The Storm (12 page)

A lean brown dog toppled over a garbage can and nosed around in the refuse looking for kibble.

Shep approached in a low crouch, ears up and nose open, tail flat. He didn't want to appear aggressive, but he wasn't going to be caught off guard. He grumbled a greeting, with the slightest note of warning mixed into his bark.

The other dog looked at him briefly, then went back to nosing through the trash. His tail remained flat and he didn't raise his hackles. He seemed to be inviting Shep to join him, and so Shep loped a bit closer. Shep flicked his tail, asking if he could sniff; the strange dog wagged his tail back and made no move to attack. Shep scented the dog's rump: He was older then Shep, but not an old timer; he wasn't hungry, but wasn't rolling in kibble; and he had no scent of human anywhere on him.

“Where are you from?” Shep yipped, still keeping his distance.

“From?” the dog barked. “Everywhere. I'm my own dog.”

The strange brown dog introduced himself as YipYowl. He'd been born to a street dog, and had survived on his own for as many cycles as he could remember. Shep didn't have a name at the time, so YipYowl called him Bone.

“You're so skinny, you're like a bone with fur on it,” YipYowl said.

YipYowl shared his garbage with Shep. After eating, they found a shallow den in the hollow of a dead tree for the night. In the morning, YipYowl began what Shep learned was his daily routine: scenting out garbage cans, looking for ones that would be good to attack in the night.

“You never eat during sun time,” YipYowl explained. “There are too many humans about, and they'll come after you like rabid squirrels if they catch you messing with their cans.” He showed Shep a scar on his flank from where a human had attacked him.

Shep was grateful for YipYowl's help. He had no idea how to live Outside. His whole life had been spent in cages — either the kennel or the fight cage. But YipYowl's wasn't an easy life. Shep learned that his cage had protected him from certain dangers. Sleeping in caves and hollowed-out trees meant waking with bites from rodents and bugs. And out in the wild, no one delivered even a meager bowl of stale kibble to you in the evening. Humans guarded their trash and often chased Shep and YipYowl off before they could get a sniff at the can. Some nights, they went without a meal. They'd snuffle around as the moon passed over their heads and not find a single piece of kibble.

Yet most dangerous of all were the wild dogs. Some were street dogs like YipYowl, some were pets set loose by their masters, but they were all terrible and cruel. The wild dogs attacked other dogs, stole their food and shelter. Shep had thought he'd seen the snout of the Black Dog in the fight cage, but these wild dogs taught him that he'd merely caught a glimpse of that beast.

YipYowl had managed to keep the wild dogs off his scent until one cold night. Shep and he were investigating the contents of a Car-sized trash bin outside a long, low building when they were attacked by a couple of wild dogs. These dogs were all haggard, without a trace of fear in their eyes — Shep was looking the Black Dog in the snout.

“Clear out of this can,” one growled. “We're eating whatever's inside.”

The other dogs didn't even wait for a reaction. They attacked YipYowl and Shep without warning. The dog who jumped onto Shep hadn't expected much of a fight; he leapt back in shock at the ferocity of Shep's defense. Shep felt like he was drowning in his rage — his mind reeled with memories of the fight cage. He slashed at whatever fur was in front of him. Lost in the fight, his claws and fangs moved without his having to think about them.

Suddenly, the air was filled with sirens and flashing lights. Shep panicked, remembering the fear smell in the fight kennel. It woke him from his fight trance, but there was nowhere for him to run. He only had time to see the bodies of the other dogs — the wild dogs and YipYowl — before a human shot him with a dart.

Shep felt his head fog over, and then all was dark. He awoke in a clean cage with a shiny white floor and metal walls.

 

“I was trapped in that kennel for only a few suns,” Shep whimpered. “My boy took me from that place and brought me here.”

“Did you kill YipYowl?” Callie woofed.

“I don't know.” Shep stared out the window hole at the raging storm. He wished that it would suck him out into its fury, into oblivion.

“Is that why you're so scared of lifeblood?” Callie rested her muzzle against Shep's shoulder.

Shep glanced at her, snuggled against his side. She wasn't disgusted; she didn't abandon him, even now that she knew his deepest shame.

“Do you think I can ever make up for it?” he whimpered. “Can I ever be a good dog if I've done something so bad?”

Callie licked his jowl. “Just keep trying,” she woofed. “It's all any dog can do.” She looked up at the storm. “And you've changed since then. You fought off those dogs who attacked Frizzle without losing yourself to the fight. Maybe YipYowl's up there with the Silver Moon, like the way you thought the Great Wolf looked down on you. Maybe she saved a part of him, and that part sees how good a dog you are now.”

