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Authors: Dayna Lorentz

The Storm (13 page)

BOOK: The Storm
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The howls of the storm through the window hole were the only sounds in the den as Zeus padded to the center of the circle. Some wild dogs licked their jowls and panted. The few who had cowered under Shep's gaze now looked up at him, their eyes black slits, their tails flicking.

Zeus's head hung low and there was no wag in his tail. There was a gash in the fur on his shoulder.

“Please, no,” Shep whimpered, the noise escaping his muzzle before he could think better of it.

Zeus's ears pricked up immediately. Every hair on his body trembled at this expression of weakness. “What?” he growled. “Do you yield?” He stepped one paw closer to Shep, his jowls trembling.

Shep regained his stance — chest out, ears alert, tail up. “I do not yield,” he spat.

Shep's heart pounded inside his chest. He could not abandon the other dogs to these mongrels. But to have to fight Zeus to protect them? Kill his best friend?

Not wanting the wild pack to see his teeth chatter, Shep locked his jaws. He had to stay strong. Everything could change in a heartbeat and the entire pack would be on him.

Zeus moved a stretch closer to Shep. The whole world was reduced to that space of stone: two dogs, best friends. And only one could step out of that circle.

Shep sniffed his friend. “They attacked you?”

Zeus licked his nose. “It's their way,” he growled. He began to circle Shep.

Shep shuffled on his paws, following Zeus's movements, always maintaining his stance. “You could have just walked away,” Shep woofed. “Why challenge me?”

“How better to prove to the wild dogs I'm as good as they are?” Zeus spat a hard pant. “And why should you get to lead?”

“This can't be the life you want.” Shep could still see a glimmer of the old Zeus in his friend's eyes. “Join me. We might have a chance,” he snuffled quietly. “Together, we could get out of this.”

It seemed that, for a heartbeat, Zeus considered Shep's offer. He looked around at the snarling crowd of dogs, his ears up, his tail lifted. Then he snorted loudly and bared his fangs. “I don't want to get out of this,” he growled. “I want to be wild.” Zeus crouched, hackles raised. “Good-bye, friend.”

Shep braced his paws. “Good-bye,” he woofed.

They met in midair, claws raking fur, fangs scraping jowls. Shep and Zeus had played together for long enough that they knew each other's moves before they thought them. Their claws reacted almost instinctively, meeting a flank as it whirled through the air, catching a jowl as it flapped over an open jaw. Shep would snap not at where Zeus's neck was, but where he knew it would be in two heartbeats.

The wild dogs bayed with excitement. They leapt on one another's backs and panted with anticipation as they watched the two masterful fighters.

Shep and Zeus separated after each entanglement of claws, pausing for mere heartbeats to catch their breath or to spit slobber. Then they sprang off trembling hind legs, claws extended and fangs bared. First Zeus had the upper hold and flung Shep to the floor. Then Shep attacked from below and dragged Zeus over, throwing him onto the stone.

Once again, Shep felt the sickening excitement of the fight cage. Once again, he tasted lifeblood, and it tasted good. He felt the darkness taking over. And this time, he knew it was the Black Dog. It was like the tails of dawn wagging in his mind. The Black Dog was not outside of him; it was inside, like a sickness. Winning this fight would not make him the Great Wolf; winning here would make him the Black Dog. Shep realized that that had always been his fear — all those nightmares, they all came down to this: That it was not the Great Wolf, but rather the Black Dog who ruled him.

Shep pulled away from Zeus and slid across the floor, nearly careening into the circle of wild dogs.

“We don't have to do this!” Shep bellowed. “There's another way!” Perhaps some of the dogs would listen to his bark.

Zeus's eyes were wild — the whites exposed and riddled with red lines. His hackles bristled along his spine. “I've never seen you give up,” he spat.

“Why are we fighting?” Shep cried, turning to the nearest dogs. “There's enough in this den for us all!” He smelled their confusion — they looked at one another, and some whimpered. There was hope yet!

Zeus turned to the largest group of dogs. “The pet forfeits!” he howled, fangs bared. “The den is ours!”

“We're all dogs!” Shep screamed. “We're one pack!”

The wild dogs were too far gone; the Black Dog had their pack by the scruff. They began to close in. Shep felt a claw rake his chest, a fang clip his tail. He hoped Callie had found an escape, another secret back door.

