Landshark

by Brian Tormanen

  Cooper pointed downfield to one of the decoy blinds.

  “Get your fat ass down there, and you better run like it’s the Special Olympics.”

  Ahi waddled off as a silver Toyota 4Runner came into view along the access road. It was Dr. Montoya. Cooper watched with increasing anticipation as she pulled into the parking lot. He motioned to Harding.

  “Hey, she part-time now or something? I hardly ever see her.”

  “Only two dogs left. What else they need her for?”

  Cooper thought of the experiments Harding was referring to. Koa, to give the dog credit, had been the first to survive Levski’s operating room. As for Dr. Sato, Cooper was glad he rarely saw him. That sick bastard and what he did in those tunnels was best avoided.

  Cooper studied Dr. Montoya as she got out of her SUV. She was wearing shorts and a tight T-shirt she’d soon be hiding under a long lab coat. Too bad. Something fell out of her backpack and she bent down to pick it up. Cooper’s groin twitched. She saw them watching her and Cooper waved. Montoya didn’t wave back.

  “Damn, she’s a tight little package, ain’t she?” Cooper said. “Think she’d go out with me?”

  Harding was still rubbing his arm. He looked from Cooper to Montoya, who now badged herself in through the security gate.

  “Dr. Montoya? And you? Hell, no,” Harding said.

  “Twenty dollars says I get her number and a date.”

  “Bro, that’s easy money. You’re on.”

  They bumped fists. Cooper’s eyes squinted from the sun as they followed Montoya into the building. She looked over her shoulder and saw he was still watching her. He nodded, breaking into a grin.

  “She don’t know what she’s missin’, but she’ll find out.”

  TWELVE

  Jake hurried back to the kennel, motivated to get started. Knowing the challenges he was facing, he fought to keep his expectations in check. For starters, he had an unknown amount of time to reestablish trust with a dog with PTSD. That could take weeks, if not months, under the best of circumstances. He had a strong feeling he didn’t have that long—he might have only days. On his side, though, was the history he and Koa had. He was confident he could reestablish their bond. He was less confident he could do it quickly.

  But some details from the briefing bothered him. He recalled Dr. Levski’s comment about a satellite uplink. That kind of access only came with approval from the highest levels of government. Clearly, this was no rogue operation, despite how crazy it sounded. He couldn’t think of any kind of mission like this being attempted in the history of warfare. Well, at least since the Trojan War.

  Maybe Geddon was on to something after all. It was an out-of-the-box, unorthodox idea that might just work. Who would have thought a small team of men could simultaneously hijack multiple jetliners and smash them into buildings on American soil?

  Random thoughts of his late father entered his mind. They had been estranged for years after his parents’ divorce and he never got to say goodbye before the attack on 9/11. Jake had been bitter about their relationship but having it end on someone else’s terms only pissed him off more. The idea of having a small part to play in avenging his father’s death, he had to admit, was more than a little appealing. Switching his thoughts back to Koa, he was determined not to live his life with any more regrets.

  Jake went to the kennel house and took out the keycard he was given yesterday. He badged himself in and immediately felt Koa’s presence. The rest of the kennels were empty, including Odin’s. That was one of the first things Jake would address. Dogs should be outside, exercising and exploring. It would be good for Koa’s PTSD.

  He also planned to visit Dr. Montoya later today and have Koa’s meds stopped immediately. Unless necessary for treating an infection or pain, he wanted Koa to detox from whatever shit was in his system. It could limit Koa’s drive or be causing side effects Jake had no time to troubleshoot.

  Koa was up and alert when Jake got there.

  “Well, hello. Look who’s awake.”

  Koa was sitting on his bed and staring at him from that handsome, black and tan mask. His ears were erect, and his two prosthetic legs were pointing toward Jake like black police batons. Jake had to admit that the prosthetics were impressive. They didn’t impede Koa’s range of motion and there was no sign of discomfort. Now he sat there, studying Jake, waiting for him to make a move, and all Jake could think was, Don’t you remember me, buddy?

