Beware! This Dog Bites!
By John Haines
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Beware! This Dog Bites! - John Haines
64
Chapter 1
It’s the smell of bacon, frying in a cast iron skillet over an open fire that attracts his attention. At first, it’s just a faint whiff on the occasional breeze, but as he reaches the top of the ridge, it comes as a full olfactory assault.
Son, you definitely screwed up!
he says to himself as he peers around the trunk of a seventy foot loblolly pine tree. Below, he can see his quarry, dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and squatting down beside the campfire. The man has no idea that at this very moment, he is in the crosshairs of a 30-caliber carbine. The attacker has no plans to shoot his target in cold blood; instead, he plans to sneak along the ridge until he is out of sight from the camp; then, slowly descend from the ridge and come up on him from the blind side. From that point, it will be over in a matter of seconds.
Oblivious to his precarious situation, the camper calmly pours himself a cup of coffee and then sits down on a campstool, waiting for the meat to turn crispy. He’s cooking plenty, so he can enjoy a few strips of bacon while the eggs fry. What a lovely morning to be in the great outdoors; lovely for some folks, that is.
Taking care not to make a sound, the stalker is working his way through thick brush, and toward the campsite; he has a length of rope and a carbine in one hand and a vintage Army Colt 45 in the other. He’s crouched down like a coiled spring, his eyes transfixed on his prey. He allows no other thoughts to enter his mind except ones that pertain to his target.
He’s now only a few feet away from his prey, close enough to smell the bug repellent that his target applied earlier that morning. It’s pleasant aroma is not consistent with the environment, and had it not been for the overpowering olfactory onslaught of breakfast, it would have just as easily given away his position.
Then, without warning, the attacker springs to his feet and shouts, Hands in the air, NOW!
Startled, his target has no choice but to comply.
However, the victory is short lived, as a female shouts, No, you put your hands in the air and drop the weapon!
Slowly, the stalker raises his hands and turns to face in the direction from which the voice came. There, standing not five feet away is an attractive young woman wearing nothing but very short shorts and a floppy halter top, and pointing a double barrel 12-gauge shotgun at the attacker’s chest.
Didn’t know you were there,
he replies calmly.
Obviously!
she gloats.
Mind if I put my pistol on the ground? It has a hair trigger, and if I just drop it, it might go off.
Okay,
she replies, But don’t make any quick moves! Understand?
Oh I understand, Sweetheart. I never argue with a shotgun.
Then, he lowers his hands and reaches slightly forward as if to place the weapon out of reach. Then, pretending to lose his balance, he smoothly goes into a forward shoulder roll. On his back and rolling toward the female assailant, he forcefully extends his right leg until it slams into her lower jaw. The impact is substantial, and the woman unconsciously drops her weapon as she falls to the ground. Once again, the stalker has the upper hand.
You kicked my girlfriend you son-of-a-bitch,
the target screams as he launches himself. But, his action is anticipated, and quickly thwarted by the stock of the shotgun, that is conveniently lying nearby. With both targets now unconscious, it is easy to secure their hands with rope and carefully check them for more weapons. In the case of the woman, that check requires very little time.
Gradually, the two regain consciousness, upon which time they are marched out of the woods.
Well, it didn’t exactly go as planned, but what the Hell. I have my bail jumper and his girlfriend in custody and we’re headed back to my truck. But man, my shoulder hurts like Hell. Just had to find a rock when I executed that shoulder roll, didn’t I?
What the hell are you mumbling about Hound Dog?
the woman asks sarcastically.
Sweetheart, I was just thinking out loud about how I’m going to spend all the money that I’ll receive for taking you two in.
The attacker’s name is Jesse Baker, but most people only know him as Hound Dog. He owns a highly successful towing and recovery company, is a licensed bounty hunter and an adrenaline junkie. Prior to this, he was in the US Army Special Forces, but unfortunately, the action there was not sufficient to keep him interested.
Chapter 2
Yes! Yes! Gloria! Gloria, come over here! You’ve got to see this!
