McKean S01 A Dangerous Breed by Thomas Hopp Read Free Book Online

ago with you, so we hear.”
    “That’s right,” Curman answered defiantly, baring his teeth enough to show that one front tooth was chipped. “So?”
    “She’s apparently bred with coyotes.”
    Curman turned the shotgun and set its butt on the porch boards. “Wasn’t loaded anyway,” he muttered, leaning it against the house and sagging into an antique rocking chair that squeaked under his weight, negligible though it was. “Outta ammo.” He looked at the floorboards and murmured, “Nanna’s been a very naughty doggie.”
    “Nanna? You mean animal 106?”
    “Don’t call her that!” Curman glared at McKean and me with maniacal intensity. Then he shifted tack, looking at us contritely. “You got any booze?”
    “Sorry, no.”
    He leaned back in the rocker and stared up under the porch roof where hundreds of cobwebs rustled in the light breeze. Then he burst into tears. “Gave up my career for her!” he blurted. “Saved her life! She’s so sweet, so smart. Why’d she go?”
    He looked up at us as if we might offer some explanation, with tears streaking the grime of his cheeks.
    McKean shook his head.
    “I loved that little pup,” Curman sobbed. “Named her after an old girlfriend from high school.” He chuckled at a memory. “That pup was different from the start. She learned ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ before she was weaned. She learned to sort rubber cubes, balls, and triangles into separate piles before she was two months old. She was a genius.”
    “Where is she now?” McKean asked.
    Curman shrugged. “She went away. Left me here all alone. Started running with that coyote pack. Came around a few times but she’d gone wild. Wouldn’t come near me.”
    McKean protested, “But surely you, a scientist, must have known what would happen.”
    “Screw everybody,” Curman snarled. “My career’s over. My life’s over.”
    A yip alerted us to the presence of coyotes. Second and third yips from other directions made it clear the house was surrounded on three sides by the animals. Behind the house, a basalt cliff dropped into a small lake.
    McKean and I turned as another yap caused the brush to come alive and several dozen coydogs showed themselves, including the Death’s-Head female, Tashota, and her huge coyote consort, Woyotl. From among them, a small dog rushed forward, not threatening but wagging its tail and wiggling with canine joy at greeting a friend. It came toward Curman, who jumped up and ran off the porch to greet her.
    “Nanna!” Curman cried, kneeling and hugging the Border collie. The dog responded with a rapidly wagging tail. She licked his face profusely despite its grime.
    McKean called to Curman, “I’d urge a little more caution. They’ve proven themselves quite dangerous.”
    Curman shook his head. “Nanna won’t let them hurt me, will you girl?” He kissed the dog’s graying muzzle and let her lick his mouth repeatedly.
    “Don’t stake your life on it,” McKean warned. “She’s not the alpha dog in this pack.”
    As if in response, the Death’s-Head dog yapped several orders and the pack moved forward at a walk, closing in around Curman and Nanna.
    The happy reunion ended when Death’s-Head barked orders, “Yap-yap, yip-yip!” The pack jumped Curman. Several chased Nanna away howling in fear. Their movements were as coordinated as any platoon’s I’d seen in Iraq. With others grappling Curman’s arms and legs, Woyotl sank his teeth into Curman’s throat and gave a vicious, blood-spattering shake.
    McKean and I had watched in horror but now another call from Death’s-Head sent four coydogs breaking out of the melee and charging toward us.
    “Get inside!” McKean cried but I was already halfway through the door. He dashed into the cabin after me and I slammed the plank door in the face of the leading animal and held it shut against the impact of several more animals’ bodies.
    I glanced around the one-room cabin but apart from dilapidated furniture,