The Storm (6 page)

Then the fur of the clouds changed: It swirled and dropped like a stone to the street. The growling became a roar and Shep was shaken from the window ledge. His whiskers tingled — the air was shifting.

Suddenly, the glass in the window burst. It flew Outside with a scream into a blinding fury of cloud. All scent blew away with the window, as if the swirling cloud contained a giant floor-sucker. The cloud flashed a set of sharp fangs, then claws, razor edges whirling.

Shep scrambled back toward the food room, the wind now tugging at his skin. He clawed his way around the wooden counter and found the three yappers cowering inside the kibble cabinet. Shep shoved his head inside, crouching in front of the cabinet and on top of the yappers, as if the dark could protect him. The four dogs trembled and the den seemed to tremble right along with them.

The roar quieted to a growl, then to nothing. After a few heartbeats, all that remained was the whistle of the wind and the slap of rain on the floor under where there'd once been a window. It took several more heartbeats before the dogs crept out of the safety of the cabinet.

“I've never smelled anything like that,” Callie whimpered. “Was it a wild dog, Shep?”

A tremble ran over his fur and whiskers. “No,” he woofed. He did not tell her his suspicion about the monstrous wind — that it was the Black Dog, and that it was coming for him.

“What was that?” barked Frizzle. His wing-ears twitched on his fat head.

“Nothing,” grumbled Higgins. “The storm. It'll be over by morning. I'm going to the bed room to get some sleep.” He snorted loudly and scrabbled down the hall.

“No,” snapped Frizzle. “I heard a bark.”

“I just heard it!” Callie raced into the bed room and Frizzle bounded after her.

Shep stayed where he was, claws clinging to the floor. He strained his ears and scented the air. Had it been the Black Dog? Where had the windstorm gone?

“Shep, come listen!” Callie cried from the bed room.

Shep shook his head. There was only the noise of the storm, only the scent of rain. Whatever that terrible wind had been, it had vanished. Shep shivered and stretched. He wanted to curl up in the cabinet until the end of the storm, then find his boy and go home. But he was the big dog in the den. He'd better check things out.

Shep loped down the short hall into the dark bed room. There was a small window, but it was blocked by something. The shadowy forms of Callie and Frizzle stood on the large bed in the middle of the space; Shep smelled Higgins in the opposite corner of the bed.

“What?” Shep grunted. Then he heard the barking. It was muffled — he couldn't make out anything about the other dog, or what it was trying to say — but there was definitely a dog on the other side of the wall, a dog in trouble.

“We should go help him,” said Callie.

“Yeah!” howled Frizzle. “I'm ready for some action.”

“What if that monster wind is in there?” whined Higgins.

“Even more reason to help!” barked Callie. “Shep, let's go.”

“Why me?” woofed Shep. He didn't want to go anywhere
near
that wind.

“No one else can get the door open, silly fur.” Callie headed for the door to Higgins's den — they'd left it open, so as not to get trapped.

“My teeth hurt from biting
that
knob,” said Shep. “I'm not going to risk breaking a fang.” He ran his paw over his muzzle for emphasis. Who was Callie to tell him to follow her? He was the big dog, the rescuer — he'd saved her from a giant killer bird! Why was he the one getting pushed around?

“That dog sounds like it's in trouble. I'm going!” Callie raced out of the den. Frizzle took off after her, howling with delight.

“Finally,” sighed Higgins. “Some peace and quiet!” He snuggled back down in the comforter.

Shep looked at the bed, and at Higgins, already snoring away.
Why, Great Wolf, did I ever leave my den?

Shep bolted out of the door, sniffing his way after Callie. She was only going to get herself into trouble, and it wasn't likely that Frizzle would be much help getting her out of it.

He found them both outside a door not far down the hall from Higgins's den. Callie, being a stubborn little mutt, was leaping at the knob, trying to snap her teeth around it.

“Great Wolf,” Shep barked, pushing Frizzle aside. “You're never going to get the knob to turn that way.”

Shep heard scratching on the other side of the door. “Well, dock my tail! Is that Shep?”

Shep knew that voice: It was Zeus! Shep barked hello, his tail spastic with joy at running into his best friend.

“Zeus! Thank the Great Wolf!” Shep yipped, leaping at the door. “What's the trouble?”

Zeus explained that a tree outside his den had crashed through the window. “Rain's pouring in,” he barked, “and the wall's broken.”

