Read Dogs Online

Authors: Nancy Kress

Tags: #Mystery & Detective, #Medical, #General, #Science Fiction, #Suspense, #Women Sleuths, #Thrillers, #Fiction

Dogs (29 page)

BOOK: Dogs
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Again she hauled herself out of the straw and onto her feet. Her jeans puddled above the ropes binding her ankles. She found a protruding bent nail and rubbed her wrist cord over it, again and again. It took a long time to weaken the rope, and it was full dark before it gave way. Cold seeped into her very bones.

With numb fingers Tessa fumbled for and lit the lantern, untied the cord around her ankles, and pulled up her jeans. That didn't warm her much. She did jumping jacks until she could feel circulation return to her limbs. Then she laid one hand on the shed door, hoping the blue-eyed Brit had left it unlocked.

He had, but as soon as she cracked the door, she heard panting in the dark and slammed it again. The dogs were loose.

That last volley of gunfire—Ruzbihan's men had, from the safety of their car, shot off the lock on the dog pen. Why? Perhaps to let the in dogs scatter, making it harder for anyone to notice this place from the air, although the thick pine cover already contributed to that. Or perhaps just from malice.

Tessa put her ear to the door. Quiet breathing. They were waiting for her to come out.

A violent shiver rattled her teeth. She couldn't stay in here; she'd freeze. The temperature must be in the twenties. Already her toes, despite the jumping jacks, felt like ice cubes. They might even have frostbite.

She walked to the open wall, where Ebenfield had removed a five-foot section to expose the dog fence, and slipped her hand between the fence and the outside wall of the shed to see how high the fence rose. Only a few inches higher. And the roof of the crude wooden shed rose maybe another foot and half above that.

One dog came back into the enclosure. The other two had disappeared. This one stood beside the mangled thing that had been Ebenfield, a darker shape in the dark yard, and Tessa could feel it staring at her.

She grasped the sawn edge of the wooden wall just inside the fence and pulled inward. The wall didn't budge but the dog hurtled itself, snarling, at the fence. Tessa stumbled backward, shuddering. The fence held—she could see that it was strong and new—but her reaction was involuntary. That dark shape leaping at her out of the night: every primitive circuit in her hindbrain fired.
Danger danger run run...

She couldn't run. Again she tried to pull boards above the fence free from the shed wall. The wall had been weakened when Ebenfield cut his removable panel; this time a board tore loose.

Five minutes later she had a hole a foot-and-a-half high between the top of the fence and the roof. But if she put one frozen foot into the chain link to climb, the dog would surely bite it. As Tessa pondered this, the moon rose over the mountains to the east, filtering silver light through the pines. Somehow, it cheered her. Not just for the light, which would be useful, but because that lopsided white orb seemed a witness to her efforts. She'd always done good work under close observation.

It took several vigorous, painful jumps on Ebenfield's wall panel to break it. When it finally cracked, Tessa hurled the largest piece at the dog, which dodged it. She thrust the second piece, sharp side down, into the snow on the other side of the fence. It shielded her foot from the dog's jaws when she stuck her toes through the fence and climbed it to the top.

Immediately the dog snarled and leapt. But it couldn't reach her, perched five feet above the ground. Tessa crouched, worked her body through the hole, and scrambled onto the roof of the shed, under the overhanging pine branches that hid the structure from any air surveillance.

Here the cold really hit her. She hadn't realized how much warmth the straw-filled cabin had actually held. But at least up here she didn't have to smell the filthy straw.

Ebenfield's cabin was about thirty feet away, under another thick stand of trees. Pines weren't ideal for climbing and Tessa's arms were stiff with cold. Nonetheless, she managed. As she swung out over the roof onto the second tree, the dogs went crazy. There were two of them down there now.
Keep moving, don't look down
… When she reached the roof of the cabin, her feet were so cold she nearly slipped off. There were no gutters to catch her. Spread-eagled on the steeply pitched roof, Tessa breathed deeply and forced herself to calm. “
The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall of Jezreel..."

Not tonight.

