The Empty City (5 page)

And then the loudcage woke up.

Raucous wails ripped the air as it screamed and howled, flashing its orange eyes and its white ones. For an instant, both Lucky and the sharpclaw were startled into frozen silence. Then, at the same instant, they bolted.

Panic lent Lucky speed, despite his injured paw, but it made him breathless, too. He found himself yelping as he ran, the shriek of the loudcage almost drowning him out. Careening around a corner, Lucky ran as hard as he could away from loudcages and high buildings.

There in his path stood another sharpclaw. It was as black as no-sun, and as rigid as a tree.

Lucky didn't even slow down. The sharpclaw's ears flattened and it opened its mouth in a snarl. Lucky darted to one side, racing around it, growling, his hackles up. He had to end this fight—quickly. He launched himself into the air, landing on his enemy. Almost immediately he lost his footing and found himself tumbling with the sharpclaw, which yowled in panic. One flailing claw caught Lucky's shoulder with a glancing scratch.

Rolling to his feet, paws scrabbling, he saw the black sharpclaw racing down a nearby alley. It had clearly decided escape was more important than fighting—Lucky's attack had worked, however fumbling. Panting, his legs trembling beneath him, Lucky blinked and listened to the silence. The loudcage had stopped howling.

Well,
of course
it had. They always did in the end.

Lucky felt a pang of hurt pride as his flanks twitched and calmed. Lucky—Lone Dog, Street Dog, City Dog—scared of a loudcage howl! He was glad Old Hunter hadn't witnessed
that
! But he quickly shook it off. That was the reflex of a proper Lone Dog. The moment's slight embarrassment gave way to pride. He was still on his paw-tips, smart and streetwise as ever. No Growl, Big or Small, could take that away from him.

Lucky felt his muscles stop shivering. He trotted on; this road seemed to lead away from the once-crowded center, and that was a good direction for the moment. It was his own decision, his own choice: one of the big advantages of being a Lone Dog.

Lucky glanced around with curiosity as he walked toward the edge of the city where most of the longpaws lived; it didn't seem quite as bad here. There wasn't so much to shatter; these longpaw houses didn't have as far to topple.

At last he stopped, turning a circle and eyeing his surroundings. This was one of those streets where longpaws lived and slept. And it wasn't the kind where the longpaws lived piled on top of one another in stone cages … no, here the longpaw houses were set in neat little squares of garden that were full of intriguing smells. And the most intriguing of them all was …

Lucky opened his jaws, pricked his ears, and eagerly sniffed the air. Elusive but distinct, the scent made his stomach churn with anticipation.
Food!

He bounded toward its source. Meat! Meat was cooking on one of those metal longpaw fireboxes! The invisible fires that made the raw meat turn dark, that made the food-smell so strong and tangy and …

A bird clattered from a tree with a flap of black wings, bringing him to a startled halt. He needed to slow down. Hunger should not make him reckless. He knew from experience not every longpaw was friendly when it came to food. Some of them were reluctant to share, protecting their food the way Mother-Dogs protected their pups.

Still, he wasn't about to give up altogether. At a more cautious pace he padded forward, his fur bristling all over with longing. He could almost taste the food now, feel it filling his belly, warm and satisfying. Not far now!
Not far!

He paused in the shadow of a stunted tree, his tongue lolling, jaw wide and grinning, his tail thumping the ground hard and fast. There it was: a rundown wooden longpaw house, set in overgrown grass and shaded by straggly branches. And there was the firebox, gently sizzling and steaming. And there was the longpaw—well-fed, by the look of him, with a belly that bulged right through his fur.

And there—also looking well-fed—was his Fierce Dog.

They were both snoozing in the shade, the longpaw sprawled on a raised surface by the firebox, the Fierce Dog lying at his feet. Lucky knew its kind from many a tussle over food. It wasn't very big, but it was deep-chested and heavy-jawed and, probably, short-tempered.

But maybe this one would be happy to share?

Lucky hesitated, catching a tiny whine in his throat. The food-smell was so tempting, but …

Why were they here? Weren't all the longpaws gone, or dead, like the friendly one in the Food House? Why hadn't this longpaw left, too? Dozing beneath the Sun-Dog like this, he seemed not to have noticed the Big Growl at all.

Or maybe this longpaw
was
dead, and so was his Fierce Dog? Lucky sniffed the air uncertainly. The strong tang of grilling meat could have been masking the death-smell....

Warily Lucky took a pace forward, then two, his tail raised, his muzzle dripping with eagerness. He licked his chops. Neither the longpaw nor his dog moved.

He had to try. Close to the firebox now, Lucky eyed a chunk of sizzling meat. The distance and angle were just about right....

He lunged.

The longpaw's eyes flew open, and he leaped to his feet, brandishing a stick. His barks stung Lucky's ears. The Fierce Dog had woken too, springing to the attack position, legs stiff as he unleashed a furious volley of fight-barks.

“GET BACK! It's MINE! Want to fight me for it? FIGHT ME OR
RUN
!”

Lucky was no match for the longpaw's stick, let alone for the Fierce Dog and its savage jaws. Turning tail, he bolted from the garden, sharp terror overwhelming the gnawing ache of hunger.

He leaped a crumbling wall and raced down the hard road. He was sure the Fierce Dog must be chasing him, but he didn't dare turn to look. If the Fierce Dog caught him, he wouldn't stand a chance. His paws skidded on the broken and uneven ground, almost tripping him. Panting, heart thrashing, fear biting hard at his guts, he bolted along a road that seemed never to end.

