Zane

by Dale Mayer

  Something was so completely wrong about that scenario.

  She sipped her coffee and waited for word from Zane. And still there was nothing and more nothing.

  She thought the cops would come back or that more cops would come. She thought something would have happened by now. She checked her watch and realized over an hour and a half had passed since the cops had arrived en masse. Why wasn’t a cop at the cruisers in her parking lot, running a command center or some such thing? Why had they all gone out into the woods? And, if they were all out there, how had the guy with the gun still shot at her back door? Had he taken out all the cops?

  Her heart sank as she thought about it. Those men didn’t deserve that. And she’d feel forever guilty if McAfee had done that.

  Then she had another thought. An even worse thought. If all the cops were out there, what’s stopping the gunman from being right here at the clinic?

  She slowly slid down until she squatted at the base of the wall in the hallway. She was frozen. She had to think. Think, Holly!

  She heard a doorknob, or she thought it was a doorknob. She peered forward to the front doors, but they were both locked, and there was no sign of anybody through the glass. She headed to the treatment room, but it was locked too. The back door was locked. So had somebody tried and given up?

  Her phone buzzed in her hand. She pulled it out to see a message from Zane. He’s approaching the clinic.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” she whispered.

  She raced back into the room where the dogs were. She didn’t quite close the door to this room, leaving it slightly ajar, and waited. Surely the security system would go off. The only good thing was the fact that Zane knew, so he couldn’t be far away. Hopefully he’d marshaled some of the cops as well. Because, sure as hell, somebody needed to give them a hand right now. This was past ridiculous.

  She crouched on the floor beside Katch, who was showing his teeth as she stared at the doorway. If that guy made it inside the door, they would both get shot. She just knew it.

  She unlocked the gate and opened Katch’s cage. Grabbing his collar, she led him out gently, moving both of them under a table, so they weren’t in the direct line of sight once the door was open. The dog sat at her side, his lips curled, but he never made a sound. His ears were pointed forward, and his body was tense. He seemed to completely ignore his injuries. His eyes were focused on whatever was happening on the other side of that door.

  Holly wrapped an arm around his chest and whispered against his ear, “Gentle, boy. Take it easy.”

  Katch appeared to calm. He certainly wasn’t objecting to Holly’s touch. Maybe he knew Holly was one of those who had worked so hard to patch him up.

  And then she heard one of the exterior doors open. She waited, counting in her head ten seconds until the alarm went off. When she crossed the fifteen-second mark, she knew she was in deep shit because somebody had somehow disabled her security system. She looked over at Chico, who was now curled up at the far back end of his cage, terrified.

  Instead of being terrified, Katch’s muscles were rigid. He looked ready to spring forward. They were still under the table. Katch might lean forward, easily stepping out from under here, but it would be hard for Holly to get out quickly.

  Then she heard one footstep in the hallway and another one. She shuddered and closed her eyes. Holding the dog tight, she kept whispering, “Easy. Take it easy.”

  In her mind she figured Zane was racing toward them, somehow saving them at the last moment. When she didn’t hear any other footsteps, she realized Zane was probably still on his way here. Of course he was on his way. He’d given her full warning. But, for whatever reason, he hadn’t quite made it here yet. She didn’t dare think about all the reasons why.

  And then the door to this room was pushed open. From under the table she could see the gunman’s feet—heavy work boots and khakis. Of course he had khakis, hunter’s khakis, and, from where she sat, she could see the long rifle tip as he had it pointed downward. He studied the room, and she realized, her heart sinking, that she’d left the dog’s cage open.

  The man swore gently. “Damn bitch took the dog.”

  She froze at the sound of his voice. She didn’t recognize it, thank God, but it was enough to send jitters down her back. The dog was straining at her restraint. She couldn’t tell if it was in terror or in anger.

  And then she heard another footstep. She watched those feet suddenly back up, the rifle coming up, pointing down the hallway. And she realized Zane could be coming in the back door, coming into a trap, to face a killer.