  The kennel had been cleaned since yesterday, but there were already two new piles of feces to clean up. They were big, solid, and stinky. As Montoya had pointed out, there was nothing wrong with Koa’s bowel movements. It was a sign of good health. He was relieved that Koa hadn’t become a painter—a dog that liked to play with and roll around in his feces. Not only was it disgusting, but it took twice the work to clean. And so far, Koa had not given any indication he was cool with being given a bath.

  Jake noticed both of Koa’s bowls were empty. Someone was cleaning Koa’s kennel and providing his food and water, but who? Jake went to open Koa’s kennel door while watching him for a change in behavior. Koa stood and growled, backing Jake off.

  “Alright, alright. Don’t get excited.”

  Koa’s head lowered and his tail lifted slightly in the air.

  “Hey, it’s great seeing you again, too, buddy. You have any idea how much I’ve missed you? I never thought I’d see you again and here you are… with metal legs and bionic eyes and stuff.”

  Frustrated, he decided to go inspect the food station near the entrance. There was a metal sink and next to it, a plywood table stacked with stainless steel water and food bowls. Buckets of food kibble were stacked on the floor along the wall.

  Jake grabbed a bowl, filled it with water, and set it aside. He pulled one of the five-gallon buckets off the floor and pried the lid off. A meaty, earthy scent filled the air. The round brown dog food always reminded Jake of Cocoa Puffs, his favorite cereal as a kid.

  He grabbed a piece of kibble, smelled it, and popped it into his mouth. He rolled it around his tongue, feeling the rough texture, and swallowed. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste that bad. It didn’t taste that good, either. It seemed fresh and good quality, though, so he replaced the lid and put the bucket back on the floor.

  He grabbed the water bowl and returned to Koa. His dog was waiting. Jake swiped his badge and opened the gate. Before Jake could put one foot inside, Koa sprang off his mattress and charged.

  His barks were ear-splitting loud, ringing Jake’s ears in the kennel’s enclosed space. The hackles stood up on Koa’s neck as he gave Jake a bird’s-eye view of his teeth and eyes. Jake stopped and pulled back, closing the gate. He remained calm, letting Koa have his say. Although Koa’s corneas were artificial, they looked damn close to real. He wondered if the augmented biotech was always recording. If so, did that mean he was being watched now?

  The hypervigilance and extreme aggression Koa was showing were typical symptoms of canine PTSD. But at least he wasn’t being timid or shaking with fear. That would have meant his spirit was broken, which would be the end of his MWD career—and soon his life.

  “Well, go ahead. Get it all out. Bark all you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He set the water down in front of the kennel as Koa continued pacing and vocalizing. Koa stopped upon seeing the water and licked his chops. As fancy as this kennel was, it lacked one simple detail: a small door in the bottom of the kennel gate to slide bowls in and out. Automatic food and water stations were never used. A dog might consume too much too fast and get stomach bloat, a potentially deadly condition.

  “Yeah, I bet you’re thirsty. All that barking will do that. You can have it if you stop trying to bite my leg off.”

  For Koa to trust him again, he needed to see Jake as an asset and pack leader. Dogs, like humans, were association animals. Jake knew that if he kept providing Koa with food and water, eventually he’d become an asset—if they didn’t run out of time first.
>
  Jake picked up the water bowl and started to unlock the gate again, but Koa postured up, barking. Jake set the bowl down.

  “We can do this all day if you want. You can either let me in or go lie down. Your choice.”

  The entrance to the kennel house opened and Ahi walked in. His clothes were soaked from sweat. He waved when he saw Jake.

  “Oh, hi!”

  Jake nodded. Ahi went to the food station for a moment and came to Koa’s kennel, carrying a bowl of water and a determined look on his face.

  “I change Koa’s water when I’m on break. I hope that’s okay.”

  So Ahi had been feeding Koa and cleaning his kennel? Jake forced a smile, trying to erase his frown and frustration.

  “Thanks, Ahi. I appreciate that. Looks like you’ve been working hard.”