Shep panted softly. “That'd be nice.” He watched a swirl of rain dance in the dim light. “Maybe Frizzle's up there, too. Curled around the Silver Moon, looking down on all of us.”

Callie grinned. “I can imagine Frizzle up there, nipping at the Great Wolf's scruff.”

Shep sat with his friend, flank to flank, feeling the wind of the storm in his fur and the mist of raindrops on his whiskers.

“What was that?” Callie stood, sniffing the air.

Shep heard something, too. A high-pitched yip, and then growling. He stood against the window wall and peered out the hole. Shadowy forms moved amidst the shifting raindrops.

After several heartbeats, they heard Higgins yowl from on top of one of the shelves.

“They're here!” he cried. “The wild dogs have returned!”

The howls and barks of the wild dogs soon rivaled the shriek of the storm winds. It wasn't long before Shep saw the noses of the most intrepid dogs in the wild pack sniffing at the jagged edges of the window hole, paws and bellies visible against what remained of the glass wall.

“To your places!” barked Shep.

The small dogs scrambled up Higgins's ramp-shelf. Little Oscar was lifted directly onto the second level, but the rest remained on top of the shelf with toys, brushes, and whatever else they could bite between their jaws.

Boji and Cheese stood behind the water tank, paws against the cabinet, ready to push it over. The other big dogs, led by Virgil, stood guard at the bottom of the toppled shelf to keep the wild dogs from running up it.

“Callie,” Shep woofed. “You go up the ramp with the others.”

“I stand with you,” she barked. “We're a team.”

Shep licked her wrinkled forehead. “I want us to stay a team. You lead the small dogs on top of the shelf.”

Callie's tail drooped. “You sure?” she asked.

Shep wagged his tail and nipped her ear. “They need a leader, and I'm not sure Higgins is up to the task.”

Callie waggled her tail, then licked Shep's nose and raced up onto the top of the shelf.

Lightning blazed, thunder boomed, and the winds spattered rain against the stone floor. The wild dogs pawed at the hole, trying to figure out how to get in now that the wooden plank had been removed.

Shep took a position in front of the hole, near the stairs toward the back of the den. He could see all the dogs from there. He chattered his teeth in anticipation, looking first up at Callie, then Boji and Cheese, then Virgil.

A wild dog came flying through the window hole. He landed with a scream, his paws sliced by the broken clear teeth on the floor.

“The floor bites!” the dog yelped.

Another dog leapt through the hole; this one sprang off the back of the first to avoid the teeth.

He landed close to the tank. “Didn't think we'd get past your little trap?” he growled.

“Now!” barked Shep.

Boji and Cheese thrust their forepaws against the tank. It wobbled, then crashed to the floor, dousing the wild dog with a wave of water and flickering things. The dog was knocked off his paws and washed back against the window wall.

Unfortunately, the water from the tank also washed away the sharp teeth on the floor.

The next wild dog leapt through the hole and discovered this turn of events. “The teeth are gone!” she bellowed.

A furious howl from Outside answered her call, and dogs began leaping into the den one after the other.

Shep closed his eyes.
Great Wolf, protect us.

“Boji, Cheese, to the shelf!” Shep barked. “Callie! Now!”

A rain of toys and brushes fell onto the wild dogs. Those struck by the falling debris whimpered and cringed, surprised by the attack from above. But they quickly recovered. Before the small dogs could launch their second assault, some of the wild dogs were headed for the ramp-shelf.

Shep lunged into the wild pack. He snapped at whatever fur he could find and dodged the dogs' flashing teeth as he raced through the crowd forming near the window. He hoped to distract enough of them to keep their main force from attacking Virgil and the others. Then he remembered Oscar's plan.

Turning mid-stride, Shep tore into the jowl of the nearest wild dog and bounded down an aisle. Just as he'd hoped, several dogs raced after him. Springing off his hind paws, Shep vaulted over the ripped bags of kibble. The wild dogs scrambled to a halt in front of the pile.

“Food!” one girldog shrieked. She began gobbling mouthfuls of kibble.

Several other dogs came running down the aisle, having heard her cry. Soon, a large portion of the wild pack was huddled in that corner, stuffing their snouts.

Shep raced back to the window hole. The big dogs were doing their best to hold back the wild dogs, but there were just too many of them. Callie and the other small dogs tried to keep the wild pack off its guard by tossing objects first from one end of the shelf, then the other. But the wild dogs were smart. They figured out that only a small number of dogs were on top of the shelf, and that the objects they threw did little damage.

A wild dog attacked Snoop, rolling him back against the shelf. The dog bounded up the ramp-shelf.

“Daisy, watch your tail!” Shep barked.

