Iron Mike (28 page)

Kasoniak

The rumors spread through NFK like a flame thrower through cords of butter. The Trois were vulnerable. Iron Mike and Killer Kasoniak killed twenty of them single-handedly. Kari heroically saved a lost boy. Worldwide communications were back up. Google was alive and well, and the internet would be back up soon. They were winning the war at last!

Kasoniak shook his head as he walked past a small group of people who were talking excitedly. Well, morale was certainly up, at least. He couldn’t complain on that account.

“Report, Major Jeffries,” Kasoniak asked, returning the major’s salute.

“We have thirty-two volunteers, Colonel,” Jeffries smiled broadly. “Instead of being short, we’re going to have to run a lottery to see who gets to go!”

Kasoniak shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and sadness in his expression. “Damn fools,” he muttered. “None of this is infallible. This enemy is still as dangerous as a nest of vipers and when they come up with countermeasures – and they will – more of our people will die.”

Jeffries nodded, a bit more soberly. “Yes, Colonel. With all due respect, though, sir … we’ve been on the receiving end for so long, not able to do a damned thing but watch good people die. Now, we know the enemy has weaknesses too, sir. Our boys just want to give some back.”

Kasoniak nodded tiredly. He’d seen it before. Hell, he had been one of those eager young soldiers once, so gung-ho it gave him a headache to even think about it. He understood, more than he wanted to.

“I want two squads with a backup flame thrower in each group. Keep those soldiers tight, Major. This isn’t a hunting trip. We are very much at war.”

Jeffries saluted sharply before leaving to carry out the order. Kasoniak sighed. When the hell had he gotten so damned old?

March 18.

Hershey

Hershey had never slept in a hotel room, and he decided he enjoyed it very much. Mike and Kari slept together in one bed, wrestling half the night, and that left Hershey and Yippyface to share the other big bed. He had no idea what the humans had named Yippyface, but he decided that was his name for her. It was perfectly apt. Hershey tried twice to cuddle with the humans, but neither of them seemed up for the idea, preferring to wrestle with each other instead. So, with a slightly aggrieved sigh, he settled for second best. Once Yippyface settled down, though, she was warm and snuggly enough. Better than a cat, in any case.

The day before, they rode until the moon was high overhead, their speed decreasing exponentially with the daylight. It was one of the best days Hershey could remember, second only to the day at the beach ... and maybe the day he and Clare had played the dog food game. The motorcycle continued to be the most exciting thing Hershey knew, and he continued to love it, quivering with excitement every time Mike or Kari reached for their helmets. Every time they stopped to let Yippyface or Kari go piddle (it was always one or the other of them), Hershey leapt joyfully back into the sidecar when the business had been done.

They awoke at dawn, and the first thing Yippyface did (after falling off the bed and rolling back onto her feet) was piddle on the floor. Hershey cringed; he remembered his first boy, and how angry the mother had gotten when he had done that on her carpet as a puppy. Dogs were never, ever supposed to piddle inside! Mike and Kari were wonderful, though. Mike laughed as Kari used one of the hotel towels to clean the mess up, dropping the towel into the bathtub when she was done.

“Expecting maid service?” he asked her with a teasing smile.

Kari grinned back, shrugging one slim shoulder. “What can I say? It’s habit.”

They let Hershey out to relieve himself while they ate breakfast, and then they were off for another glorious day of motorcycle riding!

The sun was high in the sky when they stopped for lunch, barely pulling off the side of the road. Hershey bounded off into the woods for a short jog to stretch his legs and water the undergrowth, but he came back when Kari whistled for him. He could smell her worry. If he had language the humans understood, he could have told her they were safe; there were no Bad Things anywhere even close to them. But he didn’t have words, and she didn’t understand Dog. Hershey felt a moment of pity for his human’s mate; not only was she crippled with a tiny little button of a nose that didn’t work, but she also couldn’t understand the subtle nuances of body and muscle that communicated danger or, in this case, the “all clear.”

Hershey didn’t let it bother him. It was another beautiful day in the sidecar next to his human and above Yippyface, with the warm sun shining down on him and the cool breeze blowing over him. Hershey was happy to share another delicious meal with his humans when they stopped. He was allowed to eat the remains of their meals rejected by Ethiopians, but Yippyface was only allowed kibble. Ah, well. It was just another benefit of being the top dog.

After eating, Hershey and Yippyface played, which mostly consisted of Yippyface trying to get Hershey’s toy away from the smarter, stronger dog and falling over her own feet in the attempt. It made Kari laugh, and the sound was as soothing to Hershey as wind chimes in a summer breeze, so he encouraged the pup’s efforts by dangling the toy in front of her before pulling it away. Pleasing humans was important, and it had obviously fallen to Hershey to teach the younger dog her job in that respect.

Mike finished talking on his toy and carefully packed it away. He worried about that thing, making sure it was as well-protected in the sidecar as Hershey himself! Hershey would have been offended, but he understood humans and their toys. Mike was talking into that toy pretty regularly, at least twice each day.

“So what’s the status?” Kari asked.

Mike frowned, but Hershey could also smell excitement and a sense of anticipation in the human. “Three Resistance cells – including Knox – are actively engaging now. They’re taking it to the Trois, based on the information we were able to pass on. They’re positioning snipers in trees near each encampment. Well, except Knox, of course, since the closest tree is more than a mile from camp. The old man has snipers in the guard towers, and he is apparently ordering more towers built as we speak.”

