The Death & Life of an American Dog

by Ralph Vaughan

  He moved silently through the weeds and around the stunted scrub, refining the scent-picture presented by the Afghanistan dogs, fixing more precisely their locations and their activities. He had to get closer, find out, if he could, what their immediate plans were. But, most of all, he now knew, he had to find out where the sixth dog was and what he was doing.

  Zain appeared dim and indistinct in the starlight.

  Levi stopped still and dropped to the ground next to a bush. His nose was his greatest gift as a detective, but, as with all dogs, there was nothing wrong with his hearing. In less that a moment, his nose, assisted by a breeze shifting in his favor, confirmed what his hearing had told him, and his eyes less than a second later.

  Seeing the Gull Dong, even in dim and uncertain starlight, Levi knew why he linked the scent in the alley to a Bulldog. While not having the same form as the dog with whom everyone was familiar, so intimately linked to the spirit and character of Great Britain, no one could deny that both dogs had shared ancestors in the distant past. And though the two breeds had traveled different paths over the millennia, resulting in very different forms, there remained a blood-link between the two.

  Even by starlight, Levi saw that this Gull Dong’s path had not been easy or peaceful. The new slashes upon his flank and muzzle glistened vividly, but his body and face were a tapestry of old scars that told a life-story of pain, suffering and cruelty.

  Though Levi was absolutely silent, there was no way to entirely hide from a dog raised in the wilds of Afghanistan, where the constant threat of violence honed senses to a keen edge. Whether by scent or sound, Levi was betrayed to the sentry dog, evident in the tensing of muscles, an intake of breath, the twitch of an ear. Levi was far removed from his ancestors, the doglike beings who gave issue to dogs, wolves, jackals and all other canines, but he was suddenly faced with the same two options that defined life, and death, in the primal world—flight or fight.

  Despite his legs, lengthy carriage and long neck, Levi was still a much smaller dog than the Gull Dong. The dog from Afghanistan was also more heavily muscled, possessed a more vicious bite, and, despite the recent attack on him, was far stronger. Levi’s instincts told him to run, to run as fast as he could, before the Gull Dong attacked him and raised the alarm. One sound, Levi knew, and the rest of the pack would be upon him, tearing him to pieces.

  Run Levi! screamed a voice in his mind. Run and live!

  Levi attacked.

  Back in the days of terror and pain, before being rescued from the gladiatorial compound, all the fighting dogs had tried to kill him every day. They would ignore other bait dogs if Levi were put in the arena. His continued existence was both a challenge and an affront to them, and he gave the other smaller dogs a hope they should not have had. At first, in surviving attack after attack, Levi was smart and lucky; as the fighting went on, however, he grew smart and skillful, learning from watching others, minutely analyzing each move and reaction till he could anticipate attacks before they were made, learning how to distract and counter the dogs. And he also learned the grips and holds that brought silence or death.

  Zain had gone off from the others, had let his sentry duties carry him to the very edge of the area he was supposed to patrol. He did not want companionship, nor did the others desire his company. Even with Abasi away, there was still Anila to see who comforted the weak one and who properly shunned him. Of course, he did not have to worry about Mashaal or Cheragh inadvertently showing any kindness or concern, but he did not want his friend Purdil getting in any trouble because of him. Somehow, he felt, any punishment of Purdil would cause him more pain than had his own chastisement. It would have been better, he thought blasphemously, if they had never left their little village, where they ran free, where companions patted their heads without shame and gave them scraps of food..

  The Gull Dong sensed a presence, not consciously with eyes or ears or nose, but simply because he could feel another living being very close to him. It could be nothing more than one of the lower life forms finding its way onto this strip of land in pursuit of shelter or sustenance, but he would rather risk punishment for raising false alarms than death for dereliction. As he raised his head to give the warning cry of his species, a shape erupted from the shadows.

  Before he went down, silenced and immobilized, Zain saw but a brief image, that of a ghostly white face, a dog flying at him as if he had wings, propelled by impossibly long legs. It was, Zain knew, some kind of jinn, the demonic beings whispered about by the packs of the desert regions.