  She released the dog, grabbed a knife off her surgical tray, and, as Katch bounded toward the intruder, his mouth open, teeth bared, a growl coming from the back of his throat, she raced toward the intruder herself, a scalpel in hand, ready to stab him.

  The man turned, startled by the attack. He pulled his rifle up and tried to turn, but he couldn’t get the rifle down again to shoot the dog in such close quarters.

  Katch grabbed his shoulder and bit down hard. McAfee roared, swearing in a frenetic manner as he fought off the dog, trying to beat him back.

  She knew Katch was injured, knew Katch couldn’t do much, yet she couldn’t get close enough to get around the dog to stab the intruder. She slashed out at his hand, anything that was skin: his face, his neck, trying to get him to stop hurting the dog. The man kept hollering.

  And suddenly Zane was here.

  The fighting was a crazy melee of sounds, explosions and movements. And then it was over. She heard more sounds of running footsteps and the dog whimpering in her arms.

  She bent closer to cuddle Katch, seeing broken stitches and further bleeding. She peered around the doorway to see Zane struggling to his feet and bolting after the gunman. At least his rifle had been left behind. She stared at it with revulsion. That was the last thing she wanted, but at least that meant the asshole didn’t have it. Although somebody like McAfee probably had more than one.

  She took a careful look at the dog’s shoulder and added some antibiotic ointment, cleaned it and put fresh gauze on top of it. The dog just lay here, whimpering. “I’m so sorry he hurt you again.”

  But the dog had fought, and the dog had won, at least at this point.

  She administered some pain medicine and knew the chances of getting the dog to go back in the cage were pretty slim, but she thought she’d try. She opened the cage door wide, put a clean blanket in and called him over. “Come on, boy. Go in and lie down. I’ll check on you in a little bit again.”

  Katch looked at her and slowly made his way inside the cage, curling up in the far back.

  Holly stroked his forehead until he fell asleep. She wrote a note on the dog’s chart, then got up. She put a call into 9-1-1 and explained what had happened. Once she said at least a half-dozen cops were out here, and she was worried about their health, the dispatcher got alarmed and said she was sending men out immediately. She warned Holly to not touch the weapon.

  She stared down at it and said, “I have no wish to touch the gun, so the sooner you get somebody here, the better. If that guy circles around and comes back inside for it, I don’t even want to contemplate …”

  “Don’t touch it. Stay on the line. I’ve got men coming.”

  “I don’t want to stay on the line,” she cried out. “I need to sit down.” When she realized she was talking on her cell phone, she reached up a hand to her forehead. “Never mind. I’m just going to crash right here.” She sagged in a slow sliding heap to the floor.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she said, looking at her arms. “At least I don’t think so. I have blood on my arms, but I think it’s all the dog’s blood.”

  “Can you check?” the dispatcher said. “I’ll send an ambulance if you need one.”

  She struggled to her feet again and walked over to the sink. She grabbed some paper towels, soaked them and proceeded to wash her arms. “I’m sore. I think the gunman hit me a couple times,
trying to stop me from stabbing him.” She gave a half laugh. “But I did slice him pretty good.”

  “What with?”

  “A scalpel,” she said. “I’m a vet. It’s what I had handy. I cut him on his hands and on this shoulder, I think.”

  “I still want you to stay on the line,” the woman said on the other end of the phone.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” Holly said, exhaustion in her voice. “And, no, I’m not hurt. I’ve just washed off all the blood. It’s either the dog’s or the gunman’s.”

  “At least you fought him off,” the dispatcher said. “Hopefully, with his wounds, he’ll seek medical attention, and we can grab him then.”

  “He should be identifiable this way,” Holly said, wiping her forehead. “But Zane … He took off after him. I don’t know if he’s hurt.” Feeling marginally better, she walked out to the hallway, stepping over the rifle. “There is a blood trail at my door.”

