“Grat!” He cursed and leapt through a narrow gap. He was caught in a space that ended in a crimped passage.
The skelebot thundered on the strut behind him with the axe. The axe’s edge crackled in the same deathly blue light and tore chips from the heavy support. The bot couldn’t get in. Yet.
“Grat!” Samus howled louder. He could feel himself change, the wildness came out, the animal fear. He tried to push it away, the thing that told him to leap in, attack it, get out. Wait. Just wait!
It stopped. The axe hung midway through a chop with energy crackling and singing on the blade. The head spun in a complete circle and, as if satisfied, it nodded and pulled back the axe once more.
Grat leapt out from a strut high in the darkness above and connected with the upper shoulders of the skelebot. It screeched and thrashed but Grats jaws locked on the axe arm. His eyes closed tight and his teeth bared.
The skelebot screeched louder. It slapped and punched at Grat. Each blow cut and hammered into Grats pelt. The claws snapped shut and pierced deep into Grat’s side.
Samus charged and hammered into the skelebot with his mouth biting down onto the other arm. Grat streamed blood from a clean diamond shaped wound in his side. But Grat did not let go.
Samus bit down and felt his teeth scream. It was the same every time: it started out slow, cool, and got warmer, hotter, until he couldn’t bare it anymore. Then his teeth were like fiery daggers in his mouth. But oh they cut, he loved how they cut.
Grat’s teeth pushed through first and the axe dropped to the floor. The screeching stopped and the skelebot slammed the crimped stump of his arm into Grat and flung the heavy dog away. Samus released and struggled back. His teeth were almost there, almost. The arm bore a heavy cut and teeth marks like a pick stabbed into it. The skelebot paused, scanned, intent on something else.
Barley leapt through the pile of corpses and stood over Grat. Grat stood on shaky legs.
“Get him out!” Samus howled to Barley. He turned his eyes to another tighter passage and saw the lance on the corpse. His first leap put him past the skelebot and his second skidded him alongside the dead dog. He had a moment’s recognition that it wasn’t a dog like any he had seen: it was smaller, with thinner hair. It seemed so frail in the suit of armor. He grasped the lance in his heavy jaws and pivoted the point up just as the skelebot rushed after.
In one eye Samus watched as the skelebot tried to dance aside on the polished floor while in the other he looked into the dead eyes of the dog next to him. His jaw steered the lance to the side and it speared into the upper shoulder of the skelebot. Blue light flared for a moment and it convulsed once before settling and relaxing.
He released the lance and sat back on his haunches, feeling the burn where the tip of his tail once was.
“Send in four, we need to strip what we can,” Samus said.
Barley and Grat limped through the field of corpses and moved out through the mass of cables. Samus stared at the bot and felt the adrenaline ebb away. He looked back down to the dead dog with the lance and wondered who in the hell this was. He turned and gave a single lick onto the stub of his tail. He felt no sorrow to lose it, it was now just proof of his prowess.
A single bark sounded. Samus stopped, listened and focused. It was deeper inside, behind him, through the mangled mass. He turned to look towards the exit and then plunged inside.
He leaped over a broken strut and slid down the backside into a passage. His belly scraped the ground and he pushed himself tight to the floor. Another yelp sounded and it was closer.
“Samus!” Munin barked back in the passage.
“Take what you can and get out!” he barked through gritted teeth. “I’ll be right behind you.”
The sounds of thrashing announced that Munin had begun to strip what he could.
The passage grew tighter, closer, warmer. The smoke tight in places. Then it was open.
A female dog, brown with a white stomach, lay crumpled on the floor with her legs broken and a wicked gash ruptured through her abdomen. Her eyes were wild with a sickly yellow froth on her lips. She yelped and clawed at the floor trying to reach a pile of pups. She wore brown and yellow chest armor, but most of the suit seemed to be missing, as if it was put on in haste.
Samus watched for a second. The pups were dead. They were young—too young—and none stirred. No, there’s one. He stepped closer and didn’t know what to do. Could it speak like he could?
