The Pack (7 page)

“I claim this room for Shep!” barked Blaze. “He's the alpha, so he gets the best den.”

Just as Shep was about the mark the door frame, Callie snorted her disapproval.

“What does he need this huge space for?” she yapped. “No, this big den should be for dams and pups, or sick dogs.” She sniffed the giant mattress and pawed at the overstuffed pillows strewn around it. “Yes, this will be a perfect, quiet, dark den for them.”

Shep whimpered softly — he'd liked the idea of himself, and perhaps Blaze, curled up on that giant bed — but he knew Callie was right. “This is a perfect sick den,” he woofed, loping back into the hallway.

Blaze followed him out of the room. “Who's the alpha of this pack again?” she snarled.

The other door at the end of the hall, which was in the floor, opened into an enclosed stairwell. One set of stairs led to the crushed level.

“A second exit,” woofed Blaze.

“A second entry to defend,” grumbled Shep.

The other staircase led deeper into the boat, to the curved beetle-bottom of the hull.

The bottom level of the boat was dark as the Black Dog's hide. Shep and Blaze pushed open the door from the stairwell and hooked their paws onto the wall, which was now the floor. Shep's claws scraped one of Higgins's plastic strips. When clicked, the lights illuminated a narrow hall lined with three doors each in the ceiling and floor, and one door in the wall at the back end of the boat. That door opened into a huge, dark room crowded with pipes and smelling of chemicals and grease, like a pack of Cars was huddled inside. The other rooms — some a few stretches long, others barely a stretch — contained human bed-cushions and little Bath rooms, also with functioning water paws. Each room had one or two small, Higgins-sized windows.

Higgins decided that one of the small rooms near the front of the boat on the bottom level would be good as a kibble storage room. “I'll be able to keep better track of what's going in and out if I'm not amidst the hubbub of the main den.” Shep, Callie, and Blaze helped him to drag the kibble from the boat's food room to the designated storage room.

When they had finished moving the food, Callie gave the bottom deck of the boat a once-over sniff. “The big dogs will stay on this level,” she woofed. “The small on the main level, in that big fancy room.”

“No good,” barked Blaze. “Then you yappers will be exposed to attack. I say we build ramps into and out of the dens on the lower level for the small and sick and old, and keep the working and fighting dogs closer to the entry points.”

Callie glared at Shep. “I thought you were going to woof with her about the whole ‘yapper' issue?”

Shep sighed. “Blaze, Callie doesn't like the word ‘yapper.' Please don't bark it anymore.”

“Fine,” yipped Blaze, like this was a ridiculous request. “What do you want to be called?”

Callie seemed flustered by Blaze's reaction. “Well, small dogs, or just dogs.” Callie regained her defensive stance. “And what's this about working dogs? You don't think small dogs can work?”

Shep stuck his nose between the two girldogs. “Do we have to get our hackles up about every thing?” he woofed. “Can't we just take each other's barks with a bite of kibble? At least pretend to get along? For this sun?”

Both the girldogs dropped their tails and smoothed their hackles.

“You're right,” yipped Callie. “I'm sorry.”

“Well,” barked Blaze. “So long as that's settled. Let's build some ramps.”

“Shep!” whined Callie.

Shep sighed. This was not going to work, having to negotiate every woof between Blaze and Callie. “Why don't I go back and get the rest of the pack? You two stay here and sort yourselves out.”

He turned tail and navigated the maze of holes through the boat before either of them could argue with him. As he stepped Out from the main den onto the crushed floor, he saw Blaze emerge from the stairwell's exit. She picked her way across the debris; Shep waited.

“I told the yapper — Callie — that she could organize the den however she wanted,” Blaze woofed. “I don't want to push you away.” She touched her nose to Shep's, and he felt that tingle ripple under his fur.

“Callie has good ideas,” Shep said, trying to stay focused. “You said so yourself.”

Blaze stepped over a piece of plastic that separated her from Shep. “You're right,” she yipped. “And she is smart.” Her mismatched eyes sparkled in the golden, late midsun light. “I sense there's something between you two.” Blaze brushed past him and stepped out onto the plaza.

“She's my best friend,” barked Shep, joining her. “We've been through a lot together.”