  One of the fighting tricks Levi learned early was how to keep an opponent immobile. There was a nerve at the base of the neck, found in all breeds, and biting it a certain way made it impossible for a dog to move or speak. It was a very dangerous action. If done incorrectly, it could result in permanent paralysis, or worse, and for that reason Levi almost never used it, and he refused to teach it to anyone else. But here he had no choice.

  Levi saw the terror in the eyes of the other dog, less than an inch away from his own eyes, but he did not relax his grip. He let the panic subside in the Gull Dong as he came to realize Levi had no intention of killing him. Eventually, eyes full of defeat and shame, the Gull Dong submitted. Levi released his grip, but did not pull back more than an inch, letting the Gull Dong know any deceit would result in another attack. Levi had no plans to hurt the already injured dog, but saw no reason to let him know that.

  “I have questions for you,” Levi whispered.

  The Gull Dong started to reply in a voice too loud.

  Levi nipped him to silence.

  “I cannot tell you anything,” the Gull Dong said softly. “I am not allowed to speak to you.”

  “Because I do not follow the Dog at the Well?” Levi asked.

  The Gull Dong’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “We know that you and your pack came from Afghanistan to hunt down an American dog, whom you call Iblis, though we know his name to be Baron,” Levi said. “We know that you were sent ahead as a scout, that you found Baron, then lost him, and received savage punishment from your pack when they came off the ship this evening at the marine terminal in National City.”

  “Aiya!” the Gull Dong cried, but it emerged from his mouth as no more than a breath. “You are a demon, like Iblis.”

  Levi shook his head. “You know I’m not a demon because you saw me earlier, when you were hiding on the flat roof of the duplex, which you reached from the pepper tree. Iblis isn’t a demon either, and his name is Baron.” He paused. “What’s your name?”

  “My name?”

  “What are you called?” Levi repeated. “I’m Levi.”

  “I am called Zain.”

  “Does your name have a meaning?”

  Zain was totally confused. He had expected the demon that had leaped from the darkness to immediately kill him. Not only had it not killed him, it now asked questions of him as if it wanted to be his friend. It looked like a dog, though the breed was unknown, but he had never known any dog to show him kindness and concern.

  “As I said, my name is Levi,” he said. “It means, ‘he who joins things together,’ an apt name for a detective, don’t you think?”

  “A detective?”

  “That’s why I’m trying to help Baron, me and my friends,” Levi explained. “Does your name have a meaning?”

  “It means ‘the gem of Allah,’ like a jewel,” Zain explained.

  “Is that how you see yourself?” Levi asked. “As a gem?”

  “I do not understand.”

  “A gem is bright and lovely, something that brings beauty into the world,” Levi said. “The things you do, the actions you take against others…are they bright and lovely? Do they bring joy to the lives of other dogs? Do you make the world a better place? Or do you bring pain? Despair? Sorrow?”

  Zain closed his eyes. He did not like the questions Levi asked, because they were the same ones he had often asked himself.

  Levi nodded, the silence a
nswering his questions. Back in his bait-dog days, Levi sometimes turned the tide by turning fighting dogs against themselves. In the heat of battle, he peppered them with questions of motivation and character, which they had to answer since Levi was a natural alpha. Because dogs are not by nature vicious or cruel, though they are often trained to be, he was sometimes able to touch upon feelings of guilt or remorse, either slowing them enough to suffer defeat, or ruining their spirits altogether as fighting dogs; for the few dogs who were indeed as bad as the evil companions who trained them, there were, unfortunately, other ways to defeat them.

  But Zain was not an evil dog, Levi knew, just a dog who found himself upon an evil path, who ran with wicked and brutal dogs and took part in their depredations. It was not too late for him, and Levi had hopes of redemption. Even so, Levi could not chance letting him up now, and there were many questions to answer.

  “Who is your alpha, the Afghan Hound?”

  “Anila.”

  “Why does Anila want to harm Baron?”

