The Pack Read online

  FOR MOM, DAD, AND JORDAN

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: The New World

  Chapter 2: Garbage, Garbage Everywhere, and Not a Bite to Eat

  Chapter 3: The Case for the Cat

  Chapter 4: New Friends, Old Enemies

  Chapter 5: The Crossing

  Chapter 6: Blaze

  Chapter 7: Shelter

  Chapter 8: Clawing Up the Learning Curve

  Chapter 9: Defensive Moves

  Chapter 10: Growl of the Storm Shaker

  Chapter 11: Hunter and Hunted

  Chapter 12: A Champion Is Born

  Chapter 13: Hunger Pangs

  Chapter 14: Ripples on the Surface

  Chapter 15: Crisis Aversion

  Chapter 16: The Champion Shrugs

  Chapter 17: The Black Dog Rises

  Chapter 18: The Plan

  Chapter 19: The Last Battle

  Other Books

  About the Author

  Copyright

  The blinding lights of the fight cage shone down on Shep once again. But no men rattled the links of the cage: The fight ring was surrounded only by dogs — wild dogs. The stench of them overwhelmed every other scent.

  The wild dogs parted, and Zeus strode through their ranks, then sprang into the cage.

  “I have new friends,” he snarled.

  Before Zeus could strike, a river crashed into the fight ring. Shep struggled against the pull of the raging waters. His paws dug at the roiling river, white froth splashing with each slash of his claws.

  “You can’t save us all,” Zeus growled.

  Shep saw his friend sink below him. Shep dove down, but could not catch Zeus’s paw with his teeth.

  I’ve failed him, Shep thought. I’ve failed them all.

  A high-pitched shriek deafened him. A horde of wild dogs rose up from the river bottom, became the river. Shep’s paws slapped against their fur. Their teeth scraped along his hide.

  “We rise again!” Zeus howled, emerging from the river of dogs like a bird, floating higher and higher, expanding until he covered the sky like a storm.

  “Shep.” A squeaky voice interrupted his nightmare. “Stop kicking!”

  Shep cracked open his eyelids. The little dachshund pup, Oscar, was struggling to untangle himself from Shep’s legs.

  “Hold on, pup,” Shep woofed, lifting his forepaws.

  Oscar tumbled onto the overturned wooden box they’d been sleeping on, landing flat on his belly. “Sheesh,” he yipped. “You have some crazy dreams.”

  Shep rolled onto his paws and slowly pushed himself up. “I know,” he groaned. “Believe me, pup, I know.”

  Now that he was standing, Shep’s body reminded him of all he’d been through in the last few suns, since being abandoned by his family. Escaping his den, rescuing other trapped dogs, fighting for his life, half drowning in the torrent of the wave — each one was a distinct pain. His jaw ached from turning knobs, his paw throbbed from Kaz’s bite, and pain radiated from his shoulder where Zeus had thrown him to the floor. His skin felt stiff and his fur was crusty with salt. I wish it had all just been a dream, Shep thought.

  Oscar stretched beside him. Shep had promised to protect the pup from the Black Dog — from the chaos of the wild, from death itself. Looking Outside, Shep hoped he could make good on that promise. The wall of the kibble den had been torn away, giving him a clear view of the street beyond. A tree lay on its side, its roots a disk of broken bristles. Cars rested with their roofs against the stone or hunched, backs broken, beneath chunks of debris. Drifts of sand leaned against every obstacle in the wave’s path, though the wave itself had been reduced to puddles, which glimmered on every surface.

  Callie stood near the overturned Car that marked where the window hole had once been. The other dogs stood near her, huddled in clumps. Dover the old black Lab licked his tail — it must’ve still hurt from where Shep had accidentally dropped the plank on it the sun before. Thanks for reminding me, Shep grumbled silently.

  The greyhound, Snoop, and the English setter, Wensleydale, called Cheese for short, played with a half-deflated Ball they’d dug out of the rubble. Their long, narrow bodies swatted about as they tugged on the plastic. Daisy the pug leapt at the flattened Ball, barking about how it was her turn to play with it.

