Dogs (30 page)
Authors: Nancy Kress
Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Medical, #General, #Science Fiction, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Thrillers, #Fiction
Jess drove down a snowy Tyler street. The snow clouds had finally blown over and the sunset was bloody red over the West Virginia mountains. Somewhere a dog howled, announcing its presence, and from the distance came an answering howl.
Always from a distance. Jess hadn't captured a single dog all day, although he'd shot one. Maryland Guards had shot two more. The loose dogs, infected and not, had become wary of humans. They'd learned.
A third howl, to the east, prolonged and confident.
I'm heeeeerrre.
Despite himself, Jess shivered.
Lights came on along the street. Soon every house was ablaze. Floodlights, porch lights, room lights. The people inside, Jess knew, kept whatever weapons they owned loaded and handy. Many of them slept fully clothed. It wasn't rational, dogs couldn't open locked doors, but this went deeper than the rational. The beast beyond the door, the wolf just outside the circle of light.
A dog flashed across the road in front of Jess. Instinctively he slammed on the brakes, but it made no difference. The dog was gone. Large, light-coloredâinfected or not? No way to tell. He might as well go home; he wasn't going to catch any dogs in the dark. Not that he'd been doing so great in the light.
He made a U-turn and headed north, passing a Guards truck and a patrol car. Both hunting the hunters, both probably fruitlessly. Don DiBella had reported back to Jess on the phone call Jess had received after the sniper shot the beagle, Hearsay, practically in Jess's arms. The call had come from a pay phone across town, which meant the sniper had not been working alone. More bad news.
Three blocks over, he again caught the dog in his headlights, this time more clearly. Fawn-colored and huge, with some Great Dane in him somewhere. The dog ignored him and ran straight to the porch of a fifties-style ranch house. Jess stopped the car. People appeared in the big picture window, silhouetted by the lights behind them: a man gesturing wildly, waving his arms, and a woman who ran from the room, maybe to a phone. Kids.
Jess powered down his window and took aim. Now he could hear the dog growl low in its throat.
Infected
. The dog evidently heard the car window go down because he wheeled and ran off in the darkness.
Damn. Another chance gone. He powered the window back up.
Then the dog was back. It appeared from between two houses across the street, running at full speed. The thing was
fast
. Jess again reached for gun and window, but there was no time. The dog leapt with those powerful hind legs and threw himself full-force against the low picture window. Ninety pounds of dog hit the glass. The window shattered.
Glass and blood flew through the air, the glass twinkling in the bright lamplight within. The family screamed.
The dog was inside.
Jess tore out of his truck, thinking crazily that he was nowhere near as fast as the dog,
those powerful muscular hind legs meant to rush prey run runâ
He reached the window. The dogâGod, it was huge!âhad fastened itself on one of the kids. The father beat on it, shouting. Jess screamed, “Get away! I need a clear shot!” The man looked up and had the presence of mindâhow?âto spring away. Jess fired.
He got the dog in mid-body, as close as he dared come to the child. The dog howled, dropped its prey, and rushed toward Jess. He got it between the eyes.
There, Billy!
The dog crashed to the floor. The parents rushed to their son, who screamed and wailed but at least that meant he was alive. The living room seemed full of blood, although that was an illusion, there wasn't that much blood, how much blood was too muchâ¦
He was light-headed.
Jess grabbed the window sill, trying to steady himself. A shard of glass pierced his left hand, sinking deep. More blood. The dog lay still on the blue wall-to-wall carpet. Definitely mostly Great Dane, often praised as the “gentle giant” of the dog world.
Sure. Right.
Mr. Davis screamed, “What kind of idiot leaves a gun under a bed in a house full of
kids!"
Then he crashed to the floor.
Allen could barely hear him; the sound of the gun rang over and over in his ears. Then he saw blood on Mr. Davis's face. Oh God God God⦠he'd
killed
him! But Mr. Davis lurched to his knees, blood gushing from his head, and grabbed the gun away from Allen. “You okay, kid?”
“Iâ¦Iâ¦.” Oh God God Godâ¦.
“Stop blubbering, it just grazed me and anyway I been shot before. In fact, this is the second time in a week.”
“Wow,” Jimmy breathed, and despite his panic, Allen was impressed, too. But Mr. Davis's face was screwed up with pain and the blood still ran down his head. On the bed, Susie barked once, feebly, and leaned over to lick Allen's face.