Kari snorted and finished cleaning up the trash from their meal. That’s when Hershey heard it. He stood, a low growl in the back of his throat and his hackles raised.

“What is it, boy?” Mike immediately got to his feet. Hershey liked that about Mike; for a pathetic human who didn’t understand a bit of Dog, he actually tried. He paid attention, for the most part, and tried to puzzle out Hershey’s intent. Hershey growled louder, his sharp gaze focused on the tree line.

He saw it come out of the woods long before his humans did, of course. They were still scanning close to the ground, looking for the Bad Things. Hershey barked once, sharply, as the small black orb finally floated close enough for his humans to see. He heard Kari gasp and smelled the adrenaline suddenly pouring from Mike. Good. His job was done. They knew.

With a content sigh, Hershey settled back down for a quick nap before it was time to ride his sidecar again. He cocked his head, puzzled, when the humans neither relaxed nor started the “moving out go-go-go, soldier!” game Mike liked to play with Kari whenever he was ready to leave and she wasn’t. It dawned on Hershey – his humans were afraid of the black orb he had growled at! Once again, Hershey wished his poor slow humans could speak Dog. He would have easily reassured them with a quick tail wag. This orb wasn’t a Bad Thing – it was only another toy, like the ones the humans used when they wanted to play talking games.

The orb came up to Mike and did nothing, simply floated there about a foot away. Hershey yawned, settling his head between his paws. Yippyface was already snoring softly next to Hershey’s side, her tiny paws kicking a bit as she dreamed.

“Mike –?” Kari asked, a warning clear in her tone. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Mike wasn’t backing away from the orb but was instead slowly reaching toward it. He didn’t reply, just stretched out his hand. Hershey heard a sharp
pop!
and everything went black.

Hershey

Hershey’s nose twitched. The mouth-watering aroma of a cooking steak, lightly seasoned with pepper and garlic, filled the air. He heard it sizzling and sighed in contentment. He also heard his human - Clare - walking around in the kitchen, humming to herself as she wrapped baking potatoes to put into the microwave and then went back to mixing a green salad. She wasn’t just cooking for herself, Hershey knew. If she were, she would have popped one of those tiny trays into the microwave and he would have been allowed to lick the bottom when all the food was gone. No, company food was much, much better! He hoped it was his human’s best friend, Tatianna, who would be visiting. Tat always stayed at least a week, and she always brought Hershey the best treats and took him for long walks on the beach! She was his third favorite human ever!!

The smell of the steak seemed to come closer and one of Hershey’s paws inadvertently twitched with his nose. This was a wonderful dream! He didn’t want it to end.

“Come on, Hershey, wake up,” Clare said softly. “I cut the meat away, but there’s a little bit still left on the bone for a good boy.”

He couldn’t help himself. Her voice was so real. With a sigh, knowing everything would vanish as soon as he did it, Hershey opened his eyes.

He absorbed everything with all of his senses as quickly as possible. Clare knelt before him, the slight scent of her basil and lime scented fingertips holding out the largest steak bone Hershey had ever smelled in his life! There was more than a “little bit” of meat left on the bone - there was a full, happy tummy waiting to happen! Hershey grabbed the bone quickly but carefully, as he always did. And then he dropped it, remaining dead still.

“Don’t you want your bone, boy?” Clare-who-wasn’t-Clare asked cajolingly.

Hershey curled his upper lip disdainfully, as if to say, “I know you aren’t my human. Where is she, and where are my other humans?”

Clare-who-wasn’t-Clare sighed, a bit sadly. “The Badness took your Clare human away, Hershey. She has gone to wherever it is our souls go when our time is over. Your other two humans are right here, sleeping on that bed.”

Hershey looked and, sure enough, there were Mike and Kari, curled around each other. Hershey felt a brief flare of jealousy because Yippyface slept between them, but he returned his gaze to the bone.

Clare laughed. “Of course you may eat it while we talk.”

Hershey took her at her word, although he fully intended to be all about the eating and not about the talking. The bone was as delicious as it had promised to be, and he gnawed and licked with enthusiasm.

“I am Researcher-Xenohistorian,” the woman who looked like his human said to him. “You know that I came with the Badness that is here on your world now, but I didn’t bring it to you, and I am trying to stop it. I need your help.”

Hershey stared at her as he nibbled a delightful strip of marrow from between two tight pieces of steak bone. “I’m a dog,” he thought at her. “I want to help my humans, but they’re the smart ones. You need to talk to them. Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” she said, pushing a bowl of water next to the plate that had held the bone. The bowl of water wasn’t in her hand a moment ago. Hershey lapped politely - it was clean and cool, just below room temperature. Perfect, like the steak.

“Hershey, I don’t know if you can help us or not. If any of your previous humans was very, very religious, you might hold something in your memories, maybe even in your early puppy memories, which would be of help. Would you let me look?”

Hershey licked and nibbled the bone for a long moment, then lifted an ear in agreement. “My last human liked hailmary,” he offered. Then another thought occurred to him and his brow furrowed in worry. “Will it hurt?” he asked. It didn’t matter if it would hurt or not - he already gave his word - but he still wanted to know.

“Not at all,” Clare-who-wasn’t-Clare promised. “You are a very good dog, and I won’t ever let anything hurt you, if I can help it.”