Dog Warrior

by Wen Spencer

  "Female host has interacted with breeder," the Buffalo Get said.

  "Prime's breeder?" the Boston Get asked.

  "Prime's," the Buffalo Get said.

  "Capture and contain," the two spoke in duet.

  "Contained female," Buffalo reported. "Incubation, nine months."

  "Incubate." Again the duet.

  Ice leaned in, stabbing a key to pause the conversation. "What are they talking about? Ping is the only female missing."

  Ukiah had avoided all thoughts of Ping and the night he spent with her and Core. Beyond the raw emotions of his rape lay the whole ugly inevitability of conception; he was a breeder and she had been all but painted with the breeding drug, Invisible Red. All the implications—from Indigo's reaction to another woman bearing his baby to the Ontongard holding Ping—and therefore his unborn child—churned in his stomach like icy snakes.

  "Well?" There was fear and hurt, but also steel resolve in Ice's eyes.

  "They have Ping," Ukiah admitted. "She's pregnant. They're keeping her alive and untouched until she has the baby."

  "So she hasn't been possessed?" Ice asked.

  "No."

  As Ice relaxed, Mouse restarted the recording.

  "Breeder contamination/infection/adaptation detected in one male," the Buffalo Get reported in Ontongard. "Survival possibility excellent."

  Breeder contamination? Core was dead, and he was the only male Ukiah had interacted with for any length of time. They had to be talking about the missing Parity—but how? True, high on Invisible Red, Ukiah had nearly choked the boy to death, but that was just minutes before the Ontongard captured Parity. There couldn't possibly have been enough time. Ukiah flashed back to the beating he gave Parity in the hall. Wait, the contamination was already in Parity's blood . . .

  Mouse had paused the recording and the cultists looked at him expectantly.

  "What did it say?" Ice demanded.

  How could Parity already have been infected? Realization dawned on Ukiah. "Did Parity handle my son at any point?"

  "The nephilim?" Ice looked surprised at the question. "Yeah. It bit him in the leg; he needed stitches. Why?"

  "They're planning to possess Parity; he's probably one of them now. Anything he knew, they now know."

  Which included everything about him and Kittanning.

  "Shit," Link hissed. "At least he was just an initiate."

  Ice looked troubled but signaled Mouse to continue the recording.

  "Contain breeder," Boston said.

  "Current whereabouts of breeder unknown," Buffalo reported. "Aware hosts more dangerous than previously thought."

  "They must not be allowed to interfere with the priority project," Boston and Buffalo stated together.

  "Returning to confer," Buffalo said, and hung up.

  "This was Saturday morning. There haven't been any more phone calls."

  "Does Parity know about this place? Sanctuary?"

  The cultists looked at each other.

  Mouse shook his head. "No. Until the demons hit Pittsburgh, Sanctuary was restricted to inner circle only."

  "Ping knows where it is," Ether pointed out.

  "She wouldn't talk," Link said.

  "She's alone with the demons," Ether said. "She has to be scared shitless. Who knows how long she can hold out?"

  "Go check on the fortifications," Ice said wearily. "All of you."

  "All?" Mouse squeaked like his namesake.

  "Yes, go on," Ice said.

  Cultists scurried off to obey him, leaving Ukiah alone with Ice.

  Ice sighed. "We got back to Butler to find Eden on fire. I parked across the street and walked through the gardens. Crowds of people had gathered; the entire neighborhood had come to watch the great house burn. I saw them standing in the crowd, like ravens among mourning doves, only no one seemed to notice them. Like they were blind to the evil beside them. There were bodies sprawled on the grass, covered with white sheets, stained with bright red flowers of blood. I couldn't tell who it was—Core, Ping, Io—but there was nothing I could do but turn and walk away."

  Ice fixed his cold stare on Ukiah. "Where were you while it burned?"

  "I was flying to Pittsburgh." Ukiah had managed to escape to the nearby Butler Memorial Hospital. The fireball from Eden going up had convinced the staff to fly Ukiah via the Lifeflight helicopter to Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh. All things considered, it had been a fortunate decision.

