The Return

by Dayna Lorentz

  Once they were away from the beach, the sand-and-trash dunes, broken stone, and glass thinned out. Pumpkin stood on an empty square of pavement in front of one of the piles that used to be a building, her snout on her chest.

  “This was my den,” she woofed. “I can take us to the shelter from here.” She lifted her small rump and turned away from her old home.

  “We don’t have to go,” Shep yipped, “if you want to take a few more heartbeats.”

  Pumpkin looked at the wreckage, then turned away again. “For what? Everything I loved is no longer here.” She loped down the street, hopping over the larger bits of glass that littered the stone.

  The little show dog led them down block after ruined block. Some buildings were washed away entirely; others looked almost untouched except for the odd broken window or shard of wood sticking out of a wall; however, everything smelled of the wave. A salty rot wafted from every door and window.

  They crossed over a wide expanse of water on a narrow bridge of roadway. Chunks of the road were missing, and they had to bump and hop over the parts that remained. At one place, the road had completely collapsed onto the spit of land beneath it. The pavement ended and there was nothing but a drop of several stretches to the dirt below. What remained of the section of street led like a ramp up from the dirt to the rest of the bridge.

  Fuzz was the first to reach the broken edge of the street. “Watch step,” he hiss-barked, then dropped off the cliff.

  “Fuzz!” Shep yelped. Boji dragged him to the edge.

  Fuzz landed on his paws, some seven stretches below. He looked back up at Shep’s stricken muzzle. “What problem?” he meowed, licking a paw and running it over his ear.

  Rufus trotted to the wagon’s side. “Don’t even think that I’m jumping this,” he grumbled, then glared meaningfully at Callie.

  Callie peered over the edge of the road. “No,” she woofed. “The cat was lucky. I don’t think even Shep at his best could make this jump.” She glanced around, then at each of the dogs. “Okay, we swim.”

  “Swim?” Daisy snorted. Her short fur trembled on her back.

  “Yes,” Callie barked. “Like we did across the canal.”

  “When we lost Cheese?” Boji whimpered.

  Callie stood tall, ears up and tail stiff. “We are nearly home,” she barked. “I know this bridge. And we don’t have to swim far.” She trotted back a few stretches along the roadway. “We jump off here into the water, and then just swim onto the land and walk up that slab of roadway.”

  “Jump here?” cried Pumpkin. “That’s almost — my fur, it’s a million stretches from the roadway to the water!” She shivered so hard her fur vibrated into a cloud of white.

  “Oh, Great Wolf,” Callie sighed. She hopped onto the edge of the roadway and plummeted off the bridge.

  “Callie!” Shep howled. Boji wheeled him closer to the side of the road. Callie dropped, legs stretched in front of her, and then burst into the water with a huge splash. Please be all right, Shep mumbled to himself.

  Callie’s small head sputtered to the surface. “See?” she grunted between pants. “Piece of jerky.” She began paddling for the island under the bridge.

  Shep licked his jowls, trying to take on a more alpha-like look before barking to the others. Callie’s fearlessness shocked him still — he wouldn’t have jumped off that bridge for an entire bag of treats.

  He turned to his pack, whose muzzles betrayed their fears. Only Zeus wore a different look — his constant grimace of disdain.

  Shep pushed himself up off his chest.

  Boji put her paws on the wagon to hold it steady. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she woofed.

  Gingerly placing his paws on the pavement, Shep snorted to clear his snout. “We either jump off this bridge or head back to the beach. I promised to get you all to the shelter, and that’s where I’m going.”

  The dogs licked their jowls and sniffed the edge of the roadway. Only Zeus moved. As he passed, he cocked an eyebrow at Shep, then he dove off the bridge and splashed into the water below.

  “Ha-roo!” Oscar cried, running for the edge. “I’m coming, Zeus!”

  “Oscar, wait!” Shep barked. The pup couldn’t swim!

  Oscar plummeted off the precipice. Shep limped to try to catch his scruff but was too slow. When he got to the edge, however, he saw something amazing. Zeus paddled right under Oscar and caught the pup in his jaws like a tossed Frisbee.

  What do you know? Shep thought, smiling.

