The Pet Plague

by Darrell Bain

  The move was barely accomplished by dusk, and camp was set up hastily beneath an overpass to the east of the ruins of the small city of Carthage. Masters and Wolfgang conferred with Conan, trying to figure the remaining distance.

  “Woods, much woods, then river,” Conan said.

  “How many days?"

  “One day, one day, rabbit town.” He licked his lips hungrily.

  “Wolfgang?” Masters asked for an interpretation.

  Wolfgang talked in dog language to Conan, interspersed with some English. Enhanced animals of the same species conversed easily between themselves but some concepts of necessity had to be rendered in words. The conversation was prolonged though, mostly due to the long decades of separation between the feral animals and the human pets, during which language and concepts had diverged. Finally, the big German shepherd turned back to Masters. “Two days, hard travel. Old city, then river. Conan says not to fly again or lose way."

  “I guess we should be glad we were able to jump this far,” Masters said to Kristi. “Well, two days then, probably more like three. I sure as hell hope we find what we're looking for and that it is worth while when we do. Three good men gone.” His lined face softened in remembrance and sorrow.

  “How about bears, Conan? Any more bears between here and there?” Kristi asked.

  “No bears. Never see before. Beavers, rats, rabbits.” He salivated again. Apparently they were to pass through country heavily populated with rodents. This was not really what Kristi wanted to hear. Rats, and especially rabbits always drew carnivores, seeking to feed their own growing population, and rat swarms could be dangerous of themselves, especially if they were of the enhanced species, which they almost certainly would be.

  Nevertheless, Kristi asked, “Are they enhanced?"

  “Smart. Hard to catch,” Conan confirmed.

  Masters brushed the news aside. He figured they had enough reinforcements now not to have to worry with feral animals, at least in the short term, which was all the time he hoped to have to spend in the area. His concern about Cadena's spying was another matter, lending urgency to his desire to get the mission over with. “OK, I guess that's all for now. Let's all try to get some sleep and move out early tomorrow morning. I want to make as much distance as we can, as fast as we can."

  Kristi returned to the shelter she shared with Jamie. “How's the arm?” She asked as she entered.

  “Not bad. One more day and I guess I can start carrying that damned pack again,” Jamie said.

  “Speaking of which.” She rummaged in her own pack and withdrew a laser gun. “A shiny new toy, just for you. Try not to lose this one."

  “I'll use glue this time. Damn, I hope we don't run into anything like those bears again. I thought I was a goner when that one swatted me."

  “I'm pretty sure we won't see those particular ones again. They are a long way behind us, and they got the worst of it. That's not to say we won't run into anything just as bad, though. By the way, I haven't had a chance to tell you before now, but Jeannie is going to be joining us.

  “What! No she isn't, either. Damnit, she doesn't realize how dangerous it is out here. Whose bright idea was this, anyway?” Jamie still retained, like most men, a residual protectiveness towards women, a holdover from the horrible slaughter during the withdrawal of humans into their protective sanctuaries. He couldn't think of any reason on earth why Whitmire would allow Jeannie to join them.

  “Jeannie decided on it herself. And speaking of danger, she hasn't been leading an exactly sedate life herself."

  “She hasn't? Have you seen her? Is she all right?"

  “I saw her yesterday. Let me tell you what's been happening. You must have been wondering about the reinforcements."

  “Not really,” Jamie admitted. “I just assumed Masters called for them after we were attacked. Wasn't that it?"

  “Not by a long shot.” Kristi related Jeannie's tale again, having it practically memorized by now. She omitted any mention of their tryst, thinking it best to leave that subject to come up naturally.

  Jamie was astounded. His apolitical mind had a hard time imagining Cadena as a secret agent, and an even hardertime thinking of what useful information the genetic engineering department had worth stealing, but that was the least of it. Trying to picture Jeannie first as a captress then as a captor and manipulator of Whitmire really strained his mental picture of her. Just thinking of it left him in a cold sweat and made him realize anew just how much he cared for her. What if there were another agent around? She might not be so lucky the next time. Maybe she would be better off with him. Then the image of the huge bear rearing up to strike, chest smoking from his shot, intervened. No, let her stay. “The whole story sounds like something out of an old detective movie from the archives. Is there any way I can contact her? Would Masters let me make a call?"