  Boji the yellow Lab licked a wound that Virgil (terrier, Airedale class) had suffered during the battle with the wild dogs. Nearby, Ginny the sheltie was yapping at Rufus the schnauzer about her hero, some dog named Lassie who’d visited her every sun through the light-window.

  Higgins, of the Brussels griffon line, sat on a brightly colored plastic box watching the others, his bushy furface all aquiver. Probably taking notes for his dog-breed research.

  The wood box creaked as Shep hopped off it, and all the dogs’ eyes were instantly on him. Cheese froze with his jaws clamped down on the Ball, and Daisy hung off the other end of it by her snaggleteeth, her front paws dangling. Dover stopped licking his tail. Ginny paused mid-yap concerning the way the sun would flicker across Lassie’s coat. They looked at Shep expectantly, waiting for him to tell them what to do. Or, to be more precise, for Callie to tell Shep what he should tell them all to do.

  Shep gave them each a nod of the snout as he passed, and padded to Callie’s side. “That was the den shrieking, right?” he asked. “I heard it in my dream as the howls of wild dogs.”

  Callie licked his nose. “Don’t worry. The building’s not attacking us,” she yipped. “At least, not yet.”

  It was just after dawn, and pinkish light colored the few clouds that remained in the sky. The storm itself was nowhere to be scented; the sky was clear as glass and the air dry and still. At street level, the salty smell of the wave covered everything; in some directions, the salt scent was stronger, signaling that the wave water had not completely retreated. Chemical smells leached from the toppled Cars and broken buildings. The stench of death and decay had grown overnight. Swarms of flies buzzed over gruesome mounds of — Shep didn’t want to find out. All the dogs were careful to stay inside the hollowed remains of the kibble den, afraid to set paw in this new world.

  Shep decided the best way to get every one out of the den before it collapsed around them was to suggest food. “Any dog have an idea of where to get some kibble?” he woofed.

  The squaredog, Rufus, stood and shook his short, silver coat. “If we knew where to get kibble,” he yapped, “you think we’d be sitting here nibbling our paws?”

  In some ways, the world had not changed. Rufus’s natural state was that of a tail dragger. Even when things were going well — they’d just survived a world-crushing wave, for Great Wolf’s sake! — he was a downer dog.

  “Any dog else?” Shep groaned.

  Snoop bounded up to Shep, knocking over Oscar and slapping Callie in the snout with his tail. “Shep-there’s-miceand-rats-and-rabbits-all-up-on-the-second-floor-maybe-they-have-kibble-Shep-whaddya-think-huh?”

  Cheese dropped the Ball, and Daisy with it. “I think I did smell something like kibble up on the balcony.”

  “Well, then, what are we waiting for?” yapped Ginny. “In Lassie’s name, let’s eat!”

  The little sheltie flounced off the white box she’d been perched on and bounded up the stairs, with Rufus, Cheese, Daisy, Snoop, and Virgil on her tail.

  Callie’s tail dropped. “This is a bad idea.”

  Higgins tilted his head. “You wouldn’t think a pug could hop up stairs like that,” he snuffled.

  Little Oscar stood with his fat forepaws on the bottom step, trying to pull himself up onto it.

  “Boji, can you carry me?” he whimpered.

  Boji trotted to the pup’s side, but shied away from the step like it had g
rowled at her. “Oh, dear,” she whined. “Perhaps the others will bring us down some kibble?”

  Again, the shrieking metal sound echoed around the den.

  “That’s not good,” woofed Callie. She sniffed the air, then the remnants of the window wall. “Not good at all.”

  Dover angled his snout toward Shep’s ear. “Should you maybe bark for them to come back down?”

  There was another shriek, and this time the floor trembled.

  “What’s happening, Callie?” barked Shep. He felt a vibration in his paws.

  The bottommost step cracked in half with a bang.

  “The steps!” howled Boji. “I knew they were after us!” She grabbed Oscar by the scruff and bolted for the Outside.

  The whole room shuddered. Then, with a loud groan, the second floor dropped a stretch. The dogs who’d already climbed up screamed with fear.

  Shep raced to the bottom of the stairs. “Come back!” he barked.