  The other dogs watched as Zeus swam with Oscar between his jowls, then placed the pup gently on the shore.

  Zeus dragged his own body out of the water. “Don’t try that again,” he snapped at Oscar.

  The pup’s tail wagged in huge circles and a smile broke out across his tiny snout. “I knew you were a good dog!” he barked. Oscar looked up at the pack with an I-woofed-you-so smirk on his muzzle.

  “Maybe there’s hope for the boxer yet,” yipped Ginny, ears and tail raised in surprise.

  Even Fuzz kept himself from spitting at Zeus when he passed on the way up the ramp.

  Shep ordered Pumpkin to climb onto Dover’s back, since she wouldn’t jump on her own. Boji pushed the wagon off the edge of the street so it landed on the dirt below, and then every dog jumped. The water felt like a paw-thrust to the gut, but Shep survived the drop and swam, sputtering, to the spit of land. As the pack shook the water from their coats, Callie howled, “Let’s get to that shelter!”

  Once off the long bridge, Pumpkin turned down a side street, away from the cold winds. The buildings began to look eerily familiar.

  “By Lassie’s golden coat,” cried Ginny, “we’re home!” She bolted down an alley.

  “We have to stay together!” Callie barked. But it was no use. Boji and Rufus raced after her.

  “We’d better follow,” Shep woofed.

  Dover nodded his head and wheeled the wagon after the others.

  It was only a few blocks to where the old building stood. It was still yellow and a few of the white, ornate balconies clung to its front, but for the most part, it was destroyed. Shep remembered the howling wind that broke Zeus’s wall, the terrifying darkness when El Vator stopped so suddenly, when the roof was torn from the stairwell and Virgil pulled him back from oblivion.

  Dover and Boji sat side by side, and the old timer licked Boji’s golden head. Ginny howled miserably, leaving Rufus, of all dogs, to offer her a comforting woof. Daisy and Oscar considered the building, but not with sadness — Shep guessed maybe Daisy hadn’t loved the place, and Oscar — well, he hadn’t lived there long.

  Zeus spat on the stone. “Good riddance,” he snarled.

  “That’s my home you’re spitting on,” Ginny growled.

  “I hate to woof you this,” Zeus snapped, “but that pile of stones will never again be a home to any of us.”

  Ginny looked about ready to fight Zeus herself.

  Shep shifted his chest, squeaking the wagon’s wheels. “Pumpkin,” he barked, “lead on.”

  The little fluff of white wagged her tail and trotted away down the street.

  Something touched Shep’s nose — out of all the scents of rot and salt and split wood and rusting metal, there came the unmistakable reek of wild dog. He looked at Zeus. No, not him. But Zeus had smelled it, too. His ears pricked forward and his head shot up for a better sniff of air.

  Then Shep saw it — a shadow moving in the deeper shadows of the demolished building.

  “We tracked your scent back here, Great Leader,” the shadow snarled.

  The pack did not run — Shep couldn’t believe his nose, but not one of them smelled afraid.

  “You get out of our home,” growled Ginny — Ginny!

  Rufus barked and bounced on his paws. “Get away, you brutes!”

  The shadow stepped forward and not one but three wild dogs materialized in the light: two with brownish fur and one with a mottled whitish coat, the leader. Only the Great Wolf knew h
ow many more skulked in the wreckage.

  “You dogs best move on,” growled Dover. He lowered his head and bared his teeth.

  Callie planted her paws and snarled. Boji pounced on the dirt in front of her, barking sharply. Even Fuzz curled his spine and hissed and spat at the wild dogs. Shep was stunned to silence. What was this pack? Had he made fighters of them all?

  The lead wild dog seemed as surprised as Shep at the ferocity coming from these pets. “We have no grudge with you, pets,” the white barked. “We want the Great Leader. The rest can go.”

  “He’s not your leader anymore,” Oscar barked. “He’s a part of our pack now.”

  The wild dogs panted. “He’s no more a part of your pack than he was of ours,” the white yipped. “More likely he’s waiting for the first chance to kill you, the way he led us to the slaughter.”

  Zeus shifted slightly and the balloon on his paw popped.

  “That’s our problem now,” yapped Daisy, kicking back with her hind claws. “You go, before we have to get feisty.”