  “To restore her lost honor.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Zain sighed. “I cannot.”

  “You must,” Levi said.

  Zain wrinkled his scarred brow in confusion.

  “Because you need to,” Levi answered. “If you don’t, you will never escape the path of blood and pain which you now follow.”

  “I will die if I tell,” Zain whimpered. “The others will kill me.”

  “And how much longer will you survive with them?”

  After a long moment, Zain said: “There was a great battle with companions in a town. A large building was held by one side and attacked by the other. We were inside because we fought the infidel dogs, the enemies of the Dog at the Well. There was an explosion. There was fire. All companions ran for their lives. We ran too. Many were still trapped inside, including Anila. Iblis, the dog you call Baron, ran through the flames. He dragged out one companion after another, even enemies of each other. He leaped through the sheets of flame time after time. On his last journey into the inferno, the building collapsed. We thought death had claimed another foe of the Dog at the Well, but Iblis…Baron emerged from the fire dragging one last victim. It was Anila. At that moment, she lost her honor and swore vengeance. So swore we all.”

  “She swore vengeance against Baron…for saving her life?”

  Zain nodded. “From the heart of the flames, as they took Baron away, she named him Iblis, the enemy of the Dog at the Well, and committed us to redeeming her honor, and that of all others.”

  “What others?” Levi asked.

  “If Baron had saved only Anila from the fire, the blood-honor debt might be only her own,” Zain explained. “But there were also the companions he saved from death. His story is spreading from dog to dog in Afghanistan, causing many to question the supremacy of the Dog at the Well. The great pack leaders have tried to crush the story of the American Dog, but in a world where all traditions are oral it is impossible to stop a story being passed from muzzle to muzzle. It is causing doubt, making many dogs question the one true way. If we bring back proof of Baron’s death, it will put a stop to the stories, and Anila’s dishonor at being saved by an infidel will also be erased.”

  “Anila’s honor aside,” Levi said, “you know the stories will not stop, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “In your heart?”

  “No,” Zain murmured. “No, they won’t stop, because Baron, this American Dog, has, by selflessness and bravery, revealed to us the lie of the Dog at the Well. Kindness is not a weakness. It is something I once knew, back when my friend Purdil and I ran free and happy in our village, but which I…which both of us forgot.”

  Levi eased back, but Zain did not move.

  “I am cursed,” the Gull Dong moaned.

  “The truth always sets you free.”

  Zain moaned again, the pitiful sound of a dog who has hit an emotional bottom, and is not sure which way is up.

  “There are supposed to be six of you, but I detect only five,” Levi said. “Who is the sixth, and where is he?”

  “Abasi, Anila’s lieutenant, a Bully Kutta,” Zain said.

  “The one who hurt you.”

  “Chastised me,” Zain corrected. “At Anila’s orders, but with his own zeal.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Anila sent him out shortly after we arrived at the base I made for our operations,” Zain said. “His mission was to search for the large, wild-haired Pomeranian who found Baron in the alley.”

  “To find out where he lives?” Levi asked, suddenly chilled.

  Zain nodded. “Anila thought he either knew where Baron was or could be used to force Baron to come to us.”

  “So Abasi’s real mission is to find Yoda and take him?”

  “Yoda?”

  “That is the Pomeranian’s name, my friend’s name,” Levi said.

  Again, Zain nodded. “To take by whatever force necessary. She did not think it would be difficult to find a dog that was so large for his breed, so wild haired. Abasi’s plan was to find dogs who were kept outdoors and question them harshly. Such an odd dog as your friend Yoda would surely be known to many.”

  “Yes, yes, he is,” Levi said. “Too many.”

  A huge dog suddenly leaped out of the darkness, landing near Zain and Levi. The Afghan Hound’s long, wavy coat shimmered like flowing water in the starlight, her burn scars showing beneath. She regarded the two dogs with fiery eyes. She was joined by three Gull Dongs, surrounding Levi and Zain.

  “Traitor!” Anila snarled at Zain. “You have betrayed the Dog at the Well!”