“Well, so long as she's just a friend,” Blaze woofed, sidling up to Shep's flank.

He licked Blaze's snout. “Callie and I have made a good team,” he said. “She's the brains, and I'm the muscle.”

“Don't underestimate yourself,” barked Blaze. “You've got a good share of both.”

Blaze returned to the boat to help Callie and Higgins set up the den, while Shep ran back to the bus to lead the dogs to their new home. The pack moved easily into the huge spaces of the boat. The big dogs scratched together their dens on the bottom level in the rooms that had to be climbed into or out of. The small dogs all made their dens in the large main room. Boji took up residence with the two pregnant dams in the big bed room to help them whelp their litters when the time came.

The pets were most excited about the lights. Higgins had turned them on to make it easier for every dog to find their way around, and as a kind of celebration for their first night in the new den.

“I haven't seen a light since my family left me!” cried Rosie, a shaggy, black papillon mutt with wild hairs sprouting from her pointy ears. She seemed about ready to burst out of her fur with joy.

“There was a light just this shade of goldenrod in my den's Bath room,” whimpered Ginny.

“I hate to piddle on every dog's patch,” yapped Higgins, “but I haven't the foggiest idea as to why the lights in the boat are functioning when the rest of the blasted city's dark as a cat's soul — pardon the expression, Fuzz.”

Fuzz spat something snarly in cat-speak, then replied in his meow-bark, “Fuzz no take offense, dog-with-hair-for-nose.”

Higgins's furface bristled, but he continued, “In sum, I don't think we should waste whatever light we have.”

“I agree with the small hairy dog,” woofed Blaze.

“Higgins,” snapped Callie.

“Right,” said Blaze. “Higgins. If we leave the lights on, we're inviting every dog in the city to attack.”

“Don't we want to attract lost dogs?” yipped Honey.

“Not all dogs are lost,” growled Blaze. “You should remember that before some wild dog returns your sweet little welcome with a fang to the jowl.”

Honey couldn't have looked more shocked if Blaze had actually fanged her in the muzzle.

Shep nosed his way to the center of the pack. “Okay! So we'll all leave the lights off unless there's an emergency.”

“Except the light in the bottom level's hall,” snuffled Callie.

“Except the light in the bottom level's hall!” repeated Shep.

 

The dogs dug into the cushions and nosed the odds and ends left in the boat into individual dens. Toppled couches became comfortable caves; pillows were piled together to make luxurious nests. As the sky flamed deep orange, Higgins barked that kibble distribution would begin on the lower level.

In a heartbeat, dogs crowded the narrow stairwell, worried that the first snout to the kibble room would get the biggest share. Shep had been helping a bunch of tiny brown and gray dogs turn a broken chair into a bed and was now caught in the main den by the snarl in the stairwell. He ran up the table-ramp into the ceiling room, then dropped down onto the crowd shoving to get into the door leading to the stairs.

“Stop pushing!” he howled. “Every dog will get his share!”

Virgil caught Shep's scent and barked from where he stood, jammed in the stairwell. “Form a line!” he bayed. “Against the wall, you mangy mutts!”

Shep heard Daisy's snorty woof from inside the main den. “You heard Shep —
snort
— get in line!”

The mass of rippling fur began to settle out into a line of dogs.
Thank the Great Wolf
, thought Shep. He would bark with Callie about coming up with a better plan for mealtimes.

Oscar wriggled from between the bushy legs of a large, hairy black dog — a Newtie? Noofle? — and scampered up to Shep.

“Hey!” Oscar yipped like he hadn't smelled Shep in suns. “I barked with Callie about my sharing a den with you and the other big dogs, but she said I should stay in the main den. Could you woof with her and change her mind?” He whipped his thin tail in circles.

Shep licked his jowls.
How to let the pup down easy …

“Well, Oscar,” Shep began, “I'm actually with Callie on this one. I'm in a den on the ceiling with Blaze, and —”

“Oh,” Oscar grumbled. “So you already have a denmate?” His tail and ears sagged.

“Yeah,” Shep woofed, feeling rotten for not even thinking that Oscar might have wanted to share his den.

The pup straightened his tail and pricked his ears. “That's okay,” he yipped. “I met this other pup, Odie, and he offered to share his cushion. Maybe the three of us can play later?”