Daisy lunged sideways. The wild dog overshot his attack and ran off the edge of the shelf, plummeting to the floor. He landed in a heap and did not get back on his paws.

Thank the Great Wolf
, thought Shep. But the small dogs might not be so lucky with the next attack. He had to do something.

And then he saw her.

Kaz.

The black dog's shoulders loomed above the pack around her. Her furry brown eyebrows were low over her eyes, which glittered with vicious joy. The chaos of the battle, the stench of dog, the howls and cries — all the fighting seemed to give her plea sure. She was like the Black Dog made flesh for all dogs to see and fear.

But Shep was not afraid. He glanced up at Callie and the others, his packmates, and felt as brave as the Great Wolf.

“I challenge Kaz to a fight!” Shep's deep-throated bark echoed throughout the room. “One dog against one dog, for ownership of this den!”

The fighting was suddenly still. The wild pack looked toward their leader.

Shep glanced at Virgil and flicked his ears; Virgil and the other big dogs raced up the ramp-shelf and began hoisting the smaller dogs onto the second level of the den.

“It's you,” Kaz growled. “I knew I'd see you again.”

Shep's ears lay against his head and his hackles bristled along his spine. “If you lose, the wild dogs will leave this place and never return.”

“If I lose,” Kaz echoed. Her ears were up and tail flat. She didn't seem at all threatened.

“The pets will be left alone, no matter what,” Shep barked. “If I die, you let them leave.”

“If you die.” Kaz's eyes blazed in a flash of lightning. Her fangs dripped with slobber.

Shep placed his paws firmly on the stone floor of the den. “I'm ready.”

The main pack of dogs formed a ragged circle around Kaz and Shep. Some dogs remained at the kibble pile, but most were attracted to the scent of the battle. Fangs bared and hackles raised, the wild pack yipped and bayed with excitement.

Kaz panted, her jowls curled into a savage grin. “I don't think you're in much of a position to bargain,” she growled. “How about, no matter what, we wild dogs do as we please?”

“We'll see about that,” Shep snarled.

Kaz circled Shep, jowls quivering over her jaws. She snapped at him, first at his tail, then at his flank. Shep dodged each attack, though he sensed that she was merely toying with him. Then she feinted high, but thrust her head low, catching Shep's forepaw with her teeth. He shrieked and hopped back.

“Who's the big protector now?” Kaz barked. Her mocking tone pricked Shep like a fang.

Shep glanced up at the shelf, but all the others were gone. He was alone.

“If you yield, I'll let you go,” Kaz snarled. “No sense in dying for a scraggly pack of pets.”

Shep put weight on his injured paw, and pain shot through him like lightning. His life used to be filled with such pains, his body a tangle of injury. He felt the claws of fear scratch at his heart — he didn't want to die.

The wild dogs pressed closer, as if sensing his imminent defeat. And then he saw it: a pair of eyes peeking out from behind the rodent-floor railing, a wet nose catching the wall-light. He was not alone. His packmates were watching. And he was their only hope. He decided he had one more fight left in him.

Kaz lunged at Shep. This time he reared, slamming down onto her neck with his claws and snagging her ear with his fangs. With a jerk of his head, he tore the flesh from her skull.

The black dog didn't so much as squeal. She cocked her head to the side where her ear had once stood, then snorted. “I guess now we're even?” She licked at a trickle of lifeblood that ran down her cheek.

Shep didn't wait for her next attack. He saw her muscles tensing on the outside rear leg; she was going high. Shep ducked and rolled onto his back, snapping his jaws around the soft underskin of Kaz's neck. He locked his jaws, and, catching his paw pads on the stone, pushed off the floor. Lifeblood gushed over his snout. He released his jaws and jumped away just as Kaz's body slumped to the floor. She spat slobber, tried to rise to her paws, and slipped back to the stone.

“So this is what it's like to lose?” she grunted. Her eyes rolled slightly as she spoke. Her legs twitched, then lay still.

Shep limped to the center of the circle of dogs. Those nearest Kaz's body shuffled away from the widening pool of lifeblood; the others remained still, save for the flicking of their ears. They were nervous, Shep could scent. They were waiting to hear what he, this dog who'd been a mere pet just heartbeats before, would howl. It was the window he needed to turn the pack in his favor.

“I'm the alpha,” Shep snarled, waving his muzzle at the fallen form of Kaz. “And I say the wild dogs leave this den.” He bared his fangs as he barked. “Unless any of you have the fur to challenge me?” He glared into the eyes of each of the nearest dogs, and they lowered their mangy heads.

“I challenge you.” The bark rang out like thunder.

A dog padded out of the crowd.

It was Zeus.