Sniffer was handed an old blanket the slave had used in the dormitory; he took it outside to Tiddles. Tiddles was what he had named the beast. He still wasn’t sure why he had called him Tiddles, but it seemed appropriate at the time, not that he had ever told anyone. He had owned him from being a cub and hand-reared him. He was not even two years old yet.
He had found him by the side of the body of what he assumed was his mother, trying to suckle from her. He had surmised that his mother had been attacked by a Spylore after investigating the wounds on the body and had bled out.
The last beast he had owned was a legendary tracker and had come to an unfortunate demise when it had tried to leap a gorge following the scent of an escaped prisoner. It had cleared the gap okay, but the ground had given way when it landed, sending it nearly 500 feet into the gorge's depths. He had never recovered the body and had been heartbroken at the time, thinking that he would never find another beast like it. That had been until he had stumbled upon Tiddles.
There were very few locations known to have beasts, and all the regions he knew of were also very remote and kept a secret by the few who knew of them. None of them were accessible by vehicle, and the closest township to any of the locations he knew of took at least a week on foot to get to, and there was never a guarantee that you would even find any once there. Due to the exceedingly remote and dangerous regions they lived in, even an attempt to try and capture one could be a suicidal task. If it was not the beasts that killed you, it could easily be the many other Wild Ones found in the wilderness.
Sniffer had always worked alone since he switched to tracking, but a few known groups would or still did travel into these regions because they were so highly sought after for both their tracking and guard capability. The problem that many handlers had, though, was training them. If you did not teach a beast properly, you had the same chance of it killing you as anything else. Many a fool had believed training a beast was easy and, after securing a cub or a younger beast, thought that they could beat them into submission and teach them through fear. This had ended very poorly for several, and the stories he had heard over his years in the profession had proven the fact.
Sniffer had gotten into the trade through his uncle George, who worked for a group responsible for providing security for one of the wealthiest, if not the richest, business owners along the East Coast. The company had three sites where they provided a beast patrol due to the high value of their products. All three sites were locations that bioengineered fuel. At Sniffer’s coming of age, he had begun working alongside his uncle and learned all about the training requirements for beasts. Their training had nothing to do with fear; it was all about trust and friendship.
Sniffer had no immediate family. His mother and father had abandoned him as a child and left him with his aunt and uncle from the age of four. His aunt had died before his tenth birthday, and he could not remember what she died of. His uncle had always been his father figure. Sniffer’s uncle eventually passed away after catching pneumonia one winter. Due to his beast-handling capability, Carl, the site manager at one of the plants, offered Sniffer the opportunity to take over his role as head of security. Sniffer, though, had always wanted to travel, and even before his uncle had passed, he had been saving nearly every stack he had earned so that one day, he could afford a vehicle and a beast of his own. It had taken him under a decade to do it, but eventually, at thirty, he had earned enough to afford to branch out on his own.
Carl had allowed Sniffer to buy the beast that he had been using at the site and sold him one of the older vehicles for what Sniffer believed was a reasonable price. The beast his uncle had trained had been named Missy, and due to her uncanny ability to track anything out, he had somehow ended up being known as Sniffer rather than the original name given to him by his family of Walter. He was unsure why they had started calling him Sniffer rather than the Beast, but the name had stuck, and he preferred it. He had secured his reputation as a tracker when they had tracked down the killer of a regional faction's son.
Finley Kingson was the head of a regional faction and plantation owner of several large cotton plantations; his son Dan had been fighting over a local girl for years with the son of another rival faction, Richie. One night, tempers had flared, and he had been struck over the head with a stool at a bar and killed. It had been witnessed by several people at the bar where it had occurred, and Finley had released a kill order for the culprit, Richie and placed a bounty on his head. Richie’s father, Pat Hughes, who ran a small slave outpost, had tried to reason with Finley, but Finley would not hear of it, and as Dan was his only child, he wanted revenge for his murder. Pat had helped Richie escape the area and go into hiding, and Sniffer was then called in. It was sheer luck at the time as he had been travelling around various townships and places looking for work and came upon the issue, which was a perfect opportunity for him to prove his trade.
It had only taken Missy four days to locate Richie hiding out in a wilderness location where his father had secured him along with four of his guards. After finding the site, Sniffer and Missy had recced it before planning their attack. Missy had made quick work of the guards, stealthily picking them off, and then Richie himself had been killed. It had been Sniffer's first kill mission as a beast handler. Although he knew the damage that beasts could do, he had never witnessed it in all its glory against a person, having only seen Missy against other Wild Ones previously when hunting and training. Missy had been so adept it was uncanny. Sniffer had felt a sick pleasure at the site of the bodies that had their throats torn out or limbs removed by Missy. He had been told that he had to take Richie’s head back as proof of death, and he had been physically sick, having to cut Richie’s head from what had been left of his torso. Missy had eaten a good portion of his body.