Shep was distracted by a sharp bark.

“You took an extra kibble!”

“Did not!”

“I smelled it! You took two brown lumps, not the one we're allowed!”

“My snout! Calm down!” yapped Higgins.

Shep thought he recognized one of the voices, but they both sounded angry.

“Shep?” Oscar whined. “Can you play later?”

“What?” Shep replied, shaking his snout. “Sorry, Oscar, but I'd better get to the kibble room.”

Shep pushed his way through the mob in the stairwell, then lunged over the other dogs' backs to get to the lower level. As he pushed through the door-hole, he saw ahead of him what was quickly becoming a frenzy.

Two dogs were tearing into one another, fangs and claws slashing. Around those two, several other dogs were snapping at each other, but most were barking at Higgins to give them their food. Higgins stood in front of the kibble, tiny chest out and fangs bared, daring any of the scoundrels to pounce. The remaining dogs were paralyzed with fear, and some chattered their teeth or whimpered.

Shep shoved past the last few dogs and leapt into the fight. He grabbed the larger of the two by the scruff and threw her into the wall. The smaller dog froze, then cowered.

The girldog — who must've been a new rescue, as Shep had never smelled her before — snapped to her paws. “Who're you?” she growled. “And where's my second kibble?”

Shep laid his ears back and bared his fangs. “I'm the alpha of this den,” he snarled, “which means I have the final say on every thing, including kibble.”

The girldog squinted her eyes, as if considering whether or not to challenge Shep. Shep quickly took in the details of the space — low ceiling, wider floor with den holes breaking through every few stretches, and dogs blocking every escape. It'd be a tough fight, but winnable, though perhaps at the cost of an innocent dog's lifeblood.

The girldog dropped her tail and lay down at Shep's paws. “I didn't mean to start a fight,” she grumbled. “But the old yapper took two kibbles. The hairy-faced yapper said we could only each have one.”

Shep stood tall and glared down at the cowering yapper. “Did you take an extra kibble?”

It was Rufus, the cursed tail dragger. He was trembling uncontrollably. “I-I-I was so hungry, Shep,” he whimpered. “And this den is so dark and small. I didn't think any dog would notice.”

Shep lowered his head so he could look directly into the yapper's beady black eyes. “I notice
every thing
,” he growled.

Rufus trembled even harder and began wailing deliriously. He rolled onto his back, exposing his bare white belly.

Shep felt the eyes of every dog in the pack on his fur. Great Wolf, how he wished Callie could simply appear beside him and whisper what to do next.
What would the Great Wolf do?
he wondered, remembering Callie's words to him.

Rufus was powerless, and obviously terrified out of his fur, so there was little point in attacking him further. The girldog had been right that Rufus had taken more than his share, but that didn't excuse her starting a fight, especially with a dog less than half her size. The rest of the dogs needed to understand that if they had a problem, they had to solve it without fighting. They had to come to him, as the dogs of old came to the Great Wolf.

Shep lifted his head and raised his ears and tail. He opened his throat to give the loudest and deepest bark he could make. He looked first at the girldog. “You're new here,” he began, “so you don't know our rules. But to clarify for every dog, we don't fight each other, not for any reason, ever. If you have a problem, or think something's unfair, you woof about it with me, and I'll resolve things.

“Rufus was wrong to take an extra kibble, so he'll lose one kibble at the next meal.” Shep glared down at Rufus, who cowered and whimpered his agreement.

“As for the rest of the pack,” Shep continued, “I know it's hard not getting all the kibble you're used to, but this storm has wrecked our world. We all miss our masters and mistresses, but the humans are gone. We dogs need to sacrifice so that we all can survive.”

“Until when, Shep?” the little papillon, Rosie, yipped. “How long are we going to stay here?”

“Until our families come back,” he woofed, “which will be soon, I hope. But until that sun, we dogs are all we have. We have to rely on each other, each dog standing nose-to-nose with his packmates. This den is our home, and we are each other's family.”

For a heartbeat, the dogs wavered. Then they began to wag their tails and the smell of fear receded. They all looked at him with a strange awe, especially the new pack members, ones who hadn't seen him fight the wild dogs. Shep opened his jowls and panted lightly to let every dog know that he wasn't angry, and that every thing was fine. And every thing
was
fine. The crowd began to break up.