Until it did.

Blackness opened before him. He automatically flung his weight sideways, halting his momentum, his haunches scraping painfully on the rough road surface. His claws rattled against unyielding stone, his tail lashed over hideous emptiness, and at last he stopped, aching with terror and pain. His injured paw throbbed with each beat of his heart, and Lucky was sure the wound had opened again.

He raised his head. He was lying on his flank on the brink of a vast black hole in the earth. He scrambled to his feet and lowered his head to sniff fearfully at the crack in the road. It was wider than he was long, and the bottom was hidden by shadows thicker than clouds.

Bristling, he took a nervous step away, then shook himself, and risked another look. Was Earth-Dog down there, waiting for him as she once waited for Lightning? Would she spring suddenly from the darkness and drag him down? He was almost afraid to peer closer, but he found it hard to believe that Earth-Dog had let the Big Growl happen. Why would she let it destroy her own home? Perhaps Earth-Dog, too, was afraid of the Growl....

Lucky found himself trembling, but there was no movement from within the black depths, no sinister snarling. Breathing deeply, he paced along the edge, feeling his courage return.

He had to get around this hole. He loped first one way, then the other. Panic began to rise in his chest again. There was no end to it: It extended through gardens as far as he could see in both directions. Even a longpaw house had collapsed into it, leaving rooms on each side open to the sky. Back and forth he ran again, yipping with desperation.

He didn't dare go much farther; there were trees ahead that obscured his view of the crack, but they were distant, and as far as he could see the gap only seemed to get wider. It was too big a risk. Street Dogs were more sensible than that.

Then, not far enough in the distance, he heard the Fierce Dog's voice.

“You!
Food-stealer!
I'll teach you a lesson!
Come back and try that again!
”

Lucky stood still, pricking his ears toward the furious barking. Thank the Sky-Dogs his new enemy liked to talk so much; if he had more breath to spare he might have caught Lucky by now. But the Fierce Dog was going to catch him soon....

There was nothing else he could do. Lucky hurtled back the way he'd come, hearing his pursuer lumbering closer all the time. He had to give himself a good running start, because he would only get one chance to clear this chasm.

He had to hope he could live up to his name.

He spun to face the opening again, and began to race. Faster and faster, his paws flew across the ground. As the bottomless crack opened before him, he launched himself from the edge. Now, there was nothing below his belly but death and blackness....

The Earth-Dog waiting to swallow him …

He landed hard. He tumbled and rolled, welcoming the pain he felt in his paw and bones. He was alive!

For long moments he let himself lie there, his flanks heaving as he shut his eyes and felt the deep relief flood him. There was no way the stocky Fierce Dog could clear that great rip in the earth. He was safe!

Safe … but starving.

Lucky's hunger returned, as painful as being kicked in the gut by a cruel longpaw.

Desperate and miserable, he laid his head on his paws and whimpered softly to himself. He was alone. Alone, lost, and scared.

Maybe he should have gone with Sweet....

But then what? They might
both
be starving by now, and he'd have a second belly to fill. This way, Lucky had only himself to look after. And he had always been good at that.

As he rose to a shaky standing position, though, his ears were low and his tail was between his legs. He needed food, and soon. The shadows had lengthened even more, swallowing the last patches of light; the blackness of no-sun would soon be here, and he knew he shouldn't stay in the open.

Slowly, painfully, he slunk into an alley and began to hunt for a sleeping-place. As he sniffed at doors and gaps in the rubble, he couldn't help thinking about that terrible void in the Earth. Had Sweet, too, come upon such a crack? He hoped she hadn't slipped into the Earth's jaws, as he nearly had....

He crossed three separate roads, all the while limping badly, before he finally found a wrecked loudcage whose door hung loose. Lucky barely had the strength to haul himself into it, but he was rewarded with a scrap of shiny silver paper that smelled of food. It felt tinny and strange against his teeth but when he peeled it open, there was a piece of stale bread with old-smelling meat tucked inside. A longpaw had taken a bite of it, no more.

It wasn't firebox steak, but it would calm the raging hunger just a little. Gratefully Lucky wolfed it down, then licked and chewed the last scraps from the paper, not caring that he was swallowing bits of that as well.

Lucky raised his head and closed his eyes, quietly thanking the Sky-Dogs for that small morsel of luck. Feeling a little better, he paced a tiny circle in his familiar sleep-ritual, then curled up, tucking his tail around him.

Please, Earth-Dog, keep the Big Growl silent during this no-sun
.

Settling his head on his forelegs, he licked as well as he could at his sore paw until sleep overwhelmed him.

That sound … what was it …? The Big Growl—back to finish him off?

The noise filled his skull, stung his ears, made his head ache. Not just the howling and snarling that seemed to echo from every direction; worse, there was the savage ripping of flesh, the snap of vicious jaws
.

The sound of dogs, fighting. Fighting to the death …

Could it be the Storm of Dogs? Was it here? No, it couldn't be—couldn't—

Pressing himself to the ground, lowering his ears, Lucky whimpered his fear and horror. It was coming to swamp him. Just like the Big Growl. There was no escape. He had to turn and face the Storm, and fight for his life—

But as he leaped to his paws and spun to face the savage warrior hounds, he saw—nothing. Nothing but more darkness, emptiness, as gaping a void as the hole in the earth that he'd leaped
.

And all he could hear was a distant, fading, terrifying howl—