Pavlov's Dogs Read online

  “What? Did you see what was happening?”

  Ken hit the steering wheel. “Hell yeah, I saw. And we can help them.” And you hit a guy! his conscience screamed. “Let them in.” He set his jaw, and Jorge had seen enough of that look at work to know he shouldn’t even try to convince him otherwise.

  “Whatever you say, boss. But I ain’t getting out.” He opened the door and shouted at the people. “Hey, free ride!”

  Reaching down, Jorge leaned his seat forward for everyone to climb into the back, but he didn’t make enough room. The first person to try, a young woman, had to blow out all of her breath to get through.

  “Come on, Jorge,” Ken said. “Really? Just get out, already. God damn, man, lay off the beer.”

  Shooting a black look at Ken, Jorge got out and stepped out of the way. As he did, several figures flocked to the open door, and soon the back seat was stuffed with four huddled people. Before Jorge could react, someone else, a sweaty fat man with a flat face and olive-hued skin, locked Jorge’s seat in its upright position and jumped right in.

  Jorge stared at him in disbelief, then his jaw dropped when yet another person jumped in the front, a slight girl holding a small dog.

  “Ken...” he said.

  “I don’t know,” Ken replied, realizing that it really wasn’t an answer. The Blazer rocked, and he looked back, seeing people clambering onto the tool trailer, escaping the screams and gunshots behind them.

  He blew out a breath, looked at Jorge, and cocked his head toward the trailer. “Just get on, man.”

  “Ken!”

  “Just do it, will you? This isn’t the time.”

  Jorge’s face darkened, but he nodded. “There will be a time, you can bet your ass on that.” He tromped to the back of the Blazer and got in.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BY THE TIME DR. CRISPIN and the three team leaders made it back to the dining room, it was already full to capacity and beyond. All manner of men and women with worried looks lined the walls. Many of them Donovan didn’t recognize from dinner, like the large man with dirty blond hair who stood at the front of the dining room. The man’s thumbs were hooked in the belt loops of his dark-blue coveralls.

  Donovan looked around and shook his head at the general atmosphere of anxiety. A glance at Jaden’s face told him the head of security shared his feelings. Dr. Crispin’s announcement over the loudspeakers had been poorly worded and frightening, but at least it had achieved the desired effect: everyone had gathered in one place as quickly as possible.

  Ignoring all the pleading glances, Dr. Crispin marched to the front of the room. As he passed the large blond man in coveralls, he put his hand out, and the big man dropped his head once in quick acknowledgment.

  “That’s Alpha McLoughlin,” Jaden told Donovan. “The rest of the Dogs are there behind him, minus Kaiser and Samson.”

  “They’re still in therapy?” Donovan’s sharp eyes roved over the band of homiform Dogs, wondering what they would look like after they changed.

  At the head of the room, Dr. Crispin took to a podium that a member of the maintenance staff had set up. Two harried-looking technicians were hooking a sleek black microphone into an amplifier, which they had already attached to a pair of oversized speakers.

  Dr. Crispin tapped the microphone, filling the room with a whine of feedback. The reaction was universal.

  “Good, it works,” he said. “I have an announcement. If any of you have already heard the rumors, it appears that they are true. As we dine, as we speak, the world outside our compound has been set upon by... well, I don’t know how else to put it.” He looked around the room. “The walking dead.”

  This was met with a mixture of gasps and guffaws. Those who were off-shift and had been watching the news, or those who were otherwise informed of the wide-scale rioting and upheaval, took the announcement with a resigned dignity—with a few exceptions. One lady (The quiet Lucy, Donovan thought) broke down into sobbing hysterics.

  The laughter slowly died off as people around the room finally realized that, no, Dr. Crispin had not suddenly developed a sense of humor.

  “I can’t say what this will mean for us,” Crispin said. “As far as we can tell, from the reports coming over the wireless and other sources, the phenomenon is widespread and universal. Communications—”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know what this means for us?” Joshua, the male nurse, said. His co-worker Alison tried to calm him down, but he recoiled from her as if she were holding a python. “This is serious.”

