Ice Dogs

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/GTNW/nMNI-GENRE+

goodtimesnewsweekly

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

*Author's Note: This is the second story in my

Sci-Fi triptych series titled: "The Dogmatix".

"ICE DOGS"

by

Doug Donnan

[ Circa 2019 // Somewhere just above and along the U.S. & Mexican Border Wall ]

"Well Mr. Pedigrue," the barrel-chested Immigrations and Customs Enforcement officer began as they stood there next to the dusty

and slightly dented white ICE Range Rover vehicle, "to make a rather short story even shorter for the sake of yourself, your Associated Press

family and faithful and yours truly," he wiped his hammy, sun-bronzed forearm across his furrowed forehead, "what our hapless powers that

be in government and our brainiac scientists have decided and collaborated on to resolve this overwhelming break-away border bedlam

business has, basically, pun definitely intended, gone to the dogs or as we border control types affectionately call them... ICE DOGS."

"Clever," Pedigrue replied almost sarcastically as he jotted a few cryptic notes down in his dog-eared spiral notebook. "So, and please

correct me if I'm wrong Sheriff Suarez, what I have been able to glean from my many and varied sources is that what in fact the United

States government has decided to do to try and eliminate the open onslaught on our southern borders down here by every Tobasco Tom,

Dick and Hare Krishna illegal alien is to employ loaded for bear drones and a veritable army of super-sized hybrid, cybernetic canines.

Is that about the size of it, so to speak, sheriff?"

The sheriff pulled up his massive high-powered binoculars and panned across the towering and infinitely long wall and road just down beneath

their rather precarious parking position there atop the towering shale and sandy precipice. He was more than just a little bit offended by

the decidedly rude and repugnant little 'gringo' Associated Press reporter with his curt and callous summation of the situation. 'This' bastard,

wherever-he-was-from up north, is going to make life even more difificult for him and his weary over-worked, underpaid and never heralded or

appreciated heroic band of border agents. This little prick needed to be taught a lesson... a 'very serious' lesson.

"Why yes amigo," Suarez began evenly as though anything this pocquito pompous press person could possibly say to him 'now' would be taken

with anything more than just a mere pinch of salt and a shot of Cuervo. "I guess, if we... 'you' leave out all of the clearly gruesome and gory

details, 'that' pretty much sums it all up."

"Gruesome and gory...'details'?" Pedigrue tried with a now somewhat nervous page flip on his short-hand pad.

"Si... yes. You see the dogs, 'super-sized' as you put it, are just that, muy grande, the size of a pony or pack mule would probably best

describe their size and stature. Pero... but that's just part of it when it comes to describing these computer chip, wired n' wary beasts--

'animals' senor Pedrigue."

"Please go on Sheriff Suarez. I'm all ears."

"Well, as you very probably already know, the border here extends almost two thousand miles. That includes all the convoluted twists and

turns, mega-sand dunes, arroyo channels, canyons and whatever. We... ICE that is, has, at its beck and call, a veritable flying force of Jaeger

drones with deadly rotational gattling Vulcan mini-guns and the ICE DOGS... 'dogmatix' if you will. Make no mistake, the dogs are a

monomaniacal and ferocious, hybrid, there is a three thousand sharpened paw and jaw army of them out there on the front lines. They don't

stop and search. They don't ask for green cards or visas. The dogs are 'all' business mi amigo. Search and destroy is their modus operandi

out here in no-man's land Mr. Pedigrue. Comprende-vu? Are you gettin' all this down?"

"Yes, yes," Pedigrue shot back as he frantically flipped and folded back page after page. "Just give me a moment here please."

"Take your time," Suarez replied with a rather cocky sneer and snort.

*   *   *

Not too much time passed before the vieing, sweat-stained twosome settled back, gingerly, just against the baking hood and bumper

of the ghostly 'wash-me' white SUV. They took long gulps from rippled aqua plastic bottles of store bought water compliments of ICE.

