Otherwise I would have smelled this creature, even in my sleep. But somehow his scent is hidden, so he is inside the camp before I know it. He’s almost on top of us when the crunch of sycamore leaves gives him away.
My eyes snap open and I instantly leap up, guarding the children in a protective posture.
“What’s going on?” Chance mutters, half-asleep.
“I’m not s—”
The creature springs before I’ve even finished my sentence, leaping out of the darkness and crashing into me with such force that the air rushes from my lungs and I’m sent sprawling. He hits me hard again and we roll over and over through the brush.
He leaps away from me, and I stand quickly, my head spinning as I get my balance. I look behind me and gasp.
I’m on the edge of a cliff, the earth dropping away into nothing a few inches from my paws. I regain my footing and move away from the edge.
“Watch yourself. It’s a long way down,” the dog says.
“Where are you?!” I demand, snorting and trying to draw the creature into the open.
I edge forward, marking the location of the mountain cliff behind me.
The wind shifts, and the smell hits me.
The creature’s scent has been masked beneath a chemical layer, but once the layer is disturbed, the smell is unmistakable.
Male dog.
Not just any dog, but something abnormal, savage, bordering on feral.
Chance shouts, “Where are you, Wild?”
He’s still back at camp looking for me, and the dog’s head whips around, tracking the sound of his voice.
I snarl, pulling the dog’s attention back to me.
His eyes glow ghostly red in the moonlight. I look around, scanning the area for additional dogs or men.
“There’s no one else,” he hisses. “Only me.”
I’m startled by his ability to speak. His voice is low and empty like wind echoing through a canyon.
“You can talk like the humans,” I say.
“Of course I can. We can. Why does that surprise you?”
“I didn’t know there was anyone else like me,” I say.
“But we’ve spoken many times before.”
“I don’t know who you are,” I admit.
He barks laughter. “You lost your memory. They didn’t tell me about that.”
“Did they tell you I was zapped in the head and left for dead?”
“Ugly business,” he says.
The moon peeks out of the clouds above us, and I catch a glimpse of him. He’s much larger than me, and he stands on huge paws. His furry tail whips through the air.
“I had nothing to do with you being zapped,” he says. “But I give you credit. You’re one tough dog to be able to survive that. Which makes what’s about to happen a great shame.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You survived being zapped, but you’re not going to survive this night.”
He leaps, jaws open, fangs bared.
I avoid his mouth, jumping to my front paws, then kicking out with my rear, a move that’s worked for me before.
I connect with his side, but it’s like kicking a stone wall. His muscles are thick beneath his skin, and unlike previous times, my kick barely registers.
Flashlights snap on in the campsite behind us, and I hear Chance and Junebug’s shouts as they search for me. They’re too far away for me to warn them, and I don’t want to bark and risk bringing them closer.
“You must have expected we’d come for you,” he says.
“I knew the blue uniforms were after me. I didn’t know there were dogs, too.”
“I’ve been tracking you since before Dr. Pao’s.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’m thirty-seven percent bloodhound. A super sniffer, among other things.”
I hear the sound of Chance and Junebug’s footsteps moving through the forest.
“Then the soldiers will be here soon,” I say.
“I work independently,” he says. “They do it their way, I do it mine. You don’t remember how it works with us.”
I’m afraid of this dog, but hungry for the information he knows.
“Tell me how it works,” I ask him.
“Every dog has a specialty. Mine is tying up loose ends. That’s why they call me the Finisher.”
“The Finisher.”
“It’s why I’m here. Unfinished business.”
“What’s my specialty?”
He sneers, his breath forming a cloud in the frigid air. “You make people love you.”
“But why?”
“Because you have a job to do,” he says. “You’re one of us, a Maelstrom dog.”
I yelp in distress as my suspicion is confirmed.
“Big girls don’t cry,” he sneers.
I clamp the sound in my throat, ashamed to be caught in a vulnerable moment in front of this animal.
“You’re one of us. You must have figured that out by now.”
I back up, my body instinctively trying to get away from his words. I’m hyperaware of the cliff’s edge behind me, and I shuffle to the side, being careful to avoid it.
As I move, I feel the unevenness of the forest floor beneath me, and something clicks in my head.
Gain the advantage.
If I can get to higher ground, I’ll have a slight advantage in an attack.
“If I am a Maelstrom dog,” I say, “why are they after me?”
“You went rogue,” he says simply.
“What does that mean?”
I shift to my left, moving up a slight incline as I try to keep him talking.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says. “It’s what I would do in your situation.”
He attacks instantly, staying low and coming for my belly, trying to use my position against me. I sense his moves before he makes them, and I crouch, avoiding his teeth and delivering a fast, defensive nip to his hindquarters.
