Landshark

by Brian Tormanen

  Up ahead was a guard shack with a white barrier arm blocking the road. Another orange RESTRICTED ACCESS sign was mounted above the guard shack, and below that was another stating this was U.S. GOVERNMENT PROPERTY. There was nothing else identifying this location with a name or purpose.

  As they approached, a guard holding a tablet stepped out from the shack. He was dressed in full battle kit and helmet as if an invasion were imminent. A sidearm in a drop holster was strapped to his thigh. Geddon pulled up and rolled down the window, and the guard stepped forward. He gave Geddon a quick salute and eyed the rest of the occupants. His eyes recognized Jake as someone he hadn’t seen before.

  “Welcome back, gentlemen. New guest with you, sir?”

  “Yeah, he’s with me, Sergeant. I’d rather keep it off the record.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  The guard tapped something on the tablet and stepped away from the van. The barrier arm raised, letting them proceed. The guard saluted as they drove past. Even through the van’s tinted windows, the guard’s eyes followed Jake suspiciously.

  About fifty yards past the checkpoint was a tunnel. The interior of the van went dark as they entered and it took nearly a minute to reach the light at the end. A blast of sunlight erased the darkness as they entered Diamond Head’s crater on the other side.

  Jake didn’t know what he was expecting, but he assumed a modern military facility with massive funding would look… more modern, but it wasn’t much to look at. There was a large parking lot in the middle of the crater. At the far end of the lot were several large shipping containers. To the right were a couple one-story buildings behind rusty chain-link fencing and razor wire. Jake noticed a controlled access panel near every gate and door and security cameras at every corner. For an old facility, they hadn’t skimped on security.

  One thing Jake didn’t see were many people, except for a couple men and a dog on a large training field to their left. Even the parking lot was half full at most.

  “This is it?” Jake asked. “Where is everybody?”

  “Just part of it,” Geddon said. “We run a lean crew, Decker. I’ll give you the dime tour later.”

  They parked and got out. The heat washed over Jake like a wave and the sun began cooking his exposed skin. Here inside the crater, the air didn’t move. Cooper pointed to the men and the dog at the far end of the field.

  “Come on, Decker,” Cooper said. “Somebody you should meet.”

  They passed the dog obstacle course with adjustable height walls, inverted V-shaped ladders, and long, hollow barrels for crawling. Farther away were several hides—tall triangular-shaped structures spaced about twenty yards apart. Used for canine apprehension training, a big man in a padded bite suit stood behind one now.

  Twenty yards beyond that stood another man with a Belgian Malinois on a leash. The dog became excited and began barking as they approached. It had been a long time since Jake had heard a dog bark like that. He shivered with excitement.

  “How’s my boy, Harding?” Cooper said to the handler.

  Harding was a muscular guy with bulging arms sleeved out with tattoos. He wore a navy-blue baseball cap with the golden trident of the Navy SEALs.

  “Good as ever, Coop,” Harding said, looking down at the dog. “I think he missed you.”

  “Decker, this is Matt Harding. Assistant trainer.”

  Harding shook Jake’s hand and gave the dog’s leash to Cooper. He reached down and gave him a couple pats. Surprisingly, Jake thought, the Mal responded well to Cooper’s touch. He half expected the dog to recoil and snap at him. Or maybe he just hoped.

  “This is my boy, Odin,” he told Jake. “You want to see a real Landshark, Decker? This boy here’s the real deal.”

  Odin was lean and muscular, probably sixty-five pounds. By the way he was moving and vocalizing, Jake could tell the dog was wound tight. He knew Mals were preferred by special ops for their lighter weight and stamina, but Jake still preferred German shepherds. There was just something noble about the breed that called to him.

  “Fine-looking dog,” Jake agreed. “Didn’t come here to see him, though.”

  Geddon laughed.

  “Relax, Decker. Odin is one of our finest dogs. Coop, let’s see a demo.”

  Cooper squinted downfield at the man in the padded suit and held up a hand as a signal to get ready. The man quickly hid and peeked around the edge of his hide.

  “Damn, look at him,” Cooper said. “He looks like a cooked lobster in that thing.”

  “Keahi is our new decoy,” Levski said to Jake. “A very nice fellow.”