Claws sounded behind Samus and he knew that someone was coming.
Then a voice spoke. “Denali? Denali? I’m so sorry. We tried, we tried.” The voice was almost a moan, a touch above a wheeze.
Samus froze and turned his head slowly. A man lay on the edge of a massive chair with wires streaming out from his body. He wore a gray and black uniform with a glossy shroud over his eyes.
A man! He heard scratching behind him. Whoever was coming was almost there.
Exile! The words hit him again and he had to do something.
Samus leapt forward and jumped on top of the man. His heart slammed in his chest and he knew what he had to do. Just beyond the chair was a dropoff into darkness. He reached his jaws down and clamped gently onto the wires.
The man spasmed beneath him and Samus thrashed his head to the side, tearing the wires out.
“Oh god! Oh god!” the man screamed and mewed. “Denali! Denali! Save me, oh god!”
“Quiet!” Samus growled and snapped his jaws shut on the man’s neck. It tasted salty and he almost stopped. Almost. The scratching behind him sealed it. He gripped tightly and tasted blood.
The screaming stopped. The man pumped once, twice, and was still. Samus gripped the man’s shoulder in his wide jaws and tore him free from the chair. He cast the corpse into the darkness. A thud sounded from below.
“You,” a low growl said.
Samus turned his head to the wounded dog. She had propped herself up on both broken front legs and was trying to come closer to him. Her eyes bore rage sheathed in agony.
So they can speak? That makes her a witness.
“You,” she growled again, and Samus was on her.
* * *
Samus walked slowly past the corpse and stood over the pile of pups. They were small, like the mother, only one still moved. Its eyes weren’t even open yet. He leaned his head down and sniffed it. It smelled so clean, so new. You’ve no place in this world. He leaned closer, mouth open.
“Stop,” Barley growled. She stood behind him with her hackles high. Her fur matted with Grat’s blood.
He gently plucked the pup up and felt it squirm in his lips. No, this one might have a place here. “Take it,” he said, and set the pup gently at Barley’s feet. “Raise it as your own.”
Barley’s eyes looked confused and thankful. She sniffed the pup and raised her nose to Samus. “I will,” she said, and picked it up gently. It cried a tiny whimper in her jaws and Barley’s legs quivered. “Thank you, Samus.”
“Her name is Denali.” Samus growled and turned away. “Now go!”
When Barley left, he walked back to the edge of the dropoff and stared into the darkness.
CHAPTER TWO
Chase
Denali, forever the runt, chased after the future and stumbled into the past.
She leapt over a moss covered stone and sprinted after the caribou. Her tongue lolled out to the side, a look of pure joy across her face.
The caribou ran with an intensity that only prey can run with. It stank of fear. A froth of spittle darted along its nose. Hooves skittered on a plate of shale and it caught itself before careening down a steep slope. Plates of gray stone cascaded behind it.
They raced down the slope and headed towards an abandoned town. Bracken and tundra scrub cropped up from the crumbling concrete in erratic patches. Once through the ruins, the wide open range of the high taiga drifted away into the horizon. The caribou lowered its head and charged forward.
Denali danced through the shale. Her pa
ws slipped on the loose stone. Then she was tumbling down the slope. With every landing she tried to flip and roll but the speed was too much. Finally she came to a rest and barked angrily. “Damn!”
Her paws throttled quicker. The caribou sprinted away. She knew if it reached the taiga that it would merge back into another herd and then she’d never lay into it. All she had to do was bring a kill, and she was failing. Failing again.
No matter how hard she tried she was never big enough, or fast enough, or burly enough. Too slow to hunt. Too weak to salvage. Too small to pull.
I can do this. She pictured the kill in her mind. I can do this!
The caribou halted midway through the ruins and sprang forward. The pace and distance was wearing on it. Legs slipped on the aged concrete and it bawled loudly as it gained speed. Massive antlers swung from side to side as it strained to push faster.
Go! She willed herself faster. She knew she didn’t have the long legs or the massive mouth. All she had to do was get one tooth. One tooth! And then it would be hers. That one tooth would stop it, drag it down, then she could get it.