  The lead dog snarled at Daisy and looked over the dogs, as if weighing the odds on fighting the whole pack of them.

  Shep dragged his front paws out of the wagon and padded himself forward. He raised his head and ears and ended the discussion. “You have five heartbeats to get your tails out of my sight before I rip every one of them from your rumps.”

  The wild dogs scented his rage, the power burning inside him that even that sun’s crushing pain and exhaustion couldn’t put out. They stepped back.

  “It’s your hide that’s going to be shredded,” the white barked. The wild dogs slunk into the rubble. In heartbeats, the scent of them was gone from the street.

  Zeus trembled slightly. “Why did you do that?” he grunted. “You could have been killed.”

  “You’d rather we left you to be torn apart by wild dogs?” snapped Callie.

  “Zeus-dog killer, but no dog deserve that death,” Fuzz meowed.

  Boji strode forward. “And you’re not all bad,” she woofed. “We saw you rescue Oscar.”

  “Fuzz think Zeus-dog all bad,” the cat hissed.

  Daisy echoed Fuzz’s disgust. “Let’s not get fur-brained,” she snorted. “He’s a monster, but he’s a part of this pack until we reach the shelter, and I defend my packmates.”

  Oscar leapt at the others’ jowls. “I knew you could forgive us!” he yipped.

  Boji licked his small snout. “If we don’t forgive, how can we hope to move on?” She stood and waved her tail.

  Zeus scowled and looked away from the pack. “You should have let them kill me,” he snuffled.

  “I could never have forgiven myself for that,” Boji woofed. “You want to die so badly, do it yourself.” She loped down the street. “You all coming, or am I the only one ready to see my family?”

  They walked, silent save for the squeak of the wagon’s wheels. What could they woof? Their adventure was over. They were almost home. To bark that they were excited to see their families would have been to ignore how hard it was to think that they would never again be together as a pack. To yip that they would miss each other was too hard. So they remained silent. At least, that was how Shep explained his own inability to bark a woof.

  Every few heartbeats, he glanced at Callie, and the sight of her stopped the beating of his heart. It had been nearly impossible to leave her behind at the boat, and he knew then that he would find her and see his friend again. But now who knew when, if ever, they would see each other’s muzzles? Would their families try to rebuild in this drowned city, and if they did, would they live near enough to each other to even go to the same Park? How could he keep moving forward, knowing that every step took him closer to losing Callie and all his packmates forever?

  “That’s it,” woofed Pumpkin. “That’s the shelter.” She waved her snout at a solid brick building.

  They stopped as one dog, as if tugged by the same leash.

  Shep raised his head and coughed. “It’s been a good adventure,” he woofed, then his bark cracked and he shut his snout.

  Callie slumped beside him and leaned her head against the wagon. “It has,” she snuffled.

  “I won’t miss the food,” yipped Rufus.

  “Oh, hush, you old hairball,” woofed Ginny. She leapt onto Rufus’s back and whimpered. “You loved every mouthful of squirrel you got your teeth on.”

  The two began licking each other’s snouts and whimpering. Then every dog was in on it. Daisy snorted and howled about how much she loved every one of their ugly muzzles. Dover and Boji snuggled close, then pounced on Shep and his wagon. They dragged the small dogs close to them in a big pile of dog love. Oscar leapt into the mix and wriggled like a rat in the kibble pile. Fuzz strutted around the outside of the snuggle, rubbing against whatever fur was exposed and purring loudly.

  Pumpkin sat down next to Zeus. “I feel like I missed out on something,” she yipped.

  “We did,” Zeus snuffled.

  The dog pile was too much for the wagon. Its wheels gave one final squeal, then collapsed. The pack stopped rolling and tumbling around one another. Slowly, they untangled. They separated into individual dogs. Shep lugged his body out of the ruined plastic. It was time to go home.

  An old, bent, and broken fence separated the road from the shelter. It was a tall brick building with many parts and levels, though the section in front of the dogs seemed like a single huge den with a thin line of windows near its ceiling. Shep didn’t smell or see any green men — maybe so long after the storm, they didn’t care who or what came into the shelter.