Groping with extended arms over the eaves, Tessa found what seemed to be the cabin's only window, set high in the south wall. She used a branch broken from the pine tree overhead to break the glass and sweep the opening clear of all shards.
Almost there
. Lying on her stomach, she eased herself down the wall until her feet found the sill, teetered briefly, and slid inside, falling heavily and gracelessly onto Ebenfield's bed beneath the window. A few bits of glass pierced her clothing, but nothing serious.

Even with the broken window, the inside of the crude cabin was blessedly warm, heated with a propane stove. Bed, table, one chair, some rough open shelves. Ruzbihan's men had obviously been inside, and they had been thorough. No papers, no books, no cell phone, no medicines, no camera. No laptop, which Ebenfield must have charged and used at various wireless locations around West Virginia, since the cabin was without electricity. Tessa didn't even see any extra clothing. Just the crude furniture, a few basic tools, a fifty-pound bag of dry dog food, and, in the corner, a cardboard box with two more squealing black puppies.

Outside, the dogs growled and scratched at the door.

She nailed a blanket over the open window; at least it would stop the wind. The shelves held ten cans of beef stew, all the same brand, plastic jugs of water, and three packages of dried figs.
Figs.

Salah and she at a market stall in the souks of Tunis, eating fresh figs sold still attached to the branch, fresh dates from the harvest at Nefta, the juice running down her chin and the warm fruit tasting like heaven.

“You bastard,” she said aloud to Ebenfield. His figs defiled her memory.

She heated a can of stew and ate it, enduring the pain as feeling returned to her frozen toes. The puppies cried and she gave them some dog food mashed with stew gravy. Outside, one of the dogs howled at the moon. Another, maybe the puppies' mother, scratched relentlessly at the door. The third puppy, the one Ebenfield had bitten, would undoubtedly freeze to death in the shed.

Too exhausted to plan her next steps, Tessa wrapped herself in Ebenfield's remaining blankets—she couldn't bring herself to lie in his bed—and fell asleep on the floor beside the propane heater.

INTERIM

Chief of Medicine Bruce Olatic sat in the conference room at Tyler Community Hospital. The faces along the length of the table all wore the same expression: profound weariness. Olatic didn't blame them. He himself had been on duty twenty straight hours.

Luke Mendenhall said, “Tell me again—how many people left who were initially treated for dog bites but haven't yet come in with post-bite syndrome?"

“Only three,” said Rosita Perez, “and they were the last three arrivals in the first wave. We've contacted them.”

The first wave. Post-bite syndrome. A part of Olatic's tired mind noted how quickly new terminology attached itself to crisis situations. Lexicographic leeches.

Jennifer Peters said, “I called Joe Latkin again just before the meeting. He said he requested reports from the African village where Doctors Without Borders treated what sounds like the same dog-borne hot agent, but there's a delay because the reports have to be translated.”

“From what?” Olatic asked.

“The village was Congolese. The reports are in Lingala.”

“Christ,” somebody said. “And how did the virus get HERE?”

Dr. Peters continued, “Joe also said they've confirmed the physical effects on the dogs' brains, specifically and especially on the amygdala, and found nothing to contradict the preliminary findings we all saw. But, of course, that's only for sacrificed subjects at given points in the disease progression. The CDC's watching more subjects to determine later cerebral changes or physical damage.”

Young Dr. Klein said, “And the physical damage to human brains?”

No one answered. PET scans and MRIs could reveal just so much. The only real way to assess the effect of canine disease on the human brain was for an infected human to die.

THURSDAY

» 56

Allen had finally—about time!—been allowed to go home from the hospital, mostly because a lot of other sick people came in. While his mother watched her afternoon show and Allen himself was supposed to be asleep, he called Jimmy on the upstairs phone.

“Yeah?” said Jimmy's father, a big man who wore his undershirt around the house and only went to work sometimes. Allen was a little afraid of him.

“May I speak to Jimmy, please? This is Allen Levy.”

“Jiiimmmmeeee!”

Jimmy took his time coming to the phone. Allen could hear the little kids shouting and a TV on loud. Finally Jimmy said, sounding just like his father, “Yeah?”