  “Oh, yes. It gets really hot in that suit, but Colonel Geddon says I have to wear it.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Well, hi, how are you?”

  Ahi looked down at Koa, wagging his tail. What the hell? Jake couldn’t believe it.

  “Oh, looks like you already brought him water,” Ahi said.

  “Yeah, but uh, I haven’t given it to him. Yet. Obviously. Working on it, though.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it.”

  Ahi removed a keycard from his pocket and tapped the control pad. The door clicked open and Koa backed up. He stopped wagging his tail as Ahi stepped inside. Jake grew nervous for Ahi’s health.

  “You sure you want to do that?” Jake asked.

  Jake tensed, watching Koa to alert for aggression or fear, but he didn’t. Ahi exchanged the water bowls as if he’d been doing it for years. He left the kennel, closing the gate behind him. Koa began drinking, his long pink tongue lapping it up. A goofy smile crept across Ahi’s face.

  “I wish I could drink water like that.”

  Jake couldn’t help but feel jealous, if not a little inadequate.

  “How long you been here, Ahi?”

  “Oh, let me see… About two weeks, I think. I’m not good at remembering days. Sorry, Jake.”

  “Hang on. So you’ve been here about two weeks. How long before you could just walk in there like that and bring Koa his water and chow?”

  Ahi twisted his face trying to think. After a moment, he remembered.

  “A week, maybe. Cooper trained me and said I had to be careful. Some days he wouldn’t feed Koa because Koa was so angry. I don’t think Koa likes Cooper very much. He’s kind of mean. But when I saw Koa didn’t have food or water I just started bringing it to him.”

  “And he never tried to bite you?”

  Ahi shook his head. “Huh-uh.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  Jake knew some people, for whatever reason, were just naturals around dogs and animals. Maybe it was their pheromones, their voice, body language, or all of it. Despite his size, Ahi wasn’t seen as a threat by Koa. He was an asset.

  “Am I in trouble, Jake?”

  “Huh? For what?”

  “Cooper told me to never to go into Koa’s kennel by myself.”

  “Forget Cooper, Ahi. You did the right thing, and you just gave me an idea.”

  THIRTEEN

  “You sure this is a good idea?” Rachel asked.

  Noelani, Rachel, and Evan arrived at Kaka’ako Waterfront Park near downtown. They met by the park’s entrance off Ala Moana Boulevard. Trade winds rustled the palm trees, keeping the heat of the afternoon sun bearable. There was safety in numbers, but Noelani knew something could quickly go sideways if they weren’t careful.

  “No. But we have to start somewhere,” Noelani said. “Nobody’s asked the homeless what they think’s going on, so why not? Besides, we have Evan to protect us.”

  Evan pointed the long telephoto lens of his camera at a group of surfers offshore. He pulled his eye away.

  “I heard that,” he said. “Ever hear the joke about the two guys who went hiking in bear country?”

  Rachel grimaced.

  “No, but please don’t be gross.”

  He went back to shooting and clicked off another burst of shots.

  “One guy says to the other guy, ‘I don’t have to outrun the bear. I just have to outrun you.’”

  “Not funny,” Rachel said. “Okay, where do we start?”

  Noelani scoped out the park’s destitute residents. Honolulu had the highest per capita homeless population in the country, and Kaka’ako’s waterfront was popular real estate. It was a large area off the beaten path where shelters could be stood up without bothering locals and tourists.

  Some had formed mini-tribes with pooled resources while others lived solitary lives. The latter might be easier to interview if they gave permission and weren’t bat-shit crazy. Noelani started toward a shelter beneath a tall monkey pod tree.

  A skinny dark-skinned man with long black hair was sitting outside his makeshift tent: a ratty blue tarp over a series of pallet boards tied to the tree. A shopping cart missing a wheel took up a parking space alongside. The man was winding a fishing rod reel with translucent line. He looked up as they approached, eyeing them warily.

  “Hi,” Noelani said. “My friends and I are working on a report for Civil Beat. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions.”

