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Authors: Neal Wooten

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BOOK: Pit Bulls vs Aliens
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“We think he was a fighting dog,” Ms. Rhonda said.

“Doubtful. He’s still alive. I’m betting he wouldn’t fight so they used him for training.” Francisco shook his head and wondered how anyone could do that to such a beautiful animal. “Come here,” he said.

The dog lunged again and Francisco caught his collar. He held him tight and worked the buckle on the side of the muzzle and slid it off. He let go of the collar, and the dog seized the opportunity of no longer having the muzzle to growl and bite at Francisco.

Francisco looked at Ms. Rhonda and the two young Mexican boys who helped her out.

“Oh right. Let’s go, boys, and leave Francisco and Beast alone.” Ms. Rhonda knew how he liked to work, so they excused themselves. Francisco preferred no distractions when trying to gain a dog’s trust.

“Beast, huh?” Francisco asked. “That sounds like a good name for you.”

The dog ran circles inside the little stall, knocking over his food and water dish. Francisco waited for several minutes, letting the dog get used to his presence, then picked up the gallon jug outside the stall and opened the gate. He walked in as if he owned the stall and closed the gate behind him. The dog took a defensive stance and bared his teeth. Francisco ignored him and walked right past and turned the water bowl upright and filled it.

The dog kept his head turned toward Francisco wherever he went. Francisco continued to ignore the dog and acted as if this were his home. After he filled the dish with water, he simply sat down on the ground with his back up against the back wall of the stall and did nothing. He didn’t address the dog or say anything at all. In fact, after about fifteen minutes, he started to doze off.

Francisco woke up from a short nap. The dog was lying down now, still watching Francisco and breathing hard, but no longer growling. “See, I’m not going to hurt you. We’ll just hang out until you trust me.”

Francisco took another nap. When he woke the next time, the dog was napping only a few feet from him. He smiled and drifted off again.

The next time he woke, the dog was still sleeping but with his head in Francisco’s lap. He reached down and began rubbing the dog’s head, then his back, then his belly. The dog rolled onto its back to give him a better angle.

When Francisco rose, the dog jumped up and growled.

“It’s okay, big boy,” Francisco said in a reassuring tone. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked back to the front of the building and found Ms. Rhonda.

“How goes it?” she asked.

Francisco gave a thumbs-up. “Just came to get some treats.”

Ms. Rhonda gladly gave him some. “How do you do it?”

He shrugged. “Dogs have always liked me. Maybe I’m part dog.”

They both laughed as Francisco turned to go back. He opened the gate and the large pit bull growled again. Once more, Francisco ignored him and took his seat, but this time he held up a doggie treat. The former fighter or bait dog cocked his head as if trying to figure this guy out. He inched closer and sniffed the treat. Finally he gingerly took the treat in his teeth and walked away to devour it.

Francisco held up another. The dog was a little quicker this time and didn’t walk away to eat it.

The day progressed until the sun was hanging lazily in the western sky. Ms. Rhonda figured enough time had passed, and she hadn’t heard any barking or growling, so she slowly walked to the back stall. “Oh my goodness,” she said as she saw Francisco lying on the ground wrestling with the big pit bull. They were having a good time together.

Francisco looked up at Ms. Rhonda and smiled. “He’s just a big old teddy bear. Aren’t you, Gentle Beast?”

“Gentle Beast, huh?” Ms. Rhonda asked.

“Yeah, I think it fits him better.”

The dog leaped up on the gate when Ms. Rhonda walked up, but with no aggression. She ran her hands along each side of his head and behind his ears. He was enjoying the attention.

Francisco walked out of the stall. “He’ll be okay now.”

“I don’t know how you do this, but thanks again.” Ms. Rhonda stuck her hand in her pocket. “I don’t have much, but please let me pay you this time.”

He held up his hand. “I thought you were going to offer me a doggie treat.”

They both laughed.

“Seriously, I’m glad to do it. Call me whenever you need me.”

Gentle Beast started to whine as Francisco walked away.

“Don’t worry, boy, I’ll be back to see you.” He walked to his car, waved, and drove away.

Chapter Eight

“I can’t believe you always get up so early,” Dr. McNair said into the telephone.