  “No way. We're not sending messages under any circumstances. Too easy to triangulate on from space. Besides, I wasn't quite finished. Jeannie was ready to come out today, but I talked Whitmire into stalling her, hopefully until we reach Conan's home base. We'll establish a camp there that can be easily defended, at least for a while. Don't count on him holding her for very long, though. She's determined to come."

  “I wouldn't mind, if we wind up somewhere safe."

  “I wouldn't either.” Kristi smiled enigmatically, to Jamie at any rate.

  The next two days were a nightmare of tangled vine and brush-obstructed forest, aggravated by small streams and wet, bogey ground. Almost all the distance had to be covered through the dense growth as Conan had not traveled on the old highways during that phase of his journey. At last, near the end of the second day, they began encountering clusters of ruined homes and small factories, some deteriorated to tumbled ruins, others serving as shelters and warrens for rats and rabbits. Conan was sorely disappointed at not being allowed to go rabbit hunting, but Masters was adamant. Without Conan, the whole expedition might come to naught.

  They camped that night on the outskirts of the ruins of Shreveport, on an open stretch of the old Interstate highway. From there, Conan informed Masters that one more day would see them to his home and contact with the “Great Being".

  The weather had turned much warmer and increased humidity brought insects out in swarms. The pets suffered more than the humans, refusing to use the pungent repellent because of the interference with their sense of smell. The dogs depended on scents in their scouting, though not nearly so much as their ancestors might have; enhanced intelligence of necessity required the elimination or reduction of other facilities.

  With the reinforced ranger contingent the scientists, as well as Captain Masters and his Lieutenant, had been relieved of guard duty. Kristi and Jamie lay in their shelter with their pets, closed off from the ferocious mosquitoes. Jamie relaxed with his hands behind his head, tired again from his first day back with his pack, though not nearly so much as before. Perhaps he was getting used to it. “Too bad we can't sleep outside,” he remarked. “It is a pretty night. I like looking at the stars away from the city. They are so bright."

  “Good for mice,” Fuzzy Britches said, showing his canines.

  “Rabbits,” Woggly disagreed.

  “Another food bar, and I might want to try one,” Jamie said.

  “Broiled rabbit is good,” Kristi said. “I've had it before."

  “I'll take your word for it.” Jamie's diet had never included rabbit, although they were available in very limited quantity in the Enclave. Most protein came from altered vegetables, however, many of them of his own design, so that he was naturally prejudiced. He reached to Conan in an idle gesture, rubbing his neck fur then let his hand trail down to the enigmatic disk dangling below on it's leather cord. As always, the images flashed through his mind with lightning rapidity at the first touch, undiminished in intensity no matter how many times they were accessed. He wondered anew what they would find on the morrow.

  Kristi sensed the idle thought. “No use won
dering, hon. We'll know soon enough."

  “I know. Or at least I hope we will. This sort of adventure isn't really in my line of work, you know. It still seems like I'm involved in an adventure story on the Holo sometimes, with me as one of the actors, and now it's building up to the climax."

  “Let's try to have it come out with the good guys winning. OK?"

  “Good guys win,” Woggly said.

  “Good cats, too,” Fuzzy Britches added, bouncing onto Jamie's chest.

  “Oof! Fuzz, don't do that."

  “Bear attack,” Fuzzy Britches explained, tapping Jamie's cheek with a paw, claws retracted. He licked one of the numerous whelps decorating his face, stigmata from the swarming mosquitoes.

  “Yeah, and where were you when the bears attacked? I didn't see you until it was all over."

  “Up a tree. Cats don't play fair,” Woggly grinned.

  “Play safe,” Fuzzy Britches said, undisturbed at the canard.

  “Our cats, too,” Conan said.

  “You have cats at your home?” Jamie asked, surprised.

  “Cats, dogs, humans. Now Great Being."