After the loss of Missy, Sniffer had hit the nectar for a while. He had known and worked with her for over fifteen years, working the bioengineering site to breaking into the tracking business, and she had been the closest to a family that Sniffer had. He had tried returning to the bioengineering site to work as a guard again, but there had been no spaces available, so he had eventually decided to go looking for a new beast. He travelled to four different locations where they were known to live potentially. After several months of travel and hiking into the wilderness, spending nearly every stack he owned and some very close calls with other Wild Ones, he eventually came upon Tiddles.
Tiddles still had another year of growth in him at least. Ordinarily, beasts lived for about twenty years on average, if not longer, although no one had accurate records. The males were larger and more ferocious than the females, so they were so rare as trained beasts. Sniffer had always assumed they lived much shorter in their natural habitats due to the other Wild Ones they would have to compete against.
Tiddles was a perfect specimen, and from day one, Sniffer had trained him in the art of pursuit and kill techniques. He was getting better at tracking, and although he was not as proficient as Missy, he may get there one day. He had considered going into the guard beast business at one point rather than tracking, but he still loved the thrill of the chase after that first hunt for Richie.
Sniffer laid the blanket at the door to the cage, and the beast started sniffing it.
“You got it, boy?” he said, opening the cage door. The beast obediently jumped down and stood next to Sniffer. “How old did you say this trail will be now?”
“Just over three days,” John replied.
“Ok, well, it will not be straightforward if it is that old. Most trails start to disperse after forty-eight hours. He should still be able to track her, but it may take longer than hoped if we need to do re-visits and re-runs.”
“As long as you find the bitch, I don’t care.”
Sniffer turned to the beast and patted him on the head, “Go on, boy, find her.” The beast immediately turned and headed straight towards the slave’s dormitory, where the scent had come from.
“Not that way, you stupid fucking beast,” John said.
Tiddles stopped dead in his tracks, turned his head, stared at John, and snarled, showing his exceedingly large and razor-sharp fangs.
“Here, boy over there,” Sniffer said, pointing towards the fence where John had told him she had climbed over. “You don’t want to upset him, John. He really does understand everything.”
John’s face had drained of colour, and he was sure that he had shit himself. The beast had understood what he had just said. There was no other reason for it to react the way it had otherwise.
Tiddles turned, trotted across the yard, and started sniffing near where the slave had left the compound. Then, from a standing start, he jumped up vertically and easily cleared the fence, landing on the far side. “Wait there, boy,” Sniffer called. He grabbed a backpack from the truck and made his way out of the gate and around to where Tiddles was. As he reached him, he said, “Ignore that stupid man, boy. He doesn’t know how clever you are. Come, let us find her.” Tiddles made a low keening sound and started moving towards the alleyway with his nose pressed to the ground.
As they set off, Sniffer checked their stats. As Tiddles prescribed owner, he had a secondary tab on his ocular display, allowing him to check the beast's health and progress. His uncle had made him aware of this, but until Missy had imprinted on him once his uncle passed, he had not seen it before. It was remarkably like his own characteristics layout, and he wondered if the beasts themselves had something similar that they could refer to, although he doubted it. Tiddle's characteristics put Sniffer's own to shame in virtually every area. The outline of Tiddles was a bright light green.
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∆∆∆
Monty called out to Heckles, “Is Dixon back yet?”
“No, sorry, boss,” Heckles replied.
“How far did this guy live? I thought he was local. I must head into town for a meeting before it gets too late.”
“I am sure he mentioned a local farm to Dixon?”
“The silly old fool has probably crashed; I am not sure why I keep the old goat working for me.” He did. He had a soft spot for him. Monty did not have a soft spot for anyone, really, but there was something about Dixon that he liked. He had never quite put his finger on it, but he was just a charming man, and whenever he was out driving with him, it didn’t matter how much he wanted. He just listened and nodded along with the conversations. Occasionally, he spoke, but rarely. He seemed to have an uncanny soothing effect on him. Maybe because his father had been a complete bastard, and he was more like the father he wished he had.
“Let me know as soon as he is back. If it is not in the next hour, I will need you to drive me into town.”
“Sure thing, boss”, Heckles replied.
∆∆∆
Dixon had tried to break out of his bindings. The problem was every time he moved his hands, the wire seemed to tighten and dig in more. He had tried kicking with his legs to break from the bench, but there was no way he could break free. He didn’t have the strength that he had when he was younger. He had eventually just given up struggling and sat on the ground, staring down the track leading towards the road. He even sobbed for a while. Two of them had stolen the boss’s vehicle, and the fact it happened under his watch, he would have it in for him.
