Chapter 3: The Man Who Knew Rex
The motel lights went out.
All of them.
The room dropped into darkness.
Rex growled.
I didn't move.
Outside, footsteps crossed the parking lot.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone wasn't trying to hide.
They wanted me to know they were there.
I whispered,
“Stay.””
Rex remained beside the bed.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
Stopped.
Then came three knocks.
The same rhythm.
Three.
Slow.
I raised my weapon.
“Who is it?””
A man's voice answered.
“Someone who owes you the truth.””
I recognized that voice.
The deputy.
I opened the door.
He stood alone.
His hat was gone.
His face looked pale.
“Get inside,” I said.
He entered quickly.
I locked the door behind him.
“Talk.””
He stared at Rex.
“Six years ago, there was an operation outside Kandahar.””
“I know.””
“No,” he said.
“You know the official version.””
He pulled a folded document from inside his jacket.
“This is the real one.””
I opened it.
At the top was a classified designation.
PROJECT SENTINEL.
Below that were photographs.
Dogs.
Military handlers.
Laboratory rooms.
I looked at him.
“What the hell is this?””
He lowered his voice.
“Sentinel wasn't a combat-dog program.””
“What was it?””
“A behavioral conditioning project.””
My eyes hardened.
“You experimented on dogs?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then explain it.””
He pointed to Rex.
“Some animals were being trained to identify concealed explosives and human chemical traces.””
“That was normal.””
“These dogs were different.””
He paused.
“They were trained to recognize people.””
I frowned.
“People?””
“Specific people.””
He handed me another page.
A list of names.
Some crossed out.
Some circled.
One name was highlighted.
*Everett Kane.*
Another was marked:
*DECEASED — CONFIRMED.*
I looked up.
“Kane is alive.””
“Yes.””
“How do you know?””
The deputy stared at me.
“Because he's been killing everyone connected to Sentinel.””
Silence filled the room.
“Why?””
“We don't know.””
“Then what does Rex have to do with it?””
The deputy looked at the dog.
“Rex was one of two dogs trained during the final phase.””
“And the other?””
He hesitated.
“Missing.””
“What was its name?””
The deputy didn't answer.
I grabbed his collar.
“What's its name?””
He whispered:
“Shadow.””
Rex suddenly barked.
One sharp sound.
The deputy stepped backward.
“That's the first time I've heard him do that.””
I looked at my dog.
Rex was staring at the motel door.
Then scratching it.
Hard.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I opened the door.
Rex ran into the hallway.
“Rex!””
He ignored me.
He raced toward the far end of the motel.
I followed.
He stopped beside Room 17.
The door stood slightly open.
Darkness inside.
I pushed it wider.
The room smelled like bleach.
The bed had been stripped.
A chair lay overturned.
There was blood on the carpet.
Fresh.
I drew my weapon.
The deputy whispered:
“Don't go in.””
I entered anyway.
On the wall was a photograph.
Rex.
Six years younger.
Standing beside Shadow.
And between the dogs was a man.
Me.
I stared at the photo.
My lungs stopped working for a second.
Because I remembered that day.
Except I hadn't been there.
I would have remembered.
The photograph showed me wearing a uniform from a unit I had never served with.
Rex whined.
I stepped closer.
There was another picture beneath it.
A photograph of a military convoy.
The date was six years ago.
The same date Rex was supposedly injured in Afghanistan.
I flipped the photo over.
Three words were written on the back.
*YOU WERE THERE.*
I stared at them.
Then the lights came back on.
The deputy screamed.
I turned.
Rex was standing in the doorway.
Something red stained his muzzle.
Blood.
But there was no body.
Only an open maintenance hatch behind the bathroom.
Someone had escaped through it.
I dropped to my knees.
Rex looked at me.
And for the first time since I'd known him, I saw something in his eyes I had never seen before.
Not loyalty.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Behind us, a voice whispered from the darkness beneath the floor.
“Ask him what happened to Shadow.””
May you like
Then the motel alarm began screaming.
And every police cruiser in town turned toward us.
