The Orchard

Will and the new puppy were inseparable from the moment he saw it.

Bradford leaned his hip against the couch, looking down at the dozing pair. Before it was a struggle for Will to get dressed, but now Currer (the name after some author’s pseudonym) got Weir out the door early every morning. The exercise did Will a world of good.

Bradford usually stayed behind. Will was hungry when he returned. Bradford wanted to capitalize on it while it lasted.

“It was like this with Jane too,” Will had told him while playing tug-o-war with Currer. “Caring for her was the only reason I got out of bed in the morning when I first got her. After the incident in Afghanistan.”

But Will had more reasons now, he told him.

“He’s just more insistent I get my ass dressed than you are.”

And he really was. Currer had Will up at the crack of dawn each morning. Not that Will was still asleep at that point, but he’d be content to lay in bed until noon.

Bradford leaned down and gently brushed hair away from Will’s forehead.

He opened his eyes.

“I fell asleep?” Will blinked, groggy.

“Currer had you out there chasing rabbits for hours. You deserved a power nap,” Bradford said.

“Mm, cats. He wanted to play with the cats.” Will sat up, disturbing Currer. He scratched behind his ears to settle him. “But they didn’t want to play with him.”

He looked at the clock. 

“I need to work on the shed.” Will looked down at the puppy. “Okay, boy, break time’s over.”

The dog whined as Will tried to shift him off.

Will stopped.

“Help?”

Bradford scooped Currer, up, getting another distressed noise.

“I know, I know. I’m a poor substitute,” he said.

“You’re a wonderful man, he’ll see that soon.” Will leaned over the couch, kissing his cheek.

“I’m not the one who sneaks him food under the table.” Bradford set a wiggling Currer back on the couch.

“You have no proof!” Will called over his shoulder.

Currer jumped down to follow on Will’s heels.

Bradford smiled after them.

“This is a goddamn robbery!”

Sally screwed the lid back on the jar of dog treats.

Currer, ears flat against his head ate from his dish.

Sally hurried to the door as the doorbell rang again.

Section Commander Kader stood on the other side. His jacket slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Sally.” He smiled. “Is Weir home?”

“Yes, we destroyed a goddamn highway. We destroyed the goddamn highway protecting this goddamn city from goddamn aliens. Including your goddamn headquarters!”

Kader’s eyes went passed Sally and towards the hallway the very Australian voice drifted down.

“He’s talking with Lydia,” Sally said.

Kader winced. He might not know what exactly that meant. He didn’t know anyone at Transtellar named Lydia, but he had picked up the context clue over the years.

“I was hoping to get to him before they called.” He put a hand to his mouth. “Think about your blood pressure, sir!”

“SHUT UP, KADER!”

“Think he’d let me take the phone?” he asked.

“Don’t count on it.” 

Currer came up behind Sally. He sniffed the air. Only to run away when he smelled Kader’s cologne.

“Fine! Terminate the goddamn service! I’m sick of you people anyway!”

Kader cringed, but managed to clear his expression by the time Weir emerged from his office.

“We still have a Valkyrie, don’t we?” Weir asked

“Mothballed.” Kader rubbed his jaw.

“Tell Williams he’s a delivery boy until Transtellar comes to their senses.”

“I could call my mother, sir, maybe she can–”

Sally darted out of the way. She sat down beside Currer in the sitting room.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

–

Bradford exited the parking garage as Kader entered.

“Evening, Chief.” Kader did not attempt to stop him for small talk this time around. 

Bradford watched him jump in his hovercar and fly away at what he suspected was over the speed limit.

He went up to his apartment. There, he found Sally curled up on the couch watching TV with a tub of ice cream he didn’t think they had before he left for work that morning.

“Lydia called and another Lydia came over.” Sally gestured with her spoon. “Will ordered take out.”

“Must have been bad.” Bradford wandered into the kitchen. A pizza box sat waiting for him on the counter. “What’d Lydia do?”

“You still aren’t dressed?” John asked. He folded his arms across his chest and looked down at Will, still in his pajamas. Currer lay across him like he was still a puppy.

Why wasn’t he surprised?

“It’s Saturday,” Will said, digging into the carton of ice cream.

“You have to speak in front of the senate in an hour,” John informed him as though Will wasn’t already well aware. “You have to leave in eight minutes.”

“No point in getting ready now, then. I guess I’m not going.” 

“You’re going.” John reached down to lift Currer off of him, waking the dog in the process. He gave a quiet bark and darted out of the room.

“How dare you.” Will tried to maneuver away to prevent John from taking his ice cream too, but only succeeded in rolling off the couch. “Oomph.”

“You’ve got four minutes to shower and dress. Move, move, move.”

Will collected himself off the floor.

   “Yes, sir.”