Chapter 1 - The Dog That Wouldn't Stop
The German Shepherd broke his leash and charged straight at the disabled veteran. Eighty-five pounds of muscle, teeth, and fury tore across the parade ground at Fort Irwin. The nearest soldier shouted, "He's going for his throat!"
Marcus Vance had two crutches and one bad leg. Running wasn't an option. He watched the dog close the distance, and for one awful second he was back beneath a burning truck, breathing dust and hearing someone scream his name.
"Get that dog under control!" Sergeant Holt roared.
A young handler sprinted after the animal. "Viper! DOWN!"
Marcus's hands went numb. Four years had passed. The scar above the dog's right eye was smaller than he remembered, but the uneven black patch on his chest was unmistakable.
"Viper?" he whispered.
The dog stopped so abruptly his paws skidded on the pavement. He stared. His ears lifted. Then the fierce animal everybody feared began making a small, broken sound.
Marcus dropped one crutch. "Hey, buddy. It's me."
Viper rose carefully against his chest and buried his muzzle against Marcus's neck. Marcus folded around him, shaking. The dog smelled like dust and warm fur and a life Marcus had buried years ago.
"They told me you were dead," Marcus said.
No one moved. Even Holt lowered his radio. The handler, Sergeant Eli Brooks, stood several feet away, his face drained of color.
Viper licked the scar on Marcus's jaw. Once. Twice. The same way he had after the explosion.
Then a diesel engine growled behind them. Viper's head snapped up. A black contractor truck was rolling toward the demonstration range. The dog planted himself in front of Marcus and gave a warning growl so low it barely sounded alive.
Marcus knew that sound. Viper had made it exactly once before, three seconds before their world blew apart.
May you like
"Stop that truck," Marcus said.
Nobody listened until Viper lunged again.
