Canine Maximus Max (MOSAR Book 1) Read online

  Desperate to find food or water, I pry open the boot with my knife. I know I won’t find anything, but I look anyway, then slam the boot shut, shaking my head as I walk off.

  Further along, there’s another body. Its head has been completely blown off and the remaining neck cauterised, a tell-tale sign of an Ashra. Bloody Union police, not even Union soldiers are this savage. The body is decomposing, the stench overwhelming.

  Dizzy, I drop to all fours. I have to move on. I struggle back to my feet and stagger, collapsing again, slamming my head on a rock.

  I wake face-down in the gutter, flies buzzing, a faint rumble in the distance. The rumble grows louder and louder, and seconds later, a convoy of Union trucks thunders by. Barely able to lift my head, I play dead — not hard to do. Opening my eyes just enough, I see the Union soldiers are heavily armed, their enormous trucks armour plated and carrying massive energy weapons. The lead truck slams into the burnt-out car, sending it flying off to the side of the road. Each truck has nearly a dozen soldiers in it, and as they drive past, some of the soldiers look down at me and the dead bodies littering the roadside.

  My ruse works. The convoy continues on, and just as fast as it appeared, it disappears in a distant rumble. I lift my head and try to push myself up, but collapse. I close my eyes.

  I wake to a massive headache and Skoll bright in the night sky. Stumbling out of the gutter and up to the road, I put my hand to my forehead and scowl in pain as I feel a deep, bloody gash on my forehead. I can’t keep going like this. I kneel, retrieve on old shirt from my backpack, tear a shred of cloth and apply pressure to my forehead. I continue down the road in the red moonlight. It’s not long before I make it to an escarpment that overlooks a valley. The valley is a mix of wheat fields, pastoral lands and lush bush. A sight for sore eyes. On the far side of the valley, Paelagus lights up the sky in a hazy glow. Several major roads, including the one I’m on, lead down to the valley and the city. Vehicles are driving up and down, starships are taking off and landing — a hive of activity on the horizon. I’ve never seen such a large city before, and I stand there awhile, in the cool air, watching. My home town feels so small now.

  Staggering down the steep road that heads into the valley, I come across a bridge spanning a large gorge with a stream and climb down to get a drink. With Skoll directly overhead, I kneel at the sandy edge and drink greedily, cupping water into my parched mouth. I fill my water bottle as the blood red moonlight shimmers on the surface of the ambling stream, then spot a secluded area further along, under some low tree branches. I sit for a while, exhausted, and fall asleep on the sandy river bank.

  A Union striker scout has a man on his hands and knees. His Ashra is pointed at the man’s head, whilst a Union policeman has his fist tightly bunched up in the woman’s hair as she kneels on the ground.

  “Arrrhhhhh …” the woman’s high-pitched scream bellows out.

  “Run!” she screams.

  Her voice is cut off by an almighty thud from an Ashra, and the man’s body falls to the ground like a steaming bag of cement, to the sound of blood being sprayed far and wide, followed by chunks of flesh and bone raining down like horrific hail.

  I jolt awake and sit up. A Canine Maximus is sniffing my feet. I jump in terror, flailing my arms and legs, trying to crab away on the sandy river bank. Six feet tall at its shoulder blades, a ripped muscular frame, it’s only young with some growing left, but its sheer size is frightening. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen one. They’re not native to Terra Primus. These giant canines are known to eat just about anything — even the occasional person. Although my father used to say that was a myth. The Canine Maximus lifts its head, pins its ears back, then lowers it head and growls. The sound is so low-pitched and loud, I can feel the sand under my palms resonate and the air in my lungs reverberating.

  I unclip my thigh holster and pull my knife out. With my heart pounding and a massive dose of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I stare at the Canine Maximus towering above me. The animal’s back hair is standing up in a threatening display. I dare not move. The canine’s deep-blue eyes stare back. It’s a male with enormous canine teeth and thick claws on its giant paws. It takes a few steps towards me, its shiny, jet-black, short hair emphasising its massive muscles as they flex with each step it takes in the foggy morning light.