  Princess, silent as usual, began licking the other side of Jamie's face. Lady lay with her head across Kristi's thighs, seemingly lost in thought.

  “I guess you will be glad to get back home, Conan,” Jamie said.

  “Yes. Good home. Funny pictures on wall. Good dogs, cats."

  Jamie sat up, gathering a double armful of cats and depositing them about Kristi's body. “Here, bother someone else for a while. He turned to Conan. “Did I understand you right? You want to come back home with me?"

  “Yes,” Conan said, then added a happy woof. “Jamie good. Kristi good. Woggly, Fuzzy, good. Lady, Princess good."

  “Fuzzy Britches and Princess meowed in unison. Conan cocked an ear at them. “Good cats. Not scratch."

  “The epitome of goodness, for cats,” Kristi said, untangling herself.

  Jamie rolled over on his stomach and propped his chin on an elbow. “You would be welcome, Conan. I hope we do go home soon. I want to get back to a normal life."

  “There's no such thing,” Kristi said. “Whatever happens is ‘normal’ in the ultimate sense."

  “You know what I mean. Normal for me. This roaming around out in the wilds playing Tarzan isn't what I'm used to. Not that I haven't enjoyed some of it,” he hastily amended, “but fighting bears and feral humans and marching through jungles looking for some hypothetical alien so we can save the world isn't what I really want out of life."

  “And what do you want?” Kristi asked, a whimsical look on her face.

  “Oh, I guess I like what I have been doing. Research. It would be nice if Alvarez would ever retire so I could have a shot at his job, but that would just be icing. When this is over I think I'd even like to settle down a bit.” He paused for thought. “But if Conan should come back with me, I would be getting cramped for space. I'd probably have to register for co-habitation to get a larger place."

  “Get a big place. Keep Jeannie and Kristi,” Fuzzy Britches advised.

  “Woof!” Woggly agreed.

  “You guys can't take care of your own love life, let alone mine,” Jamie said darkly. “Why this sudden desire for more company?"

  “Easy. Make you happy,” Fuzzy Britches said smugly.

  “Just like that, huh? You haven't thought it out, Fuzz. If Kristi came, so would Princess. What would you do with that little white Persian you've been seeing?” Jamie didn't look at Kristi when he spoke. The conversation was getting out of hand so far as he was concerned.

  Kristi burst out laughing. “They're trying to box you in. What's worse, they didn't even consult me first."

  “They talk to me and Princess,” Lady said, one of her rare complete sentences. Now Kristi was wrong-footed. Her laugh died in place.

  “By God, I think they're serious. What do you do with them when they get like this?” She asked.

  “If I want any peace in the house, I usually just do what they want. In this case, though, I think the best thing to do is change the subject. Or do something else. Any ideas?"

  Kristi wiped at a smudge on her face. “If you can stand me, I think something can be worked out."

  “I'm dirtier than you are,” Jamie observed, looking down at his soiled coveralls.

  “In that case, let's see if some of it will rub off on me, then we'll be equal."

  “Dirty humans,” Fuzzy Britches said, grooming himself with his tongue. “Need to lick, like this."

  Both humans burst out laughing in the middle of undressing. Fuzzy Britches tried to look offended at the reaction to his unintended humor, but made a bad job of it. He returned to his demonstration, but by then neither of the humans were watching.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  Travel the next day was easy and fast. The expedition moved through the ruins of Shreveport on the old interstate highway, which was in surprisingly good condition. Weeds and brush had not been able to gain much of a foothold on the long stretches where it was elevated above the overgrown homes and factories, and the footing was good. Nevertheless, it was late evening before they came abreast of the still intact towers of mid city. Conan led the column down an off-ramp into the center of town, where the square shaped buildings of a previous era rusted in beds of fallen rubble, then further on to what must have once been the newest section of the city. Here, the buildings were lower but in far better condition, still sporting gay colors and undamaged facades. Only the ever present weeds, clustered in pockets of drifted soil, marred the streets. There were a few abandoned ground cars but little rubbish.