  “Don’t step in it,” the dispatcher warned. “Just find a corner and stay there please.”

  “I’m in the back with the animals,” she said. “Poor Chico is a little Chihuahua here that’s been through the worst night of his life from the looks of him.” She opened up the cage and reached in. Chico nuzzled her hand, looking for reassurance that it was all okay. “If you’d let me off the phone,” Holly complained good-naturedly, “I could pick him up and cuddle him.”

  “No, you stay on the line,” the dispatcher said. “The officers will be there in about four minutes.”

  “I hope so,” she said. “I’m so tired. I’m likely to just drop from exhaustion.”

  “Stay awake. Stay with me,” the dispatcher said, her voice sharper. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  “I think I’m just exhausted, and the adrenaline has worn off from the shock,” she said. “I’ll be fine.” She spent a few minutes longer, telling Chico it would be okay, stroking his head and his back until he calmed down. Then she closed his cage and walked over to check on Katch. He looked to be okay, sound asleep in the back. She wandered around the room. “Is it time yet?”

  “You should hear the sirens any moment.”

  “I can’t hear anything,” Holly cried out. “Why is it taking so long?”

  “Because we had to get manpower from the next station over,” the dispatcher said. “Nothing in life is simple.”

  But then Holly heard it. “I think I hear sirens,” Holly cried out, peering through the window. It wasn’t morning, but there was definitely a light coming from above. “The sky is looking like morning is around the corner.”

  “The sun will rise in another hour,” the dispatcher said. “The worst of the night is over.”

  “Says you,” Holly said. “For all I know, this guy’s waiting to pick off these cops too.”

  “They’ve been warned,” the dispatcher said. “Let them do their jobs.”

  “I hear you,” she said. “But …”

  And just then the four cop cars came streaming into the place and parked alongside the other cop cars. She walked out to the front of the clinic and opened the front door.

  “I’m hanging up now,” she said to the dispatcher. “I need to talk to the cops.” And she then pocketed her phone, stepping outside.

  The uniformed men surrounded her. She gave them as many details as she could. She said she hadn’t seen any of the cops who had shown up here in the last two hours. One of the men stepped inside with her, two others followed him. They did a quick survey of the interior of the building. One removed the rifle, and the others noticed the bloodstains leading out the door. They walked back outside.

  There was a quick huddle, and, next thing she knew, they all took off. She sagged in the receptionist’s chair. “And here I sit, all alone once again.”

  She hated to sound like poor me, but what she really wanted was to get Zane back and to get the hell away from this. This asshole had come back around once tonight already; she didn’t want him coming back around a second time.

  When her phone rang, she pulled it out of her pocket and checked it. “Zane, where are you?” she asked.

  “I’m coming toward you,” he said. “I see you have a lot of cops around.”

  “Yes, I called them. I was really worried about the other cops.”

  “With good reason,” he said. “I found three of them. They’ve all been knocked unconscious.”

  “Make sure these new ones don’t shoot you as you come toward them.”

  “No. I’ve already met up with two,” he said. “We’re walking in together.”

  “Front or back?” she asked sharply.

  “Front. Apparently there’s a blood trail they want to follow.”

  “I can’t close down the vet clinic for the day,” she said, “so hopefully that’ll be done fast.”

  “You need to prepare yourself,” he said, his voice gentle. “It won’t be fast. None of this stuff is fast.”

  She hung up the phone and waited close to the front door but still in hiding. Just because he said he was coming in with two cops, she didn’t know for sure who else might be coming in.

  As they walked closer, she could see the outlines of three men coming toward her. “Now what do I do?” she asked out loud. She didn’t recognize either of the cops, but then she hadn’t seen the group who had come and dispersed right away.

  “Holly,” Zane called out.

  She waved through the window and opened the door. “Is it safe, at least for the moment?”

  He gave her a big hug. “Yes, it looks like it.”

  The two cops stepped into the clinic with her. One said, “We’ve got several ambulances coming to pick up the injured men. Four are down, but it doesn’t look like anybody’s dead.”