The concrete walls slammed past, faster, almost in a blur. The spaces inside were stark and white with nothing left inside. But she didn’t notice any of that. Her eyes were only for the caribou and she was getting close.
It seemed to know and threw its head back to look at Denali. Its eyes were wide, wild with fear. Hooves clattered and it made as if to stop, but didn’t know where.
A smell hit Denali’s nose. Dog.
Samson exploded from a doorframe and was on the caribou. His massive maw latched on and his bulk slammed the animal to the ground. It rose up once, twice, and flailed limbs about. Samson held with his eyes on Denali. He grinned through the flailing mouthful of caribou.
Denali slowed to a trot and raised her nose. She’d not give him the satisfaction of seeing her disappointed.
Samson dropped the corpse at his feet and ran his tongue in and out with the coarse gray hair falling off of it in clumps. “You should know better.”
“Than to do your work for you?”
Samson snarled and took two quick steps forward. “All you did was chise it. The kill is all that matters.”
“Says your father.”
“Says me,” Samson said with a snort. “Plus Sabot will back me up—won’t you, Sabot?”
A rough bark sounded from inside of the structure. A moment later a brindle nosed dog, a twin to Samson, stepped out into the street with a corroded aluminum rod in his mouth. He dropped it with a clank and sat. Behind him lay a pile of dog skeletons, bleached beyond white and covered in moss and lichen.
“That’s all you got?” Denali said with a slight smile. “What have you two been doing?”
Sabot closed his mouth and lowered his nose.
“You’re not even supposed to be here,” Samson said.
“Neither are you,” Denali added, and walked over to the side of the caribou.
My caribou! She stared at it with a longing in her heart. So close.
“They’re just trying to keep an eye on us, there’s nothing out here anyways.” Sabot sighed. He rolled onto his side and kicked his paws out.
“At least we’re bringing back something,” Samson said.
Denali heard a noise and stopped. The one thing she had that the others didn’t was a truly amazing set of ears and a nose that could smell what a rabbit had for breakfast.
She tilted her nose to the sky and opened her ears. Her eyes closed and she took it all in. Traces of caribou, dogs, a metallic tang, and a smoky oldness. A slight decay mixed with an alkaline crispness from the concrete. And then something more.
Sabot stood slowly and both of the larger dogs scanned. The closeness of the space felt tight. The smell of death grew off of the caribou as it cooled next to them.
What are you? Where are you? She took in another breath. She’d heard something, but what? One more sniff and the barest of molecules brushed up against receptors tuned to perfection and she knew. “Skelebot!”
Samson and Sabot both scanned the ruins and eyed Denali warily.
“I’m serious!” she pleaded. She could smell it now, just the faintest of scents, but it was definitely getting stronger. “We need to go!”
Around her she visualized the flowing scents and saw them as lines and waves. She saw swirls of tundra, caribou, and dog. Each cascaded into eddies through the concrete ruins. Every twist of scent and roll of wind changed the direction. It was coming from the taiga. It was coming closer. The band of scent grew wider and she could feel it tingle in her nose.
“It’s coming!” She trotted away, back toward the high hills. One part of her wanted to run, leave them, and get herself to safety. But the other, a deep instinct, put her as part of the pack.
Samson padded to the center of the cracked road and pointed his muzzle into the sky. He drew in three deep breaths and shook his head. “Sabot, grab it.”
Sabot latched his jaws onto the neck of the caribou and drug it down the street. Its hooves clacked against the broken concrete. Denali ran close to Samson and tucked her tail tight to her legs.
“We should go. Now.”
Samson sniffed once more and shook his head. “I don’t smell anything.”
“I can smell things you can’t, you know it!” How couldn’t Samson smell it? The tang was thick in her nose. The breeze dropped the smells over the tops of the buildings. Her eyes scanned as she followed Samson close.
Samson turned and snarled at Denali. “Anything you can do, I can do better.”
“Then run.” Denali flicked her ears up.
“Run?” Sabot said over a mouth of fur.
