The Death & Life of an American Dog Page 7

  He came across a spur line from the main track and followed it as it curved westward. He passed an old railroad terminal that had been converted into a museum, surrounded by engines and restored railway carriages, then came to a web of tracks that ran between rows of buildings. Pausing for a long moment, Zain looked about him, wary of any watching eyes, then chose a track that stretched toward the docks where the international ships berthed. Usually the massive freighters carried cars from Japan or stacks of hardwood from the forests of Southeast Asia, but tonight one of those ships would disgorge a cargo not listed on any manifest.

  He took off at a quick lope. Though he dreaded telling Anila and the others of his failure to keep track of Iblis, there was a part of him that rejoiced at the thought of once more being surrounded by dogs with whom he held a bond. He could, he knew, endure any penalty if it ended in a reunion with his pack.

  Finally, Zain reached the westernmost stretch of the terminal, where tracks extended to the docks. Two ships were already in port, but Zain knew neither of them was the one he sought. Near the docks was a building surrounded by Navy surplus vehicles and equipment, enclosed by an iron fence. Zain smiled as he slipped between two broken bars.

  Once through the fence, Zain looked for a place to observe the docks.

  He walked stealthily among the surplus watercraft, always on the lookout for security forces. There were some mounted cameras, he noticed, but they all seemed trained on doors and gateways. He had thought he might have to deal, quietly of course, with sentry dogs, but even that simple security measure was overlooked. In his heart, however, he was not surprised; from what he had observed during his trek through the South Bay region of San Diego County, none of the dogs were interested in living useful lives, and were content to lie upon too-soft beds, eat the processed food given them, and sleep their lives away.

  He found a place against the opposite fence, hidden from view by a row of inactive patrol boats, where he could keep an eye on the comings and goings at the docks. He stretched his body on the ground, rested his head on his crossed paws, and waited.

  * * *

  Startled, Levi and the others, except the cats, went into the kitchen, where the door was being opened. Two big dogs entered.

  “Atlas!” Sunny greeted, smiling.

  “Hey, Jarhead!” Yoda exclaimed.

  “Hello, Miss Sunny.” He glanced coolly down at Yoda. “Hi, Master Foo-Foo.”

  Yoda scowled.

  “This is my friend Flashman,” Atlas said, indicating the dog behind him, an old, pale-colored Greyhound. “He’s a dog-face.”

  Sunny looked confused. “Well, what other face would…”

  “He means he’s Army,” Yoda explained with a grin.

  “Hello, all,” the Greyhound said in a surprisingly soft voice. “Flashman, United States Army (retired), 63rd Signal Company. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “I’m Levi,” said the leader of the Three Dog Detective Agency. “We appreciate your help.”

  The two newcomers approached the alpha and they began the ancient sniffing ritual to establish relationships and set boundaries. Normally, there would have been a comical element, two very large dogs coming into contact with any breed of Dachshund, but the legs bequeathed to Levi by his unknown sire made it much more of an even match. Atlas was an obvious alpha, whom Levi treated with earned respect, and the Doberman reciprocated. Though Flashman was not an alpha, he was definitely not a submissive or even a mere follower. Like Sunny and Yoda, Flashman was no alpha’s lackey, full of self-confidence and experience, and after the rituals ended Levi gave the Greyhound a respectful nod.

  “I didn’t know Greyhounds were used as military dogs,” Sunny remarked as they moved into the living room.

  “Yeah, I thought it was all about muscle and teeth,” Yoda said.

  “No, in my unit we…”

  Flashman halted suddenly and stared at the cats in the room. His nostrils flared and the latissimus dorsi muscles at his withers quivered slightly. Kim’s back arched, her eyes narrowed, but Little Kitty merely watched the dog with mild curiosity.

  “Stand down, soldier,” Atlas said softly.

  Flashman breathed.

  Levi relaxed a bit, but still watched closely.

  “Sorry,” Flashman murmured. “I was…startled.”

  Kim lowered her back; Little Kitty yawned and said: “Hey.”

