Landshark

by Brian Tormanen

  “Time to go to work, bud.” Jake held up the collar and leash. “Tools of the trade. You ready?”

  Koa lowered his head. Guess not, Jake thought. While emotions ran up and down the leash, before they could do off-leash commands, he had to reestablish trust and control. The muzzle would be needed, too, but that could wait for now.

  “Koa, hier.”

  Koa remained on his bed.

  “Hier,” he repeated.

  Koa looked away, ignoring him. Remaining calm, Jake confidently went to Koa, watching for signs that told him to back off. There were none. By now, Koa had seen Jake bringing his food and water enough times to be associated as a resource rather than a threat. At least Jake hoped so, and he would soon find out.

  Jake squatted next to Koa, noting his prosthetic legs and brown artificial eyes. They were unsettling reminders of the IED that nearly killed them both, and the guilt still haunted him. Jake forced the images away and put the collar around Koa’s neck, tying the buckle. Koa stayed still and Jake ruffled his head.

  “Good boy. You’ll be back at it in no time, showing what you can do.”

  Jake clipped on the leash and they both stood. They’d spent so many hours connected by a leash that Koa had been like his four legged shadow. Hopefully they could go outside soon to see that shadow again.

  “Alright, let’s walk.”

  Jake led Koa around the inside of his kennel. Koa was doing well so far. He watched every step of Koa’s front legs. The carbon fiber prosthetics had a perfect range of motion, flexing effortlessly at the joints, but the titanium claws were a bit much. He’d see about having them shaved down a bit, but Jake had to admit they looked pretty badass.

  They took a break a while later. Jake tossed Koa a piece of dog kibble he kept in his pocket during training. Koa snatched it midair and looked at him eagerly for more, licking his lips. Jake smiled, knowing that Koa would be fine. It was just a question of when.

  After an hour of leash work and obedience drills, Koa showed no signs of mental fatigue. In fact, he was having fun and ready for more. Jake had been worried the IED may have caused a traumatic brain injury or TBI, but not any longer. Then again, maybe Dr. Levski had fixed that, too.

  Jake decided to take Koa outside. It was time for him to play, to breathe fresh air, to roll in the grass—be a dog again. But then he thought of Odin and knew Koa should be muzzled in case he crossed paths with the Mal. Alpha male dogs, especially MWDs, didn’t get along very well.

  Jake left the kennel and came back with a muzzle. Seeing it in his hands, Koa shrank away.

  “What? You’ve worn these before. What’s the problem?”

  Koa sat on his bed, ignoring him. Jake felt a sigh of frustration building inside but kept it in. He imagined someone had forced the muzzle on Koa too many times recently and he developed a negative association to it. Great, they didn’t have time for this.

  “Hey, we’ve used these a bunch of times. There’s nothing to worry about, okay?”

  Jake took a piece of kibble from his pocket and dropped it inside the muzzle. Koa noticed and perked up. Ooh, a treat! Jake grinned and leaned forward with the muzzle.

  Koa snapped and lunged, knocking Jake to the floor. Koa jumped him, baring his teeth. Jake held up his left hand, giving Koa a target.

  Koa took it, biting into Jake’s wrist, snarling. Grimacing in pain, Jake wrapped his free arm around Koa’s back. Koa went for Jake’s other hand, but it was already under his chest. Jake wrapped his dog in a bear hug and buried his face into Koa’s side, protecting his head from Koa’s teeth.

  Jake rolled over, pulling Koa onto his back. The dog fought and squirmed, snapping at air. Jake held on for dear life yelling, “Platz, platz! Down!”

  Koa thrashed and howled, bucking wildly before realizing it was no use. His growls faded then finally ceased altogether.

  “You done?” Jake asked, out of breath. “Had enough?”

  Jake let him go. Koa scrambled up and ran back to his bed. Jake stood up, looking at his wrist. Shit, it was bleeding and the bite was deep. He looked at Koa, feeling foolish and angry with himself for being impatient. And goddamn, his wrist hurt.

