Iron Mike (24 page)

Kari

Kari shivered as she heard the dog howl. The sound was filled with inexpressible grief; as it died down, she felt some of her own tension ease just a bit. There was something to be said for a good long cry every now and again. Even tough guys and mixed-breed hounds needed to let it out sometimes.

While Mike took care of whatever he was doing in the euthanasia room, Kari rearranged their supplies and made a nest on the floorboard of the sidecar for the two puppies, keeping them low in the well so the sides of the car and the windshield would protect them as much as possible. The rucksack with Mike's handhelds leaned up against the seat of the sidecar, leaving room for their water to fit, both fuel containers, two small bags of puppy chow, and metal food and water bowls. The backpacks holding the weapons and the food supplies would have to rest on the seat – not optimum, but it would work. They would just have to drive more slowly so Hershey wouldn't be able to fall or jump from the sidecar. The tarp and blankets would have to be left behind – Kari couldn’t fit anything else into her bedroll or saddlebags. It was a tight squeeze, but both bikes were secure.

The puppies, both female, were already feeling better, becoming more active and squirmy with each feeding, so Kari quickly took them out of their nest and let them play, smiling as they rolled over and tugged each other’s ears with vicious little growls. Like the other animals who survived, they were recovering quickly from the dehydration. The cats took longer to improve and only three of them made it. They and ten dogs would have to be released into the wild to fend for themselves.

The puppies were already weaned, as evidenced by the aggressive eagerness with which they attacked their bowl at feeding time, so Kari approximated they were seven or eight weeks old. Their parents were a blend, seeming like a mix of English bull dog and something else … Jack Russell, maybe? Whatever their pedigree, the pups were adorable. Mike didn’t know it yet, but Kari was definitely keeping them!

“We need to get a move on,” Mike said as he came back into the office with the hound-mix behind him. Hershey’s ears perked as if he were actually listening to Mike, his chocolate brown eyes intelligent and thoughtful. “I found the shelter worker out back. Apparently, she’d opened the gate and someone caved in her skull.”

“God, that’s awful,” Kari murmured.

Mike looked at his watch and nodded. It was 0800 and the last known location of the Resistance cell was in Tarrelton Park, about twenty minutes away, pre-invasion. “Let’s take them outside to feed them, and do it a couple at a time. Maybe they’ll get the hint and wander away once they’re out of the cages.”

Mike’s plan worked for all of the cats and two of the dogs. The other adult dogs stuck around, following either Mike or Kari as they fed each dog and checked their supplies a final time. Mike raised an eyebrow at Kari when he saw the puppy nest, but luckily for him, he didn’t challenge her. The boy was a natural born leader – he knew how to choose his battles! Kari watched with interest as Hershey stayed consistently at Mike’s heel, touching noses with the older black lab whenever they passed.

Hershey had definitely taken a liking to Mike, and it seemed to be mutual. Mike paused several times to scratch the hound behind the ears or to pat him roughly on the side. Kari sincerely hoped Hershey could be a sidecar dog. While Mike fed the last two dogs, she re-packed the sidecar again, managing to squeeze the weapons onto the floorboard, leaving just enough room for the puppies. There would be barely enough room for Hershey and the rucksack of foodstuffs on the seat of the sidecar now. It would be a tight squeeze until they dropped off the handhelds, but it was doable.

At 0820, Mike started his bike, glancing down at the two puppies who yipped anxiously but didn’t try to climb out of the sidecar. He drove off quickly, Kari following a bit more slowly. Hershey loped along behind them, soon panting hard.

It only took a minute for Mike to notice the dog in his side mirror. He stopped the bike, waiting for Kari to pull up next to him before turning off the engine and getting off, heading back to Hershey.

“No!” he said firmly. “Hershey, stay.”

He repeated the words several times. Kari hid an amused smile behind her visor, saying nothing when Mike got back on his bike and drove off, gaining almost a hundred feet before having to repeat the process.

On the third attempt, Mike looked at Kari, helpless exasperation in his eyes. Kari grinned and whistled; Hershey immediately jumped up into the sidecar, wagging his tail expectantly. Mike gaped at Kari, who gave him her most innocent expression. He sighed and dismounted. He pushed Hershey over on the seat and pulled out the backpack of foodstuffs and the first nearly-empty fuel container. He pushed the backpack into the space where the gasoline can used to be, and then moved Hershey down into a more secure position on the seat. Without looking at Kari, Mike walked the half block back to the animal shelter. He made sure the area was clear, and then went inside, dousing the shelter with gasoline.