Susie. They would take Susie andâ
“Don't cry, all right?” Mr. Davis said. He swiped at the blood, smearing it on his hand but not stopping it at all. “Them girls are making enough noise already. Hey, stop it, you two!”
Tammy and LaVerne stood screaming in the doorway. Jimmy, suddenly taking charge, yelled at them, “Call 911! Get some towels!”
“No, don't call 911,” Mr. Davis said irritably. “Just get the damn towels.”
The twins didn't move. They didn't stop screaming, either. Jimmy pushed them aside, galloped off, and returned with two crumpled towels. Mr. Davis mopped at his head with one. The towel came away red, and he dropped it and wrapped the other one around his head.
Jimmy said, “You look dumb like that. Like a girl that just washed her hair or something. Are you going to give my dad his gun back?”
“Shut up,” Mr. Davis said. “Allen, how long has your dog had that milky white stuff in her eyes?”
“He don't know, he hasn't been here,” Jimmy said importantly. “I been taking care of Susie!”
Mr. Davis looked at Allen, who was too petrified to reply. What would they do to him? It was probably a crime to shoot someoneâthey might send him to jail! And then what would they do with Susie?
“Fine,” Mr. Davis said, turning to Jimmy, “I'll talk to you. How long has the dog had that white milky stuff in its eyes?”
“Since the disease startedâright, Allen?”
Allen found his voice. “Susie's not an âit'!”
Mr. Davis briefly closed his eyes. “Fine. âShe.' Has Susie bitten anybody since the milky stuff appeared?”
“No,” Jimmy said. “She don't even growl or snap.”
“Not at all? Ever?”
“Not even once.” Jimmy looked proud, as if this were his accomplishment.
Mr. Davis spoke to Allen. “How'd you keep her from being picked up when she was supposed to be? Did your parents help you?”
“No,” Allen said. “Iâ¦I hid her in a file drawer and gave her sleeping pills to stay quiet, until I got hurt and had to go to the hospital. Thenâ”
“Then I brought her over here!” Jimmy said. “It was me!”
Tammy and LaVerne had stopped screaming and were listening now, their dirty faces under the tangled lank hair turning to gaze from one person to another. Allen said desperately, “Mr. Davis, you can't take Susie! You can't! She never bit anyone and she isn't dangerous and they'll kill her! Please leave her! I'm really sorry I shot you and I promise to never do it again but please leave Susie!”
“Son, I can't. Butâno, listen to me, Allen, really listenânobody is going to kill Susie. Dr. Latkin at the CDC wants her. He's been looking for a dog that's got the plague but isn't biting anybody so he canâ¦I don't know. Something. But the doctors need her alive to study so nobody's going to hurt your dog.”
Allen wanted desperately to believe him. But Mr. Davis's eyes, below the blood-soaked towel, slid sideways and didn't meet Allen's. Mr. Davis was just talking, the way Allen's dad did. He didn't know for sure what would happen to Susie.
“I'm going with her!” Allen said as Mr. Davis got cautiously to his feet. He still held Jimmy's father's gun. “You can't take her without me. If you try to I'llâ¦I'll yell rape!”
"Do
what?"
Mr, Davis siad. "You don't even know what that means, do you?”
Allen didn't; it was a threat he'd heard a girl make on TV. But Jimmy must of known because he had his hand clamped over his mouth, laughing. Allen felt tears fill his eyes.
“Come on, Allen, let's go,” Mr. Davis said wearily. “Jimmy, your dad got a permit for this gun?”
“Sure he does.”
“Uh-huh. I'm going to put it on the closet shelf where your little sisters can't get it, and you tell your dad I'm checking his registration, you hear me?” Mr. Davis shoved the gun behind a mass of sweaters on the highest closet shelf. Awkwardly he picked up Susie, balancing her on the arm in his sling. Susie grunted and licked his face. Jimmy and both twins started to giggle.
“Now what?” Mr. Davis said, as Allen stumbled to his feet and clutched at the hem of Mr. Davis's parka. He would just hang on wherever Mr. Davis took Susie, and not let go no matter what. Wherever Susie went, Allen was going, too.
Tammy piped up, “You look weird.”
“With that towel and bloody head and dog!” Jimmy amplified.
Then Mr. Davis muttered something that didn't even make any sense. “Christ,” he said, “I hope to hell Cami don't want any kids.”