  Cooper turned Odin around and showed him a hand signal. Odin sat. The dog looked up eagerly, ready for his command.

  Cooper held a hand up in the air and dropped it, signaling Keahi to run. The decoy bolted from his hide and rumbled downfield. Odin stood and began barking, pulling at his leash. The sun glistened off the rippling muscles of his compact frame. Odin was going apeshit and had a look on his face saying, Please! Oh, please! Cooper waited another second and cut Odin loose.

  “Stellen!”

  The Dutch word for bite. There was something dark and twisted about watching a dog attack another human being, but Jake had to admit it was cool as hell, too.

  Odin exploded downfield, torquing muscles gleaming in the sun, paws flinging grass with every stride. He caught up to the decoy in seconds and launched into the air like a heat-seeking dog missile. Keahi held up his padded arm to catch the dog. Odin snagged the arm in midair and yanked Keahi off balance, pulling him to the ground. Jake blinked. He’d never seen a dog take a man down so fast.

  Cooper began laughing and high-fived Geddon and Harding.

  “Damn, you see that?” Cooper yelled. “Tell me that ain’t the fastest dog you ever seen in your life.”

  Jake nodded. It was an impressive display, but all it made him want to do was see his dog that much more. Downfield, Odin was mauling Keahi’s arm, ripping and shaking his head. Keahi squirmed and struggled, clearly in trouble.

  “You going to recall your dog?” Jake asked.

  The grin fell from Cooper’s face. He yelled for Odin to release, but his dog didn’t respond.

  “Well, go get him, dammit,” Geddon yelled. “We can’t lose another decoy!”

  Cooper ran downfield, yelling at his dog as Harding shook his head.

  “Damn,” he said. “Not again.”

  Harding ran off to help while Jake turned to scope out the rest of the facility. As they’d entered the parking lot, the buildings on their right hid two smaller buildings behind them. A covered walkway joined the two structures.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  Geddon and Levski turned to see where Jake was pointing. Levski nodded.

  “Yes, the kennel house,” Levski said. “Only Koa and Odin stay there now. The other—”

  Jake was already marching for the kennel as fast as his gimp would allow. He was so focused on seeing Koa again he almost didn’t hear Geddon yelling his name. Jake stopped and spun around, filled with rage.

  “I want to see Koa now, sir!”

  Geddon held up a security badge.

  “Not without one of these.”

  SEVEN

  Geddon convinced Jake to meet the veterinarian, Dr. Montoya, before seeing Koa. Jake didn’t take that as a good sign, but once he finally calmed down, he figured a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Geddon badged them through the access gate and then the door to one of the buildings.

  The inside lobby looked recently carpeted and painted. It still had that fresh new smell. A large Hawaiian man in a security-guard uniform sat on a chair in the corner. Muscles popped from beneath his shirt and he probably ate rocks for breakfast. Geddon nodded to the guard and entered one of the office suites.

  Inside, a young man eating a sandwich sat at his desk. He looked up and upon seeing Geddon, almost jumped out of his chair.

  “Colonel Geddon.”

  “Afternoon, Davis. Dr. Mo
ntoya in?”

  “Yes, sir. Just a moment.”

  Davis picked up a phone and made a call.

  “She’ll be right out, Colonel.”

  While they waited for Dr. Montoya, Jake checked out the office. It smelled of pine air freshener to hide any animal odor, but he’d yet to see signs of any others. Framed pictures and posters of dogs, mostly working breeds, hung on the walls. The one of a snarling white Chihuahua wearing a black K9 tactical vest brought a smirk to Jake’s face.

  Cute.

  A door at the rear of the office opened. An attractive dark-haired woman in a white knee-length doctor’s coat came out. She had sharp features and dark melancholy eyes. She smiled at Jake, but it faded like an eclipse when she saw Geddon and Levski.

  “Colonel Geddon. Back so soon?” she asked.

  “Try not to sound so disappointed, Doc,” Geddon said. “This is Jake Decker. Koa’s former handler. Decker, this is Dr. Beth Montoya, our veterinarian. Cornell grad who takes damn good care of our dogs. They’re lucky to have her. I’m not so sure about me.”