He wasn’t worried, though. He was 76 years old and had lived a happy life, nothing special or fancy, just everyday run-of-the-mill life, making his way along, never being rich, never being poor, just mediocre.
He had met Sally, and they married in their early twenties—the next 45 years had been the happiest in his life. They could never have kids, but that didn’t upset them because they had each other. When Sally passed, though, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had hit the bottle for a while and then heard about the job opening at the factory and ended up taking it. The chauffeuring job was horrible, being called on at all hours whenever the boss wanted anything, but at least it kept a roof over his head, and he got three square meals a day, which was more than most people these days. He had a tiny annexe room at the back of the boss’s house with a bathroom area. Having a bathroom area alone was a luxury that most couldn’t afford, especially one with running water, so it was a perk worth the hours he worked.
He thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye but couldn’t be sure. The light had started to fade, and long shadows were cast from the wildly overgrown fields in his general direction as the sunset. The trees that lined the track leading up to the farmhouse cast shadows that looked like wicked claws slowly stretching towards him. He shivered involuntarily. He stared in the direction of where he thought he had seen something and called out, “Anyone there?”
He could sense something and had a tell-tale tingling sensation in his right ear. He kept peering in the direction of the track when, from out of nowhere, a huge feline-looking beast jumped from the field, clearing the bushes and landing thirty feet from him. It was a Spylore. ‘Of all the ways to go’, Dixon thought. “I can’t just die in my sleep; instead, you’re making a bloody monster eat me,” he said, looking skyward. Dixon wasn’t religious, not in that context, but from being a small boy, his mother and father always said someone was watching over them.
The Spylore approached him and slowly opened its mouth. As it did so, he could see the fangs extending from the upper and lower channels. Dixon closed his eyes and waited for the end.
∆∆∆
Tiddles had lost Sniffer, well, not lost him exactly. He knew where he was but didn’t want to wait for him. He had been tracking the woman’s scent all afternoon, and the sun was starting to go down. He wasn’t worried about the dark. He wasn’t worried about anything. Ok, that’s not entirely true; there once had been a spider that made him jump, although at two feet across and with fangs that appeared to be dripping in acid, seeing one for the first time scurrying across the floor would make most jump. ‘There was just something about the legs,’ he thought. ‘Why so many?’
He had not liked the man back in the yard. He had been rude to him. Sniffer had always been nice to him, though. He fed him every day and sometimes twice daily, usually a few fresh giant rats, which he loved chasing around before killing and eating them. The squeak they made when he stomped on them was so funny. He was not fussy about his eating, though he could survive off almost anything. It did not even have to be bloodied, either. If it came down to it, he could survive off eating plants, although he did not give much for the taste as many were bitter. He much preferred the metallic taste that blood gave.
He followed the woman’s scent, which had taken them through fields heading west. He had just entered a new field when he picked up the horrendous stench of Spylore's piss. As soon as the foul-smelling odour hit his nostrils, his stance changed. His hackles went on full alert, and rather than walking as normal, his body virtually flattened against the ground as he continued to track. To see a beast the size of tiddles suddenly go from his full height to his belly, scraping the ground, was a strange sight. It was as if he had been squashed down, and his limbs went out sideways instead.
The wind was coming from the west, and he had only moved a few more feet when he picked up the scent of an actual Spylore. He always thought they had a sweet smell to their odour. He moved slowly, scouting cautiously, creeping silently. His senses were on high alert, listening and watching for the slightest sight or sound. He did not want Spylore to get a free hit at him without him having a chance to defend himself. He was not worried about being attacked by Spylore. He just felt embarrassed if they ever got the first hit on him. He would need to deal with the Spylore, though since Sniffer was alone behind him, he could not ignore it and carry on tracking. Every muscle in his body was taught, and he was ready to pounce if necessary.
He noticed the roof of a building ahead above the tall grasses and then heard a man’s voice. He crept to the edge of the grasses, which opened onto a small, overgrown track. Up ahead, he could see a man sitting in front of the building, and walking towards the man was a Spylore. He hated Spylore more than anything in the entire world. He still remembered coming out of the pit and seeing the Spylore that had attacked his mother, bounding away. He changed his position slightly to a better angle and then launched himself forward, sailing the forty feet through the air, aiming for the Spylore’s throat. The Spylore noticed him too late, and as it turned his head, his jaws snapped down with their full force around it.
