Guns And Dogs (4 page)

As he pulled out his tools, he heard the sound of a car pull up on his driveway. When he turned around he was greeted by a face he hadn’t seen in ages.

A smile spread across Argos’ face as he shook the hand of the newcomer and hugged him. Rusty bounded up to them both and stared at the new man with interest. “Well if it isn’t Scotty Veto. How long has it been since I’ve last seen you?”

Scotty smiled. His rugged features were amplified by black-rimmed glasses. He wore a two-piece business suit and a small knapsack sat at his feet which he picked up. “Too long, Argos old pal, too long.” Scotty looked at Rusty and smiled. “And who do we have here?” He let Rusty sniff his hand before gently patting the dog’s head.

“That’s Rusty, he’s real smart, Scotty,” Argos said proudly. “Check this out. Hey Rusty! Where are your manners bud? Welcome Scotty to our home.” Upon hearing this Rusty extended his right front paw to Scotty who shook it.

“That’s pretty impressive. You always were good with both animals and cars. Can we talk, Argos, in private?”

Argos sensed the change of tone in Scotty’s voice. Now he was the serious Army officer Argos had come to love and trust like a sibling. “Well sure, Scott, let’s go inside.”

The two men sat in the kitchen across from one another. Argos slowly sipped his coffee and waited for Scott to speak. “I need your help Argos. There have been certain developments in national security that have required the creation of the agency I work for.”

“What type of agency?” Argos asked. He felt that by asking he was opening a doorway which he might not want to pass through. But this was his friend so he had to ask.

Scott reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a thick brown manila folder filled with documents and placed it in front of Argos. On the file was a seal with the NSA logo on it.

“Open it,” Scott said.

Argos’ felt an irregular heartbeat in his chest and wondered if it was the caffeine from his coffee playing tricks on his nerves again. “Alright,” he replied reluctantly. He flipped open the file and rummaged through some documents. “What’s this all about, Scott?”

“When you take a look at what’s in there, you’ll figure it out, my friend,” Scott said.

Some of the documents were old and yellowed, but Argos took his time and read everything that lay before him. He looked at the date on one of the documents and his eyes widened.

July 12, 1947

“What the?” Argos scanned the document. It had an old United States Air Force header on it. His eyes continued to scan the report. It detailed the recovery operations of an “unidentifiable disc” that was found on a New Mexico ranch. He looked up at Scott who stared at him solemnly. “Is this what I think it is?” he asked.

Scott nodded. “Take a look at the pictures Argos; in the brown envelope.”

Argos found a large envelope that was labeled:
CLASSIFIED
in red. He took a short breath and pulled out the photographs. They were black and white, and glossy. Depicting pictures taken of various pieces of debris containing strange markings. He flipped through the photos until he saw one that had a spindly limb on it. It looked like an arm but had four long fingers. Is that what I think it is? Argos thought. “This is all just a hoax…right Scott?”

“No hoax, Argos.”

He eyed another photograph this one with another limb. This one was even stranger. It had three long toes. “My dear Lord!” Then it’s true. There were more photos. A few were in color and featured spindly grey bodies that looked like blood had been drained out of them.

“Now you know why I’ve come Argos.” Scott took the dossier from Argos, who was still trying to digest what he had seen. So it’s true. Those conspiracy theorists were right all these years. Little green men do exist. Except they’re grey. “The agency I work for deals with these types of issues. These possible threats to national security.”

Kinda like that movie, Argos thought. He couldn’t remember the title but he did recall the fictional clandestine agency that defended Earth against extraterrestrial threats. “Geez Scott, you sure know how to drop a bomb on a fella. Today was supposed to be a relaxing day for me, fixing my car and later on meeting my Dad. We’re starting up a dog-breeding business.”

“I see.” Scott exhaled. “We could use a man like you, someone who catches on quick. Someone who can interpret situations and fix them under pressure.” Scott stared at Argos for a few moments. “There’s more to this agency than just tracking flying saucers and keeping tabs on extraterrestrial visitors.”

“More, what?” Now Argos was confused. He didn’t want to get angry at Scott, this was his friend. But he’d worked hard and was about to enjoy his post-retirement job. Dogs. Just dealing with dogs put him at peace.

