Dog World: Reclaiming Hell – Chapter One rough draft

Hello, all! As some, if not all, of you know I’ve been working on the next book to Dog World, and Dog World: Gone to Hell. For those of you who have been wondering what happens next at the end of book 2, you’ll love this post. For those of you who have never read the Dog World series of atrocities against everything clean, decent, and moral, click on the titles above, buy the books, and prepare to be horrified.

Below is a very rough draft of Chapter One. I haven’t had time to clean it up as much as it deserves, but the spirit to release this morsel just won’t leave me be. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh, and as an aside. I received what I believe to be my most favored new review on Amazon. R. Wertz wrote:

“This is one of the weirdest books I have ever read. Imagine our Earth invaded by werewolves and you don’t know who is human and who is Lycan. Not to give it way but the end is a genuine cliff hanger. Read it, enjoy it and then say: What the hell just happened?”

As a wise member of The IT Crowd once said, “I like being weird. Weird’s all I’ve got. That and my sweet style.” Well, I am weird. I’ve never denied that, and I’ve definitely got some sweet style. Again, thanks for stopping by, for reading, and for hopefully enjoying.

Dog World

Reclaiming Hell


Jason McKinney


For Tabitha with love. You made me do this after all, and now the world must suffer.


Chapter One


“What the hell did you expect?” screamed Demarti, kicking Bernerd in the side. The British soldier had been receiving Demarti’s abuse for the past several hours. Neither man knew how long they had been at “interrogation” and neither cared.

Demarti lifted Bernerd’s head by his shaggy hair and stared into the puffy and bloody face. “So tell me exactly what you were expecting, Leftenant.” Bernerd tried to twist his face away from Demarti. Demarti instead pushed it aside in disgust. “I was sure you’d all fracture and go your separate ways, but no, you had to come on anyway. I can’t believe you followed that screw up jarhead and come here. Did you really think you had a shot after you forced me out? Did you think you could sort shit out?” Demarti wasn’t happy with the answers he had been getting, which were none at all. He had started out wanting to know exactly what they had been doing after he left, and had somehow degenerated to brutality for its own sake.

Bernerd’s puffy lips parted and a bloody cough tore from his throat.

“What was that, Ian? I didn’t catch it.”

Demarti leaned an ear to Bernerd’s mouth. Even in human form he wasn’t worried about Bernerd getting brave considering the beating he had been taking.

“Don’t want… fresh…hell.” Bernerd coughed and something that could have been a clot flew from his mouth. “More…” He coughed again. “More like…reclaiming hell from you… bastards.”

“Another fine example of balls of British steel,” Demarti scoffed, punching Bernerd’s throat.

Bernerd fought for breath as Demarti called for a guard.

“Get this back to its cell. I want the woman.”

“Sir,” said the guard cautiously. “General Vance has left us with orders to not leave you alone with Chief Walinski.”

“Not her, you fucktard,” bellowed Demarti angrily. “The bitch Mitchell. Bring her to me. Now!”

The guard eyed Demarti coldly. Demarti stepped up to him and growled deep within his throat. “Now, not later.”

“Yes, sir. Corporal Stannard, give me a hand with the prisoner.”

The guards left with Demarti and five minutes later they returned with Mitchell. The guard that had been insulted treated her respectfully not because she was a lycan or a female, but because he wanted to piss Demarti off.

Demarti didn’t take the bait. “Very good. Dismissed.”


“Dismissed,” Demarti repeated with a snarl. “Not the reunion I expected, but I’ll take what I can get,” he said once the door was closed and locked.

He moved two chairs from a corner and helped her into one.

Mitchell’s hands were handcuffed and Demarti made no moves to take them off, even when she asked about it.

“I love you, but that doesn’t mean that I trust you.” He sat in the chair backwards and studied her. “You’re looking good, all things considered.”

“Making you was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” Mitchell said, glaring.

“Really?” He grinned slyly at her I saw it as a chance for us to be together without worry about any lycanthropic complications.”

“What I did was against nature’s morality, and my own.”

“In the name of love,” crooned Demarti. Seeing Mitchell had put him into a strange mood and a brief thought of atonement flashed through him.

“No atonement on the menu for you, buddy,” said Not-Kunpai suddenly. “I don’t think our girl her is up to forgiveness today.”

Demarti’s face soured. Mitchell saw it and her eyes narrowed.

“Something wrong, Major Demarti? Am I not responding the way you would like?”

