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snagged a lost mutt just to test his instinct. There was never any contest, but he dropped the idea because Rufus was too good for the pit. He was meant for bigger game. "'What doesn't kill us makes us strong.' Right, boy? You, me, and old Fred Nietzsche." The dog backed up. "Rufus, heel!" The dog froze. Jerry unlatched the gate, stepped in and closed it behind him. The chicken banged its head against Jerry's leg as its wings tried to break away. He held the bird away from Rufus, his free hand palm up to signal restraint. |
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Rufus fought against invisible tethers, but he kept his place. |
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"That's my good boy." Rufus raised his face to his master, and Jerry fixed on his eyes and felt the heat of connectedness. |
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He walked to the middle of the floor with the chicken at arm's length. Eyes fixed on it, Rufus watched as Jerry carried it to the far side. The change made Rufus snap to all fours but Jerry caught him. "Heel!" And the dog dropped back down, half-growling, half-whimpering. Jerry made a slow teasing circuit of the arena with the bird, he stopped three feet from Rufus, dangling the chicken over his head. The wings flapped, Rufus squirmed but held his place. Jerry had trained him well. |
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When he cut back to the gate, Jerry said, "Rufus, steady." For a long moment he looked into the dog's eyes. Magnificent ferocity. The eyes Jerry loved. Jungle eyes. |
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Jungle eyes: Jerry had come to know those eyes more than twenty years ago in the steaming thick of Vietnam. Faking parental consent, he had joined the Marines at seventeen to see action. And he saw it. During his stint he had conducted 517 patrols, 262 ambushes, 29 sweep and clear operations around Da Nang. Some claimed that two years of jungle war had made Jerry a little crazy, addicted to his own adrenaline. That all the violence had deadened him. He knew better. It was just the opposite . . . like some mystical life quest had drawn him to the jungle for an awakening, a rebirth. Jerry never remembered feeling more alive than when he was in the bush under fire. His body had become a thing of raw nerve endings. His senses were supercharged. Unlike the terror that had gripped his buddies, Jerry felt he had been transported to a state of bliss. The greater the danger, the more he felt aliveand wanted. The worst people in the world were out there in the jungle, and they came shooting for himJerry Mars. He could imagine no greater |
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