Paulie loped over to Shep's side from where he'd been standing near the entry to the main den, panting lightly, a knowing grin on his jowls. “I sensed you were a fellow fight dog,” he woofed. “Glad to know there's an alpha with real power leading this pack.”

The dog nodded his snout then got back into line. Shep felt a warmth spread from his chest out through his whole body. He'd solved a problem on his own, saved the pack without Callie's help. A smile twisted his jowls.

Callie burst from between the legs of some larger dogs and scrambled to Shep's side. “Great piles of biscuits, that was a mess!” she barked. “But you were marvelous!” She looked at Rufus, who still cringed against the wall. “I expected better from you, Rufus,” she growled. “How can we get the new rescues to trust us if the original pack can't follow the rules?”

“I'm sorry!” Rufus cried. “Take all my kibble! Just stop growling at me!”

Callie sighed. “Oh, stop it, you old tail dragger.” She nipped his neck. “Don't say things you don't mean — unless you
want
us to take all your kibble?”

Rufus rolled to his paws, still cowering low to the metal floor. “No,” he squealed. “I don't want that.”

“Fine,” Callie woofed, “then go back to your den and think about all the trouble you caused by being greedy.”

Shep wondered why Callie was barking about all this. He had solved the problem without her. Did she need to stick her snout into every thing?
That's not thinking like a team
, Shep growled to himself. He shouldn't let one success make him think he's the Great Wolf.

Callie checked in with Higgins, who was completely frazzled.

“We need to assign a dog to sit here with me,” he moaned. “Some big and mean-looking chap!”

“What we need is to set up some system so the whole pack isn't fighting for their kib every meal,” woofed Callie.

“My thoughts exactly,” added Shep.

Callie looked at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. “Right,” she yipped. “Maybe we three should meet to try to dig up any other problems we might face before they bite us in the tail.”

Shep and Higgins woofed their agreement.

“Let's sniff each other out after every dog's had their kibble,” Callie barked. “Meet in the ceiling room, at the top of the table-ramp.”

 

As Shep licked the last morsels of his kibble from his jowls, Oscar bounded up to him with a gangly boxer puppy at his heels.

“What's nibbling at you, pup?” Shep woofed.

“This is Odie,” Oscar yipped. “And he and I just had this great idea.” Oscar was wriggling and twitching like a squirrel's tail. He looked at Odie, then stood tall (as tall as he could on his stumpy legs). “We were thinking of starting a club!” He leapt up and started wagging his tail and yipping. Odie jumped on him and they rolled and played.

“A club?” Shep woofed, watching the two scrabble at his paws. “What kind of club?”

“A club about you!” Odie woofed in a scratchy, but surprisingly deep bark. “We were all just so washed away by how you handled that kibble fight, and then Oscar started telling us about how you fought a whole pack of wild dogs —”

“I didn't fight a whole pack,” Shep interrupted.

“Yes,” Oscar yowled, “he did fight a whole pack! We were all there, and we were throwing stuff at the dogs, but Shep was the only one in the mix, tearing the fur off those stinky wild dogs!”

“That's just the best-furred thing I've ever heard!” yelped Odie, his stump tail wagging.

Odie was older than Oscar, and much bigger. Shep sensed that Oscar was trying to fit in with the bigger pup by telling stories, nosing his way up the ranks by riding on the alpha's tail. But Shep felt bad about not sharing his den with the pup, and the little scrapper was always hanging on Shep's every woof.
It'd be good for him to make some other friends
, Shep thought.

“Well, all right,” Shep woofed quietly. “Oscar here
is
telling the truth.” He panted gently and licked Oscar's head.
That'll show Odie how well-furred Oscar is.
“I fought a whole pack of wild dogs, and bested their alpha in a fight, dog against dog.”

“Holy treats!” Odie yipped. “Tell me every thing!”

Shep woofed the whole story, with Oscar interjecting his own yips. Shep even allowed the pup to embellish things — how many dogs Shep fought, the size of Kaz's teeth, whether he'd beaten Zeus before the wave struck. What harm could it do to help the pup impress his new packmate?