• First Impressions

    The sun beat down from the clear, blue sky, roiling off the dry ground in constant heat waves. The sparse fauna looked in desperate need of rain, as did most of the expanse of African plains.
    Nestled against a small outcropping of rock squatted a dumpy building with a tin roof. Dirt covered the sides, and a flaking sign in front sported the message “African Wilderness Safari Agency. We’ll get you out there, you’ll get the experience!” A line of numerous jeeps curled around the sign, all looking in different stages of disrepair.
    The ‘Agency’ appeared deserted, apart from the big, black dog splayed out next to one of the many jeeps. With its’ pink tongue hanging down almost to the ground, the dog huffed and panted in an attempt to cool off, staring into the distance. Suddenly, the dogs ears perked up, and it cocked its’ head to the side. Within a minute, the source of the dog’s reaction became apparent. A large cloud of dust rose above the horizon, reaching clear up to the sky, announcing the presence of the silver tour bus before it was in sight.
    The dog stood up, whining slightly, and began pacing back and forth.
    Finally, the bus slowed to a stop in front of the agency, the dust falling around it. With the telltale squeal of hydraulics, the bus settled and the doors opened, allowing the haggard passengers to stream out. They stood around, looking confused, until the annoyed driver stepped out and motioned towards the door, sending them walking hesitantly inside.
    After exchanging words with a tall, old man, one girl hung back from the group, looking around the plains in fascination. The dog gave a mournful whine, bringing the girls attention back. Smiling, she tossed her long, red hair over her shoulder, set her bags down, and walked over to the dog.
    Getting down on her knees, she patted her leg until the dog approached her. “Hey baby! What’re you doin’ all the way out here, huh? It’s pretty hot for a dog with that much fur.” She allowed it to sniff the back of her hand, then proceeded to scratch behind its’ ears vigorously. “Africa’s no place for a cute little dog! What’s your name, pal?”
    “Spyke! Wrench!”
    The girl jumped, looking around in surprise for the source of the voice.
    “Spyke!” The voice shouted, apparently coming from the closest jeep.
    The dog whined, imploring the girl to scratch him more.
    “Uh, are you calling for the dog?”
    There was silence. Then two hands appeared on the side bar and a man pulled himself halfway out, squinting up at the girl. “Who’re you?”
    The girl frowned. “My name’s Isolde and I’m one of the passengers. Is this your dog?”
    “Ah, that explains it right there. Yeah, that’s my dog. Lazy sumbitch though.”
    The dog growled. The man growled right back, baring his teeth.
    “Did you just growl at your dog?”
    “That’s right. Spyke don’t really mean it when he growls at me. Now get me my wrench you mutt!”
    Isolde watched as Spyke stood up and walked over to a tool box, grabbing a wrench in his mouth. Then the massive dog loped over to the jeep, depositing it in his owner’s hand.
    “Oh my god, he understands you?”
    The man had disappeared back under the jeep, and now clanking noises and low cussing could be heard. “Yeah, he’s one of them talking dogs they breed in Washington. God damn bolt! I sent out an application for one, and his came back with an essay on flex fuels written in German. So I figured ‘hell! A talking, literate, bilingual dog is just what I need!’ so I forked out the two mil, and bought ‘em.” The man had a deep voice and spoke in a southern American accent.
    Isolde sighed. “Hardy har har. So that was a stupid question.”
    “Yeah. It was.” The man agreed.
    Wandering over to the jeep, Isolde peered under it, trying to see the man. “So how does he know what tool to bring you?”
    “Well, Isolde, Spyke’s lazy, but he’s not stupid. Well, not totally stupid.”
    Spyke growled again, then pressed up against Isolde’s leg, crying pitifully.
    “Stop begging Spyke!”
    “He’s fine. I’ll pet him.” Isolde said, kneeling back down to scratch the dog.
    “He won’t leave you alone if you do. But whatever. Damn! That’s on there tight!”
    “So how did you train him to get your tools?” Isolde asked again, honestly curious.
    “Dogs are smart. You teach them what the word ‘sit’ means, and if they’re feeling neighborly, they’ll sit when you tell ‘em. So I teach my dog what the word ‘hammer’ means, and that I want ‘em to bring it to me, and there you have it. Grease monkeys’ best friend. Ouch!”
    When the man shouted out the pain filled exclamation, Spyke tore away from Isolde and stuck his head under the jeep.
    “Ow. I’m okay Spyke. Back up.”
    Spyke pulled back, allowing the man to crawl out and stand up. He looked a lot more impressive on his feet. Easily surpassing six feet, he towered over Isolde. He had light, sun bleached blonde hair that had obviously been gelled down at some point during the day, but now lay unruly and dirty. He had a square jaw and strong facial features, with a high brow and light eyebrows. There was oil, engine grease and dirt smeared all over his face and what could be seen of his muscular arms. His once-was-white cut off shirt was covered in the same mixture, sporting sweat stains under his arms.
