The Empty City (11 page)

But Lucky didn't have time to brood and wonder. The other dogs chatted constantly, vying for his attention, and once or twice he almost tripped over little Daisy as she scuttled in front of him.

“That's right!” she exclaimed now, and Lucky shortened his steps to avoid standing on her. “We've been friends for ages. We all live on the same street.”

“And play in the same dog parks!” added Mickey. “Do you think the sandpit's still there, Bella?”

“I don't see what harm could come to the sandpit,” observed Martha. “One day our longpaws will be back, and we'll all go there again. Maybe Lucky could come, too!” She gave him a hopeful glance.

A
sandpit
? Lucky tried not to let his muzzle curl. Perhaps these dogs had never grown out of their Pup Pack days. He ignored Martha's expectant eyes for the moment. “So you're … friends. And so are your”—he hesitated, confused by the unfamiliar notion—“so are your longpaws. But, it's not like—well, it's not
exactly
like being in a Pack, is it?”

“No!” Sunshine shuddered. “Not like a
wild
Pack.”

“Although it
was
a sort of a Pack,” mused Bella. “We played together, and sometimes ate together, and we all knew one another.”

There's more to being in a Pack than that
, thought Lucky.

“And our longpaws—they were in a kind of Pack of their own,” added Mickey. “They were always together, too. That's why it was so much fun.” His eyes grew wistful.

“It'll be fun again, just you wait!” yelped Sunshine. “My longpaw will be back for me, I know she will. She'll come back for the Frisbee-throw—she
always
took that with her—and she'll come back for me.”

Lucky caught Bella's eye. He didn't want to say anything to spoil Sunshine's moment of optimistic joy, and he was relieved that Bella, too, said nothing. But his litter-sister's eyes were sad, and her ears drooped a little. She at least was beginning to understand how much had changed. If only they'd
all
listen to what the Earth-Dog was telling them. If only they knew how to tune their senses into the world. Perhaps that instinct was lost to them?

He nuzzled Bella's face, sure that no one else would have noticed her fleeting expression of foreboding. After all, the dogs were all licking one another's faces now, cheerfully wishing one another farewell and happy dreams....

What?
Lucky stared around at them as they bid him good night and set off in different directions, each dog trotting happily into a different longpaw house. What in the name of the Sky-Dogs were they doing? They knew nothing of Pack rules—like staying together, like obeying the Alpha, like watching one another's backs.... Lucky had never felt like such an expert on Pack life before.

And it wasn't only the splitting of the Pack that worried him. Here on this street the longpaw homes were still standing, but only just. Some of the walls had vicious wounds where the Big Growl had snapped at them. Many of the windows were broken, and water escaped beneath doors, collecting into a growing pool in the middle of the road. There was a smell of longpaw waste, too, from beneath the ground, but the strongest scent in Lucky's nostrils was the scent of danger.

“Are you sure you should sleep here?” Lucky paused behind Bella, bringing her to a quizzical halt.

“What? Oh, it's safe now, Lucky. Don't worry. The Big Growl's faded away.”

“It could come back,” he reminded her. “Some of these longpaw homes are damaged. Look at that wall—it's leaning. And those things wriggling out of the wall like snakes—don't you feel the invisible power? Can't you hear it singing?” He shivered, remembering how close Old Hunter had come to being struck down. Lucky didn't want to have to rescue anyone else from the brutal force. “There's still danger here, Bella. And who knows if the Big Growl will leave us alone?”

“Oh, Lucky.” Bella licked his face affectionately. “No wonder you're nervous, after what happened in the Trap House. But these are our
homes
. Real, proper longpaw houses.”

“I don't know.” His hackles were still bristling. “I think we should sleep outside. And why are you all going into different houses? I may not know much about Packs, but isn't the whole point that you stay together? Then you keep one another warm at night, and protect one another.”

Bella glanced back at the others, confused. “But, Lucky, these are our homes. We have to be here when our longpaws come back. Don't you see how important that is?”

