Pavlov's Dogs (33 page)

Yanking as hard as he could, he picked Jorge up by the elastic band of his underwear.

“
Ah, shit!” Jorge yelled out, and Ken dropped him.

The door to the minimart sprang open, and the two shady men ran out, automatics in their hands. Jorge and Ken watched them hop into a beat-up Lincoln and peel out of the parking lot.

They laughed for ten minutes after.

“You all right up here?”

Kelly sidled up next to Ken and bumped his head with her shoulder.

“I think so,” he said. “Just remembering stuff. Psyching up. Big night.”

Kelly reached down and gripped his hand. “I feel really good about this; the plan. Mac is amazing, and you, sir, are fearless. My big Webelo.”

Ken felt his face heat up. He really never should have told anyone he was in the Scouts. “Well,” he said, “I wouldn’t say fearless, exactly, but—”

She shut him up with a kiss. It lingered, and then it grew deeper, and then they were holding each other as if they were the only two people left in the world.

’

Ken came downstairs into the darkened workshop and found Mac sitting alone in the shadows. “You all right in here?”

Mac grunted. “Not sure anymore. Look at this.”

He lifted his shirt, showing Ken a gash on his side, something from the day before. Ken remembered, it was from squeezing by a piece of sheet metal as they ran back to the store for last-minute stuff.

“That’s, uh...”

“Not healed yet,” Mac said. “Worries me that it hasn’t healed up yet.” He shook his head. “That’s not all that worries me. I been... different. Snappy. Harsh. I wasn’t like that before. Not my nature.”

Ken put his hands in his pockets. “You
are
a lot less cuddly now that it’s out. What do you think your nature is?”

“I don’t know. The full moon is coming. The Dog in me will be out again. So maybe it’s just that time of the month.”

Ken laughed, and Mac smiled. “Go on, get out of here,” he said. “This is my locker-room time.”

Waving and still chuckling, Ken left.

Alone in the dark, Mac dropped his smile.

What do you think your nature is?

A loaded question, and Mac tried not to think about it too much. What kind of person kills his best friend? Even if he was tricked into the cage, even if he had the best of intentions, he should have known Donovan was full of it.

And Samson. He’d just
charged
. He had to have been in control of himself, or it would have been a total beast attack. Instead, he was sloppy. He had left openings, even in Dog form.
He had left openings.

And Mac had taken advantage of them.

He had tasted his best friend’s blood in his mouth, had tasted the chemical tang of Sam’s inexplicable hatred for him. And he had to wonder, had he spit it out? Or had the hatred gotten into his blood now, too?

“COME ON!” KAISER YELLED, his voice booming out into the falling night. “Let’s see some
blood!”

The humans in the sparring cage stepped away from each other, fully illuminated in the halogen lighting. The weepy IT Lucy and a girl in black biker leathers were both panting from their wrestling match. But Kaiser didn’t want a wrestling match. He wanted the rich, coppery smell of blood. Wanted that to be the atmosphere he breathed to sustain himself.

And he wanted it
now
.

Shayna, the girl in the leathers, stepped back and doffed her jacket. “Sorry, girl. Going to have to hit you now.”

“Please,” Lucy said. “Please don’t.”

“You want to die? He’ll kill us! You’re more than welcome to hit me back.”

Shayna stepped forward and dug a fist deep into Lucy’s midsection. The girl
whoofed
and doubled over from the blow, rocking back on her heels before stumbling away. She retched and coughed, finally puking up water and rice.

“Yes!” Kaiser yelled. He picked up a curiously long thigh bone and threw it. “Fetch,” he said. Holly Randall, naked and on all fours, crawled after it. The gravel bit into her hands and knees, and she winced as she moved.

In the sparring cage, Shayna circled Lucy, fists up. “You going to make it look good, or what?”

Lucy looked up from her vomit and bared her teeth. “Bitch!”

“More like it,” Shayna said, and Lucy charged.