  My voice cracks as I scream, “GET AWAY.”

  The Canine Maximus flattens it back hairs, steps even closer and sniffs my boots again. I pull my feet away. The animal jerks back but continues to stare at me with its ears pinned back. A few seconds pass before it looks away, then casually lies down. I ever so slowly get to my feet, pausing before I take a few steps back, then gently pick up my backpack, not once taking my eyes off the animal. The Canine Maximus pricks its ears skyward and looks over at me but just lies there watching. I look over my shoulder as I continue to walk away, picking up more speed, but I dare not run in case it provokes him to chase me. I head towards a bend in the river and look back to see the Canine Maximus following me with its head down, sniffing the ground.

  I make it back up to the bridge and look down. The canine is climbing the rocky gorge, still following me. I decide to run across the bridge and down the road to get as far away as I can. When the pain from my twisted ankle gets too much, I stop and look behind. The Canine Maximus is nowhere to be seen. Relieved, I continue down the road heading into the valley.

  Later that day, the steep road surface has become moist with trickles of water running from one side to the other. Moss grows in areas where the bush is extremely thick and overhangs the road. I stop on a shady bend and kneel in the cool to pick some mushrooms. I’m packing them into an old tin I use for food, when amongst the quiet and occasional bird whistle, a clicking noise sounds against the road surface. I stand and look back up the road. A few seconds pass before the Canine Maximus comes around the bend. I stand there, still scared but curious, my hand on my knife. The canine lifts its head, pricks its large ears skyward and stops. Its huge frame completely blocks the road, its head nearly touching the tree branches above, and its long, thick tail hanging just inches off the ground. We stare at one another for a while before I shake my head, bend to place the tin in my backpack and start off down the road again, occasionally looking behind me.

  I reach the bottom of the road, just before dark, so I follow a dirt track that runs off the main road to a clearing. I come across an old campfire site, and collect sticks and leaves to build a fire.

  As night falls, I sit in front of the flames, sipping a simple mushroom soup, when I hear a twig break. I look over to the dirt track, shielding my eyes from the glare of the campfire. Two large eyes stare back at me from the pitch black. Unblinking, they reflect the light from the campfire, and whilst they unmistakably belong to the Canine Maximus, the rest of his jet-black coat is concealed by the night.

  Whilst I want to build the fire up to keep the Canine Maximus away, I eventually let the campfire burn down low to hot coals, worried that someone driving past might see the light. As I sit by the glowing coals, I think about the Canine Maximus and wonder what it’s doing on Terra Primus. I’ve never seen something both so beautiful and yet so terrifying at the same time. Their reputation of being fearless is understandable, given their size. Earlier, I noticed a tattoo on the inside of its left ear. I couldn’t read it, and I’m not sure what it means, but I’m guessing it has, or at least had, an owner. I remember my father telling me stories of training search and rescue paramedics who rode Canine Maximuses in the armed forces. I wonder if it belonged to a paramedic? I wonder if it’s been to the war?

  The next morning I wake early to the sound of a vehicle driving up the escarpment. I spin around to see the Canine Maximus lying twenty or so feet away. I don’t panic as much as the previous day, but I still put my hand on my knife, though it would be of little help if the animal decided to eat me for breakfast. It’s hardly reacted to me jumping up, so I relax slightly. “Are you tame?” It brea
thes outward, suddenly puffing its nostrils. Not sure whether to smile or run, I take a step back. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m not hanging around to find out.” I grab my backpack and head down the dirt track, towards the main road. From time to time, I check behind. The Canine Maximus is still there. I turn and yell, “Stop following me. I don’t have anything to eat.”

  The canine stops and raises his head, sniffing the air with his ears pricked skyward. Its sheer size and massive muscles makes me uneasy, and I hurry towards the main road.

