Pavlov's Dogs (34 page)

“Sir,” the security man choked out, “Dr. Donovan told us to watch for a boat at the pier, and then another at the east end. This one’s a decoy, sir.”

Snarling, Kaiser threw him down too. “Nobody tells me anything. Take the security team to the east end and blow that thing away!”

The uniformed guard ran off, yelling into his radio as he went. Kaiser climbed back to the top of the cage and sat, watching. The security force gathered as they ran, until all of them were on the eastern tip of the island. Several spotlights set the sea alight.

The guards lined the boat up in their sights and opened fire. Kaiser smiled as the sound came to him. It wasn’t like wetwork, where everything was up close and personal, but he enjoyed shooting at things. And people. The oncoming boat sustained a hail of fire, soaking in the bullets.

Howling like animals, even in human form, the Dogs arrived behind security, taking over with their own firepower as the guards reloaded.

Somehow the fusillade had done enough damage that the boat went dead in the water. Dogs and security forces alike continued to pound the vessel with their semi-automatics.

Kaiser thought he saw somebody move behind the big silver steering wheel.

I wonder if he’s going to surrend—

He was thrown off his perch atop the fence as the boat exploded into a giant fireball.

“HOW’S IT GOING, JULIUS?” Ken said into the radio. He could hear gunfire outside the sailboat. A lot of it.

“
Looks good. They just opened fire on the second decoy.”

Kelly put out her fist, and Ken bumped it.

“Kick ass. How many of them?”

A moment passed.
“It looks like all of them. Uniformed and not. I’m guessing those are the Dogs?”

“Looks like you were right, Mac,” Ken said. “They knew about the decoy.” He looked out over the prow, catching a last glimpse of Julius’s fishing boat bumping against the side of the pier as his own boat rounded the dark edge of the island.

Three
boats. Subterfuge had never been Ken’s strong suit, but planning this raid with Mac had opened up a door for him. With his knowledge of how buildings were put together, with enough time, he could probably find a way into most places. Especially now, when the end of all things had put a stop to fancy security systems.

“What?” Kelly asked, noting the look on his face.

Ken shook his head. “Nothing. Or maybe everything. It’s weird, you know? We spent all this time, building barricades and reinforcing doors and whatever. Demolishing stairwells. All to keep the zombies out. And now it’s us, trying to get in. Moving around security forces. Creeping up. It’s like
we’re
the zombies.”

Kelly grimaced. “Now there’s something to kill the mood.”

An explosion rocked them all. Ken and Kelly looked up in horror at the fireball coming over the silhouette of trees and structures on the island. “What was that? Do they have rockets?”

“That was Teddy,” Mac said, his voice rough. His condition had gotten worse as night fell and he grew hairier and hairier, his teeth sharper and sharper. “He told you he didn’t want to drown.”

Ken’s reply was cut off by their sailboat thumping against something.

“That’ll be us,” Mac growled.

“Julius, come in,” Ken said into the radio.

“
Yo.
”

“Hah. We’re headed in. Don’t blow your cover if you don’t need to. Keep ready though, you hear?”

“
Ten-four, Mr. Bishop. Kick ass.”

“We better move soon,” Mac said. “Won’t be long before the moon is up.”

Kelly turned to look at him. “What are you talking about? The moon
is
up.” She pointed, and Mac’s bleary eyes followed her finger to the sky.

“Where did the time go?” he asked, and slumped over in his seat.

Ken put out his arm and caught Kelly as she ran to the Dog. “Leave him be. He’ll feel better after the Change. At least, he thinks so. Come on, give him space. I don’t want to see this part again.” He grimaced at the memory of Samson’s Change, and the healing gunshot wound in his face. He pulled Kelly to the stairs.

They went down into the hold, where twelve men and women sat in the dark, shotguns and rifles between their knees.

“All right,” Ken said. “Everybody knows their parts. This is about stealth. Everybody’s seen the Dogs before, right?”