“It's Allen. I'm home. Did you feed Susie?”

“Yeah. I took her out, too, but she also pooped in that stupid file drawer so I didn't put her back there.”

“You didn't? You mean Susie's loose in the
basement?
” His mother would hear her for sure unless Allen gave Susie more pills, and he couldn't walk much with his foot like this. His mother might even go down to do laundry, now that she thought all the dogs in Tyler had been captured, or she might hire somebody to fix the broken window. His father might even come home from the city!

“Naw,” Jimmy said. “I could hear her from way outside with your cellar window busted. So I brought her to my house.”

“To
your
house? Jimmy! Your parents—”

“It's okay, Allen. Chill. My dad helped me. He says Susie don't have anything wrong with her except she's going blind and the govmint don't have any business poking their fucking noses in our private lives.”

That sounded like something Jimmy's dad would say, all right. Allen struggled to sort everything out. Susie at the Doakes… “Where is she?”

“In my bedroom. She sleeps with me and everything.”

“She's
my
dog!”

“Hey, I'm helpin' you out here!”

“I know,” Allen said, suddenly afraid of making Jimmy mad. Jimmy had Susie. “I know. Thanks. I just…take good care of her, okay, Jimmy?”

“'Course I will.”

“Don't let Tammy and LaVerne try to ride on her again? Susie's so old!”

“I know. I'm keeping the little brats away. Don't worry, Allen.”

“Do you have dog food? And her dishes? And—”

“Gotta go, my mom wants the phone. I got everything. See you later, dude.”

Somewhere in Jimmy's house something crashed, and then the phone clicked.

Now how would Allen get to see Susie? He had to see her! But his mother wouldn't let him go to Jimmy's house. What could he do?

He still hadn't figured out anything when, just as his mother's show was ending, the doorbell rang.

“Yes?” his mother said. A big man stood in the doorway, letting in cold air and looking really unhappy.

“Hi, how ya doing? I'm Billy Davis, Cami Johnson's friend. We met at the hospital.”

“Oh, yes,” Billy's mother said uncertainly. “Can I help you, Mr. Davis?”

“I don't know. But Cami's sick and she said I should visit Allen instead of her.” Mr. Davis sounded as if he'd really, really rather be someplace else. But all at once Allen saw his chance.

“Yes, mom! Cami was going to take me out for ice cream! She promised!”

“She did?” Mr. Davis said.

“Yes! Let's go!”

“Allen,” his mother said, “could I see you in the other room? Please excuse us, Mr. Davis. Won't you just step inside and wait in the foyer?” In the dining room she whispered, “Allen, what is this all about?”

“Just like I said! Cami was going to take me for ice cream only she's sick so I want to go with Mr. Davis!”

“Sweetie, we hardly know him. And there are still dangerous dogs out there.”

“But…but it's really fun to go out for ice cream. And Mr. Davis is a real animal control policeman! He does cool things with animals and everything!”

All at once his mother's face got a funny look. “It's really Mr. Davis you wanted to see, wasn't it? Because he talks about animals and other things that boys like?”

She didn't understand anything. But maybe that was good. He said, with just a touch of whining, “I like Mr. Davis. And it's…it's good to talk to, you know, grown-up men.”

Again she stared at him, and Allen held his breath. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Maybe it was too much. But he'd listened to her talking on the phone to her friend Linda:
“Allen needs male role models, God knows Peter isn't here enough to provide one, the two-timing bastard..."

“Yes, sweetie,” his mother said slowly, “it's good to talk to grown-up men. Okay, Mr. Davis can take you out for ice cream.”

In the car, Mr. Davis said quietly, “You don't really want to go for ice cream, do you, kid? I mean, it's the middle of winter.”

“I want to go to Jimmy Doakes' house.”

“And your mama don't want you there.”

“I just want to see Jimmy for a few minutes! He's my best friend!”

“And best friends are important.” Mr. Davis sighed. “You know something, you remind me of me at your age. Hell bent for high water on what you want.”

That was so stupid that Allen snorted before he could catch himself. He was nothing like Mr. Davis!