A few minutes later he came back outside and tossed a burning bottle over his shoulder. The molotov cocktail hit the gasoline-soaked floor of the SPCA. There was a “whump!” and the building caught fire. Mike and Kari watched for a moment as it burned, slowly at first, and then in a harsh blaze more fitting for a pyre. Mike brought the empty fuel container back to Kari without a backward glance. He detached the bungee cord from Kari’s bedroll, straining as he looped it around the handle of the empty gas container.

“Your father is going to kill me,” he grumbled as he mounted his bike.

“He’s gonna kill you anyway. At least now you got a dog.”

Mike grinned at Kari and his dog, Hershey, started his bike up, and pulled away.

March 17.

Hershey

Hershey could have told them he was a natural sidecar dog, if they only asked, of course. Riding in the seat of the sidecar was even more glorious than riding in his former human’s truck! Not only did he have a completely unlimited range of sniffing potential, he also had the exciting, thrilling wind blowing in his face, making both his ears and jowls go
thwappita-thwappita-flop
as Mike picked up speed. The sidecar was the most exhilarating thing Hershey ever experienced in his entire two years of life, and he loved it! When Mike laughed at Hershey’s exuberance, Hershey realized with a start that he was learning to love Mike, too. He didn’t think his other human would mind. Like the postman and so many of the humans, she was gone now. Hershey knew that all dogs go to heaven; he saw that once in a movie his first boy watched. He hoped humans went to heaven, too. He wanted Clare to be happy.

Hershey liked Kari, but Mike was his boy now. Mike was the alpha, and he was the one who found the perfect itchy places behind Hershey’s ears – every single time. He was also the one who drove Hershey’s sidecar!

Unfortunately, the glorious ride ended all too soon. It was such an exciting adventure, too! Hershey and the puppies heard several of the loud gunshots that used to make him tremble so badly, and twice Mike and Kari pulled off the road as the noisy, black machine-things flew overhead. But finally, they were here – and “here” was a park! Humans were so wonderful!

There were many, many people here, but Hershey was the only dog. The puppies didn’t count. They carried on, yipping and barking and crying until there was an entire gaggle of children gathered around the sidecar petting them. Hershey envied them, but he was a dog, not a puppy – and he was a good dog, at that. He needed to consider his dignity, and he didn’t have time to play with the children, painfully tempting though it was. There were many adult humans, too. Hershey couldn’t count, but it was a lot – and they were all so happy to see him! He greeted everyone politely but made sure to stick close to his human – Iron Mike, they called him, and they laughed and clapped Mike and Kari on the shoulders and made happy sounds.

Hershey decided he liked the name Iron Mike. He liked it even better than hailmary or motherfucker.

Kari

Tarrellton Park was once beautiful, Kari realized, a bit sadly. There were painstakingly sculpted flowerbeds and thick, lush foliage, cobblestone walking paths and even a few statues. Most of that was gone now, either scorched away, leaving blackened earth behind, or trampled. She studied everything carefully as she followed Mike to the command tent. Dear God, these people didn’t even have running water!

“Come in, come in,” Major Hardin nodded, returning their salutes and ushering them inside the small tent. The back wall was covered with maps, and a man sat on the floor next to the cot, the only piece of furniture in the room, fiddling with the dial on a small short-wave radio set. Kari was beginning to understand why she and Mike had been greeted like the second coming of Christ – these people were barely hanging on.

“We have only forty-eight survivors out of more than a hundred,” Major Hardin said, as if reading her mind. “The problem isn’t the Feeders, although they sure didn’t help. The bigger problem is those tri-pedal sons-of-bitches. Beg pardon, Private Kasoniak. Seems they’ve taken to hunting us for the sport of it. The only good thing about our losses is we have enough vehicles to transport our people now, as long as we have clear roadways.”

Kari nodded absently, then started. “How did you know my name, sir?”

“Atmospheric conditions cleared up on us, so we got short-wave for about twenty minutes yesterday morning. Your father told us to be expecting you two. Good thing, too, because we were getting ready to fall back toward Newport News.”

Mike shook his head. “That wouldn't be a good idea, Major. We came through that way and barely made it on the motorcycles. No way could you get any of your vehicles through, and even if you did, no point. Almost the entire city’s been razed, water towers shot down, buildings burned. Colonel Kasoniak was thinking we’d direct you across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. It’s a hell of a ride, sir, but if you can make it to Cape Charles, you should be able to meet up with Sergeant Barosky. He was with the Guard, sir, and he and his crew did a hell of a job organizing and setting up a resistance cell.”

