The Empty City (3 page)

“Not me. I
like
being on my own. I mean, I'm sure a Pack's best for some dogs,” he added hurriedly to spare her feelings, “but I've walked alone since I left my Pup Pack.” He couldn't repress the proud lift of his head. “I can look after myself. There's no better place for a dog than the city. I'll show you! There's food for the finding, and warm crannies to sleep in, and shelter from the rain—”

But is that still true?

For a moment he hesitated, letting his eyes rove over the smashed streets, the shattered walls and broken clear-stones, the tilting roads and abandoned loudcages.
This isn't safe
, Lucky thought.
We need to get out of here as soon as we can
.

Not that he was going to share that fear with Sweet; she was already so anxious. If only there were some distraction—

There!

Lucky gave a high bark of excitement. They'd turned a corner, and right in the road was another wreck. Lucky scented—
food
!

He broke into a run, leaping in delight onto the side of the huge overturned metal box. He'd seen longpaws throwing things they didn't want into these, locking them afterward so that Lucky was never able to feast on the unwanted food. But now the box was on its side, the half-rotten contents spilled out across the ground. Black crows were hopping and jabbing around the piles. Lucky held his head high and barked as loud as he could. The crows cawed, alarmed, as they half fluttered away.

“Come on!” he yelled, springing into the stinking pile. Sweet followed, barking happily.

As Lucky nosed his way through the mound of scraps, he heard the dull fluttering of wings as the crows descended again. He leaped and snapped his jaws at an indignant bird and it darted into the air, its wings beating strongly.

Lucky sent a final snarl after the departing crow as he landed back on the ground, his paws skidding in the dirt. Immediately his wounded pad howled with pain. It was like the fangs of the most vicious dog, biting all the way up his leg. He couldn't hold back his whimper of distress.

As Sweet dashed through the cloud of crows, chasing them clear, Lucky sat down and licked the hurt away. He eagerly sniffed the air, enjoying the scent coming off the piles of discarded items that had spilled out across the ground. Contentment began to settle over him again, and he was distracted from his pain.

For a while the happy mood lingered as Lucky and Sweet snuffed out the delicacies the crows had left. Sweet pulled chicken bones from a cardboard bucket, and Lucky found a crust of bread, but the pickings were poor, especially after they'd worked up such an appetite.

“We're going to starve in this city.” Sweet whined, licking an empty box that had once held some food. She pinned it down with one paw as she poked her nose inside.

“I promise we won't. It's not all scavenging.” Lucky's mind was flooded with an image of a place he used to visit. He nudged Sweet's flank affectionately. “I'll take you somewhere where we'll eat like Leashed Dogs.”

Sweet's ears pricked up. “Really?”

“Really. This place will change your mind about cities.”

Lucky trotted confidently down the road, his mouth already watering at the prospect of food. Sweet was right behind him. It was strange how happy he was with her company, how much he liked being able to help her. Usually by now, he'd be itching for solitude, but … he wasn't.

Maybe the Big Growl had changed more than just the city.

Sweet pressed close to Lucky's side
as they walked through the deserted streets.

He had expected to see other dogs by now, and certainly a few longpaws. But the city was empty and far too quiet. At least they had found a few stale scent-marks; that was reassuring. He stopped to sniff at an upturned longpaw seat that had been marked by a male Fierce Dog.

“They can't be far.” Sweet interrupted his thoughts. She bent her muzzle to the scent, ears lifting. “This is a strong message. And there are others! Can't you smell them?”

The fur on Lucky's shoulders bristled: Why was Sweet so determined to find a Pack? Wasn't his company enough?

“These dogs must be long gone now,” he said, backing away. “We won't catch up any time soon.”

Sweet raised her nose in the air. “They smell nearby to
me
.”

“But this only smells strong because it was their territory. They marked it over and over. I'm telling you, Sweet, they're far away already. I can pick out their scent in the distance.”

“Really?” Sweet sounded doubtful again. “But
I
could catch up with them. I can catch
anything
.”

Why don't I just let her?
Lucky wondered.
If she's so desperate to find a Pack, I should just tell her to run away as fast as she likes
.

Instead, he found himself rumbling a warning growl. “No, Sweet, you can't.
Shouldn't
, I mean,” he added quickly as she bristled. “You don't know the city; you could get lost.”

Frustrated, Sweet cast her nose around in the air, then barked angrily. “Why did this happen, Lucky? I was fine before. My
Pack
was fine! We were so happy in the open country, and we didn't do any harm to the longpaws. If they'd only left us alone, if they hadn't rounded us up into that awful Trap House—”

She'd come to a miserable halt, and Lucky sat down beside her, wishing he could think of something to say. But he wasn't used to being responsible for another dog. Already it gave him an ache in his heart that he would rather live without.

He opened his jaws to try to reason with her some more, but stopped, gaping, as a gang of fierce, furious creatures tumbled, yowling and squealing, into the street right in front of them.

Lucky felt fear tear through his hackles as his back stiffened. At first, he thought the fighting bundles of fur and teeth were sharpclaws, but then he realized they were different—very different. These animals were round and bushy-tailed, and they didn't hiss. They weren't dogs, and they weren't huge rats. Lucky gave an alarmed yelp, but the creatures didn't respond—they were too busy squabbling over a carcass that was so ripped and torn, he couldn't tell what it had once been.