  The man’s eyes darted over each of them. He shook his head and went back to winding the fishing line, pretending they were invisible. They moved on.

  A woman stood outside a gray tent, folding a dirty sleeping bag with holes in it. A fearful look shot across her face when she saw them coming. She went inside her tent and zipped the flap shut.

  “I get the feeling they’re not happy to see us,” Rachel said.

  Evan took a picture of a tall building next to the park. Puffy cumulus clouds reflected off the building’s windows and drifted over aqua-blue water.

  “They probably think we’re from the city about to kick them out,” he said.

  Noelani nodded. The city had been conducting sweeps for years, removing the homeless and their belongings. Even after multiple attempts, they just kept coming back, often in higher numbers. Some had pets that weren’t allowed in shelters, and they weren’t about to abandon the only family they had left. She didn’t blame them.

  “Be careful where you’re shooting,” she told Evan. “They might think you’re taking their picture.”

  Noelani saw an old, scrappy-looking woman tying a tarp over her shelter and having a hard time of it in the wind. Noelani went to her with Rachel and Evan close behind, the tall grass swishing under their feet. The woman had her back to them.

  “Excuse me,” Noelani said. “Can we give you a hand with that?”

  The woman whipped around frightened. Set deep in her weathered face were a pair of dark and wild looking eyes. She was missing several teeth and began waving her arms covered in dark sores and rashes.

  “What!” the woman screamed. “What!”

  They retreated in unison. This clearly wasn’t a good interview candidate.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” Noelani said.

  She bumped into Evan, already taking pictures of two homeless men on the other side of the park.

  “Evan, what are you doing?” she asked.

  “What? I’m documenting.”

  “You should ask permission first,” Rachel said. “That’s not cool.”

  “Relax, I will. It’s easier to get candid shots if they don’t notice.”

  “Hey!”

  Someone noticed. A shirtless and deranged-looking man was staggering toward them. He reached down for a rock and flung it their way. They ducked.

  “I see you!” the man yelled. “Get off my lawn, fuckers!”

  They ran from the park, watching over their shoulders until safely across the street. They kept moving, wandering aimlessly as they caught their breath.

  “Well, that was fun,” Rachel said. “Now what?”

  “We keep trying,” Noelani said.

  “Se
riously?” Evan asked. “You trying to get us killed?”

  Noelani slapped him across the shoulder.

  “You almost got us killed.”

  Sliding his DLSR back into his camera backpack, Evan sulked and looked like he was ready to leave. Noelani told herself to relax and hoped he wouldn’t bail. She wanted him to stay, and not just for his photos. Before they met that day, she found herself thinking of him and had so far enjoyed his company—until he almost got them assaulted.

  “Whatever,” he said, shaking his head. “Where to, then?”

  “There’s another park on Coral Street,” Noelani said. “I’ve seen people camping there. They might know something.”

  A gust of wind whipped Rachel’s hair across her face. She pulled it back and tied it into a knot.

  “Oh God, I heard a Japanese tourist got beat up there a while ago. Like, really bad.”

  Noelani spotted a convenience store up ahead and had an idea.

  “Then we better be extra careful.”

  ***

  They entered Mother Waldron Playground ten minutes later. The park straddled Coral and Cooke Streets, and while it did have a playground and basketball court, it had several resident homeless apparently living there. Kaka’ako was one of the newest and ritziest areas of downtown Honolulu. Massive condominium towers were slamming up left and right, some units going for millions of dollars—just for a condo, with no land. It blew Noelani’s mind.

  She spotted a small camp of tents and makeshift shelters near a tree line at the edge of the park. Noelani headed toward them, hoping to avoid a repeat of their last encounter.

  “Whoa, seriously?” Evan said. “We’re outnumbered.”

  “They might feel safer that way,” Noelani said. “Stay behind if you want.”

  Rachel shrugged, and after a reluctant pause, Evan followed.

  They stopped about twenty feet away from the encampment. A few tents, tarp covered pallets, and dilapidated bicycles were scattered about. The closest people were an older white man and woman sitting in camping chairs in front of their tent.