Gloria Kizer is a graduate assistant in the Micro-Biology Department at Massanutten University, along with Kevin Phillips. The two are close friends, in addition to being fellow graduate assistants for Professor Jonas Williams.
What is it, Kevin? I’m editing my thesis. Can’t it wait?
Barely five feet tall and just slightly overweight, Gloria has pale green eyes, a flawless complexion and a smile that can melt the average glacier. In addition, Gloria has a secret crush on Kevin. He is totally unaware of her infatuation, which is unfortunate, because Kevin feels the same way about her. So, the two continue to work less than fifteen feet apart, unaware of the joy that they could share.
It’s my AH-11 experiment,
he declares. The bacteria are massing around the lead flakes, just like I hypothesized.
Let me see, let me see!
squeals Gloria as she rushes across the laboratory floor, no longer concerned with her own project. Gloria knows how much work Kevin has put into this experiment, and she also knows that he plans to use the results of this one as a basis for his Doctoral Dissertation.
Do you see it?
Kevin asks excitedly.
Oh my God, Kevin, you did it!
Spontaneously Gloria throws her arms around Kevin’s neck and kisses him firmly on the lips. The response could have been taken as a simple ‘congratulations’, but Gloria’s kiss continues far too long for that mistake. Realizing that she may have exposed her true feelings, she pulls away from Kevin and begins to blush.
At first, Kevin is unable to comprehend what is going on, but by the time that Gloria pulls away, Kevin realizes that she feels the same way about him as he feels about her. Impulsively, he reaches out, pulls her back to him, and initiates a passionate kiss himself. And during those few magical seconds, their true love is realized.
……………………………………………………………………..
Three months later, after receiving his Master’s Degree, Kevin is in Professor William’s office, discussing the topic of his proposed Doctoral Thesis.
Mr. Phillips, are you sure you want to take on this problem for your dissertation? I’m aware of your work with the AH-11 bacteria strain, but everything that you did was in a highly controlled environment, and since then you haven’t been able to fully replicate the results.
Yes sir, I’m sure, Professor. Like you said, I’ve already had some success, and it’s not like the concept is totally unproven; the East German’s used a similar process to clean lead contaminants from a dam, back in the 1980’s. I know that I can get even better results with AH-11. Besides, I’ve lived my whole life here in the Shenandoah Valley, and all that mercury in the Shenandoah River has sent a lot of tourist and sportsman dollars to West Virginia and Tennessee. We need that revenue here in Virginia!
Your motives are admirable, Kevin; and if you could actually patent a viable process, you could write your own ticket. But in order to even begin your work, you’d need a lot more money than you or the department can afford!
I’ll find a way, Professor Williams. Just give me a chance, please.
Let me think on it some more, Kevin. Stop by my office tomorrow morning after my Chemistry 101 class.
Kevin’s passion gives Micro-Biology Professor Jonas Williams reason to at least consider the proposed thesis topic. And, at 10am the next morning, when Kevin arrives at his office, Professor Williams says, Let’s talk details, Kevin. What exactly are you proposing, and how do you plan to safely test your conclusions?
As I said before, the high level of mercury in the Shenandoah has contaminated the water, along with all of the aquatic life. We don’t know if it has contributed to the frequent fill kills in the river, but we do know for a fact that it’s not safe to eat more than 8 ounces of fish from the river in a 7 day period. It’s imperative; we need to find a way to remove the heavy metal from the water without destroying the river or wildlife!
Yes, yes…..we all agree with what you say, but how would you propose removing the mercury?
Well, I plan to use modified AH-11 bacteria. My test results suggest that the bacteria will seek out the mercury, just like they sought out the lead flakes in my earlier experiment. I’ll alter the genetic makeup of the bacteria to make them encapsulate the metal and gradually seek out other bacteria masses. Eventually, the masses will grow large enough to be located visually or with sonar and removed.
And you believe that you can make the appropriate modifications to the AH-11 bacteria to accomplish this? You realize that you are gambling with your future, Kevin? If this doesn’t work, you could end up having to find a new topic; and, that could cost you a lot of time and money!
