Pavlov's Dogs (31 page)

She thought back to the stain on his shirt and frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe. When we get back, I don’t care how scary he is, we’re checking him over.”

Ken raised his eyebrows and put cans of soup in his duffel bag. “I’ll stand with you for it. But if he takes it into his head that he doesn’t want to get checked...”

Shoulders stiff, Kelly turned away and started filling her bag with pre-prepared dry meals. Ken put his hand out, but stopped himself from touching her. Instead, he put more cans in the bag.

His two-way squawked, and he jumped. “Jesus. Forgot that thing was there.” He picked it off his belt and hit the XMIT button. “Yo.”

“
Yo? Is that how they taught you to use a radio?
” Julius sounded either amused or annoyed. Sometimes the two were the same.

“Is that how
who
taught me? What do you need?”

“
You and Kels are loading up on horrid foodstuffs. So get antacid. Lots of it. And if you forget my Cheez Whiz, I’ll let Mac use the chainsaw on you.”

Kelly raised her eyebrows. “You going to tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Ken said. “We don’t know anything, so what do I tell him?”

Shrugging, she kicked her bag away and moved down the aisle.

“Thank you, very helpful,” he called after her. Into the radio, Ken said, “When we get back, we got to have a talk with Mac. Maybe, um, check him.”

The radio stayed silent.

“Did you get that?”

“
I got it. Talk later.”

Ken put the radio on his belt and loaded his bag. “It’s so easy. We’ll talk later.” Grabbing his bag, he walked to the end of the aisle and looked at the meat section. What hadn’t been ransacked had rotted, so he moved on to the snack section.

Hard cheeses and salamis should be okay, shouldn’t they?

Not if the Dog’s been bit.

Half an hour later, Ken and Kelly were back at the entrance. Mac was standing, leaning on the security gate and looking pale. “What took you guys so long? I’ve run out of ways to have this thumb up my ass while I wait for you two.”

Ken hefted Kelly’s bag onto her shoulders, then lifted his own. “Underachiever. You were in the military. Should be used to ‘hurry up and wait’ by now.”

Mac laughed, and it turned into a cough. He cleared his throat. “Can we get out of here now?”

Peering out, Mac pronounced the way clear and opened the safety gate. The supply-laden pair rushed out, and he closed the gate behind them, wrapping the chain around the handles but not locking it.

“I hate that lock,” Ken said. “I always feel like I won’t be able to open it when I really need to.”

“Ditto,” said Mac. “Let’s go.”

He jogged off, still moving as quickly as he had been, but no longer carrying himself with the easy athletic grace. Now he reminded Ken more of himself, a lumbering bear, using momentum more than agility to keep himself going. He and Kelly kept up, and the road was relatively clear. There were only three or four knots of zombies about.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Ken said, “but this time of year, this place is usually jammed with tourists. Where the hell
is
everybody?”

“That sounds enough like complaining to me,” Kelly said, breezing along next to him. “Shut it.”

Mac snorted out a laugh and jumped for the fire escape ladder, catching the bottom rung and pulling it down. He waved the civilians forward.

At the top, Ken looked down to see Mac following, but slowly. The big man’s cheeks expanded as he blew out huge breaths, just forcing himself up the black iron ladder. He kept shaking his head to clear his eyes of sweat, and his grey shirt was several shades darker than before. And as grateful as Mac had acted when Julius presented him with a pair of boots, Ken was ready to bet the footwear felt as if it were cast from concrete.

“Problem?” Mac said, looking up.

“Nope,” Ken said, and then he hurried to the top.

’

He and Kelly stood in the pantry over the machine shop, unloading the bags. She still hadn’t said much to him, other than “Move,” or “Move.” He got the hint.

Julius appeared in the doorway. “We got stuff to talk about. You mean Mac?”

“Yeah,” Ken said, stacking cans of beef stew on the shelves. “He’s acting funny. Been moving like he’s hurt, but he doesn’t say anything. Sweating, slowing down. And he... he...”

Julius turned.

“He’s right there.”

