Canine Maximus Max (MOSAR Book 1) by C. R. Turner

Author:C. R. Turner [Turner, C. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780648381327
Published: 2018-10-10T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

After a decent night’s sleep, I ride Max, enjoying Hati’s warmth on my face. We’ve been travelling for a couple of days, and the stormwater drain we’ve been following has been getting wider as it gradually turns to the east. Up ahead is another ramp. I direct Max over so we can exit the drain and head north instead.

Before we reach the ramp, a Union jet swoops down out of nowhere, startling both of us. It’s so low I can feel the heat from the engines and the fumes from the unburnt jet fuel stings my eyes. Its engines point downward as it lands in front of us, kicking up sprays of dirt and water. I squint through the dust cloud to see the Union striker scout sitting in the front passenger seat. I glance at the ramp, then back at the jet. Just as the striker scout climbs out, I rib Max hard and yell, “Yah! Yah!” He takes off running at a blistering pace towards the ramp. The striker scout, seeing Max’s astonishing pace jumps back in the jet and signals to the pilot to take off.

As we reach the top of the ramp, I spot an industrial area on the other side of a large field. I steer Max towards it and in mere seconds, we’ve streaked across the field and into the sprawling industrial area. Max runs on with the sound of the jet stalking behind us. I slow Max’s pace to a trot, then pull on his reins to spin around. The jet is landing in the field behind the giant buildings.

We reach the end, we’re blocked by a really high concrete wall running from east to west and cutting the industrial area in half. I direct Max west, and we follow the wall until we come across an area where the wall has been reduced to ground level. The adjacent buildings, whilst still standing, have every single pane of glass smashed and the concrete columns and floors are crumbling. Whatever hit the wall must have been massive. I stop Max at the gap in the wall. I look behind us in the direction the jet landed, wondering how far behind us the striker scout is, then instruct Max to go forward.

He takes a couple of steps and stops. “Come on, Max. Move.” He doesn’t budge, but lowers his head to the ground and sniffs. I look down. Landmines! The ground on the other side of the wall is filled with them, running off in both directions for at least a hundred feet and all linked together in a spider web of rusty trip wires.

“Stop right there!” the striker scout hollers from afar. I spin around. He’s sprinting towards us. There’s only one choice. Hopefully, the mines are that rusted they won’t even work. I can’t give it another moment’s thought. “Come on, mate.” Max hesitates, but I squeeze him in the ribs and finally he moves, lifting his giant paws, one at a time, and carefully placing them back on the ground.

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