I understand that, sir, but I’m willing to take the risk.
Professor Williams leans back in his chair, slowly tamps down the burning tobacco in his favorite Meerschaum pipe, and draws in the sweet aroma of his personal blend of cherry tobacco. Smoking inside the Biology Building is strictly forbidden, but no one enforces the policy on Jonas due to his extensive tenure at the University. Then, after savoring the flavor for several moments, he looks Kevin directly in the eye.
Although I have my concerns, Kevin, I’m approving your project. However, you’ll need to keep me informed about any experiments that you plan, and you MUST wait for my approval before you perform them. In addition, you may not carry on experiments in any open water source; experiments must be restricted to river water samples that are confined to the laboratory. The last thing that we need to do is to introduce another contaminant into the Shenandoah eco-system.
Thank you, Professor. You won’t regret your decision, I promise.
Ok Kevin, but make sure you don’t share too much about what you plan on doing; our field of study is full of unscrupulous individuals. You realize that if successful, your project could generate millions of dollars in revenue for you and the university. Others will reach that same conclusion, and possibly try to steal your idea!
Yes Sir. Trust me, I won’t say a word.
Chapter 3
Although it’s only April, most of the trees are beginning to bud, providing the mountains of eastern West Virginia with what appears to be a green haze, hovering over the dark skeletons of a slowly vanishing winter forest. Below, the valley floor is carpeted with early blooming wildflowers, adding a backdrop of color to the predominance of green and gray overhead. And, every so often, you can see a flash of white, peeking out from under a rocky outcropping, remnants of last winter’s fury. It is all quite intoxicating to Hound Dog, until the GPS unit suddenly springs to life.
"Turn right in one quarter mile. Turn right onto Whispering Pines Road, then travel eleven miles to your destination on the right." Despite major efforts by the manufacturers to humanize the voices, even to the point of offering accent and gender choices, GPS voices always sounds mechanical and somewhat abrasive.
Damn! Eleven more miles, all on a rutted old one-lane dirt road! That truck better be in the driveway, like he promised!
Whispering Pines Road is very familiar to Jesse Baker, aka. Hound Dog; it meanders for many miles through relatively rough terrain, and is a haven for those who seek sanctuary from the prying eyes of neighbors and the law. Most repo drivers are unwilling to accept assignments here; so, for the few, such as Hound Dog, who are not fearful, it offers frequent paydays.
Earlier that day, Hound Dog made his first repossession, a 2007 Ford Escape, and it’s already secured to the bed of his rollback. The owner had been totally cooperative; but, for Hound Dog, that is a mixed blessing. Cooperation means a quicker and easier pickup, but it also means no excitement, and excitement is the one thing that he craves. A former Army Ranger and Special Forces, Hound Dog is a bit of an adrenaline junkie; he looks forward to confrontation, whether with a hostile individual who is having his personal vehicle repossessed, or a wanted felon or bail jumper. Just maybe, this second pickup will be more entertaining than the first. But until he arrives at his next pickup location, Hound Dog will continue to enjoy the sights and sounds of such a beautiful spring day.
Unfortunately, those thoughts of a pleasant drive gradually evaporate, as he continues down the high crowned, rutted road. Winter snow and spring rains washed away much of the topsoil, exposing tree roots and numerous sharp rocks. In some areas, the soil washed away in such volume that small washouts were created that span the entire width of the road, affording the motorist a variety of teeth-rattling, bone-jarring experiences.
Hound Dog starts down the road at a modest 25 miles per hour; but, his mamma didn’t raise no fool, and after his third spine adjusting jolt, he resigns himself to an even slower speed.
As long I take my time, this might not be so bad,
he decides. "I’ll just pop in my Credence Clearwater Revival CD. If I’m not goin’ to make much money today, I may as well enjoy myself." And for the next ten and a half miles he does just that.
But, as soon as he rounds the last bend, and a weather beaten double wide trailer with an old Ford pickup in the front yard comes into view, his tranquil drive goes to hell in a hand basket.
