Chapter Two #2
Though he wore running shoes that let water drain out through the holes, they didn’t clean out the mud.
Dakota could feel a mound of fine grains forming a pillow under his toes, throwing off his natural footfall.
Those grains were between his toes and under his nails, and the whole experience felt like he was using sandpaper on his feet as tiny sharp cuts formed wherever there was shoe.
That didn’t slow Tank as he followed the curving wooded trail, popping out in the next field where Dakota could see the next obstacle out in front of them, the wall.
They had a photo spot all set up and well-populated so people could ooh and ah over the feat.
“Let’s get real here, buddy,” Dakota huffed out. “I don’t do what Cerberus does in daily training.”
The crew at Cerberus made their living by going into disaster zones with their K9 partners to save and protect clients.
Whether it was corporate, government, or universities, if something was going down, be it a coup or a lava flow, Cerberus would find a way in and find a way to pull their clients out.
Sometimes it was a search-and-rescue, digging through volcanic ash; sometimes it was flanking a threatened diplomat and running for the bunker.
They trained for everything and anything.
So today’s obstacle course was just another day at the office.
Dakota spent his days hunting down counterfeiters, a slightly different skill set.
He had his days when being a triathlete kept him alive on the job.
But that didn’t mean he’d ever tried to carry Tank on his shoulders up and over an eight-foot wall.
That required technique.
Yeah, he was going to look like a dork on social media —but for a good cause. More clicks, more money. He was in it to win it, and the only win that mattered was money for kids.
Mojo and his handler, Levi, were just ahead. It looked simple enough.
After placing Mojo into a sit, Levi squatted beside his dog and made the call that, from where Dakota stood, sounded like “Ally-oop!”
Mojo put his paws on Levi’s far shoulder.
Levi grabbed the harness buckle at the front, scooped his arm under Mojo’s butt, shifting Mojo until he draped across Levi’s shoulders. Fluid. Easy. Once he stood, Levi told Mojo to relax, grabbed the rope, and went up effortlessly.
“It’s a nothing burger, easy peasy,” Dakota told Tank as he signaled him around to sit at Dakota’s side. “You trained this, right?”
Dakota squatted. He lifted his right elbow and said, “Ally-oop!”
And Tank snuck his head around to give Dakota a whole face tongue bath.
“Thanks, big man.” Dakota pushed him off. “That’s not what we’re looking for here. Can you get up on my shoulders?”
Tank lifted his paws and tapped at him. He didn’t seem to have clue one what he was supposed to do.
Dakota had Tank stand while Dakota squatted and tried to stick his head under Tank’s belly, thinking he’d somehow maneuver from there.
And that was ridiculous.
Hawkeye and his K9 Cooper trotted up beside him.
He put Cooper to his side, took a knee, then looked at Dakota.
“The directive you’re looking for is ‘sur l'épaule.’” As soon as he said it, Cooper draped himself across Hawkeye’s shoulders, then Hawkeye pushed Cooper’s butt until he lay balanced and steady, and then Hawkeye stood.
“French, then. Not allyoop.”
“First time, right? Do you want me to lift Tank onto you?” Hawkeye asked.
“I’d like to see if we can master it before the mastiff catches up.”
“Yeah, well, Beowolf’s highest speed is lope.
” Hawkeye grinned as he reached out to grab the rope.
With Cooper draped over his shoulder, Hawkeye planted his foot and started to walk the wall.
Dakota watched Hawkeye’s posture closely.
He kept his cheek toward the wall, so his shoulders tipped slightly forward.
“Go ahead and try it out,” Hawkeye called down from the top. “I’ll check on you when I get down.”
After a reset and the correct command, things flowed with ease.
All right, not with ease.
Tank was monster-sized, and there was a lot of fur in Dakota’s face sticking to his grease paint. But Tank relaxed into the configuration, keeping his muzzle ahead of Dakota’s shoulder, which helped Dakota maintain his balance.
Still, it was tippy.
“One foot, then another. Here we go. Up the wall,” Dakota sang to Tank.
At the top, Dakota threw his leg over and grabbed up the second line to descend.
“The dogs were supposed to run around the wall, and the humans were to go over alone.” He took all the weight into his arms as he swung the second leg over and positioned his feet.
“Why are we climbing the wall with our K9s on our shoulders? Oh-yeah, we’re big bad special forces types. Go big or go home, my man.”
Dakota walked the wall back down. This time, he pulled his arms to his sides to get his head closer to the wall because it felt like Tank might slip off.
He wouldn’t do this if he thought Tank could get injured. This wasn’t a mission where danger was inherent.
Dakota was glad that there were broad sand pits on either side; neither of them should get hurt if push came to shove. Came to thump.
“No jumping, buddy. Trust me. We’re relaxing together. Good times. We’re doing this for the kiddies.”
There were strategically placed knots all along the rope. Dakota wondered whether that was to help folks with the climb or to dissuade people from fast-roping down by locking their feet and sliding.
Down was down.
Dakota knelt to let Tank off his shoulders.
The wet dog muskiness that now enveloped them both would wash off in the shower. Just look at Tank’s face! Joy filled his eyes. Tank was in his element. He took a step and turned to glance back at Dakota.
“Yup, let’s get it.” He and Tank took off. A little less than a sprint this time since Dakota was dealing with the weight and rub of a pillow of grit in his shoes. But still a pretty good clip.
