Short Story: A Dog's World Part VI -- Conclusion
(A Dog's World Part VI, the Conclusion, is the final "chapter" of this Hubpages short story, which is an abbreviated production of a longer manuscript.)
Explosion } =
If Terrier Texas Jack was a traitor, he'd act to save himself from the explosion before he'd consider anything else, Rocky thought. The blowout they had planned was designed to take out all five major Big Blackie factories. Chickie was generaling his Corndog lieutenants to destroy or seize the countryside outlets. And Derek was headed toward the huge distribution center in Idaho.
Timing was everything. The explosives had to be set for simultaneous detonations. Corndog Unionist sympathizers were at the ready at every location. There could be little Big Blackie organized response if the explosions came at a simultaneous preset.
Rocky observed the trail toward The Sohoe. Merck's deposit was there to tell him that Merck's end of the plan was in motion. He turned to Texas Jack. "Let's go, Jack," Rocky said. The pair chose the fork in the trail headed northwest toward Big Blackie corporate headquarters...
Merck didn't feel well. Before he reached the fence that surrounded The Sohoe plant, he vomited. It was cold on his lips and dripped to the ground. He smelled arsenic and his eyes widened at the blood mixed with his vomit. Arsenic was an old killing tool of the Mutant Dragons. Sugar water, Merck thought. He'd had some at the meeting. Sugar laced with arsenic. Merck sat down. The Dalmatian wouldn't know that he'd never rise again...
Rocky and Texas Jack were silent as they traveled the back path at a trot. Big Blackie of Northwest Ohio was a mile ahead. The night sky was very black and starless. "Truck's over here," Rocky said tersely. He felt tense. Merck hadn't seemed well when they had parted. Rocky was worried about The Sohoe operation. He could handle corporate Big Blackie by himself if he had to, but he hadn't trusted the temptation to let Texas Jack accompany the seemingly ailing Merck. "A lot of innocents are about to begin their last day," he said quietly.
On the passenger seat beside him, Texas Jack replied: "It's the stuff of revolutions."
Rocky nodded silently. It was necessary to destroy; it was a way of conquering wrong in order to achieve right. Every good dog knew it was Sirius's will to have Light triumph over dark forces, and Corndog Unionists were Light. By 4:00 a.m. Rocky and Texas Jack had their explosives planted. Detonation was scheduled for noon...
Horace was padding west and south, away from Indiana Plaza Forest in Jackson County, the Final Detonation meeting place. He felt young again trotting toward his mission in Texas, like a gallant conqueror about to reap the rewards of reigning justly. The hard days and nights of operating Big Blackie's presses, strapped to his job and chained to unfair labor, were nearly over. By 4:45 a.m. his explosives mission was in place...
Derek had the detonation team's longest trek. The Big Blackie Distribution Center of Idaho had already been wired by trusted Corndog Unionists. Derek's mission was to confirm it before the Final Detonation hour approached.
Before 7:00 a.m., he had met with the underground Corndog group and was satisfied that arrangements were at the ready. But he had a prickly hot, nervous feeling that left him very uneasy...
Midget had insisted. "Derek, you go alone. I go alone. Together for our cause. When we meet again, we'll be triumphant."
"What a bitch!" Derek had said tenderly.
"Always yours," Midget told him.
They kissed goodbye and parted hopefully.
Midget was several miles from the Big Blackie New York factory when she allowed herself to think intensely of Derek, her bravest of brave, stubborn Bulldog love. She smiled and trotted on. It would all work, she thought. Then the arrow struck her true. She fell heavily, free from any other emotion...
Temperatures rose pleasantly as Star tramped southward across ocean lowlands toward South Carolina East Big Blackie, thinking primarily of his lovely female companion, Smoke, waiting for him at the Final Detonation meeting place. He felt important and confident. Being an integral part of the Great Revoluntionary Mission was exhilerating in itself.
When he arrived at South Carolina East Big Blackie and whistled for comrades, they appeared out of no where from the woods, as planned. By 5:00 a.m., all was in place. Star's Alaskan Malamute blood raced...