  The dogs scrambled toward his bark, leaping down the steps, first Ginny, then Snoop. The stairs jolted, cracks appearing on all sides now, just as Virgil and Daisy raced past Shep’s flank. Then the steps split in two: The part connected to the second level bent backward, then dropped onto the main floor and burst into pieces. Four steps rose in front of Shep, leading to nothing. An empty space, a bit more than a stretch across, separated the top remaining step from the sloping second story. At its edge stood Cheese and Rufus.

  Callie raced to Shep’s side. “We have to save them,” she yipped quietly. She glared at the second floor, as if willing it to toss over the other dogs unharmed. “Cheese,” she called, “can you jump the space carrying Rufus in your jaws?”

  Cheese nosed the gray squaredog in the side. “He’s too heavy,” Cheese woofed.

  The floor trembled and groaned, then dropped another stretch. Rufus yelped, scrambling backward. Cheese hooked a paw onto a shelf and pulled himself to firmer ground. He bit Rufus’s scruff and dragged him away from the edge.

  “You should get your tails out of here!” Cheese barked. “We’ll find another way!”

  “Don’t leave me!” yelped Rufus.

  “We’re a pack,” Callie snapped. “We don’t leave dogs behind.”

  Shep sniffed the edge of the step. “We could smell if there are any beds left, anything soft. We could pile them where the steps used to be, like we did to get off the grate back at our dens.”

  Callie squinted her brown eyes. “No,” she woofed, “we don’t have time.”

  The balcony screeched like a startled tomcat.

  “Cheese!” Callie barked. “You have to grab Rufus by the scruff and throw him over!”

  Rufus squealed as if he’d been smacked. “Have you lost your tail?” he yelped.

  Callie sprang like a squirrel from a branch, leaping from the stairs onto the second floor. Her claws scraped the slanting surface for several agonizing heartbeats before, finally, catching hold. Shep and the others were shocked to silence.

  Callie snapped her teeth at Rufus. “Stop being a tail dragger! I just leapt the gap. Now you do it!” Callie’s tail stood high and her jowls curled to reveal her sharp, white teeth.

  The squaredog must have been too bewildered to protest, because he raced back, then jumped over the rift, paws flailing. Shep reached out and snapped his teeth around Rufus’s scruff, dragging him onto the steps.

  Shep dropped the squaredog on the solid stone and heaved several breaths. “Callie, you crazy yapper!” he howled.

  Callie scrambled back a stretch, then flew over the gap, soaring like a hawk, and landed beside Shep. “He’s off the balcony, isn’t he?” she woofed, as if nothing completely fur-brained had just happened.

  Cheese jumped the span easily. Just as his paws touched the step, the whole second floor shuddered. The stone gave one final jerk, then collapsed. The front edge of the balcony crashed down onto the main floor, creating a giant ramp.

  “We should have waited,” Rufus yapped. “I wouldn’t have had to jump!”

  Callie nipped Rufus on the neck. “Let’s get out of here before the roof falls on our snouts!”

  The four dogs charged Outside. When they reached the Sidewalk, Callie turned to look back at the kibble den. Her snout split into a wide smile, and her tongue lolled between her jaws. “We’re lucky we made it through the night,” she woofed cheerfully between pants.

  Shep sniffed his friend. How much she’d changed since he met her. Not three suns ago, she’d been trembling on top of a grate Outside his window, afraid to jump down a distance not much larger than the one she’d just vaulted over. Now, she was bursting with confidence, joyfully commenting on the fact that she hadn’t been crushed in her sleep. Something about the freedom of being without her girl, of running loose on the street — perhaps of meeting Frizzle? — had changed her into a new dog.

  Frizzle. Just recalling the name sent shivers along Shep’s fur. The bulldog had mostly been a pain in the tail, but he was brave and had kept the pack together when Shep had been sulking in the dark. If Shep had spent less time competing with the little yapper and more time thinking like a real rescuer, maybe Frizzle would still be alive. Maybe Shep would feel more like the leader every one expected him to be.

  The rest of their small pack was huddled near the trunk of a toppled tree in the bright light.

  “Which way should we go?” woofed Cheese, his head tilted, curious.

