DogForge (14 page)

“I’ll help you,” Samson said.

“Don’t touch me!” Denali snarled back. “I don’t need your help.”

She walked slowly on three legs and hopped with every step. She cradled the broken leg tight to her chest and ignored Samson. She couldn’t even see him anymore, the darkness was so intense, but she listened to his breathing and hated him.

She hated him before, when he was just a bully. A mean bully, a biter, the one who called her out. Runt Runt. It was in her ears and she grew angry. She remembered him running, running and leaving her to die. She remembered him doing everything to blame her. She wanted to hate him even more, but then Grat’s words came to her: “Hate don’t getcha nothin’, Denny.”

Denny. What Grat called her when she was little. Denny.

“We’re almost there,” Samson said.

Denali snapped out of her memories and heard the rushing of water.

They came closer to the sound. The floor was cold and slick with condensation.

Denali walked through the rising mist and saw the dullest of lights rise up from the depths below. The air smelled of water, clean water, old water, like it had been buried beneath for years.

There was a chasm, and across it, a slender rod. It was higher on her side than the other. At the very edge of the chasm was a platform. The rod threaded through the bottom.

Denali hobbled over to it and poked at it with her nose.

The platform pivoted to one side.

“Ahh,” she said. One dog would slide off. It needed two to balance it. Then she realized at the end of the rod the first dog to leap could dump the other.

“So you see.”

“What did the others do?”

“Step on at the same time, and balance it. I’ll be towards the middle, you’ll be farther out because you’re lighter.”

“Of course,” she spat. “Farther out.”

Samson stepped up and placed a paw on the metal. “Careful now, with that paw.”

Denali snapped her head at him and stared hard. “Yes, about that paw.”

“Let’s just get this over with, all right?” Samson growled.

Denali shook her head. “On your call.”

“Go.”

Samson stepped on gently while Denali hobbled farther out on the platform. It hung for a second and tilted to one side slowly.

“Move out!” Samson shouted.

Denali hopped to the side and stared down at the emptiness next to her.

The platform leveled off. There was a click under them and the platform slid down along the rod. The mist obscured the far side.

Denali watched the rod and felt the platform wobble from side to side. She didn’t dare look over at Samson. Everything felt tight, balanced, perfect.

The grayness opened up and the far side of the chasm came closer.

Denali tensed and felt the fear inside of her. She cocked her ears and listened for anything. Then she felt the movement in her feet and in her stomach.

Samson tensed and readied himself.

“When do we jump?” Denali asked. She knew Samson was going to jump first. She could sense it in his posture, the way his paws leaned forward, the way his nose tilted down, the way his tail straightened out.

Samson leaped off without saying a word.

But she was ready for it.

The pair soared across the gap, but Denali had an advantage in reflexes. She had leaped a split second before Samson. His recoil had helped her sail just a fraction of a meter farther. In his haste, he’d leaped a second too early.

Denali crashed onto the hard ground and yelped. Her back legs slid out and she rolled.

“Help me! Help me!” Samson pleaded behind her.

His front paws clutched the ledge, but the rest of his body hung over the chasm. “Pull me!”

His paws squeaked and slowly slid back towards the darkness. He cried out a mournful howl and slapped his paws against the cold stone. “Help me!”

Denali hobbled close. She snapped her teeth down onto Samson’s paw and pulled. She pulled with everything she had, every bit of energy, but she could feel her paws sliding towards the edge. The ledge was too slick. His paw popped out of her mouth.

There was a yelp and he was gone.

Denali flew back and sat down hard. She cradled her paw and looked into the darkness. There was no splash or crash, or even another cry. Just the relentless flow of water. She turned, put him out of her mind, and hobbled away.

She didn’t feel victorious, or even relief, just a sadness at losing a pack brother.

It felt to her now that she was at the center of the complex. The air had a heavy feel, a thickness to it, like the weight of a mountain hung above. She passed steel beams and followed the path that the others took.

Finally she came to a room. A room with many hatches, some were closed, but most were open. She hobbled up, peered inside, and saw a closed hatch in the back side of each. None seemed any different, so she stepped into the closest one.

