The Empty City (4 page)

Abruptly he stopped, drawing his lips back from his teeth.
What's that smell? I know it, but …
He couldn't repress a frightened growl. Something moved in the corner.

Lucky took a few hesitant paces, crouching low to the ground. The scent felt strong inside his nose. He bounded forward and pawed at the fallen debris. There was someone here!

White dust stirred and swirled; Lucky heard a groan, and a breathless rasping of longpaw words. He recognized only one. “Lucky …”

The voice was weak, but it was familiar. Whimpering, Lucky sank his teeth into one of the huge broken beams and leaned his weight back on his paws, heaving. His whole body trembled with the effort, and he could feel his teeth being pulled from his jaws. It was no good! He released his bite and fell back, panting with the effort. The longpaw lay still and unmoving beneath the beam, a trickle of dried blood tracking down his face.

Lucky drew closer, ignoring his instincts, which were telling him to run away as fast as he could. Behind him, he could hear Sweet pacing with anxiety. Lucky lowered his head over the longpaw's body. One arm was free of the rubble, twisted at an unnatural angle. The longpaw's face was pale as snow, his lips a horribly unnatural blue, but they curved in a smile as his eyes met Lucky's.

He's alive!
Lucky licked at his nose and cheeks, gently clearing some of the coating of dust. If Lucky could just clean the longpaw up, he'd look much healthier—just like his old self. But as Lucky stepped back, he saw that the skin beneath the dust was gray. The longpaw's ragged breath was the faintest of whispers, barely stirring the fur on Lucky's muzzle.

The longpaw's eyes flickered open, and with a groan of pain he lifted his trembling free hand to pat Lucky's head. Lucky nuzzled and licked him again, but the hand fell away, and the eyes closed once more.

“Wake up, longpaw,” Lucky whined softly, his tongue lashing the cold, pale face. “Wake up....”

Lucky waited. But the lips were still and cold.

The whisper of breath was gone.

A yelp of despair shattered the
silence. Turning hurriedly away from the dead longpaw, Lucky stared at Sweet. Every hair on her sleek coat seemed to bristle with fear. Stiff-legged, she backed away, tail tight between her legs.

“I don't want your city!” she whined. “There's death and danger
everywhere
. I can't stand it!”

She let loose a howl of disgust and sprinted, making the door swing wildly once again as she shot through it. Lucky scrambled after her, knowing he had no hope of catching a swift-dog.

But Sweet's speed did her no favors in the close quarters of the steel room. She was hemmed in, dashing desperately from reflection to distorted reflection, crashing wildly into the metal boxes, and skidding on the slick floor. When she slammed into a wall in her terror, Lucky lunged forward and pinned her to the ground.

She squirmed beneath him, panicking, but Lucky kept his forepaws firmly on her sweating flank, his eyes fixed on hers. “Calm down! You're going to hurt yourself.”

“I can't stay....”

As Sweet's barks fell away to anxious pants, Lucky let his weight gently flop down on her. “It's nothing to be scared of, Sweet. He's only dead.” He repeated what he was sure she already knew, hoping to calm her. “It's a natural smell: the longpaw's life force. Just like when we die—our selves leave our bodies, become part of the world.”

Lucky had been taught ever since he was a pup that that was the way of life and death. When a dog met his end and his body went to the Earth-Dog, his self floated up to meet all the scents of the air, to mingle with them and become part of the whole world. That's what was happening to the longpaw now, Lucky was certain.

Sweet's flanks stopped heaving as her panting breaths subsided. Lucky could still see the whites of her wide, fearful eyes. He cautiously released her and she climbed to her feet. “I know that,” she growled. “But I don't want to be anywhere near escaping longpaw spirits. I want to find as many dogs as we can. We need to track down other survivors, and get us all out of here
right now
!”

“But there's nothing we need to get away from—nothing will hurt us now, Sweet. The Food House fell on the longpaw in the Big Growl, that's all....” Lucky needed Sweet to trust him. If he could reassure her, perhaps all of this would make sense to Lucky, too.

“Where are the other longpaws?” Sweet barked, tossing her head. “They've either run away or they're dead, Lucky! I'm leaving this city, and I'm going to find a Pack. So should you!”

Lucky opened his mouth to speak, but the words dried up in his throat. He could only stare at her sadly. Sweet half-turned to leave, then froze with one paw raised and all her muscles tensed, eager to flee. She gazed at Lucky for a long moment, licking her lips uncertainly. “Aren't you coming with me?”

Lucky hesitated. The idea of a Pack didn't appeal to him one bit, but—for some reason—he didn't want Sweet to leave. He liked having her around. For the first time, he felt himself tremble at the prospect of being alone. And she was waiting for him, ears pricked, eyes hopeful....

He shook himself. He'd spent his whole life on these streets. That's what he was—a Lone Dog.

“I can't.”

“But you can't stay here!” Sweet howled.

“I told you: I'm not a Pack Dog. I never will be.”

She gave a sharp bark of exasperation. “Dogs aren't meant to be alone!”

Lucky gave her a regretful look. “
I
am.”