A strange roar crackled Outside. All the dogs pricked their ears at the noise. Shep realized that he wasn't the only dog who'd never heard such a sound before. It was like the rush of water from the paw in the Bath, only bigger, louder. The air suddenly smelled of the beach — salt and wet and endless blue.

And then Shep saw it.

A wall of water. In it floated whole trees, Cars, bits and pieces of the entire world.

It was coming straight for them.

Shep had only a heartbeat to react. He leapt for the nearest shelf. Just as his paws hit the metal, the water burst through the window hole. It smashed the wall open and rushed in, snatching up the wild dogs as if they weighed nothing. Shep saw even the great bulk of Kaz carried away in the water's froth.

Zeus's head bobbed out from beneath a splintered board.

“Zeus!” Shep howled. He was a mere stretch away.

Shep jammed his hindquarters between the shelf and a pole and lashed out with his fangs. They snapped down on Zeus's paw.

“What are you doing?” howled Zeus.

Shep couldn't believe his ears. “Saving you!” Shep barked from between clenched teeth.

“I don't need to be saved,” Zeus growled, and tugged back on his paw. “I can swim on my own.”

“Don't be a fuzz head,” Shep grunted, feeling his teeth slipping on Zeus's smooth fur. “This isn't some paddle pool in the Park!”

Zeus panted, a nasty grin on his jowls. “Always the hero,” he woofed. “Some dogs just can't smell the scat until their nose is in it.” He jerked on his paw again, and Shep's hold slipped even more.

“Help!” yapped Higgins.

Shep glanced at the shelf across from him. Higgins dangled from the edge of the rodent floor by a claw, then tumbled into the water.

Zeus stopped thrashing. Higgins struggled to get on top of a branch as he floated toward them in the roaring current.

“Who's it going to be, friend?” Zeus growled. “You can't save us both.”

Maybe I
can
save them both?
Shep reached out with a paw, but felt his hold on the shelf slipping.

“Can't make a decision?” Zeus barked. “Even when every heartbeat sends the yapper closer to his death?”

Higgins slipped off the branch and sputtered in the froth.

Zeus is a big dog
, Shep reasoned.
And Higgins has no chance.
Zeus would make it, he could swim.

“Not much of a leader,” Zeus spat. “Why did I bother challenging you?”

“I'm sorry.” Shep closed his eyes and opened his jaws.
Great Wolf, protect him.

“I knew it!” Zeus shrieked. “Some hero, King of the Yappers!” The water sucked him into the dark.

Shep closed his ears to every thing except the whimper of Higgins. As the water rushed the little dog toward him, Shep sprang off the shelf and grabbed the brown yapper by the scruff.

The water dragged them both down for a heartbeat. Shep flailed with his paws, hoping to dig into something. His claws caught hold of a shelf, and Shep pulled himself up. He got his head above the raging tide and placed Higgins's bedraggled body on top of the shelf. Then, with what remained of his strength, he dragged his own body out of the salty froth.

 

Higgins and Shep sat together in silence. The storm's winds whipped up waves on the floodwater's surface. They lapped at the dogs' paws.

“Thank you,” Higgins snuffled softly.

Shep did not answer.

“When the water struck, I was too close to the edge, watching you. I lost my grip.” Higgins hung his head and lay down, muzzle between his paws. “I should have been more careful.”

Shep growled quietly. It wasn't Higgins's fault he fell. And it had been Shep's choice to save him. Shep had no dog to blame for his decision but himself.

“You're welcome,” Shep woofed.

As the heartbeats passed, the winds ceased to howl. The water became a calm pool, then began to sink. By nightfall, all that remained of the flood were large, brackish puddles on the floor.

The wave had torn open the clear wall of the den, and also a chunk of the rear wall where there had once stood tall doors. Now the entire space was exposed to the Outside. The rain that drizzled on the street spattered onto the den's stone floor whenever the wind gusted. It was a quiet rain, nothing like the earlier downpour — no lightning, no thunder. The storm had blown itself out.

In the dying light, Shep saw that the den was wholly changed. The wave had knocked over some of the shelves, and those that remained stood bare like white teeth. The bags of kibble were gone, as were the tanks of water, the brushes, beds, and toys. In their place, the wave had left pieces of the Outside. Strewn against the shelves were dead iguanas, palm fronds, shards of plastic, and stone. Drifts of mud and sand were piled against every obstacle that had been in the wave's path. A Car lay on its back halfway through the den's wall. A door lay on the floor beneath Shep, its golden knob intact. Scattered amidst the debris lay the broken bodies of dead dogs.