Shayna hit her with two quick jabs, then rocked her gut again with another uppercut. Lucy fell sideways, and Shayna stepped away. On the ground, Lucy yelled and picked herself up, still retching, charging at Shayna again.

The girl in black sidestepped, snapping a kick into Lucy’s face. The IT girl went down, eyes rolled back in her head.

“Emotional content,” Shayna told her. “Not anger.”

The crowd roared, a mixture of yelling Dogs and frightened humans. Kaiser had made no distinction between survivors and island staff. They were all his playthings now.

Sigma 37 stood, bowing low before Kaiser. “Should the loser die, Alph—”

Kaiser backhanded him. “The Alpha was a mutt. If you call me anything, it will be Omega.”

From his knees, Sigma 37 nodded. “Yes, sir. Should the loser die, Omega Kaiser?”

“No. She will be taken to the Kennel for breeding stock. Or entertainment.” He noticed Holly at his knee, head down and bone on the ground.

“You’re not wagging your tail,” he said.

Face burning, Holly moved her backside back and forth.

Smiling, Kaiser grabbed the bone and threw it again. “Fetch.” He leaned forward. “Who’s next, 37?”

Sigma 37 raised his face. “The construction worker and the youth. They hurt Sigma 19 yesterday.”

Kaiser grunted. The humans had been pressed into service, removing the door to Command, since the eye that Donovan had so thoughtfully left for him had deteriorated to the point where the retinal scan no longer recognized it. The two humans, whether through sheer clumsiness or spite, had dropped the heavy door on Sigma 19’s leg, shattering his femur.

“Bring them out.”

37 ran off to collect the gladiators. Holly dropped the thigh bone at Kaiser’s feet; it was wet with her slobber.

The Omega reached out and patted her head. “Good girl.”

Jorge looked out at the crowd. “There are so many of us, and only eight of them. Why don’t we just bum-rush them?”

Jimmy shook his head fast, making his red hair fly around his face. “You go first, dawg.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jorge said.

“You two,” Sigma 37 interrupted. “You’re next.”

Jimmy dropped his head into his hands. “Ah, Ken. Should have listened to you.”

Jorge stood. “Forget about it, kid. We’ll just put on a show for them and figure something out.”

37 grabbed Jorge’s shoulder and pushed him forward. “Go!”

He and Jimmy marched out to the sparring cage, greeted by the howling Dogs and the cheering and crying crowd of human beings. Jorge caught Marie’s face in the stands and waved to her.

When she saw him, she instantly burst into hysterics.

Pushed from behind, the pair of men stumbled into the lighted cage and squared off.

“Okay,” Jorge said. “See this shit on my ear? Hit me there. It’s a gunshot wound. It’ll bleed a lot, make it look good.”

Jimmy swung, a haymaker right that landed flush in Jorge’s face, sending him spinning away.

He looked up at the redhead kid, dazed. “What...?”

Dancing forward, Jimmy kicked out, laying his foot across the same spot on Jorge’s cheekbone.

“It’s like that, huh?”

Jorge yelled, charging at Jimmy.

The younger man dipped down, and Jorge jumped over him. He landed on the other side and just kept running, leaving Jimmy behind. Jorge hit the fence and started climbing.

“Hey!” Jimmy said.

He sprinted over and grabbed Jorge by the back of his pants. The kid pulled so hard that the snap button popped open and the seat of Jorge’s jeans sagged, showing off his buttocks to the crowd.

“Get off!” Jimmy said, yanking harder.

There was a loud ripping sound, and at first everyone suspected it was a seam bursting on Jorge’s pants. But then suddenly Jimmy was staggering away, gagging and fanning his face, and the source of the sound became clear.

“
¡Frijoles, frijoles!”
Jorge exclaimed, wagging his butt in the air. Several people in the crowd erupted with laughter.

Jimmy, recovering, came back around and pulled Jorge off of the fence. His bare butt hit the ground hard, and then the kid kicked him in the ribs before dancing back.