  “That’s it. No treats for you!”

  Koa barked angrily, daring Jake to try that again. Fine! Leave me alone!

  SEVENTEEN

  “Yeah, that’s going to need stitches,” Montoya said, holding Jake’s swollen, bloody wrist.

  They were alone in an exam room that smelled of disinfectant with the faint hint of dog. Jake sat on an exam table beneath an exam light as Montoya looked at Jake’s X-ray on the light board above his head.

  “No structural damage. Looks like he went easy on you. Our last decoy wasn’t so lucky.”

  Montoya turned Jake’s wrist in her gloved hands with a soft touch.

  “What were you thinking going in there alone?” she asked. “Someone could be scraping you off the floor right now.”

  “It’s my job. You can’t show fear or dogs will sense it. Everything was fine until I tried the muzzle. That was stupid. After the collar, I should have stuck with the leash. I wanted to muzzle him, though, start re-socializing. I can tell he’s ready to get back to work. But when I tried the muzzle, he went nuts on me. I had to alpha roll him.”

  Montoya looked up.

  “Alpha what?”

  “Dog wrestling. Just rough-housing—well, more intense than that—but it reestablishes the handler as the pack leader. Same thing puppies do with their littermates, basically.”

  “My god. Sounds like I’ll be seeing him next.”

  “He’s fine, but his pride’s hurt. He doesn’t like to lose, so it’s best to give him time to cool off. I’m going back as soon as you stitch me up.”

  Montoya shook her head while swabbing the bite area with iodine and scrubbing the caked blood off his skin. Despite another bite wound and eventual scar for his collection, Jake was happy. Koa had turned a corner and it was hard to contain his excitement.

  “Good news is you don’t have to worry about contracting anything,” she said. “He’s been tested for anything you can think of. You need something besides the anesthetic—for later?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “I don’t do pills.”

  “Oh, tough guy, huh? I like that.”

  “During rehab, I had enough opioids to kill an elephant. Got too dependent on them. After I kicked, I swore to just deal with the pain. Keeps me focused.”

  Montoya nodded silently, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She didn’t wear makeup and didn’t need any. Jake looked away to stop staring. On the opposite wall was a poster of the anatomical sections of a hairless canine body. It was much less stimulating to look at.

  Montoya tossed the bloody gauze pads into the garbage. The bite didn’t look as bad now that it was cleaned up, but it still throbbed with a dull ache. She reached for a needle already loaded with anesthetic. He stopped her.

  “No shot,” Jake said. “It’s fine.”

  She gave him a look that said, Are you serious?

  “It’s going to take at least six.”

  Jake nodded and found a spot on the floor to stare at. Montoya sighed and began stitching him up, pushing the hook-nosed needle through his skin and poking through the other side. She pulled the thread through and repeated the process. Each pass hurt more than the last. Jake bit his lip and squeezed the edge of the exam table with his free hand.

  “So what made you want to be a dog handler?” she asked.

  Jake hated talking about his past, but under the circumstances, Montoya’s question was a welcome distraction.

  “I always had dogs growing up,” he said. “I was a loner as a kid—only child. Dogs were some of the best friends I ever had. Later on, I didn’t know what to do with my life. Then I saw a documentary on MWDs in Iraq and that was it. Game over. Went to the army recruiter and told him I’d do whatever it took to be a dog handler.”

  Montoya jabbed him again with the needle
and pulled the thread through.

  “Tough job,” she said, focusing on her work. “Requires lots of patience.”

  “Tons of patience, and it’s not as cool as it looks. You clean lots of poop, you smell like a dog, hair gets everywhere—you never get rid of it all, and sometimes your dog thinks you’re a chew toy.”

  That earned him a smile that gave Jake pause. He really needed to get back to work before he said something stupid. His eyes found the floor again.

  “How did you two end up together?” She looked up at him.

  “Dumb luck. I was hoping for a German shepherd and Koa got assigned to me. It was love at first sight. Funny coincidence he ends up in Hawaii, though.”

  She began stitching him again.