The hatch creaked shut behind her.

Denali’s heart beat rapidly. Was this it? The end?
So close!
The teeth of a marauder would be hers. Her mind would remain her own, but most importantly, she could see Grat and Barley and the pups again.

Then the next door opened and her heart sunk.

The room was well lit, clean, and in the center stood a statue of a man. It was gray with dead stone eyes and one hand over his heart. The other hand pointed down Samson. He was shackled tight with his throat bared and a cup beneath it.

Water dripped from his fur. He looked to be unconscious.

Denali spun around and wanted to run away but she couldn’t. There was nowhere to go. She hobbled into the chamber with fear in her heart. The hatch closed behind her.

There was no exit in the chamber.

“Kill,” a voice boomed into the room.

Denali yelped in fear.

Samson woke and bawled in pain.

“No,” she whimpered. She knew the statue ordered it, the man ordered it, but she couldn’t do it. “No.”

“Kill,” the voice said again, louder.

She shook with fear and stepped closer to Samson. The very thought of killing him was repulsive, but she knew if the roles were reversed, he would have gladly done it. But this was it. No one would know, not even her. No one remembered.

She leaned forward and clamped her jaws onto his neck. He tensed and she felt him try to escape. She bit down and tasted blood, just for a moment, and released.

She’d know. Even if in her mind she wouldn’t remember. A part of her, deep inside, would know.

“No.”

“Kill.”

“No.”

“Kill! Kill!”

Samson howled and bawled and thrashed.

“No!” Denali barked back and glared up at the statue.

The man’s eyes opened and they were dead and black. The finger pointed at Denali.

She held the dark eyes and fear overwhelmed her.

A bolt of white light shot out from the finger and Denali saw nothing but darkness.

T
he smells of blood stung Denali’s nose. Her head felt like a rock had been smashed onto it. Her paw throbbed with every pulse of her heart and she simply laid still and felt exhausted.

There was tightness in her neck, spine, and legs. A grogginess rolled through her and she tried to think. Thoughts came and went like fog in the wind. Samson. He came back to her but she lost it again. Who? Where?

“Look at this one! Bastard got cut in half,” a voice slurred.

“Can you smell ‘em? Ugh, these feral ones,” another voice barked back.

“Hey,” a voice called out close to Denali, “this one’s got a broken paw.”

“Change the program, cut it off, get an implant,” the first voice replied. It sounded distracted.

“Are you sure? What kind?” the close voice asked.

“I don’t care. Listen, I’m working here. Deal with it.”

Denali’s heart beat in her chest like a hammered anvil. The voice spoke from just above her. It meant
her.
She tried to move but the bindings clamped her tight.

“She’s awake,” the voice said. “Why is she awake?”

“Deal with it,” the first voice replied.

Denali opened her eyes and blinked in the puritan white brightness.

The room was circular and wide with a giant tank in the center. Inside of it a green liquid boiled and bubbled. Around it was strange devices like steel hawks with talons of wire and needle. Beneath each was a dog, the dogs from the trial, locked in tight.

Three dogs tended to those locked into the machine. Each plated in armor and not a single bit of flesh or fur was visible.

The first tended to Jagok, his wrecked body lashed in tight and squeezed down beneath a layer of rubber.  The dog’s armor was small, smaller than Denali, and dwarfed next to the body of Jagok. His hind legs were mechanical.

Jagok breathed but his eyes were blank.

The second dog checked glossy screens above the rest. Samson. Mjol. Terex. Loq. Kedge. Sever. And others that Denali didn’t know. Dogs from other packs. There was every sort of color and shape.

The third suit of armor was close to Denali and faced the screen above her.

The suit leaned down and whispered to her. “It’s okay. Just relax. You’ll go numb soon.”

Denali whimpered.

“Shh. Shh.” The dog leaned away from the screen and down towards Denali. There was a click and the armored face shield slid back revealing a brown and black face with soft eyes and a touch of gray about the nose.

“What’s your name?” she asked softly.

“D-D-Denali.”

The gray eyes squinted. A touch of a snarl rose on her lips and she glared at Denali.