Sweet sighed, and padded back to him. Fondly she licked his face. Lucky nuzzled her in response, fighting down a mournful whine that wanted to erupt from his belly.

“I'll miss you,” she said quietly. Then she turned to wriggle through the door.

Lucky padded forward. “You don't have to …” But with a flash of her tail, she was gone. Lucky found himself staring at an empty space.

For a while, Lucky didn't feel like moving. He settled down on his belly, chin resting on his forepaws as he listened to the click of Sweet's claws on the ground, fading into the ruined emptiness of the streets. Even when he could hear her no longer, her scent still clung to the air. He wished it would vanish—and take this terrible pang of loneliness with it.

Lucky shut his eyes and tried to focus his mind on other things.

But that just left the hunger.

It was like a set of sharp teeth, gnawing and chewing at his stomach. Lucky was almost relieved to feel the pain—at least it took his mind off Sweet.
That's why I don't let myself get close to other dogs
, he thought.

Back in the room with the dead longpaw, Lucky sniffed and scratched in every corner, licking at crumbs and grease. Some of the broken things on the floor held smears of food, so he lapped at them, trying not to cut his tongue; then he leaped onto one of the untoppled tables to find small scraps to nibble on. There was so little, and the tantalizing taste of it only made his stomach growl louder, the teeth bite harder. He didn't go near the longpaw, forced himself not to look.

I'm on my own now. This is the way it should be
.

The steel room would have food, he was sure—that was what must be in the metal boxes lined up around the walls. But when he scratched at them, they refused to open. Whimpering in hunger, he tugged and bit at the metal doors. They stuck firm. He flung his body against them. Nothing. It was no use: He was going to have to wander farther, see what else he could find.

At least he'd be in the open air again, he thought: free and easy, the way he used to be. He had looked after himself just fine until now—and he would keep on doing that.

Lucky headed back out into the alleyway. It seemed so much emptier than before, and he found himself scampering as fast as he could across the rubble, until he reached the broad open space beyond. Surely he'd find something here? It had always been such a bustle of noise and energy, full of longpaws and their loudcages.

There were plenty of loudcages, sure enough, but none of them was moving and there was still not a longpaw in sight, friendly or otherwise. Some of the loudcages had fallen onto their flanks—a big, long one had crashed its blunt snout into an empty space in the wall of a building, shattered pieces of clear-stone glittering. Picking his way carefully through the shards, Lucky felt his hackles rise. The scent of longpaw was back in the air, but it was not comforting: It was the scent that had settled on the Food House owner when he had grown still. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the steady drip and trickle of water.

Above him the Sun-Dog, which had been so high and bright, was casting long shadows from the buildings that had withstood the Big Growl. Each time he passed through one of the pools of darkness, Lucky shivered and hurried back into the light. He kept moving, the patches of light growing steadily smaller, the shadows longer, and the ache of hunger in his belly sharper.

Maybe I should have gone with Sweet
…

No
. There was no point thinking that way. He was a Lone Dog again, and that was
good
.

He turned and trotted determinedly down another alley. This was his city! There was
always
food and comfort to be had here. Even if he had to dig deep for the leftovers in Food House spoil-boxes, or find another overturned smell-box in the road, there would be something the crows and the rats hadn't found. He was self-reliant, independent Lucky.

He was not going to starve.

Lucky drew to a stop as he got his bearings. This alley wasn't as damaged by the Big Growl as other places, but there was one deep, vicious crack running up the middle of it, and two spoil-boxes had been knocked flying. There might be a real feast there, if he rummaged. Lucky bounded up to the nearest one—then froze, nerves crackling beneath his fur. The scent was sharp and strong, and he knew it well.

Enemy!

Lips peeling back from his teeth, he sniffed the air to pinpoint the creature. Above him was a set of slender steps going up a wall, and his instincts pulled his eyes, ears, and nose toward it: That was the kind of place where this enemy liked to lurk, ready to pounce, needle-claws raking.

There it was: striped fur bristling, pointed ears laid flat, and tiny, glinting fangs bared. Its low, threatening growl was punctuated by vicious hissing as it crouched, every muscle taut for its attack.

Sharpclaw!

The green-yellow eyes glared down at
Lucky. He fought to suppress the tight ball of nerves in his belly even as his neck fur lifted. The sharpclaw would smell fear, he knew that; it would sense any hesitation—but Lucky would not hesitate.

His lips pulled back from his teeth and he raised his head to bark the most ferocious bark he could muster.

I'm dangerous, too, sharpclaw....

It got to its feet, stiff-legged and swollen to what seemed like twice its size, fur standing on end all over its arched body. One paw almost lifted, claws unsheathed and ready to strike. Lucky told himself not to look away and trained his gaze determinedly on the other animal, deepening his snarl.

Its growling and hissing were ferocious now, and Lucky felt sharpclaw spit land on his nose. The creature launched itself from the rickety ladder, and Lucky forced himself to hold his ground as the sharpclaw landed lightly, perfectly, on a half-wrecked loudcage. It drew itself up with a lethal glare.