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” barked Demarti in Mitchell’s face.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Demarti’s right open hand lashed out, striking her in the face. “You know damned well what I’m talking about. You screwed Kunpai.”

Mitchell’s head rang and her vision was alive with brilliant multicolored flashes of light. She rolled her tongue inside her mouth. The bitter copper taste of blood washed over it. “Never should’ve-”

Demarti struck her again, backhanded. “Answer me!”

“Dude,” said Not-Kunpai reproachfully. “I’d remember if she did. I seriously don’t think-”

“Shut up, asshole,” screamed Demarti. He grabbed Mitchell by her shoulders hard enough to rattle her handcuffs. “Did you or did you not have sex with him?”

“What does that have to do with anything.” Mitchell’s voice sounded hoarse to her and at the end the words had a bubbling feel from the blood trickling into her throat. She spat a bloody wad into Demarti’s face and screamed no shrilly.

“Cheap bitch,” roared Demarti. He drew his fist back and delivered a blow to her nose, breaking it and sending her and her chair backwards. She rolled limply away from it unconscious.

“Wake up,” bellowed Demarti, dragging Mitchell to her feet by her hair. “Wake up and see what you have coming.”

Demarti struck her again and again until her face swelled and bleed as did his fists.

“You need to stop, buddy,” said Not-Kunpai unemotionally. “You’re going to kill her. None of my business, but hey, whatever gets you off I suppose.”

“I told you to shut your mouth!” Demarti turned his head to face Not-Kunpai in time to see two of Vance’s enforcers rush into the room. One of them ran through Not-Kunpai as easily as a blue jay through the morning air. They had their batons out and weren’t shy about using them. It took them and two others to get Demarti to release Mitchell.

“You’re afraid of the real me,” said Not-Kunpai in a contemplative voice. “Yeah. That’s it. You’re afraid of the real me.” Not-Kunpai began whistling a familiar tune before breaking out into the familiar words. ”Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf,” he sang, following the soldiers as they dragged Demarti from the interrogation room. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”

“Not if I’m eating his face,” raged Demarti. “Not if I’m eating his mother fucking face!”

“Damn, dude,” mumbled Not-Kunpai mockingly. “You’re cracked.”




In his office Vance watched Demarti’s out burst on the 62 inch plasma screen TV mounted across the room. His eyes narrowed and lips pursed as he studied the guards’ reactions. Each of the three took a collective step away and eyed Demarti with a mix of contempt and alarm. If Vance could have seen Not-Kunpai he would have agreed before having both men shot. But Demarti was still useful up until the time the remainder of Demarti’s party was captured and then killed.

“Goddamn pup is certified bat shit nuts.”

He changed the view to include a frame work of various feeds from other detention cells. Sims sat in his cell; legs crossed and appeared to be meditating. Vance thought the act was “faggy” at least. He hadn’t known what to expect from Sims, but he hadn’t expected him meditating like a limp dicked Tibetan.

Mitchell hadn’t been returned to her cell, but was placed in Bernerd’s. Lewis was shoved in a moment later with a first aid kit to treat the wounded British soldier. Vance knew he could count on them to form an escape plan to amuse him and the guards.

Tan and Walinski were kept across from one another. Tan had been pacing her cell for hours. Vance had no idea if she were going stir crazy or taking stock of her cell, looking for a weak point. “Titanium reinforced concrete doesn’t have a noticeable weak point, you daffy bitch,” he muttered turning his attention to Walinski.

Walinski was being kept under closer scrutiny than the others. An hour before she’d been bound and gagged Hannibal Lecter style. She’d put up a struggle earlier, breaking some ribs of one guard and the nose and jaw of two others, but it was her singing that had gotten her retrained. Dolly had taken to defiantly belting out alternating renditions of the English and German versions of Lili Marleen. The guards had less tolerance for Dolly’s screeching shrillness than her hand to hand confrontations.

Vance regarded her coldly. He couldn’t wait to start on her. It was going to be amusing to see what made her so intuitive. Breaking her spirit was also an added bonus. But first things were first.

He picked up his phone and toggled the duty NCO. “Sergeant Yamara. Send ‘Major’ Demarti to me ASAP.”

About Jason McKinney

I'm a word slinging, werewolf loving, zombie wrangling, scare master author, husband and father of three. When I'm not writing, I'm blathering nonsense to the world or taking orders from the family. You have my thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy the madness and mayhem! Stay delicious, my living peeps!
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