  As I reach the bottom of the escarpment, the land flattens out. Farms line both sides of the road, some growing wheat and others running cattle. Close to midday, I come across some cattle carcasses. The animals have been smashed and thrown off the road, landing down the embankment — the result of a Union truck, no doubt. One of them has even been cut clean in half, its guts spilled all over the road in a sea of red. I look at the carcasses, then back at the Canine Maximus, still following me. If I don’t eat soon, I’ll probably pass out again. I walk down the embankment, pull out my knife and cut a rear leg off one of the cattle. I then calve a large steak off the leg, wrap it in a cloth and put it in my backpack. With both hands, I grab the leg and, with all my strength, swing it around. I let go and it flies through the air, landing in front of the Canine Maximus, who jumps backwards apprehensively before stepping forward and picking up its meal. I head into the bush to cook my steak. The Canine Maximus, with its enormous canine teeth buried in the leg is drooling as he follows me at a distance.

  After the best meal I’ve had in days, I salt the remaining portion of meat and smoke it over the fire, like my father taught me. I can’t help but smile as I watch the Canine Maximus lying on the grass finishing off the leg, in his own little world. I relax somewhat, feeling he probably isn’t going to eat me. He’s looking more and more like he’s been domesticated to some degree. I have no doubt that if he were truly wild, I wouldn’t be alive right now.

  I pack my smoked meat away, keeping an eye on the Canine Maximus, and head back up to the main road. After a short distance, I look back. The Canine Maximus is content, gnawing away on the leg bone. I can’t help but admire his beauty. His short jet-black coat shines brilliantly in the sunlight. His muscles are enormous. I’d love to see how fast he can run. He looks up at me — the leg bone between his front paws, his enormous canine teeth pointing towards the ground — and licks his lips and canine teeth before snapping his jaw shut. He swishes his tail a couple of times and sits there staring, and I at him. I have no doubt that if we stayed together we’d both have a greater chance of survival.

  I grin. “Well, come on, Max. Let’s go.”

  Chapter 3

  We walk along the undulating road, Max a few feet behind me with the constant clicking of his claws against the hard road surface. No vehicles have driven by, and I’m enjoying the serenity of the cooler air as it gently blows along the tops of the wheat fields, causing them to sway back and forth in a mesmerising display. They remind me of my home town, although my last memory is of the wheat fields burning, thick plumes of black smoke filling the sky until Hati was completely blocked out. I still fondly remember my childhood playing in our neighbour’s fields. Sitting on our veranda with my parents on a hot summer’s night, drinking a cold drink and watching the lightshow of lightning over the fields, far off on the horizon. It’s been years since I last saw my parents and I wonder if I accurately remember them. I wish I had a photo.

  It’s getting late in the day when off in the distance I see several massive harvesters. They’re parked in front of a colossal farm building, so big it makes the other farm buildings look like kids miniature play houses. I turn off the main road and down the driveway towards them. Max follows. With no sign of human activity, I head towards one of the smaller sheds to find somewhere to sleep for the night. I slide open the rickety timber door, just enough to peek inside. Old machinery sits among rusty tools hanging from the walls, covered in cobwebs and dust. I open the door wide enough for Max to enter, then gesture for him to stay as I close the stable door and head off to see if I can find any food for the two of us.

  Standing on tiptoes, I peer in a window of the farm house, when a voice behind me says, “Who the hell are you?”

  I spin around in fright. The man’s sleeves are rolled up and his clothes are covered in dust and dirt from a hard day’s work. His muscular veiny arms hang by his sides like steel pipes. He has slightly greyed hair and a few lines on his face, and by his expression, clearly doesn’t put up with any nonsense.

  “I … I was just wondering if anyone was home.”

  “What do you want?” He looks irritated.

  “I … I was just wondering if you had anything to eat, and if I could sleep the night in one of your barns?”

  “You know you’re of military age? I could lose my contract with the Union if they caught you here.”

  Not knowing what to say, I blurt out, “I can work for food and shelter. I can do any job that you give me. I won’t let you down.”

  The man looks me up and down and shakes his head before replying. “You look pretty beat up. Are you in any trouble?”

  “No.”

  “You know I’d be taking a huge risk giving you a job here?”

  There’s an awkward silence and hearing the change in tone in the stranger’s voice, I cautiously persist. “If the Union comes by, I’ll disappear. You won’t get in any trouble.”