  A bark came from the front of the column and was echoed by others. Conan broke free from the bunch and raced ahead, woofing joyfully. He skidded around the corner of a large, warehouse-like building and disappeared from view, still barking. The lead dogs followed, hurrying to catch up. From his position in the column Jamie could not see much of what was happening, but he felt his pulse stirring as he turned the same corner. What he saw surprised him. Expecting more buildings, he was greeted by a long slope of low bushes shot with narrow trails. The slope ended in an expanse of water, bordered by massive piers and backed with a long stretch of low, one and two story buildings leading off to the left, then disappearing behind clumps of small trees. In the distance, he could see another shore where an encroaching forest all but obscured more old buildings. From flotsam moving on the water, he deduced that he was looking at a narrow stretch of river rather than a lake as he had first thought.

  The head of the column had stopped after turning left, and he could see Masters’ slight form striding purposefully forward. A contingent of strange dogs was clustered around Conan and others were sniffing noses and crotches with their own dogs.

  “I think this might be it,” Jamie said to Judy, standing by his side, hand near her sidearm, wary as ever.

  “It must be. Look, there's a human.” Jamie's glance followed her pointing finger. Emerging from between the pier and the adjoining building was a solitary man, unarmed. As he came nearer, Jamie noticed the contrast between him and the other feral humans they had fought. He was dressed in tanned leather rather than hides, and his hair and skin were clean looking. Apparently, whatever group of humans he represented fared better with their animal cohorts than the ones who ran with the bears.

  The man stopped where Conan was still greeting old friends and spoke briefly with him. He knelt and fondled the alien disk hanging from the dog's neck, appeared satisfied, then came on.

  Masters stepped forward to meet him. They conversed a short time, then Masters cupped his hands to his mouth and called, “Da Cruz, front and center!"

  Jamie trotted forward, wondering at first why he was being honored, then remembered that Conan had designated him as the prime recipient of the disk message.

  “Welcome,” the man said courteously as Jamie approached, holding out his hand. He was short and stocky, with shoulder length black hair held back
from his forehead by a band of leather. A full beard, neatly trimmed, covered his face. His eyes were a deep, commanding black, set wide apart above a straight nose.

  “Hello,” Jamie said, taking the proffered hand. He thought that seemed inadequate, but could think of nothing else to add. He wished suddenly for the presence of John Whitmire, or anyone else versed in diplomatic technique.

  “I am named Cortman, companion to Whitetooth,” the man said.

  “I'm Jamie Da Cruz."

  Courtman seemed puzzled. “Your companion is Da Cruz?"

  “No, that's my last name."

  The puzzled look grew. “You changed your name? What happened to the first one. Was it not suitable?” The man's accent sounded strange but was easily understandable.

  Jamie felt completely out of his depth, but gamely, he tried again. “I have two names, Jamie and Da Cruz. Please call me Jamie."

  “Ah. Two names. Then you have no companion?” The puzzlement was replaced by a faintly disapproving expression.

  Jamie finally got the drift of the conversation. He whistled and his pets broke free of the still milling pack of dogs and cats. Fuzzy Britches appeared somewhat mussed, the etiquette of greeting strange dogs a little rougher than what he was used to.

  “These are my companions. Woggly and Fuzzy Britches.” He pointed to each as he named them.

  “Welcome, companions of Jamie Da Cruz,” Courtman said. He pronounced each name as a separate entity. “The mouse catcher is most unusual. We have none like him here."

  “There's none like him anywhere else, either,” Jamie said, tongue in cheek.

  “We are happy to see Conan return. Of all the bearers of summons from the Great Being, he is as yet the only one to return. We fear for the others, bereft of companions though they be, as is Conan."

  Jamie started to ask what the man meant by that remark, then remembered Conan's anticipation of returning to the Enclave with him. He suspected that the breeding rate of the dogs was such that only a limited number of them could have “companions". He started to ask if that were so, then was distracted by a disk similar to Conan's dangling from a cord about Cortman's neck. He wondered what images it produced, if any, and more importantly, where was the producer? With the simplicity of the non-diplomat, he asked, “Can we see this ‘Great Being'? We've come a long way."