“I don’t have much choice,” Glenda Eagle said on the other end of the line. “Not when you have this many dogs to take care of.”

“I can imagine. I just wanted to give you a call before going to work. I have to leave for my office in a few minutes.”

“Do you still enjoy it?” Glenda asked.

“No, I hate it,” Dr. McNair answered. “This office job is slowly killing me. I stare out of the window most of the time wishing I were still in the field. I am seriously considering retiring.”

“I think you just need a vacation. You know, somewhere nice and warm.”

Dr. McNair laughed. “Tell me a place this day and age where it’s not warm. That’s my job, trying to find where the planet is not warm anymore, or at least discover why it’s not ever going to be cool again. And I apparently suck at it.”

Glenda laughed. “Maybe you’re spending too much time looking out the window.”

“Maybe. Maybe you’re right about that vacation.”

Glenda went for the kill. “How about California? I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but that is actually a family favorite of states to visit during vacation. Heck, some people come every year.”

“Really?” Dr. McNair said. “I did not know that. You guys have some cool stuff out that way?”

“We’ve got some stuff. I know this great place where you can bury yourself up to your eyeballs in doggie kisses and forget about everything else.”

“Sounds tempting,” Dr. McNair said. “But I have to be honest with you; I’ve never owned a dog.”

“Never?” Glenda said, shocked. “How is that possible? Not even as a little boy?”

“Nope. My dad wasn’t a big animal lover of any kind. When I got married, my wife and I talked about it a few times, but then she got pregnant and after the baby came along, we just didn’t think about it anymore.”

“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Glenda said. “You definitely need to come spend some time here. You’ll leave here wanting to take a couple of these guys home with you.”

Dr. McNair let that paint a picture in his mind. “I’m not sure how good a dog owner I would be. I can hardly take care of myself.”

“Well, for one thing,” Glenda said, “you would stop referring to yourself as an ‘owner’ and start referring to yourself as a ‘parent.’ Dogs are members of the family, not possessions.”

“See, I still have a lot to learn.”

“Yes, you do,” Glenda said. “It’s a good thing we met, huh? Who better to guide you through this process?”

Dr. McNair smiled. He certainly admired her passion for dogs, especially pit bulls. “I wish we could talk vacations and dogs all day, but I have to go. I’ll give you a call this evening.”

“Okay, bye.”

Dr. McNair hung up the phone, got dressed for work, and walked out to his car. Even this early he cranked the air conditioning up to high for the daily commute. Once he got to his block, he navigated his car around the front of the US Climatology building and noticed the protestors were back. He couldn’t understand why they picketed his building. They were only scientists reporting the events of global warming, not creating it.

After turning down beside the building and parking in the employee parking lot, he got out of the car with a bag carrying his fast-food breakfast. He was notorious for eating junk food on demand since he rarely had the time to get away from work or the inclination to cook at home.

As he neared the coded front entrance, a young Asian woman with a briefcase was waiting by the door. She was short, athletic, and wearing a shapely pantsuit. Her short black hair came to her shoulders and reflected the morning sun.

“Are you Dr. Stephen McNair?” she asked.

Dr. McNair looked longingly at the bag in his hand carrying his first meal of the day. He nodded.

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Sally Xie. I’ve been leaving you messages for several days now.”

“Salacy?”

She grinned. “No. First name: Sally. Last name: Xie. You can call me Sally. I’m a marine—”

As she stopped and stared past him, Dr. McNair turned to see what had distracted her. A large man with a picket sign was strolling straight toward them. He was about six feet five, with long brown hair that came down in front of him well past his shoulders, and a matching beard. He wore baggy clothes but still presented a formidable appearance. His shoulders were broad and arms thick. He looked like Jesus on steroids.

“Dr. McNair,” he shouted as he walked up, “do you really think you’re fooling anyone with your government cover-up? We know what’s really happening. The people have a right to know the truth. Don’t you agree?”

Dr. McNair looked up at the sign, which read, “THEY are real.” Looking at some of the other signs, he noticed the general theme for all of them was of aliens and terraforming. He stuck out his hand to the big guy. “I’m all for the truth. Call me Stephen. I’m not sure who
they
are, but if you’re referring to aliens from another planet, I have no data at all on that, so there is no cover-up. As a scientist, however, I won’t rule out anything. If you have a few minutes, I’d love to hear what evidence you have.”