“Don't worry,” woofed Shep. “I'm going to get you out.”

Shep attacked the knob with all his strength. He dug his teeth into its hard skin and scrabbled his paws against the door frame. He twisted his head up and down, side to side. Still, the door did not open.

“There must be something wrong with this knob,” growled Shep. He leapt down from the door, panting. “Go get Higgins,” he barked to Frizzle.

“You're not the alpha of me,” Frizzle snorted back.

“For the love of treats!” Callie snapped at both of their snouts. “Just go get him!” she yowled.

Frizzle snorted and trotted down the hall. “I'm going,” he grumbled, “but only because
she
asked.”

Zeus dug at the floor with his paws.

“Just wait a heartbeat,” barked Shep. “There's this little yapper in the den down the hall who knows about human stuff.”

“What are you doing with all these yappers, anyway?” said Zeus, lying down and pressing his snout against the space at the bottom of the door.

“These
yappers
are the ones who are trying to save you,” growled Callie.

“Sorry,” grumbled Zeus, not sounding at all sorry. “But really, Shep. What are you doing here?”

Shep explained about his den, how his boy had left him, and the lack of water. “Then this little — er, Callie helped me to escape. While we were exploring the streets, she got attacked by this huge bird, and I saved her.”

“Wow!” barked Zeus. “Bird fight! Awesome!”

“If you're done with the big dog talk,” growled Callie, “can we get back to the rescue?”

Higgins stumbled toward them, with Frizzle nipping at his rump.

“All right! All right!” Higgins yapped. “I'm awake!” He yawned, then squinted at the door. “What's the problem? Won't open?”

Shep wagged his tail in affirmation.

Higgins snorted. “Dog on the other side of the door?”

“It's Zeus, you little furface.”

Callie looked at Higgins. “You know each other?” she asked.

“Unfortunately,” growled Zeus from the space under the door.

“Ah, pleasant as always. Just like a boxer. Well, Zeus, is there a little nub on the knob on your side of the door?”

They heard Zeus scramble to his paws. “I think so. There's a bump, like a little knob inside the big knob.”

“It's as I thought,” said Higgins. “The door's locked.”

“So what do I do?” barked Shep, ears pricked, tail up and waving. He was losing patience. Why was there always so much barking before the doing? He had to save his friend!

“Nothing,” yipped Higgins. “A locked door is a locked door. I don't think that big fuzz head Zeus could figure out how to turn the lock.”

“When I get out of here, you're going to pay for that fuzz head remark,” growled Zeus.

“If you get out of there, I'll worry,” yapped Higgins.

“Enough!” howled Callie. “My fur, you boydogs are silly. This isn't some marking contest. What if that terrible wind comes back? We have to save Zeus, and quick. So, Higgins, tell us how to turn the lock, and, Zeus, stop grumbling like an empty belly!”

All the dogs stared at the little girldog. Callie stood tall, chest out, tail high and still, teeth bared and jowls trembling.

Higgins cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. All right.” He cowered a bit as he passed Callie, then barked instructions to Zeus through the door on how to turn the little nub on the knob. “I managed to get on a table and turn the one on our knob, so it shouldn't be
too
difficult for you, I'd wager.”

Shep heard the low rumble of Zeus's growl and wondered if it wouldn't be best for Higgins to head back to his den. There was some scratching at the door, some more growling, then a click.

“I think I did it,” Zeus yipped.

Shep attacked the door with every thing he had left in him. After a few heartbeats' struggle, the door swung open. This time, Shep had the sense to let go of the knob before the door pulled him into the den. He got knocked to the floor anyway when Zeus jumped on top of him.

“You're the best!” Zeus howled, leaping to his paws, his stumpy tail waggling. Zeus looked as if he'd just landed in a pile of jerky, he was so happy.

“Yeah, well, get off me before you break something,” Shep said, grinning.

A voice squeaked from beneath Shep's shoulder. “You already did!”

Shep quickly rolled over, and off of poor little Higgins! Shep had squashed him when Zeus pounced.

“This is what I meant when I called you a fuzz head, you fuzz heads!” Higgins shook himself all over and began scratching his ears. “Now I have lint in my ears and probably a broken rib! Big dogs never think, never look around to see if they're about to sit on a dog's snout.”

Zeus snorted and sat back on his haunches. “It's not the big dog's job to watch out who's under his butt. It's the little dog's job to keep out of the way.”