  “Please … just give me a go—”

  “It’s more than my farm that you’d be putting at risk. There’s a dozen men inside that work for me you’d be putting at risk as well.”

  Not sure whether to shut up or keep talking, I let the man think.

  “Look, you can stay the night. If the guys say you can stay and help with the harvest, then I suppose that would be okay.”

  The man adds, “You sure look like you could do with a feed, do you want to join us for dinner?”

  “Yeah, I’d love to.”

  “My name’s Marc. Come on in and get washed up, and I’ll introduce you to the men.”

  As I step into the old timber house, I’m hit by the strong smells of hot food. There’s a large table in the middle of the room with a dozen men sitting around it, most of them a similar age to Marc, or a little older. They all look up as we walk in.

  Marc says, “This is …” He looks at me.

  “Joel,” I add, nervously waving to the room full of strangers.

  Marc continues. “He’s going to be joining us for dinner.”

  Marc shows me where I can get washed up, and I join the rest of the men as they all help themselves to the enormous amount of food spread across the table. I haven’t seen this much food in years. One of the men stands up, grabs a plate from the end of the table and drops it in front of me. It spins around and around before coming to rest, and I hold back until everyone else has finished loading their plates before helping myself. Feeling like I don’t belong, and wondering if I’ve made a big mistake, I struggle to supress my emotions as I sit quietly eating and reminiscing about when the village I grew up in as a child had huge feasts once a month. My parents would sit around with their friends and chat for hours whilst I’d play with all my friends.

  Now, here, surrounded by so many people stuffing themselves, I’ve never felt so lonely.

  “So what brings you out to this neck of the woods? Getting out of the city before you’re drafted?” Marc asks.

  One of the men, who looks like he could dead lift five hundred pounds and is covered head to toe with tattoos says, “It wouldn’t hurt you to serve.”

  I look up at the man as Marc says, “That’s enough!”

  Uncomfortable, I look up at Marc. “I’ve come from Bessomi.”

  Everyone looks at me, and Marc says, “That’s the TPRA’s base of operations.” Before I can reply, he asks, “You walked all that way? That must have taken years!”

  I nod with sincerity. “Yeah. I’m … heading to
Arcadia.”

  As soon as I say ‘Arcadia’ the room goes silent except for one of the men choking on his food.

  Marc sniggers. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I look Marc in the eyes. “No!”

  Marc smiles and shakes his head in amazement, and the noise of the men having their own conversations slowly fills the room again.

  Later that night, all the other farmers have gone back to their cabins, and I’m standing on the veranda looking out over the wheat fields when Marc walks out with some blankets and a pillow. “Here you go. Just follow the path down to the cabins and pick a free bunk.”

  I hesitate. “Do you have any leftover food scraps I could have?”

  Puzzled, Marc asks, “Didn’t you have enough at dinner?”

  I look at Marc, nervous about his reaction. “It’s for my Canine Maximus.”

  “What!” He looks about, wondering where Max is, then smiles. “Sure. I’ll get some leftovers for you.”

  Marc comes back a few minutes later with a massive stainless steel pot full of scraps.

  “I’ll see you in the morning. And do me a favour, keep your Canine Maximus tied up or in one of the stables.” He smiles. “I have a hard enough time getting workers. I don’t need any of them disappearing in the middle of the night.”

  Back at the stables I put the massive pot down on the ground and hear Max on the other side of the sliding door with his nose pressed up against it, sniffing. I slide the door open, he takes a few steps back and I drop the pot on the ground in front of him. With his snout a tight fit in the pot, -Max scoffs the leftovers, pushing the pot around the stable floor for a while as he licks it clean. He walks over to where I’m sitting and settles next to me. I sit there admiring his shiny coat and massive muscles, wondering whether or not to pat him. He drops to the ground, and I slowly slide my hand down his neck and rest it on his back. Max raises his head and looks at me for a few seconds before he lowers his head again and I continue to pat him. Under that ripped muscular frame, I’m sure there’s a gentle giant.