No
, thought Lucky.
No, I really don't
. But he couldn't say so to Bella—and besides, there was a determined gleam in her eye that he couldn't help respecting. He knew he'd end up helping her, going with her into the longpaw house. It was the least he could do for his litter-sister.

When he padded inside, Lucky could understand Bella's reluctance to stay outside. It was true that some of the longpaws' belongings had been tipped over and smashed, and there were ominous wounds in the walls, running from floor to ceiling. But mostly the rooms were dry, and there was no doubt it was a comfortable place to be.

For a Leashed Dog
, he reminded himself.

As he padded around, Lucky was surprised to see how big and sprawling the longpaw house was—nothing like a cage. He felt almost free as he explored the rooms. His claws clicked on the hard floor of the food area as he nosed around the cupboards. There was a distinct, though faint, smell of food—raw meat, soft cheese, and stale bread—but frustratingly, though he pawed at the cold-box door, it refused to open for him. Scenting Bella behind him, he turned to see her standing sheepishly in the doorway, head lowered.

“I couldn't get into the cold-box, either. And there were bits of food around the longpaw house, but I ate them. I should have left some, I know, but I was so hungry.”

“Don't worry.” It was true, she
should
have thought ahead; she should have avoided bolting everything down the first day—but Lucky reminded himself yet again that Bella didn't know any better. She was a Leashed Dog. Once again, he found himself grateful that he'd learned to survive and look after himself. He wondered what would become of dogs like Bella in this new and hostile world.

“But it
was
stupid,” she went on, ears drooping. “I should know better, Lucky. I
do
understand, even if some of the others don't.”

“They have a lot to learn,” he remarked.

“Please don't think too badly of them, Lucky.” She gave him a beseeching gaze. “It's all they know—being carefree, never having to worry. I've never had to worry about my next meal, either, but I do understand that's not how it is for every dog. I know things are different now.” She turned and slunk out of the kitchen.

Unsettled, Lucky sat down and gave his ear a comforting scratch with a hindpaw. When he felt better he spent a few more moments sniffing and scratching at cupboard doors. He had another go at the cold-box, raking at it with his paws and tugging with his teeth until it felt as though they'd tear from his jaws, but it refused to open for him. He was wasting his time and energy.
I might as well make myself comfortable until tomorrow
, he thought, going in search of his litter-sister once more.

He didn't have far to look. Bella was just in the next room, which was furnished with tables and lamps and a longpaw picture box—though the hum of invisible power was absent. There was one of the large, soft longpaw seats that he'd made himself comfortable on before. But his litter-sister was crouched in a corner, sniffing mournfully at a small pile of longpaw things between her paws.

Lucky padded across to her. She barely stirred, only snuffled and whimpered at the scent on a burst cushion. There was a longpaw fur, too, crumpled and smelling of sweat, and a leather leash like the ones he'd seen attached to Leashed Dogs. The very sight of it made him shiver with distaste, but Bella was nuzzling it longingly.

She must have been entirely wrapped up in the memories the scent-things stirred, because when he licked her ears sympathetically, she jolted and scrambled to her four paws, avoiding his gaze.

“I'm just tired,” she said gruffly. “These things. They help me sleep. That's all.”

Lucky said nothing. How could a few longpaw trinkets help a dog sleep? Perhaps the loss of the longpaws really was hard for her. If that was true, he had a notion she'd be too embarrassed ever to admit it.

“Come on,” he said, touching her muzzle gently with his own.

“We have to get some sleep. Who knows what a new sunup will bring?”

It was obvious where she usually slept: Beside the pile of treasure, nestled in this cozy corner, was a squashy cushion covered in shed golden hair and smelling strongly of Bella. Lucky waited for his litter-sister to tread a languid circle on it, then settle, head on her paws. Only then, with a polite whine, did he turn his own three careful circles, and close his eyes with a silent wish to the Sky-Dogs. He snuggled down beside his litter-sister and rested his head on her back.