“They haven’t had any trouble with the Razers or the Trois,” Kari volunteered. “It seems the Eastern Shore isn’t very interesting to the invaders.”

Hardin snorted. “Yeah, that must be nice! They’re finding this area all kinds of interesting. We used to have a lot of active-duty military in this entire area, so I think we still have pockets of unorganized resistance all throughout Norfolk and Virginia Beach. But you are right – I need to get my people across that bridge, and then we can send scouting parties back to round up anyone who wants to join in. I hear you have some presents for me, Iron Mike?”

Mike flushed slightly at the name and nodded, reaching down for the heavy rucksack Hershey was using as a pillow. “Yes, sir. You should find these a lot more reliable than shortwave. I can show you how to operate them, but you’ll have to contact Google if you want an explanation for the technology.”

Without ceremony, Hardin sat on the dirt ground, gesturing for Mike and Kari to join him while Mike unpacked the handhelds. “I honestly could care less why they work, soldier, as long as they do what they need to do. Headset, get over here and learn this!”

The man who was playing with the radio was sitting on the ground next to them before the words of invitation were out of Hardin’s mouth. He grinned at Mike and Kari. “Hiya, soldier people. I’m Headset – the closest thing the Major here has to a radio man or computer geek.”

“Civilian,” Hardin winced, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, sir, no ‘hooah’ found here,” Headset said proudly. He took the handheld Mike offered him, immediately flipping it around and opening the back with a small screwdriver he’d pulled from a pouch. His eyes grew wide. “Holy fuck!” he breathed in awe. “These aren’t even invented yet! They don't exist! Where did you say they come from?”

“Someone from Google delivered them to Homeland Security.”

“Look at this transponder!” Headset gushed.

The next thirty minutes were spent in orgasmic geekdom as Mike, Headset, and Hardin reviewed every detail of the new units and tested each of the ten handhelds. Kari found herself envying Hershey, who was able to nap through it all. Her eyes wandered, following the open tent flap to study the camp more closely. The people were dirty and hungry, and exhaustion rolled from them in palpable waves, but they were surviving. They had suffered horrible losses and would probably suffer more, but they would continue to survive.
Man doesn’t give up that easily,
Kari thought, with a surprising stab of viciousness.
This is our world, motherfuckers, so just go on home.

She watched the group of children still gathered around the puppies who were now deep in exhausted slumber. Fourteen kids … no, there was a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy off by himself. So, fifteen kids. She noticed there was one very elderly woman and one soldier with a missing leg hobbling on crutches. Other than that, the group seemed fit, discounting their fatigue and malnutrition. They should be able to make the twenty-three mile drive across the bridge in a day. Kari winced, remembering how she had expected to hike the same distance to the gates of Fort Knox in only one day post-invasion. Yeah, shit happened. It was part of the world they now lived in.

Kari watched the boy who stood off by himself, away from the other children. He seemed fascinated, either by the motorcycles or the puppies, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach. There was something so … old … in his eyes. He reminded Kari of Stephen.

“That’s Paul,” Hardin said quietly, following Kari’s eyes. “He lost both of his parents, his father to a Razer attack and his mother to a Trois hunt.”

“They … hunt us now?” Kari asked bitterly.

“Well, I’m sure they probably see it as combat, but yes – a formation of Razers lands and Trois come out like it’s a big damn party, and the next couple of days, it’s all a matter of treating the wounded and counting the dead.”

“That’s – that’s …” Kari trailed off, not sure what to say.

“That’s war, Private,” Hardin said, his gruff words softened by his tone. He then stood, offering her a hand up. Headset looked annoyed and Hardin waved a hand. “You can keep playing with your toys, Headset.” The civilian grinned, immediately turning back to show Mike something incomprehensible about the tritium battery casing. Kari wondered if Mike was even listening, but Major Hardin was walking outside so she took her chance to escape and followed him without a backward glance.

“Major,” she asked quietly, still looking at the boy. “Would it be all right if I gave the children one of the puppies?”

Hardin groaned. “You’re kidding, right? These people barely have enough to eat –”

“With a free bag of puppy chow,” she added, with an impish grin. That grin used to work wonders on her father, melting even his most strenuous objections to whichever of her latest hare-brained schemes she threw at him. “I think it would do Paul a good turn to have something to be responsible for, sir, something to love. He’ll have to share the puppy with all of the children, of course, but he can –”

“I got it,” Hardin said with a tired sigh. “Follow my lead on this. If he thinks you’re pitying him, it won’t fly.”