  “It is serious,” Luke Jaden said, striding forward to join Dr. Crispin at the podium. “But we don’t know what’s being done. We can only assume that FEMA or Homeland Security is operating on a plan, and we may have to hold tight here for a couple of days.”

  Dr. Crispin nodded, placing his hand on the security man’s shoulder. “Mr. Jaden is correct. We all know I’ve had my falling out with the military, but that was the upper brass. We need to have some kind of faith in the men and women on the ground.”

  Lucy spoke up through her tears. “What if it’s longer than that? What if they just, I don’t know, cordon the area off and leave us to rot?”

  The other Lucy put a hand on the shuddering arm of her counterpart and patted it. At the same time, she stared over the rim of her glass at Dr. Crispin as she drank.

  “Ah, that’s one of the things I’ve gathered everyone for,” Crispin answered. “As soon as we leave this room, each of the department heads will go immediately to your respective areas and obtain an inventory of supplies. Especially the medical personnel.” He turned their way, spearing Ronald with a glare. “We need amounts, projected usage rates, expiration dates. And, maintenance...” He swiveled to take in Holly, who met his gaze coolly. “Inventory—”

  “Spare parts and consumables, yes, Doctor.” She tapped a tall, grimy man on the forearm to make sure he got it.

  Donovan kept watching the Dogs. They couldn’t keep still, as one would expect a paramilitary unit to hold themselves. Instead they were jittery, as if they could barely contain all of that mad energy he’d seen in the sparring cage.

  “Effective immediately,” Jaden said, “all watches on sonar and radar are doubled around the clock. Two bodies at all times. Coast patrol will venture no farther out than one nautical mile. Any and all trips from the main compound to any outlying buildings will be in groups of no less than three.”

  Other than the Alpha, Donovan thought, they all look ready to split out of their skins and rend something. He smiled at the thought. Magnificent creatures.

  “The medical facilities will be guarded,” Jaden concluded. Some of the looks shifted from frightened to insulted.

  “You don’t have a bunch of junkies here,” someone behind Donovan said. The sentiment was met with grunts of agreement and more dirty looks.

  “Now listen,” Dr. Crispin said, holding up his hands. “Mr. Jaden is only doing his job. I’m certain there’s nothing personal in the, ah, implementation of these security protocols—”

  “Yes, there is,” Jaden interrupted. “I know for a fact there have been thefts of hydrocodone and morphine from our medical stores.”

  Dr. Crispin’s eyes shifted from Jaden to Ron Michaels. The sweaty medical man shook his head.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Crispin told Jaden, putting his hand over the microphone.

  “In addition,” Jaden continued as if he had never been interrupted, “the comms room will be locked and the satellite television system secured.”

  “You can’t do that!” someone at the IT table cried.

  “Hold on,” Dr. Crispin said, finally raising his voice. “I didn’t bring you here to debate the security measures demanded by protocol. I brought you here to apprise you of the situation, and to ask you a question.”

  Quiet fell over the entire room. Dr. Crispin was never one to poll for an opinion. On anything.

  This was something different.

  He looked aro
und the cafeteria until he had each and every person’s full attention. The silence grew, bloated and pregnant, until everyone was certain they had never been anywhere more still.

  “We are in a unique position,” he finally said. “The conventional authorities are undoubtedly overwhelmed by both the nature of this situation and its apparent, ah, vastness. Can you imagine it? Everywhere, all at once, there are dead people walking, moving, attacking the living.” His voice fell off, and the silence remained, so thorough that everyone heard the rustle of fabric as Dr. Crispin shifted his neck inside its collar.

  “Conventional methods will not work with this decidedly unconventional situation. And herein lies my dilemma. As mentioned before, I have a history with the heads of state and military leaders, and perhaps I’m too close to make a clear-headed decision.” He stretched out his hand, indicating the Dogs, who stood now at perfect attention. “We have with us on the island the perfect rescue unit. This kind of situation is exactly what the Dogs were designed for! Dangerous extractions from behind enemy lines. Elite members of our military, recrafted, reforged into something entirely superior. So this is what I am asking. Should we deploy the Dogs to assist with search and rescue efforts?”