There is an almighty crash and a blood-curdling screech that hurts Dixon’s ears. He opened his eyes with a start to witness a huge beast with a Spylore head in its mouth. It sat down facing Dixon and slowly started to chew. The rest of the Spylore body was lying on the ground ten feet from him, and the beast was no more than five feet from his prone position. The beast just sat there looking at him with his head tilted to one side. Blood and puss were oozing from the head in its mouth, and he could hear the cracking of bones as the beast chewed on its head. He watched as he saw one of the Spylore’s eyes pop as a sharp fang pierced it, and the fluid squirted out of its mouth onto him. Dixon turned his head sideways and vomited.
Dixon looked back at the beast, and it just ignored him, turning away and eating the Spylore's remains. It held the corpse still with its huge paws and then ripped chunks off it with its rows of razor-sharp teeth. Fur, bone, blood, and sinew didn’t matter to the beast. It seemed to eat everything.
Dixon’s heart was hammering in his chest, and he sat in sheer terror for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the beast to turn on him. The beast was still devouring the remains when he heard a whistle. It stopped eating and let out an eerie howling sound, sending a shiver down Dixon’s spine. There were then two whistle blasts, and again, the beast responded with a slightly different howl. The beast repeated the sound regularly until a man appeared further down the track.
∆∆∆
Sniffer cursed. Where the hell had he gone now? The only problem with tracking was that Tiddles got so over-excited that he went too far ahead. They had left the site and headed out through the industrial area, crossing several fields until coming to some trees. Tiddles had spent a long time in the trees until he had started across the fields again. Eventually, he worked his way around several times before picking up the scent and setting off. They had been out for several hours, and the sky was darkening. The sun was setting, and he didn’t fancy being caught in the open at night, so he would need to think about heading back soon. If he could find a road, he could return to the truck and start afresh in the morning.
He took his whistle from his pocket and blew it, Tiddles replied. He could tell the general direction and set off after two further blasts on his whistle. Tiddles was a good beast. He continued to call him and direct him to where he was.
Sniffer broke through some underbrush and appeared on a small track leading up to an abandoned farmhouse. He could see Tiddles ahead of him eating something and could spot the man sitting by a bench.
He walked down the track, “There you are. I wish you wouldn’t go so far ahead.” Tiddles turned his gore-soaked face towards Sniffer, and it looked like he smiled. Sniffer could see the remains of a Spylore at Tiddles's feet and then noticed that the old man was tied to the bench.
“That’s why you ran off. You do like your Spylore.” he chuckled and patted the beast on its head. Tiddles nudged Sniffer and nearly sent him flying. “Careful, boy, you’re not a cub anymore.”
“So, what do we have here then?” he said, looking at the man who looked up at him with wide, petrified eyes.
The old man stammered, “I work for Montgomery at the local factory, so you better release me and let me go.” Sniffer laughed, telling him he worked for the site and was there to track the escaped slave. Sniffer bent down and untwisted the bindings from the man’s hands and feet. The old man introduced himself as Dixon and sat rubbing his wrists and ankles where the wire had dug in, leaving deep red tracks. He tried to stand but couldn’t because he had cramped up badly. Sniffer helped the man up until he was sat on the bench.
“So, what happened then?” Sniffer asked.
Dixon relayed what had happened and that he was sent here with the lad to collect what he needed to carry out repairs at the factory. He explained that the lad and a girl had stolen the vehicle heading west.
“Shit. That’s going to make the tracking bloody difficult.”
The night was approaching quickly, and they would not have time to return to the site before it was too dangerous to travel with Dixon, so he decided they better stay here. Sniffer walked outside the farmhouse but found nothing open on the ground floor. He wasn’t going to sleep outdoors if he could help it. However good Tiddles was at killing Spylore, all it would take is one to strike quickly in the night, and they could easily kill him or Dixon. He walked up and spoke to Tiddles, who proceeded to step up to the farmhouse's front door and start tearing at it with his claws. Moments later, Tiddles had shredded and splintered the barricaded doorway. Sniffer helped the man into the farmhouse and then had a look around. It was obvious it had been used recently. All the downstairs had been boarded up from the inside, and there were obvious signs of movement as, although not clean, the house did not have the thick layers of dust that an entirely abandoned building would have. He checked the whole building, taking his time until he eventually went upstairs to the main bedroom, where the remains from a small fire were by the chimney stack. It was not a bad little setup they had here, and he was sure they would have remained here if they had not known about him tracking them.
“In the morning, we must head back to the factory. If they are in a vehicle, I will need my truck. There is no way we will catch them otherwise. We may as well get some rest while we can. I can see this being a long hunt," Sniffer said.
Tiddles lay down in the farmhouse doorway. His huge bulk easily covered the entranceway, and Sniffer sat beside him, resting his back against his side. The one thing about beasts was that they were hot animals. The heat they gave off could keep all but the coldest nights at bay. Dixon had sat by the corner of the wall with his knees pulled up, trying to keep the cold at bay, staring in awe at the beast and this strange man.