DiBella was speechless a full fifteen seconds after Jess called him about the attack by the Great Dane mix. Finally he said, “Jesus, Jessâthrough the
window?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll tell Lurie. We need to get the word out right awayâboard up windows, stay in windowless rooms, especially if you have an infected pet who might come home andâ¦the kid okay?”
“I don't know. The ambulance just took him away.”
“Hospital's buried in dog bite victims in the second phase.”
Jess already knew this; Billy had called him about his new girlfriend, Cami Johnson.
DiBella said. “KJV-TV can help. And maybeâthrough the
window?”
“Yes.”
“This changes everything.”
“I know.”
At home, Jess bandaged his hand, which hurt like hell. He should probably get stitches but with all the second-wave dog-bite victims coming in, it would be hours before anybody in the ER got to him, if at all. He settled for hydrogen peroxide and enough gauze to stop the Johnstown Flood, then turned on the TV.
DiBella, or Lurie, or KJV-TV was efficient. The story was already there. “Breaking newsâ¦local manâ¦FEMA recommendsâ¦all citizens of Tylerâ¦please notify friends and neighborsâ¦urgent breaking announcementâ¦.”
By now it would have begun. People would be nailing plywood to window frames, moving bedding and food and water to safe rooms on barricaded second floors. Building fortresses inside their own homes. Getting angrier, and more desperate, and more afraid.
And talking. They would call, email, blog. Jess wasn't a great user of the Internet, but he knew it was one way groups organized themselves. It was now much easier to find fellow believers, in any cause at all, than it had ever been before.
“Return all uninfected dogs to their owners within the next twenty-four hours, or this will happen again."
And the dogs had not been returned.
“If you and the whole damn federal government can't kill these vicious dogs, we'll do it for you. No more kids are going to die because you guys won't do what you fucking well should."
And the uninfected beagle Hearsay had been shot.
He stared helplessly at the his heavily bandaged hand in the blue glow of the television.
The president sat behind his desk in the oval office and scowled at his chief of staff. “A dog actually broke through a window to attack?”
“Yes, sir. Terry spoke directly to the local sheriff.”
“Where's Scott Lurie?”
“He's there. And he concurs about what we have to do.”
“I don't like it,” the president said.”
“No one does, sir.” His tone held a sourness that the president didn't pick up. The leader of the free world, Martin thought, seemed even more out of touch than usual. Martin, who was never out of touch, had wanted to replace Lurie a year ago. Now he reflected, not for the first time, that “electable” and “capable” were words with far different roots.
“You told me, Hughâyou yourself!âthat killing all the dogs would be a really unpopular move. That people love their pets and spend all that money on them and we should wait. You told me so right in this office!”
“We did wait, Mr. President. Now we have to act. And we have to do it quickly to show we recognize the gravity of people not being safe even in their own houses.”
“But killing the well dogs, too, the ones that aren't infectedâ”
“Necessary, sir. Who knows what those dogs might have been exposed to? If we don't do a thorough cleansing euthanasia, we risk looking weak, and so does FEMA and Homeland Security. The country's had enough of that.”
“Well⦔ The president shifted fitfully in his chair. In this mood, he could be impossible to deal with. Martin willed himself to patience.
“What about the dogs nobody's caught yet?” the president demanded. “And why the whole damned Maryland Guard plus all these animal people can't catch a bunch of Lassies and Rin Tin Tinsâ¦what does the governor say?”
“He agrees that the uncaught dogs are the reason we have to evacuate Tyler completely. This is our last chance to demonstrate that we will do anything necessary to protect our citizens, and that we'll do it pro-actively.”
Not that that had worked very well so far.
“Evacuate. Jesus Christ, Hugh, I hate this. You know some of those people will resist. We can't even get everybody out when a volcano is going to blow.”
“We still have to make the effort, sir.”
“And what about that FBI agent, ex-agent, whatever she is?”
“We still haven't found her or Ebenfield.”
“Why the hell not?”
There was no answer to that, so Martin waited. The president swiveled his chair and stared out at the dark Rose Garden.
“Hugh, you think it's possible she found Ebenfield?”
Martin hoped not, fervently. But again he said nothing.
“All right. All right. Give the orders.”
“Yes, sir. The Army Veterinary Corps can go in to Tyler tomorrow and Scott can get the evacuation started. But Rob should brief the press tonight, late as it is, while we still have control of the story.”
“All right. Do it. And Hughâ”
“Yes, sir?”
“Find the FBI agent NOW.”