Mac stood in the kitchen, his face pale. He’d stopped sweating, his skin looking cold and clammy instead. One corner of his upper lip twitched, sending his face in and out of a sneer. And he stared at Ken.

“Hold on, big guy,” Ken said, putting his hands up. “We’re just worried about you.”

Taking a faltering step forward, Mac put his hands up too. Coming from anybody else, the gesture might have been a funny mirror to what Ken was doing; but coming from Mac, it looked as if he were contemplating murder. Again.

A rumble started deep in his chest, and his lips peeled back to reveal pale red teeth.

“Oh, shit,” Ken said.

Mac took another step and started bleeding from his nose. His eyes rolled back, and he fell over, blood coming from everywhere; his eyes, his nose, his ears, even his fingernails.

Julius ran over, straightening the Dog out on the floor. He pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and stuck it between the Dog’s teeth. “Help me get this shirt off.”

Ken jumped forward, grabbing the Dog’s shirt collar and pulling it apart. The material split and he tore the shirt away. He and Kelly pulled Mac’s arms out of the sleeves, and Julius snapped on a flashlight.

There was no bite.

Not a single unhealed wound.

“Well, now what?” Julius said.

Ken just sat down and stared. For some reason he couldn’t even shrug.

“OH,
NO!”
KAISER YELLED, laughing as Theta Rose tumbled away across the concrete floor of the sparring cage, clutching at his arm as it flopped at his side. “You’re so brittle. Not enough milk?”

Rose staggered to his feet, panting. His short, dark-brown hair lay plastered to his scalp. He backed away, keeping an eye on Kaiser. Rose was the third Theta to be rushed into the cage; Kristos and Landis had fallen to Kaiser in a matter of seconds. The fights had all started the same way: human Dogs facing off. Neither of the previous Theta Dogs had lasted long enough to even start the Change.

Knowing he was the exception, Rose grinned, not sure whether to be happy about his achievement. The way Kaiser had manhandled the others... maybe Rose would be lucky to get off with a broken forearm and dislocated shoulder.

We’ll see how much Dog he really is, then.

The cameras set up on the enlarged posts of the sparring cage whirred, capturing the fight from every conceivable angle. Donovan had a ringside seat, and he was happy in the knowledge that if he missed anything, he’d be able to play it back later, in full color, full stereo sound.

Grunting in pain, Theta Rose dropped to all fours and made himself change. The pain was something new this time, a red agony that resounded in his broken bone and loose shoulder joint. As he’d hoped, the radical movement of bones and tissues inside his body had snapped the limb into place, and the increased flow of hormones and everything
else
had kick-started his healing processes.

He rose to his full, shaggy height, his yellow eyes glistening. Rose glared at Kaiser, who had yet to change. Snapping his teeth and chuffing, Rose moved carefully to the side. He feinted in and then back, gauging Kaiser’s reaction to attacks in full Dog form.

The Epsilon seemed more amused than anything else.

That thought triggered a rush of rage in Theta Rose, and the thin veneer of humanity boiled away. He snarled and spit, charging Kaiser, claws out and ready to rend and tear.

Kaiser leapt neatly to one side, landing on his hands and rolling back to his feet. He jumped backwards, spinning and kicking, landing a powerful blow to the small of Rose’s back. The Theta Dog lurched forward and, spurred by his own momentum and the added impetus of Kaiser’s foot, collided headfirst with one of the iron I-beams surrounding the sparring cage.

Blood covered Rose’s furry face in crimson sheets, blinding him even as his skin stitched itself together. He wiped the curtain of red away in time to see Kaiser pushing through the last stage of the Change.

A pair of emotions chased each other through Rose’s brain. The first, pride in having forced Kaiser further than either Kristos or Landis. The second, fear of the very same thing: fear of escalating the fight.

The spike of adrenaline bumped something in his system, and he threw himself headlong at Kaiser, more carefully than before. It worked against him. The Epsilon was faster in full Dog form, and when Rose pulled his punch, Kaiser was there and ready.

