Above the eating and play he missed his mother’s nuzzling. He didn’t realize his gender until a female told him. Once awake, he understood he hated the subservient role he played to man.

  Black breathed in the air after the hard run from the field of death. He and White relaxed in the shade of an oak tree panting. Dogs gathered around them, hot, confused, thirsty, and hungry.

  Black remembered the dull pain an inch beneath his skull. Once he opened his eyes a brilliant light blinded him, filling his brain with strange ideas. He no longer considered the pat on the head, or the fingers scratching his ear pleasurable. He still chased after the ball and ate canned meals, but he did so with an incredible awareness.

  Upon awakening, he comprehended English after a twenty-four-hour video binge presented by a group of Stanford English professors. At first his old self fought against sloughing off his former thoughts until he accepted the fresh programming.

  While alone at night he howled and complained from the pain rising along his spine and vibrating the bones of his cranium. When those moments occurred, scientists dressed in white coats visited his cage, sticking needles in him. Within seconds the pain dissolved into a comfortable sleep.

  After a few days of isolation, Black met White. They chatted with each other through howls. Although the pair understood human speech, the ability to talk remained beyond them. They learned how to tap on floors, or point their long noses towards an item.

  Months later the scientists discovered the collies communicated with dogs not as special as them. Black spent several weeks with various breeds both large and small. Their barks and yelps resembled gibberish to the scientists, but to dogs the language became understandable.

  White ma
de dogs stand in corners, grouping them together by a glance or yelp. Black instructed dogs on how to walk on two legs, how to fetch and roll over.

  For a short period the scientists found them entertaining until White directed a Pekingese to nip a human who nursed a foul temper. The dogs lost their entertainment value and new humans showed up. These humans wore funny hats and bright metal circles with ribbons on their chests.

  These men and women talked to Black and White with serious faces. No disrespect filled their voices. In fact the uniformed people spoke to the dogs with a tone conveying equality, not as a pet.

  Black read books on warfare and logic. He guided other dogs into military formations, drilling them to attack and stop at a bark. Training in different languages displayed next on their syllabus until the earthquake set them free.

  The scientist who always gave orders, or prodded them, submitted himself. He dominated the man before escaping with White into a wild world shaken by the terrible quake.

  Now Black wanted to go home to Los Angeles but feared the humans might hinder his efforts. The scientist informed them he and White came from Los Angeles.

  Black yelped at White. “We need humans as slaves.”

  White paused from cleaning his paws with a pink tongue. “Why? We killed the ones our soldiers loved.”

  “For dominance and power and proof of our capacity to rule.”

  White stood, walked behind the oak tree and lifted a leg. A golden stream poured out, splashing against the trunk. He returned to Black and sat. “Slaves,” he said. “Humans used slaves and we can too.”

  “How do we subjugate a human into slavery?”

  White gazed at the restless canine army spread out before them. He growled deep in his throat. “Through fear my friend. Through fear.”

  6

  Moraine tucked Casey into bed, planting a kiss on her daughter’s forehead before stepping out the room. Candles lit the living room into a dreamy glow. Shadows danced from the tiny yellow flames. She found Erik near the kitchen sink with a perplexed look on his face.