From out of nowhere, a bullet shatters the windshield of the rollback, vaporizes the rearview mirror and then proceeds to take out the rear window. At least that is what Hound Dog believes happened. It’s hard to tell for sure, because the first round is immediately followed by 2 more, both of which travel through the cab and imbed themselves in the engine block of the vehicle that is secured to the truck’s bed.
All too familiar with irate individuals, Hound Dog doesn’t panic or attempt to turn around; instead, his eyes light up; and, if you were close enough to witness it, you would see a smile emerge on his face. Time to rock-n-roll!
he proclaims through that twisted smile of his.
In an instant, he ascertains the direction of fire and bails out of the cab, carrying an old Army 45 Colt in his left hand and a pistol grip 20 gauge in the other. Fortunately, the sun is still low enough in the sky that he can use that to his advantage. His rollback provides cover for about 30 feet, then, he slowly makes his way to a large rock that lies between the sun and his attacker. Partially blinded by the brilliant light from the sun, his attacker is unable to get off a clean shot at Hound Dog, and Hound Dog takes that opportunity to sprint to a fallen tree.
But his move doesn’t go unnoticed, and two quick shots from the shooter send bark flying into the air, narrowly missing Hound Dog’s head. Despite the near miss, he remains calm, using the shots to better calculate the position of the shooter.
Okay, now I know exactly where he’s hiding; I can get the drop on him if I can just get over to that other fallen snag without him realizing what I’m up to,
Hound Dog decides. But I can’t do that with him focused on my every move. I need a diversion,
he decides. In this case, Hound Dog decides to start up a conversation with his attacker.
Harlan, I don’t want to hurt ya, but if you keep shootin’, I’ll probably have to kill ya! Now you don’t want that do ya?
Screw you Hound Dog; ya ain’t takin’ my truck like ya did last year!
Son, you don’t want to do this! Right now, all it’s going to cost you is your pickup and whatever it takes to repair the damages. You don’t want to die over that!
You’re NOT takin’ my pickup and I ain’t payin’ ya for that damn truck of yours.
Harlan, son, don’t be stupid; this isn’t worth wasting a life over!
‘You callin’ me stupid? I ain’t stupid, you son of a bitch!"
Harlan is so wrapped up in the dialog that he fails to recognize that Hound Dog has flanked his position. By the time he realizes his predicament, Hound Dog is less than 20 yards away. Surprised by the situation, Harlan opens up again with 5 rounds from his modified AR 15.
Son of a bitch!
echoes down the valley, when one of Harlan’s rounds strikes Hound Dog in the left foot. Immediately, his instincts and military training take over, and Hound Dog returns fire with his 20 gauge. It only takes one shot; nearly half of the 24 pellets of #3 buck-shot find their mark, peppering Harlan from head to toe. None of the wounds are fatal, but Harlan is one hurtin’ cowboy!
Damn you Harlan! I didn’t want to have to do that, but you’re not going to shoot me again!
Although Hound Dog is about as tough as they come, he has a compassionate side. After calling the sheriff’s office to report the shooting, he calls 911 for medical assistance; in fact, he even throws Harlan a box of Band-Aids and a roll of electrical tape to help keep the Band-Aids on. And only after Harlan finishes patching himself up, does Hound Dog handcuff him and throw him in the passenger side of the rollback to wait for the Sheriff’s Deputy to arrive.
Twenty minutes pass before they finally see the telltale cloud of dust that heralds the arrival of the deputy. During most of that time Hound Dog and Harlan are engaged in a meaningful one-sided discussion regarding Hound Dog’s heritage and his mother’s marital status at the time of his birth. Unfortunately, most of the conversation goes unheard by Hound Dog, because Hound Dog has pumped up the volume on his radio and is peacefully enjoying the CCR CD.
Finally, the police cruiser comes to a halt beside Hound Dog’s rollback, and directly behind it is a cloud of dust that quickly engulfs both vehicles. A common occurrence in this part of the country, both men know to keep their windows up and doors closed until the air clears. Eventually, the deputy emerges from his dust covered cruiser and purposefully walks over to the rollback.