It was warm in this corner, and the cushion molded perfectly to their bodies, but Bella seemed unsettled, and her restlessness infected Lucky.

Lucky raised his head, opening his jaws a little to taste the air, and beside him Bella gave a soft whimper of unease. The atmosphere tasted familiar, somehow, and not in a good way. He recognized it, suddenly and horribly, as the way the air had tasted and felt before the earth had shuddered so violently. Before the Growl. There was that prickling sensation again, and the metallic smell of danger.

“I can't sleep here, Bella. I can't,” Lucky whined, glancing around. “What if the longpaw house falls on us?”

“No. It won't happen. The Growl has gone.” Bella flattened herself on the cushion, as if willing herself to go to sleep. “Don't be silly, Lucky. We'll be fine.”

She was wide awake, though; Lucky could sense it. Again she fidgeted, and at last she got to her feet, head lowered, ears pricked for trouble.

“On the other paw …” she murmured.

Lucky stood up, determined. He knew this warning in his bones; he knew this urge in his gut. “Higher ground, Bella.
Higher ground
.”

“Yes. You're right, Lucky.
Yes
.”

No sooner had she said it than the floor rippled beneath their paws. It felt like nothing more than the shiver of skin beneath fur, but the two dogs bolted for their lives. Crashing together as they leaped from the cushion, they stumbled, and Lucky took a moment to make sure Bella was back on her feet. They scrambled through the hallway, barged out of the open door, and raced outdoors to safety. The Big Growl had left many of the doors hanging at awkward angles. Longpaws would have hated it, but it made it easy for the dogs to move around—thank goodness.

“We have to warn the others!” cried Bella.

But before they could so much as bark, the rest of the Leashed Dogs were running from their longpaws' houses, too, darting into the open patch of grass in the middle of the houses. Unsure of themselves, afraid to make a further move in any clear direction, they circled, whined, scratched at the earth. Martha gave a deep bark at her own longpaw's house, and started back toward it. Daisy yelped frantically and began to race back to her home.

“No!” barked Lucky. “Stay together! Stay here!”

It wasn't much of a strategy, but it seemed like their safest option. Once again the other dogs looked at him in that trustful, appealing way that made his skin prickle.
No time to worry about it …
thought Lucky.

“Everyone together. Come on!” Lucky gave the most commanding bark he could muster, but no one protested. The dogs crowded around him in a huddle, seeking safety and protection in the warmth and numbers of a …

…
Pack
, thought Lucky with a jolt.

The ground felt so terribly disturbed beneath his paw pads. It shook and quivered still, as if it were trying to throw them off. Was the Earth-Dog afraid of the Big Growl, too? Or were the two of them part of each other? Lucky didn't know.
Please
, he thought,
please, Earth-Dog, keep us safe....

Maybe the Earth-Dog listened to him, because the Big Growl didn't return—not the way it had that terrible night. This could have been its smaller earth-brother, turning restlessly the way Bella had, but going back to sleep in its underground den. The ground stopped grumbling beneath his paws, and the crackling sensation left the air. For the first time in ages, Lucky breathed properly. Around him the other dogs, too, were shaking the fear out of their fur, standing up more confidently, looking around for the next danger. They weren't assuming that all was well again, and they weren't trotting straight back to their longpaw houses, but they weren't panicking, and that made him absurdly proud of his whole …

Don't think it
, he told himself.
They're not my Pack
.

Yes, he'd helped them, and maybe he'd found it reassuring to huddle together with other dogs. But that didn't mean a thing! They wouldn't have been much use to him if the danger had worsened.

Time to strike out again
, Lucky told himself.
Alone
. His fate was in his own paws and he'd better remember it. Warm flanks were one thing, but there was a lot more to Pack life than a bit of company. A
lot
more, and some of it he couldn't bear to imagine....