  Shep scanned the street. Both directions smelled of salt water — the kibble den was on a slight rise in the street, and on either side of it, farther downhill, Shep could see water from the wave still glinting over the pavement. The street itself was less street than garbage heap. Human things — boxes, papers, and shards of plastic, but also chairs, cabinets, and brightly colored cloths — were bunched up in mounds alongside the sand dunes and branches clogging the once open thoroughfare. A dead lizard rotted in the sunlight on a large metal box. A lonely red shoe floated upside down in a puddle.

  The buildings along either side of the street were all in various states of destruction. One building looked unharmed, except for the ten-stretch-long metal stick sticking out of its side. The next was nothing more than a pile of stones studded with fins of wall — some decorated with patterns of flowers — and fangs of wood and plastic. A squat building with a tower like a snout sticking out of its roof slumped forward as if kneeling, its first floor having been washed completely away. Poles draped with loose metal strings leaned over the streets or were tangled in the trees’ branches. A column of fire rose like orange breath from a metal pipe jutting out of a crushed den that was otherwise buried in mud.

  Either direction led into a nightmare landscape. Shep glanced at Callie, who flicked her tail toward sunset.

  “We go this way,” Shep barked, and headed down the sunset side of the street.

  As the pack wound its way through the jumble on the street, Shep began to scent just how much the wave had changed things. Every surface it had touched smelled of salt, and every puddle tasted salty and did nothing to quench a dog’s thirst. The higher the sun rose and the hotter it got, the worse the problem became. By midsun, the pack was woozy from thirst and hunger.

  Higgins licked his bushy furface to try to moisten his nose. “My snout,” he whined, “I can’t smell anything over the stench of salt and rot.”

  Rufus pawed at an overturned bucket. “We’ll never find any food in this place,” he grumbled. A shell with skinny legs and jagged pincer arms scrambled out from under the bucket and into the muck clogging a sewer grate.

  “What was that?” Rufus cried.

  Cheese loped to Rufus’s side, then sniffed the grate. “That was a crab,” he woofed as he lifted his long ears out of the tangle of leaves and trash. “They live at the beach. Why would a crab be here, away from the beach?”

  “The wave smelled like the beach,” barked Shep. “Maybe the crab came with the wave?”

  Daisy shoved her stunted nose into the heap on the sewer grate. “Is
a crab food?” she yapped.

  “I’m not sure,” woofed Cheese.

  Daisy lifted her snout. “Then let’s not — snort — waste time barking about it,” she snapped. “If I don’t get a bite of kibble soon, I’m going to get growly.”

  Like she’s not already growling, Shep thought.

  More strange creatures — alive and dead — littered the streets. A long, green-brown thing like the neck of Shep’s family’s floor-sucker slithered under a slab of stone. Something else that resembled a scaly human kibble-plate with eyes and a flat tail flopped in a shrinking puddle. Blue sacks of air, like blown-up poop bags, sat on tangled strings of jelly. Shep didn’t want to try eating any of them — if they looked that odd, how good could they possibly taste?

  The weirdness factor, however, only made Callie all the more curious. She trotted right up to one of the bags and gave it a lick.

  “Ooh, Shep, it’s salty!” she yipped, tail waving and ears up. She hopped aside, offering a lick to any dog who wanted, and stepped on one of the jelly strings.

  “And it bites!” cried Callie, leaping off the string. She desperately licked her paws to get them to stop stinging.

  “Every dog!” Shep barked. “Back away from the poop bag!”

  The pack startled. The dogs looked around their paws anxiously, searching for an attacking bag of poop, then began to scatter in different directions.

  “What poop bag?” yipped Ginny, shuffling directly toward the thing.

  “That blue balloon!” snapped Shep. But Ginny trundled directly onto the bag and caught her paws in the jelly strings.

  “In Lassie’s name, get it off me!” she yelped. Ginny stumbled back and tripped over Callie. The two girldogs rolled snout over tail into a mound of sand.

  Shep couldn’t help but pant as Ginny — all fluff and flailing paws — tried to right herself, and repeatedly smacked Callie in the snout.