Next to him, Sweet stood alertly, her eyes on the other animals. She took a moment to nuzzle his neck. “Don't worry about them; they won't hurt us.”

“Are you sure?” asked Lucky. He'd caught sight of the face of one of them, a sinister black mask that seemed full of vicious little teeth.

“They're raccoons,” Sweet replied. “We'll be fine if we give them a wide berth. Try not to show too much interest and they won't feel threatened. I bet they're as hungry as we are.”

Lucky followed Sweet's lead to the far sidewalk. She shot the raccoons a fierce, bristling glare as she went. Lucky copied her, feeling prickles of anxiety in the roots of his fur.

We're not the only ones looking to fill our bellies
, he realized. With everything torn from the ground and lying in ruins, easy pickings were a thing of the past. This was about survival now. He picked up his pace, keen to put as much space as he could between themselves and the raccoons.

A few streets beyond, Lucky tasted familiar air and gave a happy bark. It was the alley he'd been looking for! He ran forward a few paces, then sat down and scratched at his ear with a hindpaw, enjoying the moment, anticipating Sweet's delight. The delicious smell of food was getting stronger. Here, at least, he could guarantee a meal.

“Come on!” he yipped. “I promise, you won't regret this.”

She padded up behind him and cocked her head quizzically. “What is this place?”

He nodded at the panes of clear stone. There were long tubes there. Normally they breathed chicken-scented steam into the air—but not today. Still, this was definitely right. Excited, he turned a couple of circles, tail wagging quickly.

“It's a Food House. A place where longpaws give food to other longpaws!”

“But we're not longpaws,” she pointed out. “Who's going to give food to us?”

“Just you watch.” Lucky jumped forward mischievously, dodging around tumbled trash cans and a small heap of rubble. He tried not to think about how ruined everything was, or that they hadn't seen a single longpaw walking the streets. “We'll do what Old Hunter does. He's the expert!”

Sweet brightened. “Old Hunter? Is he a Packmate of yours?”

“I told you, I don't have a Pack. Old Hunter is just a
friend
. Even Lone Dogs can find huntingmates, you know! Watch this. Copy what I do....”

It was such an easy method of getting food, and it took no time to learn—Lucky was pleased to be able to teach Sweet something. He sat back on his haunches, tilted his head, and let his tongue loll out.

Sweet slowly slinked around him, studying the posture. Her head cocked. “I don't understand,” she whined.

“Just trust me,” Lucky growled.

Sweet whined again, then turned to sit down beside Lucky as she did her best to copy him.

“That's it!” Lucky barked. “Now, lift one ear a little higher. Like this, see? And a friendly mouth—look hungry but hopeful! You got it!”

Lucky wagged his tail as he gave Sweet an affectionate nudge with his muzzle. Then he turned his attention back to the Food House door, and waited. A longpaw would spot them soon. Slow moments passed and Lucky's tail began to wag more and more slowly until it came to rest in the dust. The door stayed resolutely shut, so Lucky padded over to scratch at it. Still no reply. He gave a small, respectful whine.

“How long do we stay like this? It's a bit—undignified,” said Sweet. She licked her chops, then let her tongue hang out again.

“I don't understand....” Lucky's tail drooped in embarrassment. Where was his friendly longpaw? Surely
he
hadn't run from the Big Growl. Lucky scratched at the door again, but still there was no reply.

Sweet's nose was back in the air. “I don't think it's working.”

“The longpaws must be busy, that's all,” Lucky grumbled. “This is an important place for them. They wouldn't have just
left
.” He tried not to notice how high and anxious his voice had become. He trotted behind some bins and spoil-boxes and scratched his way through to a side door. Up on his hind legs, he put his paws against the wood and felt it sag and creak.

“Look! The Food House is broken.” He tugged at a sagging hinge with his teeth. “That's why the longpaws are busy. Come on!”

The smells from inside must have been enticing enough to make Sweet forget her doubts, because she helped him nose and pull and tug at the broken door until it cracked open. Lucky wriggled through ahead of her, his tail thrashing in anticipation of scrumptious food.

He slowed, glancing from side to side. This room was a strange place that he hadn't seen before, lined with huge metal boxes. There were snaking, shiny lengths of what looked like long worms. Lucky knew that these usually hummed with the longpaws' invisible energy. But nothing hummed now. Above him, water dripped from the collapsed roof, and broad cracks ran along the walls.

There was a blurred reflection of him and Sweet in the big steel boxes. Lucky shuddered as he saw how distorted their faces were. The food smell was strong now, but old, and he felt prickles of uncertainty.

“I don't like this,” said Sweet in a low voice.

Lucky whined his agreement. “This isn't the way it normally is. But it should be fine. It's probably just a little bit of damage from the Big Growl.” Tentatively Lucky pushed on through the rubble and mess. Sweet watched him, her muzzle wrinkling with uncertainty. “Don't look like that,” he told her. “Come on!”

She lifted her slender paws high as she moved around broken, splintered shards of white stone that covered the floor.

There was another door, but it was easy to push open—almost too easy, because it swung wildly back and forth, nearly bumping Sweet's roving nose and making her jump. As it grew still again, Lucky sniffed the air.

The chaos was even worse in here, beyond the room of metal boxes; longpaw stuff was flung in heaps, sitting-boxes broken and listing together, thick dust falling from the broken walls to cover everything. Shivers rippled through Lucky's fur.