Free The Zero Dog War by Keith Melton Page B

He was also technically an empath—or at least that’s what his file claimed. I’d never seen any evidence of it and figured he’d copied it from Star Trek to pad his resume.
    I hammered on the door. Six months ago he’d had his music cranked so loud he couldn’t hear my knocks, and I’d made the mistake of opening the door and wandering inside, only to discover Gavin absorbed in some good old-fashioned naked web-cam cavorting. The kind that involves rapid motion of the right hand while staring at jerky web video, pun definitely intended. I still had nightmares.
    “Come in, goddamn it!” Gavin yelled.
    I took a deep breath, prayed for mercy to the gods of decency, and stepped inside.
    His walls were covered with NASCAR posters and framed pictures of jet fighters and scantily clad women. The furniture reminded me of the mismatched junk from my stint in a college dorm. The place smelled of stale garlic and beer, and all the blinds were shut, which I took as an ominous sign.
    I peeked around the corner into his office. Gavin sat slumped in his leather chair in front of a computer and focused on the screen. Oh God. Not again.
    He heard me gasp and whipped around, then frowned when he recognized me. “For God’s sake, Captain. Let it go, will you? I’m writing. Totally innocent.”
    I hazarded a few steps closer. “Mandatory briefing tonight at 2030 hours.”
    “Mandatory? Somebody die or something? I have an epic mob guild raid scheduled for then.”
    “This is real-world serious, not computer-game stuff. A new job, capping zombies. I expect your ass there and you on your best behavior.”
    Most of the time I felt bad for Gavin. He wasn’t fugly or anything, but he appeared plain put up against someone like that bastard Captain Jake Sanders. Oh, and empathy or not, his people skills were about as finely developed as lead Play-Doh.
    “All right, I’ll be there. But you owe me.”
    “Yeah, right. Send me a bill.” I glanced at his screen. “What are you writing?”
    He covered the screen with his hands. “It’s not ready yet.”
    “Give me a break, here,” I said. “For once I’m interested. Don’t play like you’re shy. I know you too well.”
    “Fine. It’s probably just the best thing I’ve ever written. A novel about a shape-shifting Himalayan Long-Haired Bovine, commonly known as a yak. There’s some kung fu, a vampire samurai, some hot spanking monkey sex, true love and a happily ever after. Some ninja aliens too, as the bad guys. It’s gonna sell gazillions.” He grinned. “I’ll buy you a Porsche when I’m rich.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Big market for that kind of book?”
    “There will be.”
    I began to back out of the room. Slowly. So the crazy person wouldn’t attack me. Never show fear. Never let them smell your sweat. And never, ever, turn your back. “About that briefing. It’s required. So. See you at 2030 hours. Big job ahead, lots of money. Come early or Squeegee will steal your seat on the couch. That is all. Carry on.”
    I exfiltrated out of there as fast as I could. Some days it just didn’t pay to crawl out of bed. Or skip the Thorazine.

Chapter Five: SNAFU Briefing, Baby
     
    Mercenary Wing Rv6-4 “Zero Dogs”
    The Zero Dog Compound
    1st Floor Great Room
    2031 Hours PST April 10th
     
    Captain Sanders turned out to be more of a problem than I thought.
    He stood at ease near the wall in our great room, next to the projected image of a grungy building. Problem was, my mind kept drifting off the mission-briefing details and onto stupid, inconsequential things. Like how warm his skin had been when I’d shaken his hand. Those intense eyes. How well he filled out his fatigues. Bankruptcy. Yeah. Bankruptcy tended to crush the desire like a boot heel on a cockroach. I was tired, but that was no damn excuse, and my unprofessional thoughts made me furious. I had responsibilities, and I couldn’t let my people down just because I felt a little horny. I wouldn’t shirk