"Well sheriff," Pedigrue exhaled with what could have either been a new respect for the situation and circumstance there or an exhausted stab

at friendship and understanding, "I have to say this, off the record mind you, that way down here at the ass end of nowhere, just in the shy

shadow of the good ol' U.S. of A, you ICE folks sure do have your damn hands full. However, it would seem to me, that is from an outsider

looking in, that what's been done with these deadly drones and dogs down here is costing the average 'American' tax payer an arm and a leg.

I'm on a rogue reporting assignment down here sheriff. That is, for all intents and purposes, no one really knows where I am exactly. And, I have

to admit to you in all honesty, that I truly don't either," as he looked out up and then off into the distance at the meandering, monolithic

Segregation Wall. "However, be that as it may, I am afraid in my article for the AP I'm going to have to tell it like it is."

"Arm and a leg huh? Well let me give you a grave word of caution mi amigo. Now, 'I'm' afraid that I'm just gonna have to-- Oye, look, down there!"

Suarez interupted himself with an extended muscular arm just behind the sweaty back of the diminutive AP reporter. "Aqui...here comes two of 'em

down the road just as pretty as you please right now!"

"Two... of what?"Pedigrue asked hesitantly.

Suarez whipped out and away his big black binoculars with his other hand and offered them to the now google-eyed reporter.

"Dogmatix... the ICE DOGS," he breathed out in both shock and awe, but, seemingly, also with a not so hidden degree of sinister satisfaction.

Pedigrue put his notepad on the hood of the cruiser and accepted the jutting, double-barreled offering from the grinning sheriff. He struggled

somewhat to arrange the tandem eyepieces into the pinkish wells of his sockets. Suarez then assisted him in adjusting the lens focus.

He pointed off and deep down along the never-ending sweep of the great wall and its abutting, serpentine ocher-dirt road.

Just at that very moment a light warm breeze passed right through and over them both.

There was an odd, perhaps even 'uncomfortable', pregnant pause.

Then...

"Oh my God in holy heaven!" from the now totally 'focused' and aghast Pedigrue. "Are those... things the dogmatix? The ICE dogs?"

"Biggern' life itself mi amigo," from the sneering sheriff as he silently stepped in a little closer to the quivering 'rogue' reporter. "I think, at

'this' stage of the game, I should remind you that these savage, monomaniacal, cyborg 'guard dogs', and over and above that, so to speak,

their aerial semi-autonomous amigos the 'drones' take absolutely 'no' prisoners... do you comprende-vu that?"

"I think I'm beginning to see the... 'Game?' " Pedigrue tried.

"Those two marchin' closer down there are, more than likely, headin' for one of our camouflaged Rejuvenation Stations to be 'fed'. Suarez added.

"Fed?... but I thought that these things... 'dogs' were--

"Hungry," Suarez snapped in rudely. "Probably ravenous, and they only eat high protein fortified red flesh meat. They recharge the dog's

power-packs as well. It works out quite nicely for all of us way down here on the front line Mr. Pedigrue... the border line."

"But, this whole thing is inhumane. What about the innocent illegals who are just trying to enter America to have a better life? You can't just...

You can't just kill, 'murder' them like this with these prowling robotic monster dogs and monomanical mercenary drones. Why it's beyond

inhumane sheriff. It's completely insane! I'm afraid that I'm going to have to--"

"Don't be afraid Mr. Pedigrue," Suarez now almost whispered as he snatched away the binoculars with one hand and grabbed a

vice-like grip around the reporter's scrawny neck with the other. "The dogmatix are very efficient. They eat just about 'everything' they

catch. The buzzards and sand ants compete for any and all the leftovers. Eventually, we collect up and dispose of all the sunbleached... bones."

Suarez dipped around and laser-blue eyed a leering face-to-face look at the gurgling, goggle-eyed little man he had in his powerful squeezing

clutch. He dragged the horrified, kicking reporter over to the very edge of the steep drop-off. He looked off nonchalantly at the sinking orange

ball of sun as it slowly melted down behind the great concrete border wall. Then at the two massive, crimson-electro-eyed black dogs as

they were just about to saunter, horse-like, far down beneath them.

Suarez leaned in deathly close and whispered in his ear "It looks like you let all your damn fears get the better of you amigo."

He shoved him.

"Adios senor... vaya con Dios."

___ The End ___