DogForge (3 page)

It seemed to know and threw its head back to look at Denali. Its eyes were wide, wild with fear. Hooves clattered and it made as if to stop, but didn’t know where.

A smell hit Denali’s nose. Dog.

Samson exploded from a doorframe and was on the caribou. His massive maw latched on and his bulk slammed the animal to the ground. It rose up once, twice, and flailed limbs about. Samson held with his eyes on Denali. He grinned through the flailing mouthful of caribou.

Denali slowed to a trot and raised her nose. She’d not give him the satisfaction of seeing her disappointed.

Samson dropped the corpse at his feet and ran his tongue in and out with the coarse gray hair falling off of it in clumps. “You should know better.”

“Than to do your work for you?”

Samson snarled and took two quick steps forward. “All you did was chise it. The kill is all that matters.”

“Says your father.”

“Says me,” Samson said with a snort. “Plus Sabot will back me up—won’t you, Sabot?”

A rough bark sounded from inside of the structure. A moment later a brindle nosed dog, a twin to Samson, stepped out into the street with a corroded aluminum rod in his mouth. He dropped it with a clank and sat. Behind him lay a pile of dog skeletons, bleached beyond white and covered in moss and lichen.

“That’s all you got?” Denali said with a slight smile. “What have you two been doing?”

Sabot closed his mouth and lowered his nose.

“You’re not even supposed to be here,” Samson said.

“Neither are you,” Denali added, and walked over to the side of the caribou.

My caribou!
She stared at it with a longing in her heart. So close.

“They’re just trying to keep an eye on us, there’s nothing out here anyways.” Sabot sighed. He rolled onto his side and kicked his paws out.

“At least we’re bringing back something,” Samson said.

Denali heard a noise and stopped. The one thing she had that the others didn’t was a truly amazing set of ears and a nose that could smell what a rabbit had for breakfast.

She tilted her nose to the sky and opened her ears. Her eyes closed and she took it all in. Traces of caribou, dogs, a metallic tang, and a smoky oldness. A slight decay mixed with an alkaline crispness from the concrete. And then something more.

Sabot stood slowly and both of the larger dogs scanned. The closeness of the space felt tight. The smell of death grew off of the caribou as it cooled next to them.

What are you? Where are you?
She took in another breath. She’d heard something, but what? One more sniff and the barest of molecules brushed up against receptors tuned to perfection and she knew. “Skelebot!”

Samson and Sabot both scanned the ruins and eyed Denali warily.

“I’m serious!” she pleaded. She could smell it now, just the faintest of scents, but it was definitely getting stronger. “We need to go!”

Around her she visualized the flowing scents and saw them as lines and waves. She saw swirls of tundra, caribou, and dog. Each cascaded into eddies through the concrete ruins. Every twist of scent and roll of wind changed the direction. It was coming from the taiga. It was coming closer. The band of scent grew wider and she could feel it tingle in her nose.

“It’s coming!” She trotted away, back toward the high hills. One part of her wanted to run, leave them, and get herself to safety. But the other, a deep instinct, put her as part of the pack.

Samson padded to the center of the cracked road and pointed his muzzle into the sky. He drew in three deep breaths and shook his head. “Sabot, grab it.”

Sabot latched his jaws onto the neck of the caribou and drug it down the street. Its hooves clacked against the broken concrete. Denali ran close to Samson and tucked her tail tight to her legs.

“We should go. Now.”

Samson sniffed once more and shook his head. “I don’t smell anything.”

“I can smell things you can’t, you know it!” How couldn’t Samson smell it? The tang was thick in her nose. The breeze dropped the smells over the tops of the buildings. Her eyes scanned as she followed Samson close.

Samson turned and snarled at Denali. “Anything you can do, I can do better.”

“Then run.” Denali flicked her ears up.

“Run?” Sabot said over a mouth of fur.

“Run, if you’re so much better.” Denali stopped and looked at both of the larger dogs. “The two of you should have no problems with a little caribou.”

Samson broke into a sprint and left Denali standing next to Sabot. His feet slapped onto the concrete. In a dozen strides, he cleared the edge of the ruins and stood on what was left of the concrete road. “You lost already!” he barked back.

