Callisto

Pursuer

The door swung open with enough force to crush a man. The dog jerked its head up abruptly and promptly lowered it again. He knew who it was.

He looked at the dog's smashed face and closed the door with some control, his arm still stinging from the melee outside. He calmly walked over to the cooler and poured himself a drink.

The dog registered every drop that hit his cup's plastic bottom. Like a storm brewing slowly but steadily – ready to break at any moment.

He nodded at the other men to leave the room, and they did so without question. Now it was just him, the wooden table set with two chairs on either side and the dog sitting on the one opposite him.

He sipped from the cup.

"You knew what was there."

With a creature like this, you had to keep statements matter-of-fact. Their kind needed help understanding questions. Their kind didn't need another reason to make an excuse. That was fine by him. It was the way he'd often liked to operate during interrogations.

The dog cocked its head at him.

"You with the IRS? I swear, buddy, if you wanted me to pay my taxes, you could at least buy me a drink first."

He gulped down another swig of water. "You knew what was there." He said again. "You knew."

He heard the dog give a long, drawn-out sigh.

"Yeah," he said. "I knew."

He flipped the table before the dog could react, reached across, grabbed the scruff of his neck, and threw him against the cold chrome wall, all in a few seconds. The dog scampered around uselessly while he came at him again, grabbing him by the ears and tossing him into what remained of the table, splintering it to pieces. As the filthy creature started to bark some form of protest, he administered a quick series of kicks to its face once, twice, and three times in the nose. He heard it snap under his boot. He took him by the neck again and pinned him to the floor.

He'll know, he thought. He'll know that this time I'm going to kill him.

He placed the muzzle of his pistol against the dog's whimpering, whining mouth.

"Stop," it said through tears. "Please, stop."

"Give me a reason," he said, cold and calculated, flicking the safety off inside the dog's ear and keeping his hand steady.

"I can...I can..."

He waited. He was listening.

"I can get you passed it."

"Bullshit," he said. Nah. Not buying it. He'd seen what that thing could do to a man.

"It'll only let through something that it knows!" the dog whined as it thrashed beneath his hand. "It'll only let through its brother. One of its own."

Hm.

"In other words, it'll let you through."

The dog struggled to look around at him. "Exactly. And anyone with me."

The little bastard was clever, he thought, pressing the snout of the gun further into his ear, hearing him panic more. He'd told them enough truth to get them to the right place. He'd wanted them to see it for themselves.

And boy, had they seen it. He'd never forget it as long as he lived.

He withdrew the gun from his ear but kept his hand on his throat, turning him around so they both looked into the eyes of the other.

"You'll come with us and get us through," he said. It wasn't a question.

"One condition," the dog breathed.