  “My fault,” Atlas said. “I knew you had cats and should have anticipated the situation.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Flashman stammered. “But for an instant…”

  “It’s all right, Flashman,” Levi assured him. “Don’t be ashamed of who you are, but always remember who you can be. No dog can ever completely free himself from his nature, but he never has to be an absolute slave to it.”

  “You were telling me about your Army unit,” Sunny prompted.

  “I worked in a communications unit,” Flashman said, glad for the distraction, “not in combat or reconnaissance.”

  “Not combat, my tail,” Atlas snapped.

  “I was just a runner, carrying messages,” Flashman explained.

  “Like a mailman!” Yoda teased.

  Flashman frowned. “Only if the mailman is being shot at and has bombs exploding all around him.”

  “No, not much of that around here,” Yoda admitted.

  “Let’s go ahead and get started,” Levi announced.

  The others immediately responded to his voice, assembling in the living room, even Atlas. Though Atlas was, like Levi, an alpha leader, this was Levi’s marked domain so the Doberman had to give in to the smaller dog, which he did without hesitation or resentment. Once they were in the Sphinx Position and attentively alert, Levi filled the newcomers in on the situation, their efforts so far, and the information Little Kitty had gleaned from the Army.

  “I knew he was military,” Atlas muttered. “Soon as I saw him.”

  “And we’re calling him Baron, not Iblis,” Sunny added.

  “Probably is his real name,” Flashman said. “When I was in the Army, it was very common for companions to give us good quality, hand-tooled leather collars to replace our Army gear, especially in Afghanistan. Good craftsmanship is very inexpensive over there. Putting our names on them was also common.”

  “If Baron’s unit is deployed to Afghanistan, then it’s a sure bet he was there too,” Levi said. “That goes a long way to explain the possible cause of his trauma, confusion and amnesia.”

  “War is hell,” Flashman murmured, “as every soldier knows.”

  “As well as that name!” Sunny exclaimed indignantly.

  “And it explains, I think, why I saw a Gull Dong,” Atlas said

  Yoda’s eyes shot wide. “A what?”

  “It’s a breed of dog, but you’re never going to find it listed in the AKC’s so-called ‘complete’ dog book,” Atlas replied. “It’s a dog you find in Pakistan and most regions of Afghanistan, rarely seen out of those countries, but it’s most closely related to…”

  “A Bulldog,” Levi said evenly.

  “Yeah,” Atlas confirmed, looking at Levi curiously.

  “That has to be our mystery stalker,” Levi said. “Atlas, please tell us everything you observed, and leave nothing out, as even the smallest fact might be of great importance.”

  “After Sunny and Master Foo…”

  The fur around Yoda’s neck rose as if a static-charged balloon had passed over his head.

  “…and Yoda left to question the other pets,” Atlas continued with a wry smile, “I kept watch on the street. Since I could not do so very effectively from the backyard, I used one of my exits and made my way to the corner of the house using shrubbery as cover. From that position I could see the entire length of the street, all the way to each intersection.

  “For several hours, I saw nothing out the ordinary, just the day-to-day activities of the companions and pets as they went about their lives,” Atlas said. “But something did not feel ri
ght, there was just something wrong about the street, but I could not quite put my paw on what it was. I know most dogs pride themselves on their keen senses and primal instincts, but I think you know as well as I do that most canines are not much more aware of their surroundings than are companions. They may hear, smell and see better, but they sleep almost as much as cats do.”

  “Hey!” Little Kitty protested.

  “Present company excepted…maybe,” Atlas said. “Let’s put it this way: dogs still bark in the night, but at least half the time they don’t know what they’re barking at.”

  The others nodded for there was denying the fading truth of the old canine saying. In their job as detectives they often had to work with witnesses who saw but did not observe, who sniffed but did not analyze, and who heard the fell sounds in the night, but did not understand the dreadful nature of the things that passed through the barriers between worlds.

  “But there is something about being in combat that awakens senses that are as old as First Dog,” Atlas said, “heightened by the will to survive. I think it may have been that increased awareness that alerted me to something amiss.”

