Page 17 of Trusted Instinct
Seeing that his shirt had him in line with the phone—again, mindboggling—Creed slid his cell phone into the zippered pocket on his right hip and paid attention to the pressure on his arms.
Did the shirt understand that sometimes Rou went in a straight line and sometimes she had to zigzag to pick up the scent again? Apparently not.
The right sleeve would inflate, then the left.
Creed would have to discuss the extra steps and pivots the shirt wanted him to take with the software engineers. There should be a way to put the data in a straight line from his position to Rou’s.
The engineers wouldn’t know how things went down in the field unless it was explained to them, so Creed made a mental note to bring it up.
By this point, Jeb had been in the woods for almost forty minutes, and Creed would admit, he was starting to worry that Jeb had made his way to the bank of the river and might get swept in.
A major storm was raging in the mountains. There, the waters were already high from a previous downpour that hadn’t made its way down to this parched patch of land at the base of the Blue Ridge. Coming over the bridge this morning, they’d seen how the water was running fast and muddy.
A foot of muddy water could carry off a truck. Six inches could take an adult.
It didn’t take much to sweep a child.
If Jeb had stepped in to retrieve a cool-looking rock, he could have been pulled into the current without much hope of keeping his head above water.
Creed stopped and stilled.
He strained to hear past his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears.
From a distance, Creed thought he could hear Rou barking.
This was highly unusual. If Rou found someone, she’d come back and signal Creed to follow her. But in this instance, it was so apparent that Rou wanted him to be with hernow.
Creed pulled up the video feed that linked to Rou’s collar.
On Cerberus Team Alpha, there was a German shepherd officially named Valor, but she was known as Little Mama because she would never leave a child in distress.
As a matter of fact, it was because of Valor’s resistance to leaving a child—or anyone who had a serious injury—that Cerberus’s search K9s were outfitted with two-way comms and video. The dogs could remain with the subject, and if the person was communicative, the subject could be assured that help was on the way. And sometimes, even if they weren’t communicative, the team could use the video feed to assess the situation to get the right equipment heading their way.
Right now, all Creed could see from Rou’s angle was that she was among the trees and stationary. But the ambient audio was that of a screaming child.
Creed raced through the woods, running at breakneck speed.
From his time growing up as a feral child in nature, he knew from his own experiences and those of his siblings and friends just how badly things could go, and just how fast.
Up ahead, Rou stood using her whole body to amplify her barks. But louder still was the screaming child. The boy was clearly Jeb. He stood next to a tree, his hands gripping histhroat, screeching. Eyes squinted tightly, tears bubbled from the corners of his lashes and ran down his cheeks.
This wasn’t the sound of fear. It was pain.
Rou stopped barking and lay down, looking both relieved that Creed had shown up and hyper-alert, waiting for her next command.
“Good girl, Rourou, good girl.” Normally, Creed would take out a tug toy and reward her. Rou looked like a better reward would be to make the small human stop screaming.
“Here! I’m here,” Creed called. “I’ve come to help.” He pulled out his phone to show the child the video his mom had recorded.
But as he spoke and as the video played, nothing changed about Jeb’s posture or behavior.
Breathing heavily from his sprint, Creed pressed his sternal comms to open a connection to Striker to let him know that the child had been located, was in distress, and Creed needed backup.
“Copy,” the response came through the magnetic comms. “Gator was securing the area behind the stage. He’s not that far out. I’ll head him your way. He’s on your trail. Out.”
Having the shirt navigate Gator meant he’d be here much faster than holding out a phone app and lining up with a red line that didn’t account for trees and the ubiquitous sweet briar and rhododendrons that blocked a beeline.
Slowing his gait, Creed approached, “Jeb. Hey, there, buddy, your mom sent me out to find you.”