  The dogs squeezed one at a time through a large hole in the fence, then stood as a pack on the stretch of pavement that led to the shelter. A metal door was propped open, and the dogs smelled the warm, human scents wafting out of it.

  “Thank you!” Pumpkin yipped. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!” she cried, leaping at Shep’s jowls. “I never thought I’d make it back to my mistress, but you got me here.” She turned to the rest of the pack. “And thank you all! I’ll never forget our journey!” Then she bounded toward the shelter, barking for her mistress the whole way.

  Ginny flounced over to Shep, planted her paws against his chest, and licked his nose. “I never believed that a dog could really be as wonderful as Lassie,” she woofed. “But you, Shep, are that dog.” She waved her tail to him and flopped onto the pavement.

  “Good-bye, packmates,” she woofed. “I never thought we’d make it, but just look at us! We survived! Huzzah!” She wagged her tail, then nodded her snout and trotted for the door.

  Rufus snorted and raised his square snout. “It wasn’t all great,” he barked. “But it also wasn’t all terrible.” He sniffed his nose at Shep. “You were a good alpha.”

  Shep nodded his snout at Rufus. “And you weren’t always a complete pain in the tail.”

  Rufus smiled for a heartbeat and wagged his stumpy tail. “Yes, well, neither were you,” he woofed, then loped toward the door.

  Dover turned to Shep. His eyes were deep and shining, and a smile played on his jowls. “You made this happen, pup,” he woofed. He padded closer to Shep and waved his tail. “I know you didn’t like those stories Oscar told, but you really were our champion. You saved the lives of a lot of pets, and you brought me out of a city-killing storm and back to my family.” He licked Shep’s snout. “Thank you, Shep.”

  “You’re welcome,” Shep yipped. He felt like if he woofed anything more, he might start howling and never stop.

  Dover nodded his snout, turned, and trotted toward the door.

  Happy shouts of humans and dogs echoed out of the shelter.

  Boji’s ears and tail lifted at the sound. She looked back at Shep. “What Dover said,” she woofed. “And so much more, my friend. I’ll never forget you.”

  Shep licked her snout. “You saved my life,” he barked. “I owe you one.”

  “What does it matter anymore, who saved whom?” Boji smiled.

  “How
about you be my hero?” Shep yipped.

  “Well, that works,” she woofed. “Because you’re mine.”

  With a final nuzzle of the snout, Boji loped toward the shelter door.

  A young woman with limp black hair stepped out of the door and glanced around the pavement. Her eyes stopped at Daisy and she smiled.

  Daisy nipped Oscar’s hide; both of their tails were wagging.

  “I guess we’d better head home,” Daisy snuffled. She nodded her head at Shep and gave a flick of her knot-tail. “Alpha,” she woofed, “I was always — snort — proud to serve you.”

  Shep nodded his snout to her. “You helped defend our pack,” he said, tail waving. “I feel lucky to have had you as a packmate.”

  She trembled slightly, eyes wide, then snorted and kicked her back leg. “Let’s go, pup!” she yipped and raced for the woman. Tears streamed down the human’s cheeks as she flung her arms around Daisy’s fat chest.

  Oscar stayed frozen in his sit, staring up at Shep’s muzzle. “What am I going to do without you?” he whimpered.

  Shep limped next to him and licked his head. “You’ll grow into a big dog,” he woofed. “And become some other pup’s hero, and he’ll make up crazy stories about you because he loves you, and you’ll love him back, no matter what fur-brained nonsense comes out of his snout.”

  “What if I never see you again?” Oscar woofed, his bark trembling.

  “You’ll always have the Storm Shaker,” Shep yipped. “And the Great Wolf will watch over you.”

  Oscar flung himself against Shep’s chest. “You’ll always be my hero,” he woofed.

  Shep snuggled the pup’s head with his muzzle. “You’re a good dog, Oscar,” he snuffled. “You’ll always be in my heart.”

  The pup dropped to his paws and went over to Zeus. “Be the dog I see in you,” he woofed.

  Oscar then nuzzled against Callie, and she licked his head. Finally, he raced across the pavement, barking for his mistress to pet him, too.

  Zeus watched the pup bound across the stone. “What did Oscar see?” he snuffled.

  “He sees what I see,” Shep woofed. “My old friend.”