  “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “The military buys most of their German shepherds from breeders in Europe, right? But Koa came from the mainland. Turns out the breeder was originally from Hawaii, so he gives all his pups Hawaiian names. Koa means warrior.”

  “Ah, I always wondered that myself. Mystery solved.”

  Jake noticed she was almost done with his stitches. Speaking of mysteries, he had some questions of his own.

  “So how long have you been here?”

  Montoya squeezed Jake’s wrist. It felt like a knee jerk reaction to his question.

  “Couple years,” she said.

  “They need a full-time veterinarian here with only two dogs? Sorry, I’m just curious.”

  The needle stopped moving and she glanced up at him. The smile was gone from her face.

  “I’m not full time. Used to be… Jake, I’m sorry, I can’t discuss too many details. I can tell you there used to be more dogs in the program, but the early subjects… They just didn’t work out.”

  Subjects? Is that all Koa was to her? Jake studied her, deciding he liked her less all of a sudden. She was hiding something.

  “And subject Koa,” he said. “Was he the first to… work out, as you put it?”

  The room grew quiet. Instead of answering, she went back to his stitches. She pulled the last one through and clipped off the thread. He was running out of time to get the information he wanted.

  “You must know about the mission then,” he said. “His bionic eyes and ears, whatever. Are they, like, always on? Recording everything I say and do?”

  “Yes and no. His eyes are on when he’s awake, of course, but transmitting and storing data has to be activated. That’s all I can really tell you. Not trying to hide anything, Jake, I’m just not a techie. I’d refer you to Dr. Levski, but…”

  Montoya visibly shivered as her voice trailed off. She finished wrapping his wrist with gauze and taped it down. Jake could tell she wanted to wrap up more than just his arm. She wanted this conversation to end and for him to leave.

  “What about him? Dr. Montoya, what’s going on around here? Tell me.”

  She pressed her lips together in a straight line as if zipping them shut. She glanced at him briefly as she stood.

  “I’m not sure what you mean. You’re actively involved in Koa’s care—”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. A crazy-ass mission like this, there should be backup plans, redundancies in place. Half the kennels are empty, and you won’t even tell me what happened to the other dogs?”

  Montoya sighed, obviously irritated.

  “The other dogs had to be put down, Jake. Their augmentations didn’t go well for one reason or another and I had to put them down, okay? It’s the worst part of my job, I can assure you.”

  Didn’t go well? How close had Koa come to Montoya’s needle of death?

  “What are you hiding?”

  Montoya flinched as if insulted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “There’s something in those tunnels, isn’t there?” Jake asked.

  She cleared her throat and went to the sink to wash her hands. Over her shoulder she said, “You really don’t want to know, Jake. Trust me.”

  Montoya turned to face him, drying her shaking hands.

  “Don’t ask questions and just do as you’re told. It’s better that way. But good luck with Koa. I really am pulling for you. If you need anything at all for him, just let me know. I’m sorry, Jake.”

  She walked out, leaving him alone in the silence of the exam room. Now even more questions swirled through his head, and with them, the faint sound of a ticking clock. He rubbed the tight scar tissue along his jaw feeling it tighten and pull. It was time to find out what was really going on.

  EIGHTEEN

  Later that day, Jake watched from a distance as the cleaning crew changed shifts. Four of them exited and made their way to the parking lot while a couple more, apparently the night crew, passed them on the way in. The men stopped and bullshitted before going their separate ways.

  At the tunnel entrance, one of the night crew tapped his badge at a control panel. The giant double doors opened, and the men went inside. Jake had to see for himself what was in there, especially after Montoya’s cryptic warning. But how?

  Jake racked his brain for answers but kept drawing blanks. His badge only gave him access to the kennel complex, the living quarters, and the admin building—the areas where he did his job. Then, while cursing his lack of options, a truck pulled into the parking lot. A man got out and made his way to the tunnel entrance. Go, now! Jake rushed to intercept him.

  The man was a young guy, geeky looking with black rimmed glasses. He tapped his badge at the control pad, and just as the tunnel doors opened, Jake snuck in behind him. The man heard him and spun around, startled.