“Just don't let it carry you too far, kid. You can do stupid things when you're that way. Things you regret later in life.”

Allen stared straight ahead out the window, and maybe Mr. Davis knew what a nerd he sounded like, because he didn't say anything else. He didn't even get out of the car when they got to Jimmy's.

Jimmy's parents weren't home and neither was his big brother, Wayne. The house smelled of cat pee. Jimmy, Tammy, and LaVerne sat on the saggy old sofa, watching TV and eating Fruit Loops out of the box. Jimmy jumped up.

“Hey, Allen! Come watch this really cool movie! This guy just stabbed all these girls and—”

“I want to see Susie.”

“Oh, yeah, come on!”

Jimmy ran down a hallway. Allen hobbled after him, trying to keep his weight off his foot, trying not to fall. Jimmy's room had stuff all over the floor, torn curtains, two unmade beds. But Susie wasn't there. They found her on Jimmy's parents' bed, chewing on a red plastic ray gun. As soon as Susie saw Allen, she jumped up and her tail wagged so hard it looked like it might wag right off. Allen fell onto the bed and hugged her. “Susie!”

“She chewed up my gun! Awww! Bad dog!” Jimmy grabbed the gun and started hitting Susie's rear end with it. Allen shoved the plastic away and turned on Jimmy.

“Don't you dare hit her! She didn't know and anyway she's old and don't you dare hit her!”

“I didn't hurt her none,” Jimmy said. “But she better leave my stuff alone or she's outta here!”

Allen went cold all over. What if Jimmy meant it? Allen had no place else to put Susie, no place that his mother wouldn't find her, or even Mr. Davis. And Susie didn't look good, neither. Her coat was all matted like nobody brushed her, and when she wiggled around licking Allen's face, she wobbled on only three legs.

“I'm sorry,” Allen choked out. “Jimmy, look at her eyes…that white stuff is worse.”

“She sees okay,” Jimmy said. “Don't worry about it. But she better not chew my gun again.”

“Is that a bruise on her leg? Did somebody
else
hit her?”

“She tried to eat my dad's shoe. But he just tapped her, Allen, honest.”

“He hit Susie?”

“She really fucked up his shoe.”

“And you hit her, too!”

“Aw, don't be such a wimp!”

Something broke in Allen. He hadn't been able to sleep or eat from worrying over Susie and here the Doakes were
hitting
her and his head all at once felt funny, like it had come loose and was floating above his shoulders. He'd been trying to protect Susie for so long! And they were
hitting
her—
his
Susie—

Allen launched himself at Jimmy, not even caring about the sudden pain in his foot, and beat on him with his fists. “Don't you people touch my dog!”

Jimmy, after an astonished moment, pounded back. Susie started to bark frantically, her old body circling the boys. Allen knew he was cry
ing and didn't care. He just wanted to hit Jimmy, hit everything, every
body wanted to take Susie away from him, and now the news said they were going to kill all the dogs Allen had heard it this morning before his mother snapped the TV off and not Susie
not Susie
NOT SUSIE—

“What the hell is going on here?”

Both boys froze.
Mr. Davis
. Allen twisted around on the floor and there he was, staring at Susie like she was a crocodile or an elephant. He said, “Did that dog bite anybody since it got that weird white stuff in its eyes?”

Not Susie!

“Damn it, boys, this is important. Did that dog bite anybody since it got white in its eyes?”

Not Susie.

“Leave her alone, you!” Allen cried, reached under the bed, and pulled out Jimmy's dad's gun. “You just leave Susie alone!”

Mr. Davis stood very still. “Now, son, let's just calm down here, okay? I'm not gonna bother your dog.”

“Yes, you will!” Mr. Davis was lying! He thought Allen was too stupid to know that a dog policeman
had
to take Susie away,
had
to get her killed—he thought Allen was stupid and he was lying, you couldn't trust anything any grown-up said to you not Allen's mother or his father or this terrible man who wanted to kill Susie—Susie, the only real friend Allen had…No.
No
.

He snapped the safety off the gun the way Jimmy had showed him, aimed at Mr. Davis, and fired.

BOOK: Dogs
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