  Ice's eyes widened slightly at the news. "Oh, demons can't fly—but I guess that's part of being an angel."

  Ukiah swallowed down an automatic "I meant by helicopter." It would be best not to shake the cult leader's belief.

  Luckily, Ice was cuing up another recorded telephone conversation. "We'll step you backward from Saturday. We want to know what this priority project they're working on is."

  "Tell me first, where are the founts?"

  Ice stopped what he was doing to give Ukiah another cold look. "Why?"

  "The demons created the founts for the sole purpose of wiping out humans." If the Ontongard found the highest order of native life on a planet too difficult to take over, they used the Ae to design a species-specific disease and wiped them out—settling for a less advanced species as a host. Since their own intelligence depended on their host, the Ontongard were reluctant to take such a drastic step. "They were holding them in reserve because they thought their invasion at Buffalo would work. They had been planning for centuries for that day, and until June they thought they would win."

  "So why did they wait until September to check on them?"

  Why indeed? With the FBI and the cult being new pressures on the Ontongard, why hadn't they acted?

  "I don't know," Ukiah admitted. "But the founts are deadly. You can't use them. Don't even try."

  "We've identified over a thousand demons, and managed only to kill less than a hundred. They have superhuman strength and speed, and now we learn they have telepathy. They can take massive damage and regenerate. Last Thursday we were fifty people; now we're down to twenty, and we're being hunted by demons that know all our secrets. We need to strike first, and strike hard, or we're not going to survive."

  "The founts are too dangerous. You could accidentally kill everything on the planet."

  "Core had a saying that truly applies: Would God give us the gift if he didn't mean for us to use it?"

  Ukiah stared at him, horrified. "You can't be serious."

  "God put Core at the car accident where he learned about the demons. He connected Zip with Core to give us access to the founts. A thousand little connections had to line up just perfect for us to find the founts and learn how to make them work. The chances were billions to one, and yet, we have the founts. Isn't that a miracle enough?"

  What was the nature of miracles? Did the happenings have to be impossibilities, or merely extremely unlikely? Certainly it was stunning what the cult had accomplished, from decoding the Ontongard language to making advanced technology work without instructions. Ukiah could not believe, though, that God wanted the destruction of humanity.

  "It's too dangerous," Ukiah said again. "You have no idea what you're doing. You're just guessing at this."

  "Then help us. Surely God put you into our power so that we can use you."

  He opened his mouth to say no, but then remembered that Atticus would play along, gathering information. He considered the computers around him, filled with the cult's databases. The cult didn't seem to realize that the Ontongard had genetic memory with perfect recall. While he had talked with Ice, he also overheard a conversation in the kitchen, and shouted instructions from the cultists outside.

  And if he couldn't find the key to stopping the Ae, maybe he could keep the cult from misusing them.

  "I am helping you," he said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Temple of New Reason Commune

  Sanctuary Island

  Atlantic Ocean

  Thursday, September 23, 2004

&nb
sp; Ukiah worked through the night, translating and learning about the Ontongard and the cult. The island acted as the cult's ultimate data haven, with high-speed satellite Internet service and IP telephony. The last was a frustrating temptation. The phone sat on the desk beside the monitor he used, but since he didn't know where the island lay, he wasn't sure if calling out would have any point. GPS in regards to phone service was on the crumbling edge of his knowledge of technology. Part of his ignorance came from the fact that he was still fairly new to civilization. The rest was due to his lack of interest, until three months ago when he had received Rennie's memories, in learning all of the bells and whistles life had to offer. He knew land-based phones and cell phones could be traced, but IP telephony? He didn't know. He ached to find out, but the cult never left him alone.

  He was dealing with the same type of problem with the translations. While in Oregon, he had noticed that his Pack memories were disintegrating, his "borrowed" memories being crowded out as he grew toward being a full adult. The Ontongard had been guiding technology development in dozens of small high-tech firms across the country, each one building tiny parts to be shipped to Boston to be assembled into something much larger. After the pieces had shipped, the Ontongard were dismantling the companies to keep their secret. But he was at a loss as to what they were building. Either he had never had the knowledge, or it had worn away over the months of hard living and dying.