  “A gut feeling,” Yoda murmured.

  “Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” Atlas agreed. “Nothing I could see warranted my wariness, and the wind told me nothing, but it refused to go away, and because it stayed with me, I kept low and still and watching. And then I saw the Gull Dong slink down from the flat roof of a duplex and into the branches of a tree.”

  “Was it a pepper tree?” Levi asked, with a little sigh.

  “Yeah,” Atlas confirmed. “Big old gnarly one like you have in front of your house. I wouldn’t have thought a dog could climb that tree, even with all the paw-holds on it, but there’s no other way he could have got to the top of that old duplex.”

  “It’s how he seemed to disappear,” Levi said.

  “You mean he leaped straight up from the ground and scurried up that tree like a squirrel after a nut?” Yoda demanded.

  “Sly and cunning.” Sunny smiled at Yoda. “No teleportation.”

  “I never exactly said that he…” Yoda started.

  “The sour acrid smell of the pepper tree hid his own scent after he leaped from the ground,” Levi mused. “I saw the pepper tree, but it did not occur to me…”

  “Very sly and extremely cunning,” Sunny said.

  “I encountered Gull Dongs occasionally in Afghanistan,” Atlas said, “and they are all that, and more, Miss Sunny. It did not take us long to learn not to trust the curs.” He paused. “Sorry, there may be good individuals, but the breed as a whole is untrustworthy.”

  “Pit Bulls have a bad reputation too,” Sunny pointed out.

  “Yeah, but that’s nothing but media hype about the actions of a few individuals who were poorly raised,” Atlas said. “Show me a really bad Pit Bull, and I’ll show you an even worse companion.”

  “Vick,” Yoda murmured, and everyone growled.

  “But these Gull Dong dogs are bad news,” Atlas continued. “And it’s not just because almost all of them are raised to fight in gladiatorial matches or to be vicious guards. They ensure savagery in the breed by culling the weak and gentle from birth themselves.”

  “Culling?” Yoda asked.

  “He means killing them,” Sunny said, and there was a grimness in her voice which no one had ever before heard from the mild and maternal Golden Retriever.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so, Miss Sunny,” Atlas confirmed.

  “Well, as bad as the Gull Dongs were, the Bully Kuttas were worse, several times over,” Flashman added.

  “It sounds bad,” Yoda said. “What is it?”

  “Another fighting dog from Afghanistan,” Atlas replied. “It’s a very ancient breed related to the Mastiff. If a Gull Dong and a Bully Kutta are together in a fight ring, put all your kibble on the Bully Kutta; he’ll win every time.”

  “I thought the only dog that came out of Afghanistan was the Afghan Hound,” Yoda said.

  “Such a beautiful breed,” Sunny remarked.

  “Yes, they are,” Flashman agreed. “But over in Afghanistan we learned to look at the individual. The breed has a good reputation, but when an Afghan Hound goes bad, watch out—pure evil.”

  “Getting back to the Gull Dong…” Levi prompted.

  “He was a big fellow, well-muscled, not an ounce of fat on him, but lean, almost bony” Atlas resumed. “His coat was brindle, tawny and pale, very short, and he had several scars along his side, some white with age, others much newer. A Gull Dong has the general look of Bulldogs in the head and haunches, but the rest of him is shaped by his harsh environment.

  “I don’t know how long he was on the roof of that duplex, but I never knew he was up there till he came down,” Atlas said. “He chose the best position to watch the street. It’s the only flat roof in the neighborhood, and he could stay right at the edge without any chance at all of being seen.”

  Sunny shivered. “I knew we were being watched.”

  “He must have lost track of Baron at that point,” Levi said.

  Atlas nodded. “A Gull Dong is a sight dog more than anything else, so if he couldn’t see Baron he would have no way of knowing where he went. And the way that German Shepherd was running, he would have been out of sight mighty quick.”

  “And he could not emerge from hiding and into the alley to follow after until Yoda started home,” Levi said.

  “I should have heard him,” Yoda said with a self-accusing tone.