Kari nodded, flinching slightly when Hardin snapped, “Dawson! Report!”

Paul looked up, startled, then quickly ran over to Hardin, snapping to attention and delivering a sharper salute than Kari had ever managed ... even when she’d wanted to. “Reporting, sir!” he said.

“At ease, soldier,” Hardin said, and the boy promptly relaxed into the parade rest position. “Private Kasoniak, this is Paul Dawson. He’s our newest – well, for now, our only – ROTC recruit. When he’s old enough, he intends to enlist.”

Kari held out her hand with a smile. “Good for you, Dawson,” she said, intentionally using the boy’s last name. “Major Hardin tells me you’re responsible. He says I can count on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy replied. His tone was polite but cautious. Kari almost laughed, remembering how many soldiers had approached her father without that sense of vigilance and had consequently “volunteered” their services for cleaning his gutters or changing the oil of his personal vehicle.

“Are you good with dogs?” she asked.

The boy stood straighter. “I don’t know, ma’am. I like them good enough, but I’ve never had one.”

“Well, you won’t have one now, either,” Kari said, a bit of severity in her tone. “But if you are willing and able, you can have the full responsibility of feeding, caring for, and training one of those pups. The Resistance will need working dogs, and whichever pup you pick will be their first.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and Kari realized she was seeing the first happiness this boy had felt in a very long time.

“Hold up, there, soldier,” Hardin said sternly. Paul immediately returned his attention to the major. “The first time – the
first
time – I get a report that you have neglected your duties in the care and training of that animal will be the last time you are entrusted with this important of a task. Am I absolutely crystal on that, Dawson?”

“Yes, sir!” Paul replied, his tone serious although his entire body quivered with tension and excitement. Kari and Hardin looked at each other for a moment, and then both looked at Paul, as if studying him. He stood very straight and still, and finally Hardin nodded.

“All right, then. Go with Kasoniak and get your instructions. Dismissed.”

While the pull-out orders went through the camp and everyone packed up what few belongings they still possessed, Kari dredged up every memory she could recall on dog training. Paul chose the darker of the two pups, leaving the tan and white one for the children back at NFK. “Soldier Girl,” as she was now named, warmed up to Paul immediately, especially when he was the one who fed her kibble. The other children watched enviously as Kari walked Paul through basic commands such as sit, stay, heel, and come, with Soldier Girl following along trying to bite Paul’s shoelaces and wrestle with his foot.

“The main thing is you have to be patient with her,” Kari instructed when they sat down for a break. “Right now, she’s just a baby, but she’ll learn. Never punish her, never hit her with anything, not even a newspaper. When she does something good, reward her with a bit of kibble or a lot of praise and petting. When she gets older, the best reward you can give her will be play time with a ball or kong toy. It will be a special time for her, because she’ll know she’s off duty, and that is a privilege she’ll be proud to earn.”

“What if she does something bad?” Paul asked, a worried frown on his forehead.

“Then you ignore her. Push her away if she’s trying to get your attention. Make sure she knows you are the boss. She will get her food when you give it to her. She’ll get water when you give it to her. She’ll be allowed to play when you say so. Be generous with everything, but let her know you’re in charge.”

Paul nodded with a smile. “I can do it, Private,” he said firmly.

Kari nudged him with her shoulder. “Call me Kari.”

Paul blushed. “I can do it, Kari,” he said quietly.

Mike cleared his throat behind them, and both Paul and Kari jumped slightly. Mike grinned, holding his left hand to help Kari up while extending his right to Paul. “I hear you’re taking one of my dogs, Dawson, but my girlfriend’s definitely not part of the deal.”

Paul blushed even brighter as they shook hands, and Mike punched him on the shoulder before the boy started stammering. “I’m jerkin’ your chain, grunt,” he said with a grin. “Apparently, you got three more years before you can join up, so you’re gonna get a lot of shit. I’m just getting you started early.”

Paul grinned, standing tall again. Kari could have hugged Mike for his kindness to the boy, and then his words penetrated.

“Girlfriend?” she asked, her eyes widening.

Mike nodded soberly. “Well, since your dad knows almost every sordid detail now, we might as well make it official.”

“My da …”

“Yeah, the radios work great. They’re already doing their mirror-bounce thing all over the place. A few civilians who were in good with Google already have handsets so we were able to talk to Knox. Ricochet’s a lucky bastard! He had smooth sailing all the way up to Scott AFB, and he found the zoomies right away. He’s halfway home already. No reports back yet from the other units. I gave the Old Bear a full report on things here so far.”
A modified full report,
Mike promised with his eyes.