  But the most terrifying hole was in the last twenty-four hours, there was a tiny gap of what he had done between Animal dying and calling Max.

  He had lost a mouse.

  Or the cult had stolen it.

  Neither was good.

  He found excuses to roam the house: going to the bathroom, getting something to drink, raiding the refrigerator, stretching his legs by pacing the large living room. On these forays he couldn't sense any of his mice, but a small collection of cells had a limited range to their telepathy. Whereas he could spot Atticus anywhere on the island and the combined Dog Warriors from miles away, he would almost need to stand on a single mouse to sense it.

  In desperation, he insisted that he knew that Schrödinger needed to be outside to go to the bathroom, claiming inside angel knowledge, and that he could use some fresh air. The cult reluctantly agreed, but tripled his guard, kept him within fifty feet of the house, and sent Mouse along as an escort. The night was cold and clear. To the west, the moon gleamed on the ocean like a massive field of silver flowers. He was thankful the kitten did its part to uphold his ruse and buried its waste in the loose sand. Ukiah circled the house, using up his hoarded gum, picking up occasional bright pebbles to examine. The cult had drawn heavy black curtains on the expansive windows, keeping in the light so no passing boats would realize people were living on the island.

  "It's really not safe out here in the dark." Mouse shivered in the freezing wind. "We've got land mines everywhere."

  Ukiah slipped his most recent find—a thumb-sized disk of matte black stone—into his jeans pocket, picked up Schrödinger, and went back in, none the wiser on the location of his mouse.

  As they walked into the house, the phone rang.

  Mouse froze, a look of utter terror on his face as he stared at the phone. It rang again, the noise jarring in the sudden stillness of the house.

  Ice came running down the stairs and paused at the bottom of the steps. "Was that the phone?"

  The phone rang in answer.

  "We're all here," Mouse whispered.

  Ice approached the phone with caution and snatched it up as if it were a poisonous snake, barely holding it to his ear. "Hello?"

  Ukiah's keen ears caught the voice on the other end.

  "Ice? Is that you? It's Parity."

  "Parity?" Ice gasped as if punched.

  "Parity. Only Parity—no one else. None of them. But listen—they know where you are! They're coming to get you. They're pissed as hell and they plan to make you all one of them."

  "H-h-how?"

  "It was so hard to think straight at first. I had to tell them something so I gave them some old addresses—places I knew you wouldn't be. I told them about the boat slip. When we found the wolf boy there, I managed to slip away long enough to clear out my head."

  "How do they know about the island?" Ice growled.

  "Ping—Ping told them. They've got her at Totten Pond. I haven't been able to get to her. She said something about the wiretapping. They traced the tap back to the satellite provider and you're the only connection within miles of that GPS position."

  Ice glanced upward as if to see the satellite overhead, pinpointing them.

  "You've got to move before they get there. They'll be there in force—like a hundred of them. You've got to get out! I'll get hold of you later, somehow. I've got to go."

  The phone clicked to silence but Ice stood there with the phone to his ear for another minute, pale and stunned. Finally he hung up, whispering hoarsely, "They know where we are. Start an evacuation."

  The cultists remained still, reflecting his shock.

  "Where are we going to go?" Ether finally asked.

  "I'll think of something," Ice said. "Go on. Grab only the bare necessities and get them down to the boats."

  "We just believe him?" Link said.

  "We don't have a choice." Ice sighed heavily.

  Link started to protest, "But he didn't sound like one of—"

  "Move!" Ice shouted, and flung the phone at Link.

  The cult scattered like a flock of frightened birds.

  Ice focused on Ukiah. "Is it possible? Could he be one of them—and yet not be?"

  Prime had been a mutation—a sole individual—but they didn't know why. What had caused Prime to be different? If Parity had been exposed to Kittanning, the Ontongard, and Invisible Red, maybe he had built up a resistance.

  "Yes or no?" Ice hissed.