Scott removed his glasses. “It goes deeper, Argos, deeper than you could ever imagine. You see, we’ve discovered an energy source that is more efficient than nuclear power; and it allows my agency to travel back in time.”

Argos nearly dropped his coffee mug. Rusty saw his reaction and let out a concerned whine.

This time it was Argos’ turn to exhale. “This has definitely been one strange morning,” he said, while giving Rusty a reassuring ear scratch.

Tucson, Arizona

Present Day

“This is going to be fun,” Diablo said. “Those jerks at school won’t know what hit ‘em.”

Bloodboy smiled. He knew it would be fun too. Those morons at the school, the jocks, the cheerleaders who stared at him and Diablo like they were walking garbage, they’d all get what was coming to them. “Yeah, man. I’m gonna enjoy lighting up that school.” Bloodboy took hold of his rifle and fired off a few shots at the target. Grendis had built them an out-of-the-way shooting range in the desert, and they’d been practicing for days, trying to hone their shooting skills for Omega Day.

“Check this out,” Diablo said. He fired off a volley from his Colt M4 Carbine and smiled at the result. The target was pummeled before it blew to pieces.

“Cool!” Bloodboy said. He was still getting used to the feel of his new AR-15 but knew he’d be ready for Omega Day. It was lightweight and suited him, easy to manage yet capable of inflicting massive casualties if used properly. “Check this out Diablo!” He focused his aim at the target in his own lane and let loose a barrage. Grendis had had his targets designed like a girl who’d rejected his advances in history class last month.
She won’t be laughing at me the next time I see her.

“Grendis gave us some cool toys,” Diablo said as he took in the destruction his weapon had unleashed within the remote shooting range. “I can’t wait to hit that park he’s preparing for us.”

“Yeah, he says it’ll be like an obstacle course that will help us prepare for the raid.”

Diablo smiled. “I can’t see anyone—or anything for that matter—being much of an obstacle to us. Now that we’re toting this kinda firepower. Hee! Hee!”

“They’ll never laugh at us again,” said Bloodboy.

Diablo smiled. “Or treat us like dog-crap.”

Bloodboy nodded, and found himself thinking back to their first meeting with Grendis.

Being different was always painful for Bloodboy. He didn’t even use his real name anymore. It didn’t matter anyways, even if he did use his real name people didn’t call him by it. They called him “freak” or “psycho”, and sometimes even crueler words. None of the girls in his classes ever talked to him, or even looked at him. He would always sit in the back of the class, so the teacher wouldn’t call on him. That way, if he was invisible, he could live with himself.

Diablo wore all black like Bloodboy. Other students looked down on their kind because they wore black clothes to school and had spikey hair. “We’ll make ‘em pay someday, we just have to find a way,” Diablo would always tell him after school when they met outside near the school bike rack. They had stopped riding the bus. The jocks on the bus would always punch them and when Bloodboy and Diablo tried to fight back the bus driver would always single them out.

“Hey that rhymes,” Bloodboy said. “You’re a poet Diablo.”

Diablo smiled. “Yeah, and I didn’t even know it.” They both laughed and dropped their cigarette butts to the ground before putting them out with their shoes.

As they got ready to unchain their bikes and head home a blue Corvette pulled up beside them. The window rolled down and Bloodboy knew who it already was. “Look at the two freaks!” a voice said from inside the Corvette. “How are you two girls doing? Kill any squirrels today?”

Diablo scowled at the Corvette’s driver before Bloodboy grabbed his arm. “It isn’t worth it, man,” he told his friend. “That’s what those two bozos are looking for. A fight.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to stand here and take it.” Diablo pulled out a match and lit it before walking up to the car’s open window and tossing it inside the Corvette. A series of curses erupted from inside before two muscular teens emerged from the car. They were both wearing blue and white Letterman jackets. The hated jocks, or jock-straps as Bloodboy called them.

“So you like to play with fire, little man?” one of the jocks said. It was Bobby McQueen, captain of the football team, and their number one nemesis. Bobby always had something to say to him and Diablo, and today it appeared he was in the mood to inflict more pain upon them. He hurled a fist at Diablo who ducked. Bobby’s friend moved in and grabbed Diablo from behind and put him in a headlock.