Sharp nails dug furrows up Rose’s chest, and he yelped when the talons hung up on his collarbone. Kaiser lifted up on the bone, pulling Rose onto his clawed toes. With his left foot, Kaiser kicked up, raking his lesser opponent along the inside of the left thigh.

Rose fought to get away, realizing his femoral artery had been cut. Even in full Change, there would be a moment where he would just keep losing blood, temporarily weakened until the artery healed.

Kaiser’s double hammer-fist came down on the side of Rose’s head, and the Dog fell.

Turning in place, Kaiser lifted his snout to the air and howled, clawing at the sky in triumph. In the stands, Donovan stood, clapping. Holly Randall, sitting beside him, looked up and cringed at the sheen in the neurotechnician’s eyes. The look was a cross between religious fervor and the glaze of a lunatic.

She realized what she had just been thinking and it struck her as horribly, horribly unfunny. So she laughed. Donovan looked down at her and she laughed harder, pointing at Kaiser. Nodding, Donovan clapped harder and shouted.

Holly’s laughter turned into yelling sobs, and no one noticed. Not even her.

’

One hour and several hormone boosters later, Kaiser sat cross-legged in the sparring cage, waiting for the final Theta Dog. Though the last opponent was smaller in stature, Hayte made up for his lack of size in determination and willpower. Kaiser respected that.

Hayte walked out to the sparring cage wearing only a loincloth and a bandana, moving in a short stutter-step, leaning forward and back as he chanted and beat a small drum with the flat of his hand. At the door of the cage, he stopped coming forward and instead skipped around in a circle. His chanting came to a crescendo, then halted altogether. He put the drum to the side and addressed Kaiser.

“I have made a Song to my ancestors. This one,” he said, holding his fist to his chest, “this one wears the shoes of the Monster Slayer.”

He stepped into the cage.

Kaiser slapped his thighs and stood. He towered over the native, even more so when the smaller man crouched in his curious stance. It was nothing like any of the Dogs had seen in training. A small twinge of fear fluttered in Kaiser’s belly.

This one. This will be the one.

Without words, Kaiser launched an attack, striking out with his right hand. Hayte weaved deftly back. Not far enough to change his balance, but far enough to avoid contact. His hands floated around his waist, half-fists that never stopped moving. Flat black eyes threw Kaiser’s stare back at him, reflected.

Hayte’s foot shuffled forward, and Kaiser ducked down. When he did, Hayte’s hand lashed out, the hard ridge of his palm chopping across the end of Kaiser’s chin.

Kaiser stumbled back a couple of steps. He blinked. “Not bad, chief. Kind of an east-meets-west thing you’ve got going there, huh?”

He leapt up, kicking out. Hayte fell back, rolling to his butt, then brought his hands up to catch the axe-kick that Kaiser brought down. The same karate chop struck the side of Kaiser’s knee, and then he was stumbling free of the native’s grasp.

Slowly, keeping his gaze pinned to Kaiser, Hayte came to his feet. He took a deep breath, and again began to circle in that curious, crouching stance.

Kaiser circled with him, hobbling. The pain eased slowly, and he grimaced. If not for his Dog physiology, he would have had a bad wheel for the foreseeable future. As it was, his system was having a hard time keeping up. He had grown stronger, but not strong enough.

Not yet.

The Epsilon’s right elbow shot out, sweeping past Hayte’s face as the native swayed out of the way. The elbow swung back, and as the native moved again, Kaiser’s left hand darted after him, landing a thudding blow to Hayte’s midsection. Air exploded out of the Theta’s mouth, and he took a step back.

Never blinking.

Kaiser feinted again, but pain erupted in his left foot as Hayte’s hard heel came down on his instep. The bigger Dog hopped back, only to find himself up against the new I-beam. Hayte’s leaping knee caught Kaiser in the solar plexus, followed by a forearm across his temple.

Fighting the blackness, Kaiser threw himself away from the cage, snarling and grunting. Hayte turned and stalked after him. The eerie stillness emanating from the native made the flutter of fear that Kaiser had felt earlier now spread its wings. A tic appeared at the corner of his eye. He’d been right to respect Hayte.