Echo: A Dystopian Science Fiction Novel

My name is Bitefighter.  Long have I been mistaken for the cute 10 lb. canine friend of one sweet and dumb Kent Wayne.  Little does he and the rest of his lowly human entourage know that I am not just some mustachioed snuggle-companion; I am an 83rd level intellect, a Terrier Extraordinaire, and a senior Bite Monk of the hidden enclave of canine warriors known as the Entradi Rangers.  We are a secret sect of guardians that protect the world from various threats:  Insectoids, Kaiju, Zom-bots, Douche Masters…you get the idea.

Before I trade in this body for another one, I’ve been assigned to shadow Kent Wayne and pose as his friendly little dog-buddy.  He has no idea of my true purpose or the breadth of my powers; he only thinks that I am a Good Little Guy and that occasionally, the pure light of Voltron (or whatever label he affixes to divine providence these days) shines through my paws and obliterates his enemies.

An hour ago, I was pretending to be asleep in Kent’s arms, listening to my daffy yet amusing “master” snore and whisper strange names in his sleep.  Kate Upton, Sofia Vergara, Taylor Swift, Martha Stewart…I know not who these humans are, nor do I care.  (They sound like trollops who he’d like to insert his genitals into.  Yuck.)  Right now I’m busy with my patrol.

After I used some low-level psionics to ensure that Kent would remain in REM-state sleep, I crept from his arms down to my dog-house, where I’ve secretly constructed a pocket dimension that houses my zoom-scooter.  It’s an EM drive-powered vehicle that’s fitted with basic armaments and evasion mechanisms.  A scout vehicle, not an assault craft.  Every night after Kent falls asleep, I get on the zoom-scooter and prowl the city, making sure that all is right.  Sometimes, as a senior Bite Monk, I am called upon to initiate a strike against any number of evil dastards.

All is good tonight.  The moon is full, and reflects hypnotically off the swells of the San Francisco ocean, where a few whales beach as I buzz by.  I give them a tiny-pawed thumbs up as the wind ruffles my mustachioed face.  I swing by the neighbor’s and see his dog—a 90 lb. labrador named Rowfus Roofus—lazing on a second-story balcony, sleeping contentedly and basking in the sweet summer night.

The opportunity is too good to resist.

I land my zoom-scooter next to the dog, activating stealth mode but leaving the engine on (I’ll need to make a quick escape after this).  I creep over to Rowfus, place both paws on his giant skull, then begin humping his head.  I time my thrusts with my screams:  “YOU.  ARE.  MINE!  YOU.  ARE.  MINE!”

Rowfus wakes up and barks angrily.  I beat a hasty retreat back to my zoom-scooter and take off, giggling all the while.

Dominance achieved!  Terriers rule the night!

Aaaahh….what next?  Perhaps I’ll go over to the east end of the city and rummage through some delicious trash…suddenly I see a hissing shadow dart underneath me.  I swivel back and see a bevy of vehicles on my tail.

As I swoop sideways, I see that my pursuers are none other than a mix of cats and chihuahuas.  The sworn enemies of man and dog!  They possess their own dark wizards and assassins, and their enclave of elite hunters—they call themselves the Blood Knights of K’Thon—are known to engage in one of the worst forms of psionic vampirism:  they attach themselves to humans and steadily transform their masters into witless thralls.  Cat ladies and beta males are the predictable yet horrifying result.

Dark bolts of weaponized magic and bursts of laser begin searing the air around me, and I flinch involuntarily as I feel the hair on my ears singe and burn.  I bank into a sharp right, the moon reflecting off the gleaming hull of my zoom-scooter, and fire back with the single mid-grade ion blaster mounted on the bottom of my vehicle.  I might as well be throwing stones at them; these fuckers are too armored up for me to do any damage.

Curses and hisses are thrown my way.  One of their leaders screams, “BITE MONK!  SAVOR WHAT PRECIOUS SECONDS YOU HAVE LEFT BEFORE WE RIP YOUR TONGUE OUT THROUGH YOUR ANUS!”

Only one option left.

For cases like these (as well as improbable yet possible events that range anywhere from world-threatening CERN malfunctions to instantiations of fifty-foot tall demons by disgruntled emo-poets that gather in the woods and have disappointingly pale sex), I keep an eReader on me at all times.  Loaded to Echo, of course.  I open the eReader to what has long been prophesied among us Entradi Rangers as The Fable That Will Bring Harmony To All Of Existence.  Magic flash.

I see from the bottom corner of my vision that legions of my fellow Entradi Rangers are teleporting in, or arriving through other means.  Some bodysurf the waves of the ocean and scrabble onto the beach.  Others rise from the sand, throwing off camouflaged blankets and shouldering ground-to-air missile launchers.  My heart surges as scores of my canine brethren make themselves visible.  I hear a rousing cry, one that we Rangers trumpet whenever we join together in battle:

“ARF ROOF ARF ROWF MCBARKSKIES!”

Suddenly my attackers are consumed in hellish flames as an array of munitions envelop their craft.  Spectacular starbursts of smoke and fire dot the sky as cats and chihuahuas are taken out by quad-lasers, white-hole-tipped energy lances, and Scimitar missile pods.  My howl of triumph is quickly overtaken by the screams of dying Blood Knights.  Foul feline followers of K’Thon!  I hope you choke on barbed demon cocks!  Terriers Eternus!

 

Now I know this is a stretch, but bear with me:  you too could one day incarnate as a terrier/secret agent/cosmic defender.  In that case, you may need Echo to lay your enemies low.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle

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