  Montoya’s gave Geddon a look but otherwise ignored him. She shook Jake’s hand, briefly noting his scar. Her smile returned, and Jake found himself at a loss for words.

  “Luck is a matter of perspective, Colonel,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake.”

  “You as well,” Jake replied. “Cornell. I’m impressed.”

  It was probably the top veterinarian program in the country, if not the world. He realized he’d held her hand a bit too long and let go. She broke eye contact and curled a loose hair over her ear.

  “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

  “I thought it would be best for you to take us to Koa,” Geddon said. “Answer any questions or concerns Jake might have.”

  Montoya’s posture stiffened.

  “Of course. As you probably heard, Jake, Koa has delayed onset PTSD. He’s a tough dog, but considering what he’s been through it’s not surprising.”

  “I’m just here to help and can’t wait to see him again,” Jake said. “What else can you tell me?”

  She glanced at Geddon for a nanosecond. Jake took that to mean she didn’t know what or how much to say. Now she studied him as if sizing him up.

  “You’re familiar with PTSD—in dogs?”

  “Not in Koa, but I’ve seen it in others. They shut down, stop doing what they were trained to do. Nervousness and aggression.”

  Montoya nodded.

  “He’s shown a lot of that, but more on the aggressive side of the scale. I believe that’s preferable considering his line of work, but I had to put him on acepromazine—just temporarily, to calm him down. Follow me.”

  Montoya led them to a long hallway in another wing of the building. The polished floors shone from the fluorescent ceiling lights. Their shoes squeaked on the linoleum with every step. Many of the rooms had large rectangular windows. They passed a small laboratory where a technician in a white coat was hunched over a microscope. Exam rooms contained waist-high examination tables, trays of tools, metal sinks, and stocked shelves of veterinarian supplies. The rooms appeared spotless.

  The largest room at the end of the hall was a high-tech machine shop. There were industrial power tools, casting molds, and metal racks of raw materials. In the corner was a man in front of a computer station with large dual monitors. Dr. Levski noticed Jake taking it all in.

  “Bio-prosthetic shop,” he said proudly. “3D design, carbon fiber fabrication, AI calibration, nothing sent off-island—we do everything. Laboratory match dog blood type to bio-fibers in prosthetic to make sure of no rejection.”

  “Impressive, ain’t it, Decker?” Geddon asked. “Should be, considering the price tag.”

  Jake nodded. For a small crappy-looking building outside, the interior was freaking nice.

  “Much bigger than it looks,” he said.

  “During reconstruction, every square inch was designed to maximize working space. There’s hardly any storage. That’s what all the shipping containers outside are for.”

  “Why not just build new, larger buildings?”

  Geddon winked. “We’re running a cleanup operation, remember?”

  They reached an exit door and Montoya stopped to swipe her badge. She turned to Jake.

  “Don’t get your hopes up by what you see here. The kennels are smelly as always.”

  They exited back outside into the heat and blinding sunlight. Made up of two buildings connected by a covered walkway, the kennel complex was about fifty yards away. The larger building on the left would be the administrative and handler living quarters, where Jake assumed he would stay. The smaller structure on the right was the kennels. Somewhere, Koa was inside. Jake’s pulse kicked up a notch.

  Every kennel had a fenced outdoor run accessed from inside by a guillotine door at ground level. The concrete slab of the run was already stained the color of rust from the volcanic dirt and dust in the air. A hose was coiled at each corner of the kennel for easy reach and cleaning. Montoya badged them through the kennel entrance.

  Jake was greeted by the welcome relief of air conditioning and the familiar smell. No matter how clean a dog kennel was, it always smelled like a giant doghouse. To the left was a food prep station and washing area. The right side was used for storage and sanitation supplies. Leaning against the wall were flat shovels, push brooms, and squeegees. Cleaning and grooming supplies lined the shelves.

  Geddon grabbed a thin metal pole hanging by a nail. It had a loop of cable at the end. It was an animal control pole. Jake stopped and did a double take.

  “Just in case,” Geddon said.

  Dr. Levski opened a cabinet and removed a long-barreled tranquilizer gun. He checked that it was loaded and noticed Jake glaring at him.

  “For precaution,” Levski said.

