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Max was scent-trained as a live-find K9 and an HRD—human remains detection—dog. If Max found a human cadaver, he’d sit and drape a paw over his nose as if he were weeping.
Max rose up to take a step forward. He caught Halo’s gaze, then touched his nose to the scent bag, sat, and lifted his paws in “prayer” to tell Halo he had a live human find. Interesting that he touched the scent source first. That was new.
Back in the day, when Halo and Ryder were working with Australian military dogs on assignments, these skills had been part of their units’ survival. The dogs not only helped the team find insurgents, but if one of their band of brothers went missing, the dogs could work a scent source pulled from the guy’s pack or tent. As miserable as it was to think of finding a brother had died, the dog’s choice of signals meant the team knew what they were dealing with. If it was someone alive, it was go-go-go. If the person were deceased, the team had more time to plan and limit their risks.
Halo was pulling Max’s reward ball from his pocket when Max caught Halo’s gaze a second time, then draped a paw over his nose, and Halo’s heart sank.
Max had never done that before, giving both signals—alive and dead.
Regardless, the find meant a reward and high-pitched praise. Halo tossed Max’s ball into the air, “good-boy!”
Halo said into the sat phone. “Max is indicating a find.”
“Go ahead and radio your team,” Bob said. “I’ll send out a text with your GPS coordinates. Farthest team from your present location is twenty minutes. Team Alpha will rally to support you.”
The fat drops of precipitation pattered on Halo’s ruck. “The rain’s started up. How is that radar looking?”
“You’re light green for precipitation for another twenty - maybe thirty minutes, then your area turns maroon to black. On our forecasting color spectrum, that’s as bad as we get. You can't stay put without shelter and the risk of mudslides. You need a plan to get down the slope despite the weather. The risk increases exponentially with time. This system will settle into the valley for about twelve hours. Then it’ll be dark and the terrain slippery. Tonight’s temperatures drop into the lower forties.” He turned to Halo. “That’s very unusual for end of August in Virginia.” His gaze swept the team. “We’re going to minimize the risk for the team and Mrs. Haze by moving you down to shelter. I’ll convey that to Ridge. Over.”
“Copy. Out.”
As Max settled in to enjoy his ball, Halo pulled the leather gloves on. “Grammie? Grammie, can you hear me? I’ve come to take you to dinner. Are you hungry?”
After a moment of silence, Halo pressed his sternal button to put him on the team radio. “Clear the net. Clear the net. Clear the net. Team Halo and Max.” In Iniquus' radio protocol, that phrase meant that he and the communications officer could speak, and no other radio traffic was allowed.
“Ridge. Go for Team Alpha.”
“Max is indicating a find.”
“Do you have eyes on?” Ridge asked.
“I’m standing at a ball of rhododendron and sweet briar, two meters high, must be three meters wide, dense vegetation, no visual. Over.” Honestly, Halo wasn’t sure about this. Yes, he always trusted his dog, but how in hades could a frail senior have gotten into this tangle without leaving a trace of broken vines, at least?
Then again, how could a bear take a dump in the woods and leave no trail? Halo just didn’t know how to read this land yet.
Halo waited for a return communication, but the radio crackled and sputtered.
Thunder boomed close enough that Halo felt it in his chest.
Though he wasn’t sure anyone could hear him, he said, “Halo. Out.” He hoped that the sat text from Bob with Halo’s GPS location got through, or he’d be alone trying to get Mrs. Haze off this mountain.
Glancing down, Halo saw Max’s muscles were tight with excitement.
As he lay on the ground, his ball trapped between his front paws, Max focused on Halo.
“In there, huh, Max? Both dead and alive?” Looking around at the bush, Halo asked, “Maxi, is this the best route to get to the lady?”
Max shifted his focus from Halo and stared into the foliage with an intense focus. Halo raised the blade of his hand toward Max’s nose and swung it in a line forward. He adjusted his stance.
If Max crawled out backward, that meant there was no place to turn around. This wasn’t a façade with open space beneath. It was going to be dense going. And Halo wanted to get in and get eyes on the situation before the sky opened up.
Tightening his ruck on his shoulders, Halo lay on the ground, reaching in, feeling for thicker branches to cut and shove aside. He needed both a way in and a clear path for extraction, a clear way for his team to move in. Working as quickly as possible, cutting his way forward, Halo tried to reason out Max’s signal. If Grammie had been bleeding, the blood would begin to decay the moment it left her body. Decaying blood was a cadaver scent. That was possible. Probable.
“Max. Stay,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the greenery.
He was feeling his way through this process, trying different strategies to get through the mass as efficiently as possible. It was a bloody miserable undertaking that he’d never faced before. The novelty of dealing with the briars catching at his clothes and tearing at his skin, the tangle at his feet made his movement frustratingly slow.
Halo was accumulating a list of skills he wanted to train if he was lucky enough to be offered an Iniquus contract. Skills that would make things safer for Max and for the subject they were tracking.