  “Even your ears have limits,” Sunny soothed.

  “Gull Dongs were quite a problem for us,” Atlas said. “They’re plenty sneaky and know how to stay off everyone’s radar.”

  Yoda growled softly.

  “Did I say something wrong?” the Doberman asked.

  “No, you just inadvertently poked a wooly-bear,” Levi said. “What happened after the Gull Dong came down from the roof.”

  “For awhile he stood looking the way Baron had gone, the way Sunny and Yoda went, then he turned and headed for Broadway at a very fast lope,” Atlas replied.

  “Opposite to the way we went,” Sunny mused.

  “Do you think he saw you, Atlas?” Levi asked.

  “Not a chance,” the big dog assured them. “I may not get round like I used to, but I can still cover and conceal with the best of them. After he rounded the corner, heading north on Broadway, that was when I went for Flashman.”

  Levi tilted his head in confusion.

  “I can manage a fast trot, but not for long,” Atlas explained. “I took fragments from an IED—improvised explosive device—just before I retired. The vets got most of it out, but one was too close to an artery, so they had to leave it where it was.”

  “You poor thing,” Sunny murmured.

  “And in service to companions who probably didn’t care that much about you,” Yoda snapped, appalled.

  Atlas shook his head and smiled sadly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Yoda. The companions I worked with were just as much my brothers as were my kennel-mates. In terms of loyalty, devotion and bravery I have never seen companions that were more dog-like. When things went bad, they wept for us just like we wept for them. Those were rough and often violent years for me, but they were the best years of my life. I wouldn’t have traded them for a soft bed and three squares, and I never felt so close to fulfilling the mandate of First Dog than I did as a Marine Corps dog.”

  “I only live two streets over from Atlas and he was able to cut across to get me,” Flashman said into the awkward silence. “We did not lose more than a few minutes in getting after that Gull Dong.”

  “I loped behind while Flashman coursed ahead,” Atlas added. “I never saw the Gull Dong again, and I lost sight of Flashman pretty darn quick, running like a silver bullet, he was.”

  “Not as fast as in my message-running days, but still quicker than any Gull Dong,” Flashman continued. Then he sighed. “But I never did catch up with him. I
went all the way down Broadway, to the bridge at the intersection of C Street, where the road continues over the estuary and becomes National Avenue. From there, you can see all the way to Mile of Cars, but not a sign of that dog. Now, I admit he could have beat me down to where Broadway ends, but you know there are no side streets that lead anywhere until you get fairly deep into National City. If he was ahead of me, and he should have been, I would have seen him in the distance.”

  They all nodded. Even Sunny, whose eyesight was almost preternaturally keen, knew she was no match for the bright and widely set eyes of a Greyhound, bred to run and chase.

  “And I was keeping a watch on all the side streets leading off Broadway before C, but I saw no sign of him,” Atlas added. “When I caught up with Flashman at the bridge, we went up C Street, made a quick circuit through Eucalyptus Park, then checked the other side of Broadway where it’s all fenced off.”

  “We nosed around a break in the fence where it leads down into the estuary,” Flashman said. “We thought we caught a scent, but, well, you know how it is for sight dogs.”

  Levi nodded and glanced at the fading light sifting in through the blinds. Twilight was quickly deepening into night. He wished events had not piled up so quickly and that they had time to check out the area around the estuary, but it would do little good to chance the place in darkness, when coyotes were known to venture down the channel from the east. Besides, the most important thing for them was to find where Baron had gone to ground, and that meant the journey to the shopping center still held priority.

  “That stretch of Broadway from the Motel 7 down to C Street has few retail businesses, little chance that anyone would notice the Gull Dong,” Levi mused. “And if they did, they would just ignore it as some kind of Bulldog-mix out on its own. But if he were to keep on down National Avenue, he would soon enter the Mile of Cars section, where there’s lots of foot traffic, and run the risk of being reported to Animal Control; then there’s the National City Police Department and he wouldn’t want to pass it.”

  “He certainly would not,” Sunny agreed.