I have to do something, Bloodboy thought as a chill rippled across his chest. He made a fist and raised it over his head. He slammed it into the back of the other jock’s head and immediately felt a burning pain surge through his arm. “Guy’s head feels like it’s made of stone.”

“You little!” the other jock dropped Diablo and slammed his hands into Bloodboy’s chest. He fell backwards and bumped his head against the hard pavement. Bobby then lowered his foot into Bloodboy’s face. Seconds later, the world became a blur before Bloodboy passed out.

When he awoke he was staring into the face of Diablo who was gently shaking him. “Blood! Blood!” he said, his voice filled with urgency.

Bloodboy’s eyes fluttered like moth wings. The world around him was still a blur, but after a few moments the scenery around him focused until he could see better. “What happened?”

“When school security dropped by those chickens took off, that’s what. Now, lemme look at your head.”

Bloodboy turned his head sideways while Diablo looked at it. “Not too bad, but I think you’re gonna need stitches. Can you stand?” Bloodboy nodded as Diablo helped him to his feet.

“I’m so sick and tired of everyone treating us like dirt, Diablo.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Then why not do something about it?” a voice said.

Both Bloodboy and Diablo looked around. There was no one around. “Here I am,” said the voice, and a young man in his early 30s, wearing a black t-shirt and leather jacket, stepped out from behind a tree.

“Who the hell are you?” Diablo asked.

The young man smiled. “Me? Well, my name is Grendis, and I’m here to help you two lads.”

Tucson, Arizona

Present Day

The boys were busy putting holes in the targets at the shooting range when Grendis made his appearance. He liked working with these two primitives, they did not question his authority or ideas and were always anxious to please him.

He had welcomed this assignment on Earth. His homeworld, Lycaria, held little appeal for him these days. The bureaucrats there had turned his once-powerful planet, which had conquered over forty star systems, into an isolationist world. The result had been the loss of a half a dozen systems over the past century to rival star powers, and Lycaria’s decline as one of the Milky Way’s great star powers.

He smiled at his charges. In a sense they were like him, full of rage for those who would keep them down. “How are you?” Grendis asked. The boys smiled at him and nodded. The indignant one, Diablo, reminded him of his youth, which had been marked by anarchist tendencies. While the other male, the one called Bloodboy, was an intellectual and used his fists only when forced into a fight.

“Just practicing like you asked us too, Grendis,” Bloodboy said. “Pretty soon we’ll be sharpshooters like you once were in Iraq.”

Grendis smiled. His cover story of being a disgruntled American veteran had won the boys over. “I’m very proud of you
men
,” he said before placing a hand on each boy’s shoulder. “When we complete our perilous mission, you’ll both be remembered as champions of the opressed.”

“Yeah,” Diablo said. “We’re so tired of being treated like crap.” He lifted his Colt M4 Carbine to his chest proudly. “With this we’ll finally be respected, thanks to you Grendis.”

“Indeed you will boys,” Grendis replied. “But we need to talk more about Omega Day.”

Bloodboy looked puzzled. “Is there a problem Grendis?”

“No my friend.” Grendis looked at his holographic emitter which was disguised like an Earth wristwatch. It disguised his true Lycarian appearance. The technology was created by the agency he served, the Fang Syndicate, and it had been instrumental in blending into Earth culture. “Just a precautionary measure. We want everything to run smoothly, don’t we?”

Both boys nodded and Grendis could see the malevolence in their eyes, the same look they had when he first appeared to them over three months ago.
Your hatred for your fellow students will doom your race,
Grendis thought. But now was not the time to think of this, for now, they were allies. “I need you two to start following this boy.” He pulled out his Earth smartphone and showed a picture of a brown-haired boy with grey eyes and stern facial features.

“That’s Edward Castle,” Bloodboy said. “What do you want with him?”

“He’s a threat to our plan,” Grendis answered. “I want you two to keep an eye on him for me, find out which classes he takes, who his friends are.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Bloodboy answered, “I can hack into the school database and find out his class schedule. Consider it done, Grendis.”