  “Ignore them, Jake,” Montoya said. “This way.”

  The kennels were laid out in two rows of five, facing each other. Each kennel was empty and looked unused, save for one, apparently Odin’s. His was the only one with a doghouse in the corner, and the concrete was still drying from a recent hosing. A trickle of water had found its way to a small drain in the middle of the floor.

  Montoya stopped suddenly and turned to him.

  “Look, Jake, I don’t know what all they told you, but I just want you to be prepared. Koa’s two front legs and both his eyes were nearly destroyed from the IED.”

  She looked over Jake’s shoulder at Levski, and her voice dropped lower.

  “Dr. Frankenstein fixed him up, and frankly, it’s a miracle Koa’s even alive, but he’s had a lot of trauma. I do what I can for him, okay?”

  Jake nodded, noting her defensive tone. What the hell kind of program was this? Despite the air conditioning, Jake broke into a sweat and his pulse quickened further. They reached the final kennel on the right. There was a blue mattress on the floor in the corner. Jake drew a breath through his teeth.

  Lying on the mattress was Sergeant Koa.

  MWDs were always given a rank above their handlers, ensuring they were never mistreated by their subordinates. Koa was sleeping on his side, his back facing them. The dark hair covering his ribs and back rose and fell with each shallow breath. His symmetrical head with pointy ears was still.

  Jake looked around the kennel and saw where the smell was coming from. Flies were buzzing around piles of dog feces and a dried piss stain ran toward the drain. The guillotine door leading to the concrete slab outside was open, but Koa hadn’t bothered or was too sedated to move.

  “Why’s his kennel not cleaned?” Jake demanded.

  “It’s cleaned every morning, Jake. We take good care of him.” She pointed to the piles of feces. “For what it’s worth, his samples have been good. I can tell you he’s probably had more tests done on him than the President of the United States.”

  Koa’s ears flickered at the sound of their voice. Jake leaned through the metal bars of the kennel.

  “Hey, boy,” Ja
ke called. “Who’s that?”

  Koa didn’t move. Jake tried a higher tone. There was a feeling of urgency building in his gut. He knew something was wrong. His dog shouldn’t be sleeping like that.

  “Koa. Seek, seek!”

  Jake would always tell Koa to seek before a patrol or detection drill. Now he might as well have been speaking to deaf ears. Koa still didn’t budge. Jake tried to open the kennel’s gate, but it was locked. He shook the gate hard, rattling the metal frame.

  “What are you doing?” Montoya gasped.

  “Open this fucking gate. I’m going in.”

  “Uh, the hell you are.”

  “Let him in,” Geddon said. “He’s going to have to sooner or later.”

  “Then I say later. Let them get used to—”

  “Montoya,” Geddon interrupted. “Just open the damn gate or I’ll do it myself.”

  Montoya shook her head and reluctantly swiped her badge. The lock disengaged with a metallic click. Jake opened the gate and slowly walked inside. He thought he heard Geddon whisper, “This ought to be good,” but Jake kept his focus on Koa. The gate clicked shut behind him. He shuffled closer to Koa’s bed and stopped when he could see his dog’s entire body.

  Jake’s breath froze in his chest.

  Koa’s front legs were no longer covered in short tan-colored fur. Both had been replaced by prosthetics made of black carbon fiber. Titanium claws poked from the paw pads. He looked bigger than ever and Jake figured they had him on steroids. His left ear twitched and Jake spotted what appeared to be a large black cyst or mole inside the ear flap. Jake had always been meticulous about Koa’s grooming. Whatever that thing was, it hadn’t been there before.

  Koa’s eyes were half open and rolled up into his head, showing nothing but white. His rear legs began twitching and jerking as if he were having a seizure or dream. It had been so long Jake thought he was dreaming, too. He reached down with a trembling hand to pet Koa’s once handsome head now disfigured by scars. But the familiar beauty mark remained and Jake was about to touch it when he heard an unpleasant sound.

  A guttural growl came from Koa’s throat, and suddenly his eyes rolled back into focus. In a blink, Koa shot to his feet and whipped around to face him. His dog crouched to attack, baring and snapping his teeth. His metal prosthetics gleamed like big black fangs ready to sink into Jake’s flesh.