There was a murmur of mutual assent.

“Good. So no freaking out if you see one now. Especially our Dog. Do not mess up and shoot him. Without Mac...” He shook his head. “
Anyway
. All of us need to make it through. If one of our groups fails, the whole thing fails. The lives of every man, woman, and child on the island and in this boat are depending on you.” He smiled. “So don’t get me killed, huh?”

There was dry laughter at this, and Ken smiled. He hadn’t expected to knock them dead anyhow.

A shape blocked the entrance to the hold. Ken turned and saw the hulking form there. “Mac?”

Kelly went halfway up the stairs. “Come on, I’ll guide you down.
Hey!
”

The bestial shape was gone, and Kelly with it. Ken ran to the stairs, shouting out.

He tripped over Kelly.

She lay prone in front of the door, breathing but playing dead. And as he fell, the god-awful smell hit him. One of his childhood friends had had this old dog, with maggots in its flesh where a foxtail had drilled a hole in its hide. This smell now was way worse.

Ken looked up at Mac and gasped.

The Alpha Dog stood on deck, powerful legs apart, claws extended, teeth bared in a feral show. But there was nothing of Mac in those eyes. Ken saw into the twin pits of black rage in Mac’s face and recoiled. The Dog was covered in oozing sores, and the wound on his side had opened, gaping horribly from being stretched during the Change.

“What is it?” a voice said from behind him, and Mac leapt. He cleared Ken’s body and collided with the wall of the sailboat.

“Get back!” Ken shouted. He swung his shotgun by the barrel, hoping to stun the Dog until he got ahold of himself. They couldn’t afford to have Mac either out of commission or out of his mind.

The shock of the impact vibrated all the way to Ken’s shoulders, and he looked, expecting to at least see the Alpha Dog staggered.

Instead, he found himself staring again into those empty black eyes.

The Dog threw back its head and howled, the sound of it carrying over the entire island.

Ken dove and grabbed Kelly, pushing her through the hatch and closing it. As he began to dog it shut, a fist the size of a frying pan collided with his side, and he went flying to the handrail.

“
You have incoming
,” Julius said over the radio.

Mac threw open the door to the hold and dove into the darkness below.

’

Hunt. Feed. Mate?

Movement in the hold excited the old Alpha Dog, his senses coming alive with the hunt. Figures scurried before him like mice fleeing a housecat. One of them struggled with a box by the door, flicking the light switch.

The rapidly dwindling cognitive centers in Mac’s brain registered that they’d disabled the lights to keep a low profile on the approach.

Snarling, he charged the one at the light switch, jumping and slashing. The man opened up from shoulder to hip, spilling hot blood and greasy entrails. Burying his snout in the open wound, Mac tore and pulled, nuzzling around for the best parts.

It all tasted the same to him.

Tasted... familiar.

Like...

Samson
, he thought, but couldn’t remember why.

Didn’t care.

Three more people ran behind him, headed for the stairs. They were fast, and he only had time to snap his teeth at one, catching a tiny amount of flesh.

Grunting, he went back to his meal.

Kelly and two other women came out of the hold as Ken was rousing himself.

“He’s lost it!” Kelly said, winded. “Mac’s gone!”

She was answered by the heavy
whump-whump-whump
of the .50 cal they’d mounted on Julius’s fishing boat. Looking out, she saw the old man had powered away from the pier and was firing on a multitude of shaggy beasts, all running down the beach toward their sailboat, toward the sound of Mac’s howl.

“Oh, shit.” From her messenger bag, Kelly pulled out a double-handful of mason jars. “Give it to them!” she shouted.

Three of the jars went hurling overhead, arcing out into the night. One of them hit a Dog’s shoulder and bounced away, the other two landing on the rocky shore. When the glass and plastic broke, the gas fumes and potassium permanganate reacted, turning into little fireballs that shot iron nails everywhere.