Sabot dropped the caribou with a thud.

“Go!” Denali pleaded to Sabot. “I will beat you!”

“I’m not as dumb as my brother, I see what you did.”

“You’re
dumber
than he is! Something is coming!” Denali turned and took another breath, the air was thick with the smell of the skelebot. So close.

“You just want the caribou.”

“Stupid!” Denali barked and snapped her jaws onto the tip of Sabot’s nose. It was a light bite, barely above a nip, but she connected with enough flesh to be left with a tiny flake of nose in her mouth.

Sabots eyes grew wide and his lips fluttered. A wide ring of teeth grew as he pulled his chops back. He gave a low, bass, growl.

Before he could snap back, Denali was off. She lowered herself to the ground and powered forward as quick as she could. She dived through a small break in one of the buildings and skidded across a floor littered with glass and bits of metal. One more leap and she was out the back side and in the shadow of the buildings.

Sabot roared. He ran through the edge of the buildings towards Samson and barked loudly.

She grinned, then remembered the skelebot. The fear was settling into her. Her tail dropped back and she stepped lightly, mindful of Sabot, but more mindful of the hunter.

Tales from the old shaman came back to her. She’d curl up on top of Grat’s legs and quiver in fear. The old dog wove tales of the devilish blue lights inside the skelebots. Souls of those who traded life for death and how they came to punish those who put them there. Now, she was told, they were all that was left of man, and hunted anything alive to appease an unending hatred. Those nights were always the longest. Ghosts danced in the wind.

She stepped through the ruins and hid in the shadows. She was mindful of the smell, that seemed more distant, but also of the thrashing she was sure to get from Sabot.
But at least we’ll all be alive.

A few steps later she wasn’t so sure.

It stood in the center of the street with one corroded claw latched onto the edge of a rusted post. Its curved skull was scratched, pitted and coated in a patina of time. A dirty blue light hummed through ribs of smoky titanium.

Denali froze.

It was old, beyond old, but it was so quiet she hadn’t heard it move at all. Her heart slammed in her ears, a booming
thud-thud-thud.

Samson stood next to the caribou, with Sabot at his side. They were almost playful in the sun, tugging and pulling at the dead animal next to them. The two had no idea that the bot was watching them with dead eyes.

Denali crouched down and sprinted forward. She howled as she ran—not a simple, playful howl, but a deep sound, double pitched that warned of dark things in the night. She snapped her head back and saw the skelebot surging towards Samson and Sabot.

It moved as a three-legged creature. One leg was missing but its arms were long enough to lever itself like a tripod. Every push forward started with arms that reached out and grasped while the single leg pushed behind. It loped like a leopard, silent, and almost graceful.

Samson turned first and snarled as he crouched down. Sabot flipped up and mirrored his brother. Neither backed down.

“Run!” Denali barked. “Run!”

Her feet slapped onto the ground and the wind rushed through her face. She had to get them to move, had to. She knew they stood no chance, none at all. None of them had the gift, the gift bestowed on those who passed the trial: implanted metal teeth. Bone was no match for steel.

Sabot wavered. He made a quick glance to his brother and lowered his head. Samson stood like a sentinel, eager and ready. Both of the larger dogs growled a deep guttural sound.

The skelebot slammed its single leg down with a resounding clang. It sprang forward with both arms wide and the ancient claws open. It made no sound, no creak, no machine noises, no growls, it was simply a thing of purpose.

Denali cut behind the last broken building and skidded onto the street. Fear slammed into her as she found herself two steps away from the skelebot. She did the only thing she could and slammed herself into its single leg. The impact smashed across her ribs and she could feel the burning of muscles. She cried out a yelp and tumbled aside.

The skelebot never budged. It lashed out at Sabot and connected with flesh. He yelped a high pitched cry and rolled away.

Sabot lay with a wound so wide that bone shone bright in the sun. Samson backed away with his head low. The skelebot sunk a heavy claw into Sabot’s chest and held it, as if making sure it was properly in place, before drawing it out.