It was a brilliant move. It defused the big man’s steam. He was actually quite shocked but shook Dr. McNair’s hand. “Yeah, sure. My name is Thomas Freeman. Thank you, Stephen. I have lots of evidence from hundreds of hours of research and it speaks for itself. Perhaps you’ve read my books.”

“I don’t believe so.” Dr. McNair looked back to Sally. “Oh, this is Sally. She’s a marine.”

Thomas snapped to attention and presented a real-life salute. “
Semper fi
, ma’am. I was class of 2039 Parris Island myself.”

Sally shook her head. “No, I’m a marine
biologist
.” She turned back to Dr. McNair. “Sir, I need to speak to you about a matter of grave concern.”

“And my concern is not grave?” Thomas asked.

“Regardless,” Sally said. “I believe I was first here.”

Dr. McNair glanced at both of them. They looked like they would be good distractions from actually going to work. “I’ll see you both, but pardon me while I eat.”

He led them to his office and sat behind the desk as they seated themselves in the two padded wingback chairs in front of the desk. “Okay, since we’re on a first name basis, Thomas, tell me what you know.” He took out the first biscuit and sank his teeth into it.

Thomas seemed to like being called on first. “Okay. First, are you familiar with Dr. Niklasson’s research?”

Dr. McNair nodded and continued to chew.

“What is that?” Sally asked.

Dr. McNair wiped the corners of his mouth. “He’s a Swedish scientist who developed an actual scale model of Earth, which can simulate the atmosphere, weather, climate, you name it. His latest report stipulates that in all of his trials, neither greenhouse gases nor any planetary events could ever produce the kind of global warming we are experiencing.”

Thomas nodded. “Exactly. So if we are not doing it ourselves, who is? Scientists have also discovered pyramids on the ocean floor, about a dozen or so, and carbon dating puts them over a million years old, way before man could have made them.”

Dr. McNair bit into his second biscuit. “I don’t see the connection,” he said while chewing.

“Once again,” Thomas said, “if humans didn’t build them, who did?” The office was quite silent so he continued. “See, we’ve always believed that aliens were heating the planet from the outside. But, what if they are using the Earth’s own resources? What if they have devices on the ocean floor that have pipes going down into the earth, down where it’s a lot hotter near the core? It would release the heat up through the seawater and heat the atmosphere.”

“Wow,” Sally said. “I really thought you were just a nutcase.”

Dr. McNair laughed as he dusted crumbs off his shirt. “So did I.”

Thomas also laughed. “Well, I might be a little.” Then he looked at Sally. “Perhaps you’ve read my books.”

“May I say something?” Sally asked, ignoring the last comment.

Thomas nodded.

“It’s amazing you say that because it coincides with what I was going to mention, at least one of the things.” Sally opened her briefcase and produced a stack of papers. “I wondered also if greenhouse gases were to blame, or any other man-made scenario. If we were indeed heating the air, wouldn’t it heat the water evenly?”

“Not necessarily,” Dr. McNair said. “There would be several variables. For instance, the depth and speed of the water would be huge factors.”

“Exactly,” she said and slid a large map across the desk. “I got this from the National Oceanographic Data Center. It shows the areas where the ocean temps have become the most elevated. You’ll notice that they all are aligned with the ocean currents like the Gulf Stream. These are the areas of the deepest and fastest-moving waters.”

Dr. McNair put on his reading glasses, picked up the map, and stared at it.

Sally continued. “It just seems those would be the areas least affected. And since warmer air around the entire planet would wreak havoc on shallow and stagnant water more, why isn’t it raising the temps for all the lakes in the world?”

“Those are good questions,” Thomas said.

“It’s not just the temps either.”

Dr. McNair looked up over his reading glasses. “Yes?”

Sally slid another paper across the desk. “We tag and track as many animals as we can. This shows the migration of a young humpback named Walter—“

Dr. McNair laughed. As Sally stared at him, he apologized. “Sorry. I just think it’s funny that you give human names to fish.”

“Mammals,” she corrected. “And that hardly seems appropriate coming from a man who gives human names to storms.”

BOOK: Pit Bulls vs Aliens
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