Shep could not get Zeus's muzzle out of his head: his eyes wide as he screamed, claws scratching at the water's surface, then black. Shep told himself that he'd made the right choice. Zeus was a big dog; he could have swum against the tide, while Higgins would surely have been sucked under. Shep didn't see Zeus's body on the floor. Perhaps Zeus had survived, made it to safety Outside. Perhaps, any heartbeat now, he would lope back into the den.

“Shep!”

The shrill bark echoed throughout the darkness. It was Callie.
Thank the Great Wolf, she survived.

“I'm here!” Shep howled. “And I have Higgins!”

“Double brilliant and a pile of treats!” she yipped from somewhere above. Several other barks joined Callie's in celebration.

Higgins pawed gingerly at the shelf's edge. “How can we get down from here?” he whimpered.

Shep sniffed along the shelf. The darkness was complete inside the den — the wall-lights were gone and Outside only the moon shone, and dimly at that. Shep's nose was overwhelmed by the stench of death and salt water, and every few heartbeats the walls of the den gave off a deafening scream.

Shep stopped at the edge of the shelf nearest the stairs. “There's a palm trunk here,” he woofed. He pushed on it with his paw. “It feels sturdy enough for us to walk down.”

Higgins approached, reeking of fear.

“Don't worry, old timer,” Shep yipped. “We're safe.”

“Old timer,” Higgins grumbled, sounding more like his usual cranky self. “I'm barely ten cycles old.” He placed one paw on the trunk, then another, and began, belly to bark, to make his way to the floor.

Shep gave Higgins a generous lead, not wanting to trip over him halfway down. The clouds must have cleared, because the moonlight Outside was brighter. It glowed in every puddle, which lit the drowned city like lamps. When Shep finally climbed down the trunk, he could make out the silhouettes of the other dogs.

“You all made it?” Shep woofed.

He smelled Callie's approach. “Only a paw or so of water reached us on the rodent floor,” she said. She nuzzled her head into his chest. “That was a brave thing you did.”

“I couldn't let Higgins drown,” Shep snuffled, sitting. Zeus flashed into his mind and he winced. “I wish I could have saved them both.”

Callie panted, then nipped Shep's neck. “Not just Higgins, silly fur,” she barked, “but standing up to the whole pack of wild dogs, defending us with your very lifeblood.”

“What she means —
snort
— is we owe you the fur on our backs,” Daisy yapped.

Shep panted, a smile on his jowls, and the small pack pressed closer to him.

Ginny shoved the others out of the way. “Not even Lassie could have done better,” she squealed, coating Shep's whiskers in slobber.

Boji mumbled “Oh, dear” over and over as she scented out and licked clean each of Shep's wounds. Cheese stood beside her, head cocked and tail waving, muttering about how he'd never seen the likes of that fight.

Virgil approached, tail low and ears up, then lay down at Shep's paws. “You're the bravest dog I've ever met,” he woofed.

Snoop leapt over Virgil's back, his tail whipping in circles behind him. “Yeah-Shep-you're-the-most-amazingdog-ever-I-mean-I've-seen-some-dogs-tussle-in-the-Parkbut-holy-treats-you-were-just-flying-and —”

Dover nipped Snoop on the flank.

Snoop panted, grinning sheepishly, then licked his jowls. “I-just-mean-thanks-for-saving-us,” he yipped.

Dover lowered his head and waved his tail as he pawed closer to Shep. “You done good,” Dover woofed. “Course, we're all lucky that wave came when it did.” He sat and scratched his ear.

“What do you mean, Dover?” Oscar barked fiercely. “Shep could've killed that Zeus no problem. And he would have, too, except the wave came.” Oscar leapt onto a pile of mud and made a whooshing sound.

The other dogs grumbled their agreement, and Dover dropped it, but the notion gnawed at Shep like a tick. He'd been looking the Black Dog square in the snout, and he'd dropped his claws. If the wave hadn't come, he'd surely have been kibble for the wild pack, and who knows what would've happened to the others.

But I did what was right
, he reminded himself.
I was doing what the Great Wolf did.

Still, a chill ran down Shep's spine. He ducked out from under Ginny's fervent kisses and Boji's careful ministrations and climbed onto a wooden box brought in by the wave.