Canada had no regrets. Turning against Russell and his Big Blackie dictatorship had almost been a pleasure. When he thought of how cruelly his friend Buddy the Boxer had been treated over Buddy's inability to perform well enough on the Big Blackie boxing assembly line, Canada's stomach churned. He had embraced the Great Revoluntionary Mission as the best way to eliminate Big Blackie's grip on the land of the Corndogs.
Still, when he stopped and turned to look from the hill above his Big Blackie Utah home, he sank to his broad St. Bernard haunches with great emotion weighing on his heart as he watched the morning activity around the plant below. There was unalarmed scurrying over normal duties. So much destruction to come, he thought. The follow-up after the explosions needed to be swift and persuasive to get the masses under control.
A new day was dawning for all...
Chickie followed Lieutenant Pal's Schnauzer pawpoint toward the north side of the local country Big Blackie outlet. He saw at least three family units, perhaps four, slowly trekking northward, herding chickens, pulling milk cows -- any family's prized possessions -- and pushing and dragging loaded carts. The families were obviously fleeing. "What's happening?" Chickie said. "Has there been a premature alert?"
"I don't know," Pal said nervously.
When Chickie spotted several prominent community leaders -- Calvin, a country commissioner and his new bride; Brick's family, truck garden owners; and Laredo's bunch, community entertainers for generations -- a chill possessed him. "My Sirius," Chickie said under his breath. "How bad did the rumors get?"
Lieutenant Pal shrugged. He shifted his legs, back to front, in a nervous motion.
If families were vacating out of fear from rumors, Big Blackie management would soon be catching the drift of impending doom. The timed detonations were imminent. Chickie looked at his watch. Half an hour...
Horace's last breaths were painful. He swallowed his own blood. Then he quickly pawed the poisonous capsules to his lips. His Shephard body shook. It was obvious that total defeat was a matter of time.
Only two plant explosions had occurred, in Utah Big Blackie and at the Ohio Northwest factory. Japanese War Dogs and Mutant Dragons were everywhere, pouring into Big Blackie outlets and the countryside. Horace suspected mission security had been compromised. He didn't know how, but the enemy's instant response had halted the other detonations.
Horace touched the arrow shaft protruding from his side. He was gutshot. Perhaps the arrow was one with a poisonous tip. Its tip, poisonous or not, was buried in his stomach and intestines. A slow death awaited him unless he used the cyanide capsules. He shoved them into his mouth...
Rocky the Newfoundland glanced at the chaos from beyond Mount Sirius. It seemed as though the whole atmosphere was smoking and flaming. Big Blackie of Northwest Ohio had blazed spectacularly. In the melee that followed, an explosion separated Rocky from Texas Jack. It wasn't safe to try to find Texas Jack again. Rocky trotted to the nearest hillside and observed the destruction below him. His body jerked involuntarily when he spotted Texas Jack waving his paw to direct enemy troop traffic toward the hillside Rocky occupied. A traitor, after all, Rocky thought darkly. How many more had infiltrated the Corndog Unionists?
At the underground planning meetings, Horace had stated the importance of escape to new headquarters in case of utter defeat. Rocky turned away and quickly headed for the escape trail. Glancing back down the path when he heard rustling and shouts behind him, Rocky was shocked to feel an arrow penetrate his hind leg. He ignored the pain and slithered inside a hollow log. The woods fell silent after the Mutant Dragons apparently responded to a call in another direction.
Rocky lay there until dark, licking his wound while barely breathing until the danger seemed past. When he crept out of the log, he knew he would have to continue on the escape trail and hope to reach the cold Far North, where any survivors of the Great Revoluntionary Mission were scheduled to meet if the result of their efforts to overthrow Big Blackie power turned disastrous.
The Newfoundland looked over his shoulder and glanced ahead, too. Seeing nothing, he plodded forward. There was pain in his leg and paw, but the bleeding was minimal. In his heart, there was greater pain. He had no idea where any of his fellows were, and he was unaware if his own family had survived. He kept going at a trot. When he neared the Far North border, he lay silently for a time, shielded by the low-growing brush, his heart aching.
He sniffed the wind finally and, detecting slight but alarming scents of the enemy, flashed ahead toward the secret Far North passage.
- Short Story: A Dog's World
Is it a dog's world in 3050? Only canines inhabit the world's remaining lands in this fictional account of conditions in a dog-eat-dog society. condition
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