He could at least see the distant backs of the Cerberus team.
They hit the muddy log over the water that Reaper had mentioned.
Tank was standing there, tail wagging, waiting patiently for Dakota to show up.
Yeah, Dakota was willing to make a big splash of things if he was falling over.
“Let’s leave it all on the field, right buddy?
” But he thought with Tank’s aversion to those first moments of wet belly, it would be best if Tank wasn’t on his shoulders if they did take the plunge.
Dakota prized his eyeballs, and he didn’t want to take a panicked clawing to his face.
“Hugs,” Dakota said as he patted his chest.
Tank stood on his hind paws and stretched upward.
Dakota scooped under his bottom. This was a hold they’d done since he was a puppy. Tank didn’t need to know a magical command to get this one in place.
Dakota had to hold Tank in one arm to keep his other hand free to help hoist himself up. Tank was only ninety pounds, but the foot placement was a bit finicky when he couldn’t see over the fur ball draping across his chest.
The rounded surface of the log forced Dakota’s ankles outwards, and Dakota ended up shifting Tank onto his hip like a toddler.
Tank didn’t love that. He twisted this way and that, trying to see the end, anxious to have his own feet under him, drool dripping onto Dakota’s ear.
As soon as they reached the end of the log, Dakota squatted so Tank could set his paws on Dakota’s thigh, and he thrust off in a magnificent leap that brought cheers and whoops from the crowd.
Dakota jumped down quickly as the bungee tightened, dragging his hips forward. They’d just had a triumph; no point in slip-sliding face-first now.
Dakota had lost sight of Cerberus and was running full steam.
Tank was powering up the steep hill, up and away from the crowd.
“Not gonna lie, buddy, I’m appreciating the assist on this incline.”
All in all, Daktota thought that he and Tank had given a fair showing. And he felt that as they ran the course together, learning at the same time, trust grew between them.
Yeah, today was a good day. Food for the soul.
Dakota stopped at the last obstacle of the run, a forty-pound bag of dog chow that he’d have to carry to the finish line.
In this part of the task, he and Tank were completely in sync. They often ran the park trails long, hard distances. Dakota almost forgot the bag of food draped over his shoulder as he caught up to the others.
“Oy, there you are, mate,” Halo called out with a wave of his free hand. “We were afraid you got lost somewhere along the line. We were just having a chat about who would be on the search and rescue mission to go back and find you.”
“Appreciate the concern,” Dakota said as they passed the table one by one, where they dropped off the bag.
“No more pussy-footing around,” Levi called out. “Last one across is buying the first round.”
They were off, blazing across the finish line to a cheering crowd.
Dakota bent as that petite woman from the parking area stretched to place the completion medal around his neck. “I’m Grace. You must be Raisin. Thanks so much for pitching in.”
“Glad to help.” Dakota huffed, then shuffled forward to be out of the path as he bent to put his hands on his knees and catch his breath.
There, Tank stared into the crowd. His whole body tensed as he focused on a man in a wheelchair with a young boy in a wheelchair to his side.
The boy was waving sticks with pom poms attached to the ends.
A woman with brown hair had her face turned as she watched the next wave of runners come over the hill.
Tank yipped his high-pitched, “Quick! Come look!”
The woman swiveled toward them and raised her phone to take pictures of the scene, then smiled and waved.
As the boy lifted his pompom, Tank dove forward.
“Hey, ho there, big guy,” Dakota panted out. “That’s not a toy, and it’s not for you.”
Tank took another leap forward. And this time, Dakota shifted his focus to try to understand what was enticing Tank to act this way in public. All three people in that grouping had locked eyes with Tank, and Dakota locked eyes on her.
Suddenly, Dakota felt oddly like there was no definition to his body. If someone were videoing him and, in the clip, he shifted from a solid to a state of floating particles, he would think that was about the right sensation.
“Oy there mate, come on,” Halo called out. “We’re heading back to the vehicles!” The sharp tone glued Dakota’s atoms back together.
It was such an odd sensation that Dakota immediately classified it as a coincidence of focus, while his body freaked out from the heavy exertion and the succession of cold-water plunges.
Tank turned to catch Dakota’s gaze and give him a stomp of dissatisfaction. “Do I smell strange to you?” Dakota asked Tank. “Low potassium? Maybe I need a banana.” Dakota gathered the length of the lead, then signaled Tank to his side as he jogged toward the transport.
Tank’s feet moved forward, but his gaze stayed on the family with the boy and his pompom.
When they got to the group, the men removed the harnesses and dropped them into a bag for cleaning. Then Dakota, still reeling, bent to unlace his shoes. “I mean, it was like a sci-fi movie or something. I don’t think a human body is supposed to feel that way.”
Tank looked up at him.
He held up his first shoe and tapped the glob of sediment onto the dirt.
“You don’t think a brain-eating amoeba was floating in any of those ponds we were swimming in, do you?” he teased. “To be honest, I was out here to do a good deed, not to have my gray matter turn into Swiss cheese. You know?”
“Hey, you okay?” Hawkeye asked, sitting on the tarp, to peel off his mud-covered shoes. “You look a little shell-shocked.”
Dakota rubbed a hand over his heart. “Yeah, don’t know. This is a new sensation for me.”