  “Hey… uh, you got a badge? We’re not supposed to let people come in behind us like that.”

  The man wore his badge around his neck on a lanyard. Jake saw that his name was Chad. Jake held up his own badge.

  “Sure do, Chad. Thing is, I’m new here and something’s wrong with my badge. The reader here won’t take it. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Chad looked Jake over suspiciously.

  “Well, maybe you’re not supposed to have access.”

  “Bro, of course I am. I’m the new guy.”

  “The new guy?”

  “Yeah, the janitor.”

  The man paused and tilted his head.

  “The janitor?”

  Jake glared menacingly and with his hands made a what’s your problem? gesture.

  “You a fucking parrot now? Yeah, I’m the janitor.”

  Jake brushed past Chad and marched down the tunnel as if he knew where he was going. He had no idea, and his eyes darted everywhere, taking it all in.

  Conduit, cables, and metal air ducts ran the length of the tunnel. Ceiling lights shone and reflected off the polished concrete floor. A thin yellow stripe divided the walkway like a two-way street, but there were no signs of others. Just as he suspected, there was no indication of an active cleanup operation. So what were they doing?

  Jake continued deeper into the tunnel and looked over his shoulder. Chad followed from a distance, watching him closely. Jake came to a corridor intersection and turned left. A hundred meters ahead was what looked like a glass wall.

  Jake stopped. It was a glass wall, floor-to-ceiling high, and inside was a laboratory. The lab was full of high-tech equipment Jake didn’t recognize. Two men in hooded biohazard suits were inside. Air hoses hanging from the ceiling were connected to their hoods. One of the men was studying something under a microscope while another had his gloved hands stuffed inside a large glass cabinet.

  So this is what they’re hiding.

  “That’s him!”

  Jake whirled around. Shit. Chad was pointing him out to a security guard—the huge, scary-looking security guard from the admin lobby. He was already coming for Jake with a pissed off look on his face, practically knuckle-walking like a silverback gorilla before he raised his beefy arm.

  “You! Come wit me. Dey don’t pay me enough to chase you, so don’t piss me off, haole.”

  Jake looked left and right. There was ti
me to run, but run to where? He’d only get lost and they already knew who he was. He decided to let the guard take him to Geddon. The colonel had some explaining to do himself. If he was lying about the cleanup operation, what else was he lying about?

  * * *

  Jake waited in the conference room. The longer he waited, the more he resented being lied to. And if Geddon was lying to the public, too, then it had to involve something big. The security guard—Jake learned that his name was Manny—stood outside the door and nodded as Geddon walked in. He looked at Jake disapprovingly and tossed a folder onto the conference table. Geddon sat and faced him with an icy stare.

  “Should we start calling you Curious Jake, now?” he finally asked.

  Jake leaned forward in his chair and crossed his arms on the table.

  “You can start telling me the truth, sir. I don’t know what you’re up to in that lab, I don’t really care, but I don’t like being lied to, especially if it has anything to do with my dog.”

  Geddon noticed Jake’s bandaged wrist.

  “Nice papercut. What happened?”

  “It’s fine. Occupational hazard. So you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Decker, as I told you before, you’re here for one thing and one thing only: get your dog ready to deploy. That’s it. No questions asked, no snooping around like you own the goddamn place. Everyone here, except you, has a secret clearance to even be at this facility. You were an exception due to special circumstances—your dog. And I have to tell you, this doesn’t help Koa one bit. Instead of spending time with him, here you are wasting it with me.”

  Geddon had a point. What was he thinking? He didn’t know what was going on, but if he got to be with Koa again, did it matter? Why should he care?

  Geddon leaned forward.

  “And I’ll remind you about those NDAs you signed. Just so we’re clear, you’re truly fucked if you say anything about what you witnessed today, am I clear? It’s none of your damn business what goes on inside those tunnels, Decker. You’re just a dog handler, and if I were you, I’d want to avoid… further repercussions.”