  The dining room erupted with murmurs, and each table exploded with conversation.

  Donovan struggled to overhear what everyone was saying. He found himself stricken with a sick fear at the thought of McLoughlin’s pack leaving the island for any reason.

  “Please,” Dr. Crispin said into the microphone, his amplified voice cutting cleanly through the talk. “Please, deliberate amongst yourselves. Each department should tally your own votes and present them through your department head.”

  Donovan was already shaking his head, ready to veto any positive vote put forward by any member of his neurotech unit. He looked to the table he had sat at earlier during dinner, and saw his trio of assistants with their heads together, talking quickly.

  At the podium, Dr. Crispin fiddled with the microphone until a loud click went through the improvised sound system. He was shaking his head and jabbering at Luke Jaden, who stood with his arms crossed, allowing the doctor’s words to wash over him.

  That kind of resolve would definitely be an asset, Donovan thought, taking in the silenced clash of wills. He thought furiously, trying to assimilate what little he knew of the security man, trying to figure out exactly what he could say to sway the man’s vote.

  “Are you okay?” Holly Randall said beside him. She gave him a small smile. “A lot is happening on your first day, Doc. I hope your entire time on the island won’t be this way.”

  “As do I,” Donovan said. “How will the maintenance department vote?”

  Her smile grew. “We’re going to vote yes. The Dogs were designed for military applications, and this kind of proving ground can’t be manufactured.” She nodded. “Dr. Crispin is right. It’s time to let the Dogs off the leash.”

  Donovan’s face paled even more. “But they’re untested. Yes, yes, I understand that this scenario seems like an ideal method to shake everything up and see if anything comes loose, but...” His voice drifted off as he noted more than one face turned up to listen. He bit down on the smile that wanted to sprout on his lips.

  “They’re unproven in this application. I have no doubts as to the training of the men themselves, of course. Each of the Dogs is a top fighter. But the technology, as advanced a prototype as it is, is still just that. A prototype. I would love to see the Dogs pass this test with flying colors, and I feel absolutely horrible for all the people trapped on the mainland. But...” He ran his hands through his hair. “Do we really want to jeopardize all the years of hard work Dr. Crispin and my predecessor have put into the development of these Dogs?”

  He turned to face the formation of genetically-enhanced soldiers. “Magnificent specimens, all of them. But if we send them out, and the technology fails any of them, in any way, that might invite disaster. The notion of a tightly-knit squad, or cohesive unit, is predicated on the principle that every member of the team will fulfill his or her job to the fullest.”

  Dr. Crispin, at the podium, had stopped talking at Jaden and was watching Donovan, mouth open.

  “As much as I wish we could help people on the mainland, I can’t imagine the potential loss we might incur if any aspect of the technology failed. People who have entrenched themselves, now brought out of hiding by the hope of rescue, might fall to these walking cadavers. We would lose all of them as well as the Dogs. And,” he said, putting a finger in the air for emphasis, “if any phase of the rescue mission goes awry, surely the wrath of the Federal Government would be swift and furious.”

  He looked around the room.

  “Think about that before you vote.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  KEN GRIPPED THE STEERING WHEEL, and it was all he could do to keep his hands there. They were itching to wrap themselves around a neck, anyone’s neck, just to make the questions stop. He stole a glance in the rearview mirror and wished he hadn’t left Jorge to ride on the trailer.

  Not long after he had turned the Blazer around and retreated from the chaos on the highway, a convoy had grown behind him. First one car, then two, then five. He found himself wondering how everyone else was getting along, but then rolled his eyes.

  You got to leave that at work, he thought.

  In the backseat of the Blazer, sitting in the middle, an older couple was praying quietly, and Ken could deal with that. The girl who had gotten in first, she was crying about her parents and her cat, and that, too, he could deal with.

