Cadaver Dog by Doug Goodman Read Free Book Online

pacing back and forth. Angie pointed to the ground on the far side of the log and said, “Check here.”
    Murder woofed his thanks and pressed into the woods. For an hour they moved back and forth, circling several trees and passing several false trails that Murder breezed by without hesitation. Angie was feeling good about Murder’s progress, but thought he should have caught up to her dad by then. How far had the old man gone?
    She heard the burbling of the creek bed. They had come to Cryer’s Creek. She checked Murder, but he showed no signs of exhaustion or frustration yet. The dog got to the rocky banks and worked up and down the creek bed. The water whirled around sharp boulders. She could practically predict where the scent was eddying based on the currents. Angie had crossed the creek many times in her days, especially in daylight. When the sun was out, the creek was inviting. But at night time, the creek was like a bulge in a jacket that could be something nonthreatening or a gun, you didn’t know which.
    Angie considered whether Murder was off her father’s trail, but the dog seemed certain that he was going in the right direction. He was running back and forth up and down the creek bed. There was scent everywhere, and Murder was trying to figure out where her father crossed. One thing was certain, though. He had crossed here.
    Angie checked mud or sand where boot prints may form, but her expectations were low. The creek was mostly pebbles and river rocks. As she thought, she found no prints. If she had more time, she knew she could still check for impressions in the rocks, but it was night and she was working her dog. She didn’t have time to study the slight shifts in rock.
    Then Murder jumped into the water. He cantered to one side like a ship listing, but once he got to the far side, he bounded back to the trail and ran into the dark. Angie verified their locations on the GPS and entered the water. Of course it was just deep enough to go over her boots. The cold mountain water awakened her senses and was a cool refresher in the dry heat of June. Also, it reminded her that it was late.
    Twenty minutes later, she was about to call her dad to cancel the exercise when Murder barked low. His light stick had gone still, and she couldn’t read any behavior off of him in the dark. Something moved among the boulders up ahead, right next to her dog. Angie felt a weight lift off her shoulders. Murder had found her father.
    “You can come out, Dad! You went too far. Now we have a long walk home.”
    But her father didn’t say anything. He moved away from the dog, as if uncomfortable around Murder. As a reader of body movements, this struck Angie as very odd, and an old fear started to unfurl its wings inside her. She had never seen her father react like that to any animal. Then her father flailed at Murder, who barked loudly and ran back to Angie to get his chicken. A fear colder than the mountain waters doused her spine.
    Angie pulled the bear deterrent she never went into the Cristos without and unloaded four plugs from her Magnum into the dead woman. The recoil shook her arms and shoulders. Half her shots went wide. The other two blew out chunks of the woman’s arm and hip. The dead woman was dressed in a bright blue gown and wore her best jewelry, which shined in Angie’s flashlight.  
    Something like a concrete pylon hit Angie’s shoulder. She hit the ground hard, her butt landing on rocks. At the same time, Murder tore a chunk of the zombie’s calf away from the bone.
    The head, dumbass, she thought to herself, and raised her weapon. The zombie opened its maw, venomous saliva dripping from its teeth. Briefly, ghost-pain throbbed in her shoulder, a reminder of the effects of the venom. The last bullet in the barrel tore out most of the zombie’s jawbone, throat, and lower brain. The undead re-died, falling like stones to the ground.
    Murder shook off the chunk of leg and barked again at the fallen