Damn it Hound Dog. Every time I respond to a call that involves you, it takes me 2 weeks to get the smell of blood out of my car!
Hey man, if they take a shot at me I’m going to shoot back. Can’t help it if I’m a better shot! Besides, I already called for the rescue truck.
The deputy isn’t really angry with Hound Dog; in fact, he considers Hound Dog a close friend. And truth be told, most people around here like Hound Dog. He has a somewhat gravelly voice that reminds you of your uncle or grandfather. And, you never have to wonder where you stand with him, because he’ll tell you exactly what he thinks of you, though seldom in a threatening tone. Confident in himself and his abilities, he has no need to be overly aggressive or arrogant. It’s that unassuming quality that makes everyone respect him, except of course those who have not paid their bills or are fugitives from the law.
Hound Dog, why do you have to use that damn shotgun all the time. Wouldn’t it be simpler to use that old 45 of yours?
Let me tell you Abel, most of the people that I encounter aren’t criminals, they just haven’t paid their bills. I don’t want to hurt them; I just need to get their attention. My scatter gun serves that purpose well. If I really feel threatened, then I’ll pull out the artillery, just like you say.
It is then that the deputy sees the trail of blood from the rollback to where the two are standing. Hound Dog, you’ve been shot!
It’s just a scratch.
Bull shit, a scratch. As soon as the paramedics arrive for Harlan, I want them to take a look at your foot.
Now how in the hell am I going to get me and my truck home if they wrap my foot up in bandages?
I’ll drive it back for ya.
The hell you say! Nobody drives my truck except me. hell I don’t even let my boy drive it. Besides, I still have to load up Harlan’s pickup.
Hearing his name, Harlan decides to join the discussion. Deputy, arrest that man for attempted murder! I want to press charges. He damn near killed me with that shotgun of his. And now he wants to steal my truck. Do somethin’!
Harlan, shut your mouth or I’ll kill ya myself. Now sit down and shut up. The way I see it, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges against you for attempted murder. He’s a licensed officer of the court, and he sure as hell has a lot stronger case than you. Do you understand what I’m tellin’ ya, boy?
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Harlan Funk, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will……….If you can’t afford an attorney…………………Do you understand these rights?
Yeah, yeah. This is all bull shit anyway. Man comes on my property, wants to steal my truck and then shoots me and I’m the one that’s goin’ to jail? What the hell kind of rights are those? Huh! What kind of rights Mr. Sherriff’s Deputy?
Whether it was due to the realization that the deputy was right, or from simple blood loss, Harlan slumps down in the passenger’s seat of the rollback and doesn’t say another word. Abel and Hound Dog make use of the wait time by engaging in small talk, mostly about where the fish are biting.
Soon, the Rescue Squad arrives and the two EMT’s emerge with all of their equipment.
Son, what the hell do you have all over your body?
asks the one paramedic, as he begins removing electrical tape from Harlan’s chest, and replacing the Band-Aids with sterile gauze pads and tape.
It’s that bastard’s fault,
Harlan replies as he points his boney finger at Hound Dog.
Shut up Harlan,
shouts the deputy. I’ve heard enough out of you for one day.
Now, Harlan isn’t a particularly happy man at this point, especially after the paramedics had to remove all that electrical tape from his hairy chest, but he finally recognizes that his mouth is only getting him into more trouble, so he lies back in the Rescue Truck and falls asleep.
About that time, the paramedics tell the deputy, That’s about all we can do for Harlan for now, Abel. Removing the buckshot will have to wait till we get him to the hospital. You coming with us?
Yeah, but you got another man to treat before you go. Hound Dog’s been shot too!
Hound Dog, shot? Now that’s one for the books!
jokes the larger EMT. But, when he looks more closely at Hound Dog, he sees a pool of blood forming around Hound Dog’s left foot. A worried look forms on his face, because he can see that this wound could be serious.
Okay, now sit down on the tailgate so I can get a better look,
states the EMT.
Uncharacteristic for Hound Dog, he actually does as he is told, and without