  “Zain, how could you?” came a whisper to Levi’s ears from one of the Gull Dongs, though Levi was not sure if any of the other dogs, agitated as they were, heard it.

  “He has betrayed no one,” Levi maintained. “Except himself in following the likes of you.”

  “And you are our prisoner,” Anila said.

  Levi knew he was no one’s prisoner, at least not yet. None of the dogs were very close to him, and he had no doubt that one of his leaps could carry him past their barrier, after which the chase would be on…while he was quite sure he knew who the victor would be in a race between him and the Gull Dongs, he was not as confident when it came to the Afghan Hound. But he knew he could not run away and leave Zain to them.

  “I don’t think you want to sic your soldiers on me, don’t want them to get hurt,” Levi cautioned.

  Two of the dogs laughed, but Anila silenced them with a look. The third dog tried to stare at the prisoner, but his gaze kept drifting back to Zain.

  “I know I may not look like much,” Levi admitted. “But I was a bait-dog in a gladiatorial compound. You are familiar with them?”

  The Afghan Hound nodded. “They build character and strength, develop traits needed by soldiers in service to the Dog at the Well.” She looked disdainfully at Zain. “Fighting burns away weakness.”

  “Then you know that someone like me should have died,” Levi said, getting her attention off Zain.

  “Yes, you should have died,” Anila agreed.

  “Yet, here I stand,” Levi said. “And I can do no other, for I am a pup of First Dog and Anubis.”

  Anila growled, crouching low, as if ready to spring.

  “Blasphemy,” Anila muttered, and two of the dogs echoed her.

  “I know Afghan Hounds are good at hunting down prey,” Levi said mildly. “But you should know, I am no one’s prey.”

  She did not relax from her attack position, but neither did she spring. In her wrath against Levi, she seemed to forget Zain, which pleased Levi.

  “Where is Iblis?” Anila demanded.

  “His name is Baron,” Levi replied.

  “He is Iblis, a demon, an enemy of the Dog at the Well!”

  “He is Baron, an American Dog,” Levi said, his tone even and stern. “And he is under our protection.”

  “Your protection?” Anila asked
incredulously. “You? A single small dog who believes in lies and fairy tales.”

  “Baron is protected by the Three Dog Detective Agency,” Levi said. “And his friends. You cannot touch him.”

  “But I can touch you,” Anila said. “And the traitor.”

  “I was a traitor,” Zain said, rising to stand next to Levi. “But I am a traitor no longer.”

  “You are a weakling and always have been,” Anila snapped. “I should have had you put down long ago.” She looked to one of the dogs and said: “Purdil, kill Zain!”

  Purdil looked at Anila, a stricken expression on his face. “No, Anila, don’t ask me to do that.”

  “Prove you are a soldier of the Dog at the Well!”

  “I am faithful, but I…”

  “Prove yourself!”

  “But Zain is my…” He looked at Zain, then back to Anila.

  “Your friend?” Anila asked.

  Reluctantly, Purdil nodded.

  “Then his punishment is yours!”

  The Afghan Hound attacked Purdil. Levi tried to reach Purdil, but the remaining Gull Dongs surged at him. Zain yelped in distress and, ignoring his own pain, leaped at Anila knocking her aside. She turned her attention to Zain, lashing out, scissoring her teeth against his throat. Purdil tried to help, but was rebuffed.

  Levi tried to get to Anila, but the two Gull Dongs were all over him. Normally, Levi knew, an Afghan Hound, even one as large as Anila, would have been bested by a Gull Dong as big and strong as Zain, but in his weakened condition he was no match for her.

  A blood-freezing cry abruptly split the night, and one of the dogs fighting Levi suddenly found himself with a faceful of hissing, clawing and biting cat, a black and silver tom whose wails of battle were like demons of the desert wastelands. At the same time, four large dogs came crashing through the underbrush, spoiling for a fight, and they were followed by a lean and long-skulled Calico at the head of a phalanx of dogs, all wearing vests of the Chula Vista Police Department K-9 Unit.