three weeks, or they are going to stick with a robot solution.”
“Robots? Really? They have no heart for the work, Henry. They don’t wake up wanting to find a zombie like Murder does. Didn’t you say they aren’t prioritized for this line of work? They just clear an area.”
“Animal Control isn’t giving us a choice in the matter. And it isn’t about a change in robot priorities. The director simply does not understand pursuing this endeavor (i.e., tracking a wasp to its burrow) unless we can first prove that Murder can track a wasp.”
Angie wanted to argue, but she was too embedded in the training.
“He can’t give me more time?”
Dr. Saracen shook his head.
“Well, I guess we better get to work then.”
With all her dogs delivered and no shows coming up, Angie had time to commit to Murder’s training. Dr. Saracen and her father took time to help her, too.
She spent the next three weeks pushing Murder into every conceivable scenario she could think of. She took him up high in the mountains to work in snow and in high altitude. She worked him in the evening, the morning, and in broad daylight. When it rained, she made sure to lay out a trail then, too.
For paperwork assurances that Murder was not tracking dead bodies, she ran him through a cemetery. For Angie, it was odd to see the freshly dug graves covered over in smooth cement.
“So that the zombie cannot dig itself out of its grave,” Dr. Saracen said. “It’s required by law now.”
After the cemetery scenario, Murder got to work in a three-story apartment building with twelve units and three wasps with overlapping scents. Murder figured out the puzzle easily.
“It’s like he was born to do this,” her father said as Murder pushed open the door to the apartment with the last ‘zombie’ and tracked the wasp to the bedroom where Dr. Saracen was hiding with a dead wasp.
“And we know that Murder isn’t just tracking any wasp,” Angie added. Murder had ignored the kitchen with the container full of paper wasps from the Invasive Entomology Studies Lab.
“I think he’s ready,” Dr. Saracen said.
“I think I haven’t tested him on a food distraction in a while,” Angie said.
“I think you’re out of time,” her father said.
Chapter Four
Angie stood next to her pickup, a rusted F-150 with love spots. She watched the entrance to the mall anxiously. People walked in and out. It was a typical July business day. Still too early for the teens to arrive. They would crowd inside to escape the heat.
Angie felt the sun’s yellow fingers warming her shoulders. Few clouds graced the sky with their presence, which meant that if they were working outside, she wouldn’t expect her dogs to come up with much. That sky was soaking up all the scent.
From the front seat she retrieved her hat, then went back to the truck bed. Watched the mall entrance some more. Murder was in his cage which was strapped to the bed. It was one of several modifications she had made to the F-150, like the second car battery she’d had installed so that she could run a fan for the dogs even when the engine was turned off. The cord from the fan ran through a hole in the back of the truck’s cab, where the battery bolted to the floor. The bed of the truck itself was raised six inches by a storage unit that kept most of her working supplies.
Murder watched Angie go back and forth alongside the truck.
“Why aren’t they back yet? It’s been almost half an hour.”
Then she saw them. Several men in business suits, and Dr. Saracen in blue jeans and a button-up, appeared at the entrance. Dr. Saracen waved Angie over. It was time.
“Now or never, Murder. Let’s go prove you’re a zombie dog.”
Angie leashed Murder and put a search and rescue vest on him, then let him out of the truck bed and walked him over to the mall entrance. A tall, barrel-chested man wearing cowboy boots and blue jeans with his suit shook hands with Angie. He shaved what
“Robots? Really? They have no heart for the work, Henry. They don’t wake up wanting to find a zombie like Murder does. Didn’t you say they aren’t prioritized for this line of work? They just clear an area.”
“Animal Control isn’t giving us a choice in the matter. And it isn’t about a change in robot priorities. The director simply does not understand pursuing this endeavor (i.e., tracking a wasp to its burrow) unless we can first prove that Murder can track a wasp.”
Angie wanted to argue, but she was too embedded in the training.
“He can’t give me more time?”
Dr. Saracen shook his head.
“Well, I guess we better get to work then.”
With all her dogs delivered and no shows coming up, Angie had time to commit to Murder’s training. Dr. Saracen and her father took time to help her, too.
She spent the next three weeks pushing Murder into every conceivable scenario she could think of. She took him up high in the mountains to work in snow and in high altitude. She worked him in the evening, the morning, and in broad daylight. When it rained, she made sure to lay out a trail then, too.
For paperwork assurances that Murder was not tracking dead bodies, she ran him through a cemetery. For Angie, it was odd to see the freshly dug graves covered over in smooth cement.
“So that the zombie cannot dig itself out of its grave,” Dr. Saracen said. “It’s required by law now.”
After the cemetery scenario, Murder got to work in a three-story apartment building with twelve units and three wasps with overlapping scents. Murder figured out the puzzle easily.
“It’s like he was born to do this,” her father said as Murder pushed open the door to the apartment with the last ‘zombie’ and tracked the wasp to the bedroom where Dr. Saracen was hiding with a dead wasp.
“And we know that Murder isn’t just tracking any wasp,” Angie added. Murder had ignored the kitchen with the container full of paper wasps from the Invasive Entomology Studies Lab.
“I think he’s ready,” Dr. Saracen said.
“I think I haven’t tested him on a food distraction in a while,” Angie said.
“I think you’re out of time,” her father said.
Chapter Four
Angie stood next to her pickup, a rusted F-150 with love spots. She watched the entrance to the mall anxiously. People walked in and out. It was a typical July business day. Still too early for the teens to arrive. They would crowd inside to escape the heat.
Angie felt the sun’s yellow fingers warming her shoulders. Few clouds graced the sky with their presence, which meant that if they were working outside, she wouldn’t expect her dogs to come up with much. That sky was soaking up all the scent.
From the front seat she retrieved her hat, then went back to the truck bed. Watched the mall entrance some more. Murder was in his cage which was strapped to the bed. It was one of several modifications she had made to the F-150, like the second car battery she’d had installed so that she could run a fan for the dogs even when the engine was turned off. The cord from the fan ran through a hole in the back of the truck’s cab, where the battery bolted to the floor. The bed of the truck itself was raised six inches by a storage unit that kept most of her working supplies.
Murder watched Angie go back and forth alongside the truck.
“Why aren’t they back yet? It’s been almost half an hour.”
Then she saw them. Several men in business suits, and Dr. Saracen in blue jeans and a button-up, appeared at the entrance. Dr. Saracen waved Angie over. It was time.
“Now or never, Murder. Let’s go prove you’re a zombie dog.”
Angie leashed Murder and put a search and rescue vest on him, then let him out of the truck bed and walked him over to the mall entrance. A tall, barrel-chested man wearing cowboy boots and blue jeans with his suit shook hands with Angie. He shaved what
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