  The girl with the teeny-tiny dog, on the other hand, was starting to get under his skin.

  Right. Under.

  And the swarthy guy with the B.O. wasn’t helping, either.

  “Oh my God,” the girl said again, petting her dog ferociously. “Where are you taking us? You can’t just hold us prisoner, or whatever.” Her eyes got big and her voice went up an octave. “Oh my God, are you taking us to be slaves in Mexico?”

  “You never can tell,” the sweaty guy said. “Desperate men do—”

  “Stop,” Ken interrupted. “Nobody forced you, any of you, into my car. If there’s someplace you want to go, I’m all ears, lady.”

  She petted her dog even harder, and it began to yelp. “Sorry, Willow, I’m sorry.” The girl turned her big eyes on Ken. “See what you made me do? And, my God, you can’t just drop us off somewhere.” She waved a hand at the world outside the Blazer. “We don’t even know if it’s safe in the city!”

  “Where are we going, mister?” the crying girl in the back asked. Ken looked at her in the rearview and caught a glimpse of the older couple, who were looking up at him with some kind of hope in their eyes.

  Taking a deep breath, he blew it out and tried to clear his mind. He had to calm down, or there would be an incident. At this stage of his life, he could not afford another one of those, as much as some people might richly deserve one.

  “We’ve already called the police. City, county, state. Right?”

  Most of the people in the Blazer nodded.

  “We all know the story now. Things are out of their control, and they’re waiting for backup.”

  They hit a straight stretch of road, and Ken closed his eyes for a second.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially out of ideas. I welcome anything new.”

  The sweaty man threw his hands up. “I can’t believe you. Just giving up.”

  Ken glared at the man, and part of his brain, the same part that had so gleefully harried him about the man he’d run over earlier, now goaded him to do some more damage.

  Just one hit, it said. He’s right there. A glorious elbow would put a wonderful exclamation point on things, wouldn’t it?

  Ken looked forward, then into the mirror again.

  “We’re pulling over,” he said.

  The girl with the dog protested, and the smelly man just sneered. But Ken knew if he didn’t get off the road (and get t
hem out of the car) an already bad day would get exponentially worse.

  Putting his hazards on, he started slowing down and edging Big Bertha over to the right shoulder. A couple of cars from the procession zipped past him, but the rest slowed down with him and stopped on the side.

  Taking care to turn the vehicle off and put the keys securely in his hip pocket, Ken got out and slammed the door behind him. A couple of other drivers got out of their cars, and Jorge, standing up in the tool trailer, was busily glaring daggers at him.

  “Not right now,” Ken said on the way past.

  “What’re we doing?” a voice yelled from three cars back, and that started a flood of questions.

  Ken sighed, thinking that perhaps he would be better off being angry in the Blazer.

  Another driver stuck her head out her window, frizzy brown hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. “I heard the riots or whatever are everywhere. It’s all over the radio!”

  “‘Outbreak’ is what they said,” another man agreed. “But nobody’s saying what kind of outbreak. No one really knows what the hell it is.”

  Ken put his hands up and opened his mouth to speak, but a sound caught his attention, faint at first, but getting louder. He looked up, and an angular helicopter buzzed by overhead. It was black and had short wings bristling with armaments.

  “Military,” Jorge said, showing up next to Ken. “Headed into the city.”

  “But we were just there. You saw. We drove all the way from downtown, no problems.”

  Jorge rocked his head at the rapidly shrinking chopper. “Oh, yeah. No problems.” He put his head back and blew a raspberry. “Sometimes, man...”

  “Well, it’s what we know,” Ken said, his face darkening a bit. “It was all right when we left, right? Come on! It’s a nice place. There’s no reason to think it’s turned to anarchy or whatever in just over an hour.”

  Ken turned to the cars on the side of the road. “I’m headed into the city,” he announced. “We might be able to find help or answers there. Who else is coming?”