As soon as Shep retreated, Rufus, grumpy as ever, began to yap.

“It's all well and good that we survived,” he yelped, “but now what? The kibble's gone. This den is full of human trash, and worse.” He flicked his nose at the nearby carcass of a wild dog.

Exhaustion hit Shep like a Car. Couldn't they rest for a sun? He felt like he'd been on his paws for cycles.

Virgil growled at the squaredog. “Leave it.”

“Rufus is right,” barked Callie. “We can't stay here.” She stood apart, scenting a pile of rubble. The walls of the den groaned as if to emphasize her point.

The dogs huddled closer together and began to whimper. “Where can we go?” “What if the wave comes back?” “What if we meet more wild dogs?” “I'm scared!” “I'm hungry!” The chorus of dogs became a single wail in Shep's ears.

“Enough!” bayed Callie. She stood on stiff legs, ears up and tail proud. “We can't let fear shake the whiskers from our snouts. We'll all be safe if we stick together.”

The dogs quieted, but the fear smell remained.

Shep dragged himself to his paws. “Callie's right,” he barked. “We're safer together.”

The dogs calmed at the sound of Shep's bark. It was as if they needed to hear things from him, even if he was simply agreeing with Callie.

Callie approached what remained of the clear wall and scented the Outside. “The storm smell is faint, but I think we should wait for sun before we leave.” She glanced at Shep and he woofed his agreement.

“We'll stay here until it's light,” she barked. “Then we'll find a new den.”

“And kibble?” groaned Rufus.

“And kibble,” sighed Shep.

 

Shep allowed his body to collapse onto the smooth wood of the box. He was so tired, even his bones ached. The cool surface felt good against his side; he stretched his legs all the way to his claws, then let them flop like sticks against the wood.

Oscar scrambled up a pile of sand and crept onto the box, ears drooping and twiggy tail whipping behind him. “Can I curl next to you, Shep?” he whimpered.

Shep grunted and shifted his legs to give the pup more room. Oscar leapt forward, pounding Shep's chest with his skull, and snuggled against his ribs.

“While we were stuck upstairs,” Oscar yipped, “I was a little scared, so Callie told me the story you told her. The one about the Great Wolf and the Black Dog. At first, I didn't really get it, but I think I understand it now.”

Shep closed his eyes.

“The Great Wolf,” Oscar continued. “He isn't great because he has to be. He's great because he chooses to do great things, right? Like you, Shep.”

Shep breathed deeply. Nothing he'd done that sun felt like greatness. He'd done the only things he could scent to be right. He'd chosen the only way that hadn't smelled of the Black Dog.

“I'm no Great Wolf,” Shep groaned. “I'm just a dog, like every other mutt in this den.”

“You could trounce any dog, any sun,” Oscar said, nuzzling into Shep's belly fur. “That makes you a Great Wolf.” He yawned.

“Fighting doesn't make you the Great Wolf,” Shep woofed softly.

Oscar continued, ignoring Shep's barks. “There's still one thing I don't get,” he yipped. “What happened to the Black Dog?”

Shep shifted his shoulder and licked his jowls. Again, Zeus's muzzle descending into the dark flashed before his eyes. “The old timer never told me,” Shep woofed.

“Do you think he's still out there?” Oscar whimpered.

Shep panted, then licked Oscar's head. “You said I'm a Great Wolf, right? So don't worry. I can handle any Black Dog that comes your way.”

Oscar wagged his tail. “Okay,” he said. The pup fell into an easy, snoring sleep.

Daisy nosed her way next to Oscar, knotted tail low and knobby head tilted, asking Shep's permission to snuggle close. Ginny licked Shep's nose, then threw herself down beside his muzzle. Callie climbed onto the shelf behind him and curled against his spine. Soon, all the dogs were nestled around him, even Virgil and Cheese and the other big dogs. Surrounded by the warm fur of his packmates, Shep allowed his weary self to sleep.

 

Only Shep and Oscar slept. The rest watched the gaping beams where the window wall had once stood. They smelled sap bleeding from broken trees and foul gas leaking from the shattered remains of the building across the street. Moonlight shone on the scales of a rotting iguana. They heard creaking metal and shrieking insects, a weird slither and slap. They sensed that their world had been transformed, and they waited, eyes open and ears pricked, for whatever the dawn might bring.

BOOK: The Storm
12.58Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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