“It's the little dog who just
saved
that big dog's butt,” Callie snapped. “So the big dog had better look before he sits, got it?” She stuck her muzzle right in Zeus's snout, her chest puffed out and hackles raised.

Zeus began to growl and raise his hackles.

This is not going to end well
, thought Shep. He stuck his nose in. “How about we promise to look before we sit, and you watch for falling butts. Okay? Every dog happy?” He opened his jowls, panting in a friendly manner, and wagged his tail.

Callie and Zeus stared at each other for a few heartbeats more, then Callie stepped back.

“Listen,” she woofed, her head cocked.

“That's my Callie!” yipped Frizzle, cuffing Higgins on the ear with his paw. “Is she a fierce little thing or what?”

Shep heard something: a wail. Not wind, definitely dog.

“I'm going back to bed,” Higgins grumbled.

“We can't go back to bed,” Callie barked. “Didn't you hear that howl? We have to check all the dens.”

“No,” said Zeus. “We don't. Those other dogs can take care of themselves.”

“How would you have liked it if we'd said that about you?” growled Callie. She flicked her snout at Zeus's den's open door. Through it, Shep saw the broken window and the palm fronds flapping through it. Fat rain drops spattered the floor inside, blown in on a gust of wind that ruffled the fur on Shep's muzzle. The wall around the window was cracked. Splintered beams jutted through the gap and the bottom half of the wall sagged into the den. The storm's claws scratched at the very walls of the building.

Callie continued, “This is a bad storm, and there are no humans around to help us out. We have to help ourselves.” Her tail stood tall, its slight curl trembling.

“Ha-roo!” howled Frizzle. “Let's get this thing going! Big dog,” he barked at Zeus, “how about you and me start on the next door?”

Zeus looked ready to trounce the squat yapper. In an effort to keep the fur on every dog's back, Shep got off his haunches and strode to Callie's side.

“Callie,” he woofed, “it's not that Zeus and I don't want to help.” He shot a quick glance at Zeus, hoping he'd play along. “But freeing the dogs isn't as easy as all that. All you have to do is stand there, while Zeus and I do all the hard work of opening the knobs. I nearly broke a tooth getting that one open.” He swung his snout toward Zeus's door. “And we don't even know where that dog is — it could be Outside, in the storm!”

Callie's tail drooped. “So you won't help us?” she whimpered. “But what about that other dog? What if she was hurt by that awful wind? What if she's trapped and scared, like I was out on that grate? I can't bear to think of another dog suffering like that when there's something that I can do to help.” She began to tremble again. She sat and scratched limply at her ear.

Frizzle set his little jaw and paraded across the hall to Callie's side, looking at Shep like he'd attacked the miserable girldog, like it was all his fault.

“Don't you worry, gorgeous,” Frizzle woofed. “You and me, we'll find that dog and free any others we scent along the way.” He licked her jowl, and Callie smiled at him and waggled her tail.

“Oh, Great Wolf.” Shep sighed. “We'll search this floor, okay?” He glanced at Zeus, who narrowed his eyes and snorted loudly.

Callie was instantly on her paws, tail wagging, nose sniffing the air. “Brilliant! Shep, you come with me, and Zeus, you go with Higgins and Frizzle.”

Zeus didn't even address Callie. He turned to Shep and began grumbling. “We're taking orders from the yappers now?” He spat the words out like slobber.

“There's bound to be other big dogs in this building,” Shep said, trying to soothe his friend. “They can help out with freeing the other dogs.”

“I've lived here for three cycles,” Zeus growled. “There are maybe three or four other big dogs, and I know at least one of them has got one paw in the hole, if you know what I mean.” Zeus referred to any dog who was in less than top condition as having “one paw in the hole,” so Shep wasn't sure whether he meant the dog was old or simply had gone a little overboard with the kibble.

“It's one floor, buddy,” Shep said, panting gently. “Then we can all get some sleep.”

“Fine,” Zeus barked. “But I'm not going with those two mutts.” He trotted over to Callie's side. “You're so anxious to get started?” he grunted at her. “Let's move.” Zeus continued down the hall and around the corner.

Callie looked at Frizzle, eyebrows raised as if to say it was better than nothing, and raced after the big dog.

“I'm going back to my den,” yapped Higgins. “Hang all these other ungrateful mutts.” With a quick flick of his grizzled snout, he was up and on his way down the hall to his den.