  Ukiah replayed the conversation with Parity, listening to the words and the tone of voice. There had been a slight drag, but it wasn't Hex's emotionally dead intonation. There had been fear, sorrow, and true concern—things a Get seemed incapable of understanding despite its human form, its original personality drowned under Hex's alien mind. "Yes. He might be something new."

  "Do you know what they're building yet?"

  "No."

  Ice gave a weary sigh. "We're running out of time, angel."

  An hour later, Ice declared that ready or not, they needed to leave. "Meta, get the angel down to the boat."

  The tall, burly cultist caught Uriah's elbow and guided him toward the door. Ukiah snatched up Schrödinger, determined that the kitten wouldn't be left to the mercy of the Ontongard.

  Outside, Ice pulled Mouse aside, saying, "Link, we're all out of the house. Set the defenses and come down to the boats."

  "Keep to the path." Meta urged Ukiah down the hill to the boathouse. "It would be inconvenient if you got blown to pieces now."

  Ukiah wasn't sure if Meta was teasing him or not, but kept to the graveled path. Ice and Mouse trailed behind, arms over each other's shoulders, heads close together, deep in whispered conversation.

  There seemed to be some kind of preplanned system, as the twenty cultists split themselves in orderly fashion between the two boats. Ukiah found himself firmly escorted to a boat called the Ashpool.

  Ice and Mouse stood on the dock, the younger man crying openly.

  "We're going ahead with the Cleansing," Ice said. "Take the angel and go south."

  "South?"

  "As far south as your diesel will get you."

  Link came dashing down the path. "Everything's set," he said, and scrambled on board the Nautilus. The engine revved up and the boat started to pull away from the dock.

  Ice hugged Mouse fiercely, kissing him on the forehead. "Go on. Live for us."

  Ice jumped onto the Nautilus and the boat leapt forward away in a spray of water.

  Ukiah was on the wrong boat to stop Ice.

  They went south as fast as the Ashpool woul
d take them, the cultists silent as the big engines roared. The Nautilus was nowhere in sight, and the island quickly vanished behind them. Ukiah huddled in the corner of the stern's sitting area, with Meta in the opposite corner, keeping close watch on him.

  He'd screwed up. He should have done something, anything, although even now he wasn't sure what.

  He considered his options. There was the radio, but he still didn't know where he was, where Ice was heading, nor where the Ae were, except they hadn't been loaded onto the boats. His chances of overpowering all ten cultists to steer the boat to land, which presumably lay off to the west, were laughable.

  He eyed his guard. Meta was pale and unfocused, as if the heaving boat were making him seasick. Ukiah wasn't prone to motion sickness; after the first few minutes of jiggling, his body would ignore his inner ear as alarmist.

  "Are you okay?" Ukiah shouted over the engine's roar. When Meta didn't respond, Ukiah leaned over to prod the cultist. "Meta?"

  Meta's eyes rolled up to white and he went rigid, his arms and legs stiffening and starting to jerk rhythmically.

  "Mouse! Mouse!" Ukiah eased Meta to the floor.

  The little cultist appeared at the cabin doorway, swore, and hurried to Meta. "Oh, no, not again."

  "What's wrong with him?" Ukiah made way for Mouse.

  "It's Blissfire withdrawal!" Mouse turned and shouted for the other cultists. "Oh, God, please don't die, Meta. Please don't die."

  Ukiah found himself pushed to the bow of the boat as the other cultists crowded around the fallen Meta. Qwerty had a small bag that she dipped her fingers into. She painted a glittering cross onto Meta's forehead, and then, as others pried open Meta's jaw, coated the inside of his mouth. It was doubtful Meta could be saved once the drug triggered its extermination subroutines, but apparently the cult had pulled others back from the brink, using a new dose of the drug to override the kill order. Qwerty kissed the unresponsive man, her tears falling on his face and the hands of the cultists holding him still.

  Rolling thunder pulled Ukiah's attention away from the desperate scene. A 747 jet passed low overhead. Its flaps were up and its landing gear down. It vanished from sight over the shifting horizon, but he could hear the whine and roar as braking jets kicked in.