Denali looked up and sensed the anger.

“Don’t ever say that name again. Ever. Do you hear me?”

Denali squirmed and tried to get away.

The dog leaned close and bared teeth of steel, gray and hard. “Do you hear me? Never. Never.”

Denali sensed that it wasn’t just anger in the voice but something more. Loss maybe? Sorrow? Regret? “I hear you.”

“Now what’s your name?”

Denali closed her eyes and pictured Grat and Barley. Denny. “Denny,” she stammered quickly.

“Denny Forge,” the gray furred dog said. “Denny Forge.”

“What’s a forge?” Denali asked. Pain shot through her arm and she whimpered.

“That’s the planet you came from: Forge,” the gray dog said. She stood back up and the faceshield slid closed. She turned her head and called out. “Cassius? Recon?”

“Deal with it,” Cassius replied. The small dog was immersed with a set of tools above Jagok.

“Gonna make her one of your rats, eh?” the second dog replied from across the room.

“What’s happening?” Denali asked.

“Denny, we’re going to make you perfect. Or as perfect as Caesar needs you to be. Eventually you’ll look like me, but for now, you’re going to sleep.”

The dog went back to the screen and stepped away. “Don’t you worry.”

“I’m ready!” Cassius barked and jogged to the center of the room. He raised his paw onto a platform and the metal hawks came alive.

All around the room, they tilted forward and the metal implements darted in. A trio of needles shot down and stuck into the dogs.

Denali yelped and felt a liquid spray onto her body.

“Hey!” the dog near Denali barked. “She’s too small for this implant cage.”

Cassius turned his head. “The implants will still go in,” he said and continued tapping on the platform.

“But—”

“They’re savages. She can deal with it. How’d a runt get through the trial, anyhow?” Cassius grunted.

The hawks arched down close and the tank of liquid bubbled. The whir of drills and hum of saws grew louder.

Denali whimpered and tried to escape. The bindings held her and she couldn’t move. The animal fear was tight in her chest and she tried to bite. Tried to escape. Fought. Thrashed. Howled.

Trapped.

Trapped.

The gray faced dog leaned down close and the faceshield popped open. Her gray eyes were soft. “I’m sorry, Denali,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She stood up, backed away, and turned her head.

Then the metal hawks dove in. The sound of drills and saws filled the air. Denali tried to howl, but the pain was too much. Every joint in her body was assaulted with pain and violence. The only thing that didn’t hurt was her paw, and she realized the machine had cut it off.

Sleep
.

She howled one last time and lost consciousness.

“L
isten up!” Illiam barked from the top of a corrugated steel box. His faceshield was open, revealing a stout mouth and a black and white face. His eyes were both a dull red with circuitry standing out on the edges. A mass of scars cut across his face like a road map.

The dogs in the room creaked and turned their heads. Each whimpered as they rolled and turned. The implanted sockets wept a slick whitish fluid. Not a single one could stand.

Denali was worse off than the rest. She could barely raise her head off the bedding. Only her left paw didn’t hurt, simply because it no longer existed.

“You hurt. You’re confused. You’re scared.” Illiam looked around the room. “I know what it’s like, I went through it once, too.”

The dogs murmured and grumbled.

“I said
listen!
” Illiam snapped. “You’re mine until Caesar arrives and sends you into training.
Mine.
If you do as I say, this will go smoothly. If you don’t, you’ll be punished.”

Denali studied Illiam’s short stout nose and wondered who’d try to nip it first. He didn’t look so big.

“First thing. Rank. It doesn’t matter who’s biggest, or toughest, it comes down to who’s in charge.” He paused and looked at each of the wounded dogs.

Denali felt his gaze and tried to hold it, but couldn’t.

“But if you want to try me...” He let the words hang.

Illiam continued. “No fighting. No biting. No dry humping your neighbor. We wait for the pick up and that is it. You’re not part of some little pack anymore. You. Are. Caesars.”

Caesar.
Denali said the word in her head.

“We’re in space now, on a transport ship. It’s like a big box that keeps us alive. Don’t ask to go outside, outside is what’s called vacuum, and it’ll kill you.”