He yelps and jerks away, backing up a few steps to reorient himself.
“Just a scratch,” he says.
His blood-soaked fur tastes disgusting, and I feel my stomach churn. I remember the taste of Thunder in my mouth and the way it made me feel.
He walks into the moonlight, revealing himself for the first time. He’s an awkward mix of breeds, big and thick-haired like a Siberian husky, yet with the shortened snout of a bloodhound and big jowls.
He howls into the air, a high, warbling note like a demented laugh.
“You think you’re better than me,” he says.
“I don’t even remember you.”
“But I can feel your disdain. It was there before, and it’s still here now. You think you’re special, that you don’t have to follow orders, and that makes you better than me. But the truth is we’re the same.”
“We’re not the same. You’re a killer—all you know is fighting.”
“We’re both killers. You’re just sneaky about it.”
He leaps forward, snarling.
“I don’t want to fight you,” I say.
“You have no choice, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.”
“You used to be.” He charges like a wild animal, teeth bared.
I do my best to avoid the attack. I slam at him with my paws, then I throw warning nips, then I pivot and try to get away. But nothing seems to put him off.
He connects with a bite to my midsection. I hear his teeth crunch down, and I howl and twist, forcing him to release me.
But the damage is done. I feel blood flowing freely from a wound underneath me.
He backs up, rage in his eyes.
“I can see why they wanted to keep you,” he says. “You’re talented. Even when you started to rebel, they tried to work with you, at least until you snapped and gave them no choice but to destroy you.”
Flashlight beams bounce off the trees nearby.
“Wild!” Chance shouts.
He’s found me, and he’s only a few feet away, unaware of the danger he’s in.
The dog turns to Chance, his eyes red, drool flowing. He charges without warning, aiming directly for the flashlight beam in Chance’s hand.
I howl and attack, my heart pumping, eyes blind with rage. I crash into him from the side, catching him off guard, and my jaws close around his neck.
Chance screams, surprised by the chaos in the dark in front of him.
“What’s happening?!” Junebug shouts.
The Maelstrom dog squirms, his throat vulnerable between my teeth. I hold him by the neck, not biting but not releasing, controlling him with the tension in my jaws.
He thrashes, and his sharp nails scratch my side. He whines and tries to turn his head to bite. I don’t know how long I can hold him like this.
Chance’s flashlight finds me in the forest, and he gasps as he sees me with this dog. I know I’m covered in blood and wounded, and I can only imagine what I look like with this dog in my mouth.
“What are you doing, Wild? Who is that dog?”
I can’t answer, can’t speak with my mouth full of this animal, the terrible smell of him in my nose.
“What’s going on?!”
It’s Junebug, racing out of the forest to find Chance staring at us. Her flashlight beam joins his, lighting me up as if I’m onstage.
The Maelstrom dog’s eyes are wide, and he thrashes again. At first I think he’s trying to get away, and then I realize what he really wants.
He’s trying to get to the children.
He jerks in their direction, jaws snapping, fighting to get away from me so he can get to them.
I don’t care about the foul taste of him in my mouth, or the flashlight beams dancing across us, or Chance shouting for Junebug to hurry. I can’t let the Finisher hurt the kids.
I crouch, muscles rippling in my legs, and I twist and throw him high into the air, as hard and as far as I can.
He lands at the cliff’s edge, scrambling to gain purchase on the loose gravel. His eyes go wide with fear.
I realize what’s happening, and I’m torn between saving him or letting him fall.
We are the same, I hear him say, but I don’t know if he’s said it again or I’m remembering it from earlier.
“We’re not the same,” I shout, rushing forward to help him.
But I’m too late. The Finisher loses his balance and goes over the cliff, howling as he falls.
I make it to the edge a second later and look down. I search the dark landscape for evidence of the Finisher. Did he land? Did he die? It’s impossible to tell.
“What did you do?” Chance asks.
The flashlights hit my eyes, causing me to blink.
“Did you hurt that dog?” Junebug asks.
“I didn’t—It was him or us.”
Chance and Junebug stare at me, confused by the fight they’ve seen. The look of horror on their faces is too much for me, and I turn away in shame.
I can still taste the Finisher’s blood on my muzzle. I take a step toward Chance, and he backs up.
“You killed him,” Chance says, horror on his face.
“I tried to save him. He attacked our camp, and I had to—”
I start to explain, but my words sound hollow, and Chance’s eyes are filled with fear.
“They’ll be coming for us soon,” I say. “Head back to camp and get ready to leave. I’ll be right behind you.”
The kids stumble away, flashlight beams swinging in front of them. When they’re out of earshot, I run to the cliff and take a final look into the inky blackness. I scan the ground below, but there’s nothing down there.
No body, no dog, no tracks of any kind.