“Run, if you’re so much better.” Denali stopped and looked at both of the larger dogs. “The two of you should have no problems with a little caribou.”
Samson broke into a sprint and left Denali standing next to Sabot. His feet slapped onto the concrete. In a dozen strides, he cleared the edge of the ruins and stood on what was left of the concrete road. “You lost already!” he barked back.
Sabot dropped the caribou with a thud.
“Go!” Denali pleaded to Sabot. “I will beat you!”
“I’m not as dumb as my brother, I see what you did.”
“You’re dumber than he is! Something is coming!” Denali turned and took another breath, the air was thick with the smell of the skelebot. So close.
“You just want the caribou.”
“Stupid!” Denali barked and snapped her jaws onto the tip of Sabot’s nose. It was a light bite, barely above a nip, but she connected with enough flesh to be left with a tiny flake of nose in her mouth.
Sabots eyes grew wide and his lips fluttered. A wide ring of teeth grew as he pulled his chops back. He gave a low, bass, growl.
Before he could snap back, Denali was off. She lowered herself to the ground and powered forward as quick as she could. She dived through a small break in one of the buildings and skidded across a floor littered with glass and bits of metal. One more leap and she was out the back side and in the shadow of the buildings.
Sabot roared. He ran through the edge of the buildings towards Samson and barked loudly.
She grinned, then remembered the skelebot. The fear was settling into her. Her tail dropped back and she stepped lightly, mindful of Sabot, but more mindful of the hunter.
Tales from the old shaman came back to her. She’d curl up on top of Grat’s legs and quiver in fear. The old dog wove tales of the devilish blue lights inside the skelebots. Souls of those who traded life for death and how they came to punish those who put them there. Now, she was told, they were all that was left of man, and hunted anything alive to appease an unending hatred. Those nights were always the longest. Ghosts danced in the wind.
She stepped through the ruins and hid in the shadows. She was mindful of the smell, that seemed more distant, but also of the thrashing she was sure to get from Sabot. But at least we’ll all be alive.
A few st
eps later she wasn’t so sure.
It stood in the center of the street with one corroded claw latched onto the edge of a rusted post. Its curved skull was scratched, pitted and coated in a patina of time. A dirty blue light hummed through ribs of smoky titanium.
Denali froze.
It was old, beyond old, but it was so quiet she hadn’t heard it move at all. Her heart slammed in her ears, a booming thud-thud-thud.
Samson stood next to the caribou, with Sabot at his side. They were almost playful in the sun, tugging and pulling at the dead animal next to them. The two had no idea that the bot was watching them with dead eyes.
Denali crouched down and sprinted forward. She howled as she ran—not a simple, playful howl, but a deep sound, double pitched that warned of dark things in the night. She snapped her head back and saw the skelebot surging towards Samson and Sabot.
It moved as a three-legged creature. One leg was missing but its arms were long enough to lever itself like a tripod. Every push forward started with arms that reached out and grasped while the single leg pushed behind. It loped like a leopard, silent, and almost graceful.
Samson turned first and snarled as he crouched down. Sabot flipped up and mirrored his brother. Neither backed down.
“Run!” Denali barked. “Run!”
Her feet slapped onto the ground and the wind rushed through her face. She had to get them to move, had to. She knew they stood no chance, none at all. None of them had the gift, the gift bestowed on those who passed the trial: implanted metal teeth. Bone was no match for steel.
Sabot wavered. He made a quick glance to his brother and lowered his head. Samson stood like a sentinel, eager and ready. Both of the larger dogs growled a deep guttural sound.
The skelebot slammed its single leg down with a resounding clang. It sprang forward with both arms wide and the ancient claws open. It made no sound, no creak, no machine noises, no growls, it was simply a thing of purpose.
Denali cut behind the last broken building and skidded onto the street. Fear slammed into her as she found herself two steps away from the skelebot. She did the only thing she could and slammed herself into its single leg. The impact smashed across her ribs and she could feel the burning of muscles. She cried out a yelp and tumbled aside.
DogForge Page 2