“
¡Ah, pinche joto!”
Jorge yelled, rising slowly. “Let me get up at least! Making me look bad in front of my gir—”

Jimmy hopped forward, landing a sidekick on Jorge’s shoulder, sending him flat on his back once more. He moaned and farted again, and everyone laughed.

“This is terrible,” Kaiser said. “37! Equalize things.”

Sigma 37 nodded and snatched up a folding chair, running for the cage door. He opened it and threw the chair in. Jimmy turned at the clatter, and Jorge dove at him, headbutting him in the crotch. Jimmy fell over, and Jorge pounced. He managed to give the kid a noogie, rubbing off some of the young man’s red hair with his knuckles.

With an up-kick, Jimmy threw Jorge back.

They rose and circled each other. Feinting with his hands, Jimmy closed the gap and threw a knee into Jorge’s gut, then grabbed his waistband and threw him down. Landing on his face, Jorge retched and rolled.

Jimmy stood over him and hit him three times in the face. Jorge tried to turtle up, but Jimmy wasn’t having it. He moved back and started kicking him again.

Flailing his arms, Jorge caught one of the redhead’s feet and pushed him away. Getting clumsily to his feet, Jorge staggered back. He stepped on the folding chair and looked down. Jimmy charged, but suddenly Jorge had the chair and was swinging it around. It caught Jimmy in the mouth.

“Foreign object!” he yelled as the redhead went down. The Dogs roared again, their bloodlust up. Jorge looked over at Marie.

A clutching hand on his leg brought him back to the cage, and he raised the chair again, bringing the flat of it down on Jimmy’s back. The redhead flattened against the ground and rolled off his bloody face, and Jorge threw the chair down. He planted the sole of his shoe on Jimmy’s chest and tilted his head back, screaming and beating his chest.

Jimmy grabbed his foot and twisted, sending Jorge off-balance. The kid rose up, fists raised and teeth bared. He fell on Jorge, who sat up and swung his elbow out. Jimmy’s jaw cracked against it, and he fell onto Jorge, out cold.

Pushing the unconscious kid off of him, Jorge got to his feet and swayed for a second as the Dogs cheered and the humans clapped.

Sigma 37 started yelling, “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Soon all the Dogs were yelling it.

Kaiser got to his feet and faced the crowd, raising his arms with the chant. When all the humans were yelling too, the Omega Dog turned back and put out his fist, thumb down.

Jorge knew what that meant. He looked at the redhead and back at Kaiser. Then shook his head.

Kaiser popped his neck and pointed. “Kill!”

Jorge crossed his arms.

Turning, Kaiser stalked through the crowd, sniffing. Unsure what was happening, Jorge uncrossed his arms and walked to the fence, locking his fingers in it.

What’s he doing?

With a growl, the Omega leapt forward and grabbed Marie’s hair, pulling her up out of her seat. “Quiet!”

The chanting stopped immediately.

“This one has your stink all over her,” Kaiser said. He started walking forward, dragging Marie behind as if she were a sack of flour. She sobbed and yelled, stumbling just to keep up. Kaiser walked down to the cage and held up a finger. He gritted his teeth, and the fingernail there grew yellow and extended.

He held it to the soft spot under Marie’s throat and grinned at Jorge.

“
Kill
,” he hissed.

Jorge rocked back. He looked from Marie to Jimmy, stepping from foot to foot.

“Holy shit, sir!”

Kaiser turned to see one of the human sentries waving.

Boat!” he yelled. “Boat!”

Growl rumbling in his chest, Kaiser threw Marie to the ground and stepped over her. “How’d it get so close?” He climbed the outside of the sparring cage to see out over the dark ocean.

The Omega Dog grinned as one of the island’s spotlights exposed the little fishing boat, bobbing in the waves.
Idiots. Approaching out in the open. This ought to be a piece of cake.

From the side, another security man ran up. “Sir, there is a message about this, sir.”

Kaiser dropped down from the fence and grabbed the man by the neck. “Speak.”