    He was cradling one hand in the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up to expose defined abs.
    “Oh, jeez, are you okay?” Isolde asked, standing up.
    “Yeah, I just pinched it is all. It’s awfully hot under there, and it makes it kinda hard to focus.”
    “Talking to me probably didn’t help.”
    He scoffed. “I’m pretty sure I’m capable of talking and working on cars at the same time. I mean, just last week I got a pretty good grasp on walking and chewing gum at the same time. Spyke! Get down!” He commanded when the dog attempted to rear up and lick his hand. The man turned around and started walking towards the building.
    “Whoa, you’re snarky.” Isolde said, following behind him
    “Yeah. Being under a jeep in the middle of the desert doesn’t put most men in rosy moods.”
    “Maybe you should’ve taken that into consideration before signing on to be an African safari travel agency’s mechanic.”
    He stopped, looking over his shoulder at Isolde and then started laughing. “Yeah, I should’a taken that into consideration. You’re right!” He laughed some more. Spyke howled softly, matching his pitch. Then he started walking again, still chuckling, with Isolde following behind feeling as if she’d missed something.
    The man stopped at the door, easing it open with a foot. He stood aside and motioned for Isolde to go in ahead of him.
    She scooted through the small doorway, trying not to press against him. “Uh, thanks.” She said, walking the rest of the way in. The man turned his head slightly, watching her backside. Then laughed and walked in himself.
    It was a lot cooler inside, the air conditioner humming as it fought against the heat from the outside. It was bigger than it looked, with a high ceiling and long walls painted white. There was a large desk at one end, with a row of glass cabinets behind it. All the passengers sat on the long, wooden benches that lined the walls, looking tired but excited. A large, built man stood in front of the desk, arguing with the girl who sat there.
    “The pamphlet clearly states that we will arrive here at twelve, which it is not, and leave on our ‘Adventurous Tour’ at one. It is now two in the afternoon.” The man rumbled, waving a three leaf pamphlet around.
    The girl stared up at him, eyebrows raised, waiting patiently for him to finish his rant. “Yes sir and I recognize that as a problem; however the agency can not account for unforeseen problems such as the weather and the fact that your plane got in late.”
    “Why can’t we leave right now?” He demanded.
    The girl forced a smile, trying to not role her eyes. “Because, Mr. Bruise, one of the jeeps is malfunctioning. As soon as we get it fixed, and your guide shows up, you can go on your ‘Adventurous Tour’. Now why don’t you sit down with everyone else?”
    “Don’t tell me what to do little missy.” Mr. Bruise said.
    “Then I’ll tell you what to do. Everyone else is perfectly happy, sir, so I suggest you take a sit yourself.” The man who had been working on the car pushed none too politely past the angry gentleman, easing around and sitting on the desk. He smiled down at the girl. “Hey there Rhonda! I reckon I’m gonna need some of them bandages you keep in that drawer of yours. If you wouldn’t mind.”
    Rhonda looked down at his hand. “You’re getting blood on my desk, Last.”
    “All the more reason to help me out, right?”
    Rhonda rolled her eyes. She leaned over and began rummaging through on of the desk drawers. “What’d you do this time? That dog a yours finally bite you?”
    He laughed. “Spyke? He’d never bite me. Would you boy?”
    Spyke barked once. Then went back to rubbing against Isolde’s leg.
    “See? Although the pathetic mutt won’t leave that girl alone now. It’s what happens when someone’s nice to him.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind. Here, let’s see it.” Rhonda placed some bandages on the desk, and grabbed his hand. She went to work cleaning the wound off with a bottle of antiseptic. “Did you fix that jeep?”
    “Yeah. Fixed it up. Damn thing bit me back though.” He smiled down at her, flexing his hand. “What’re you doing Friday, Rhonda?”
    Finishing up with the bandages, she dropped his hand unceremoniously in his lap and sat back. “Not you, Last. That’s for sure. Now hurry up and get dressed, you look like crap.”
    “Aw, thanks! You’re looking mighty fine yourself!”
    “Just change, Last. We’re behind schedule.” Rhonda said, obviously not amused by his antics.
    “She’s got an unhealthy obsession with my clothes.” He said to Isolde.
    “Right. Why do you have to change? Aren’t you just the mechanic?”
    He looked at her for a moment. Stripping his shirt off, he turned towards the metal cabinets and snatched out a fresh one. Turning back to her, he held out his hand. “Damian Last, tour director and wildlife expert for the African Wilderness Safari Agency. Nice to meet you Isolde!”