  “So this guy hurts five cops, and now we’ve got what, eight more here?” she said. “So he’s gone? You know he’s going to be gone. Why would he stick around?”

  “We have K9 units. We’re trying to get a handler to come and track him,” the officer said. “He left a blood trail.”

  “I stabbed his hand and his shoulder with my scalpel.” She looked to Zane. “You should just take Katch. Besides, this guy is likely to shoot any dog that comes after him.”

  Zane frowned. “But he’s injured.”

  “Yes, he is,” Holly said. “And that asshole hurt him again,” she added. “I’ve given him a pain shot, and he’s sleeping. But he’s probably a good bet for tracking McAfee.”

  “Depends on Katch’s training,” Zane said. “I’m not sure tracking was part of it.”

  “That’s the dog this guy’s trying to kill?”

  Holly nodded. “Yes. And he’s here. I’m sure now that he’s hearing strange voices he’s probably awake again.”

  “The K9 units might take time,” the guy said. “If your dog could help at all, it would be good. We need to catch this guy fast. He’s obviously dangerous.”

  “And the asshole disarmed my security system too.”

  One of cops nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Let me check on Katch,” Holly said, racing back to the holding room.

  Zane followed her. He was exhausted and frustrated. But, as soon as he realized the cops had been knocked out, and this McAfee guy was running free and clear again, Zane figured the asshole had taken off to take care of his own wounds. Zane himself had placed a 9-1-1 call and was told several cops were on the scene. He’d warned them not to shoot because he was out there helping the unconscious policemen. He rendezvoused up with two of the new arrivals. And now they had the other men collecting their unconscious comrades. They needed the ambulance here as soon as they could.

  He wondered just how good a tracker Katch was. Zane turned around at the sound of a cop calling out to him.

  He asked, “Are you capable of taking him out?”

  Zane shrugged. “I’m not part of a K9 unit or anything, but I’m good with animals.”

  “You know we need to get a head start on this, right?”

 
“I know the first hour is priceless,” he said. “The first hour is so important. Depends on the dog’s health though. He’s been beaten, abused, shot three times, broke open some of his eighty stitches tonight. So basically to hell and back because of this guy.”

  “Well, it might be a good thing for him then. It would give him added incentive to go after the guy.”

  “That’s how he got hurt not even an hour ago,” Holly said, walking forward slowly with a leash in her hand, leading the dog. “Katch went after him when the intruder came in hunting Katch. But, like I told you earlier, I’ve given him pain meds. He is, however, mobile.” She walked around, Katch moving slowly but capably following her. “As you can see, he’s stiff and sore, but he looks eager enough.”

  “He almost looks too eager,” the cop said, pushing his hat off his forehead. He looked over at Zane. “Your call.”

  Zane nodded. “We can only try. No guarantees.” He crouched in front of Katch and whispered to him, “How are you doing, boy? Are you up for this?”

  Katch looked at him and seemed to gain strength. Zane leaned into the dog for a moment, then straightened and accepted the leash from Holly. “He’ll be really tired when I get him back.”

  “I’m more concerned about the McAfee guy seeing Katch first,” she admitted. “Don’t let him kill Katch.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to not let that happen,” he said. He turned to look at the cops. “Need a couple men to go with me.”

  They both nodded. “We’ll do it.” They walked out the back.

  Zane spoke to Katch, saying, “Come on, boy. Let’s go see where the bad guy is.” He led him to the blood trail, but his nose was already down and following it. Zane gave Katch the lead, urged him to go a little faster.

  As he studied the dog, Zane wasn’t sure how much Katch’s stiff gait was from his injuries or was just from unused muscles and soreness from this most recent attack. But Katch picked up the pace eagerly. Before Zane realized it, he was jogging at Katch’s side.

  Zane could still see the blood himself in spots, and he was a decent tracker too. But his nose had nothing on Katch’s.