“No!” Denali wanted to bark but she couldn’t. Her breath was knocked out of her and she could hardly stand. She eyed an escape, the only way out, and knew that she could never outrun the hunter. Her only hope was to hide.

Then two smells hit her. One was of a dog, another dog, a dog she didn’t know. The other was the same blue tang of the skelebots, but it was so rich on the wind that she almost gagged.

The skelebot before her paused and turned its wide skull at her. Its eyes were flecked with sand and pitted like an old lens. Then it tracked back to Samson and pumped its leg.

Denali felt helpless. She barked so she could at least do something, but it came out as a hard wheeze. Fear coursed through her but she had to help. Had to. Instead of aiming low and trying to knock it down she chased after and decided to go high.

The skelebot slammed down and jabbed out a claw at Samson like a hunting crab.

Samson dodged to the side but caught the edge of the claw on his hindquarter. His rear end skidded out and he lost his footing. The skelebot dug in its single foot and slung one arm out and aimed for Samson.

Denali leaped towards the skelebot. She grasped hard metal in her jaws, feeling the grittiness on her tongue. She held on through the first shake, and even the second, but the third sent her sprawling into the low weeds.

The skelebot clacked both of its claws and dug them into the dirt and took one more stride towards Samson. It stopped after a single stride and cocked its head. The unblinking eyes whined a high pitch sound and turned back to Denali.

She scrambled backwards in the weeds and backed up against an old chalky wall. Fear overwhelmed her as a rubble wall cased her in on both sides. Trapped.
Trapped.
She bared her teeth and growled. If anything, she’d go down snarling.

Samson stepped towards the skelebot and stopped. A look of realization rolled over his face and the anger melted away. He turned and padded off with his tail between his legs.

Denali snarled and lowered her head down. Her eyes followed Samson until he disappeared.

Her only escape was to wait for it to strike and sprint next to it. The arms were always slow to retract. But first she had to dodge the first strike.

It snapped forward with one claw and came short. Denali pulled back and coiled her muscles like a spring. Like a brown bolt she darted underneath the arm.

She could see the freedom beyond the skelebot. Her nose was there and then the second claw hit her. It didn’t pierce her with tips of the claws but instead bludgeoned her chest like an iron mace. The sky flipped with the ground and she rolled a dozen meters. She could taste blood. 

“No,” she whispered, trying to stand. Her legs buckled. “No.” The agony turned to rage and she tried to stand, to pull herself along, to do anything to get free. The animal soul inside tore out her consciousness and she was nothing more than a cornered wolf.

It saved her. The bot came down and slammed both of its claws onto her. But that last determined move put her next to its single leg.

She rolled, glanced up at the stump where a leg had been and tried to scurry away. A part of her wondered what happened to it, the wound was perfectly clean, like it was sheared off. But the animal inside of her pushed away the thoughts and focused on escape. “Focus” was too weak of a word—
instinct.

Her paws scratched at the broken concrete. Bits broke away under her nails. Her legs were slow to react and her chest blazed with pain. The wolf inside demanded she run.
Get away!

The smell hit her again and snapped the wolf away. Dog.

At first she thought that Samson had returned. Her heart slammed in her chest. But it only took a moment to realize that it was someone else, someone she didn’t know.

The new dog slammed the skelebot and drove it to the ground. His teeth latched onto the spine joint where the banana shaped head attached to the body. Dim blue light illuminated the dog’s time etched teeth. A tooth chipped and clacked.

The sound of the new dog savaging the neck joint of the skelebot was deafening. Growls, snarls, and mechanical revolt all sang through the air. Denali stood on shaky legs and watched the fury.

The skelebot tried to rise but without a second leg it couldn’t overcome the weight of the dog on its back. It thrashed and pumped with both arms but the beast was locked on. The machine threw its slender leg and tried to roll. The dog wavered, shifted, and pinned the bot tight.

A click, almost imperceptible above the sounds of the fight, announced the end. The limbs of the skelebot went rigid like steel pipes and the head crumbled back. The dog gave one final head shake and tore the skull free.

Denali sat down hard. Her hind legs sprawled out to the side. The pain in her chest was like being wrapped in a hot iron blanket. She fixed her eyes on the dog and waited for it to turn.