If the Dogs even noticed, they didn’t show it.

One of the smaller Dogs went flying sideways as Julius’s skill with the .50 cal improved. Two of the smaller ones peeled off, heading for the water. And for Julius. The rest of them powered on toward the sailboat.

“Ken, get up!” Kelly yelled, and the door to the hold burst open. Mac stood there, covered in gore. Catching sight of Ken and Kelly, he stepped forward. Then he stopped, lifting his snout into the air. His head snapped around, and he saw the rest of the Dogs coming.

A growl born of frustration loosed itself from Mac’s chest, and he launched himself over the handrail into the ocean, just as five other Dogs came aboard. There was a loud splash, and he was gone.

Ken pointed his shotgun up, and it was swatted out of his hands. Contemptuously.

A scream cut through the night, and the lead Dog looked out over the water toward the fishing boat. A pair of howls came up and he gave an answering bark.

“Julius,” Ken whispered.

“KEN BISHOP,” Sigma 37 said. “Remove your shirt.” The Dog stood in front of a roaring fire, a pair of needlenose pliers in one hand and a sadistic smile on his face. Working as Kaiser’s Sigma had prepared him well for the Omega Dog’s eventual rule.

Squaring his shoulders, Ken returned the Dog’s glare and set his jaw out.

37 pulled a long piece of metal out of the fire. “Have it your way then. Hah. I should swap these around so they read BK.” With deft movements, he rearranged the entwined wire hangers so that the loose ends formed Ken’s initials. “If you don’t take your shirt off, I’ll put this on your face. See how much your lady friend likes you after that.”

Sigma 37 raised the brand, and Ken could feel the heat coming off the glowing metal.

“You’ve got until the count of... one.”

Resigned, Ken shrugged out of his long-sleeved flannel shirt and tee.

“Good idea,” Sigma 37 said. “Wouldn’t want to catch that Grizzly Adams on fire. Hold still. You’re going to feel a little pinch. And then it will burn like hell, hah.”

He jammed the glowing brand into Ken’s right shoulder, and the hiss of cooling metal and burning flesh wasn’t quite loud enough to cover the strangled sounds coming from Ken’s throat. His face went red, and sweat sprang from his forehead and chest. Droplets fell on the haft of the brand, sizzling.

“There we are. That wasn’t such a chore, now was it?”

Ken breathed fast, like a locomotive getting up to speed. “I’m going to make you eat one of those.”

“We live in the land of opportunity,” 37 said. “I’ll make sure the boss gives you yours. Next!”

Ken was herded off by the uniformed security force, who had taken to wearing balaclavas. He stared loathingly at the man, knowing that he himself couldn’t do this to survivors.

A familiar yell caught his ear, and he turned to see Jorge being pushed back and forth between a pair of shirtless steroid freaks with MORITURI TE SALUTAMUS tattooed across their backs.

Jorge looked terrible, like he had been through a blender, and Ken wondered whom he’d had to fight. He waved, whistling through his teeth to get Jorge’s attention. The Latino troublemaker saw it and waved back.

Kaiser also saw it.

Ken slowed his walk. “Hey, I know that guy,” he said to the security guard. “Come on, I just want to say hello.”

The guard prodded Ken with the barrel of his SPAS-12; the automatic shotgun was cold against Ken’s skin and he realized how hot he was.

The guard said, “Keep walking, dead man.”

“Just a minute, you shit.”

The black stock of the shotgun jabbed down, catching Ken on the shin. “I said move, dirt bag.”

Ken straightened, his blue eyes glaring into the guard’s. The shotgun came up under his chin.

“It’s okay,” Ken said. “I’m just remembering your eyes. For later.”

“You don’t have a later. Sit here.”

The guard pointed a black-gloved hand at a folding chair. Ken sat and was handcuffed to a handrail. The guard walked off, and Ken had nothing else to do but watch the gladiatorial matches as they unfolded in the sparring cage.