by Peter Howe
“You know,” she said after walking next to them for about fifteen minutes, “I’m actually adding to your danger, because there’s no way I can make myself inconspicuous like you do. I’ll walk on the opposite side of the street, and that way if I attract any attention, it will take it away from you.”
This seemed like a sensible idea, and Cicero and Pilodus seemed especially relieved when Felicia crossed to the other side of the road. They were heading north along one of the wide avenues into an area that was more industrial than the residential districts they had passed through before. No sooner were they moving in this new formation than a police car cruised slowly by. The two officers inside peered at Felicia. She walked on, flashing them a warm smile and a slight wave of her hand. The car pulled to a stop and one of the policemen got out. The dogs on the opposite sidewalk froze under parked cars, barely daring to breath.
“Good morning, ma’am,” the patrolman said to Felicia. “Do you have any ID on you?”
“I certainly do, officer,” said Felicia. “If you’ll just hang on a minute.”
She rummaged under her clothing and finally revealed a money belt that was hidden beneath several layers. Out of it she took a tattered driver’s license and passed it to the cop. He looked at it with a puzzled expression on his face.
“You’re a long way from home,” he said.
Felicia leaned over and looked at the document as if she wasn’t sure why he’d said this.
“Ah, yes,” she replied. “Well, you see, I haven’t lived at that address for some time.”
“What is your present address?” he asked.
“Well, I guess pretty much where I’m standing right now,” she decided.
“You mean,” said the cop, “that you’re homeless, right?”
“Well,” Felicia replied thoughtfully, “I suppose in a technical sense you’re right, except that I am without a permanent residence as a matter of choice rather than necessity.”
“That may or may not be true,” continued the officer, “but the fact of the matter is that you are homeless, and there are certain vagrancy laws that apply to folks in your situation in New York City. If you have no visible means of support, I’ll have to take you into custody.”
“By visible means of support you mean money, credit cards, that sort of thing?”
“That sort of thing, right,” agreed the policeman.
Felicia dove back into her money belt and extracted from it a small bundle of dollar bills and a piece of plastic. The cop looked at both in amazement, comparing the name on the credit card with the name on the license and the photo on the license with Felicia herself.
“Is this your credit card?” he asked in amazement.
“Yes,” she said, “but I rarely use it. I don’t like living with debt.”
The officer clearly did not know what to make of her.
“Why are you walking through here at this time of the morning?” he asked.
“Well, I’m making my way upstate and I wanted to get an early start,” she replied, not altogether truthfully.
“Lady, it’s three fifteen a.m.!”
“Well, that’s early enough, isn’t it?” she said innocently.
He gave her back her license, credit card, and money.
“This neighborhood ain’t the safest place for a woman to be by herself at this time of night,” he said. “If you’re going to travel like this, you should probably get yourself a dog or something.”
“You know, officer,” Felicia said with a smile, “I probably will.”
“You do that, and have a nice day.” And he got back into the car and drove off.
Felicia sat down on the curb.
“Phew,” she said. “That was close. I’m sorry to have exposed you to that kind of risk. Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll keep following from the other side of the street, but I’ll hang back a bit.”
Then Waggit had a good idea, which sounded as if he had understood what the policeman had been saying, though of course he hadn’t.
“You know,” he said, “an Upright with nine dogs is strange, right? But an Upright with two dogs is nothing special. Why don’t two of us travel with you? That’ll make you safer, and it’ll be two less dogs who have to sneak along, which makes things easier for the others.”
“I have an even better idea,” said Felicia. “Why don’t I put the board in my backpack and carry Lowdown? I can still walk with two others, and then that only leaves six to travel undercover.”
The dogs thought this was an excellent plan, especially Lowdown. The novelty of the skateboard had now worn off, and he found it almost as tiring to balance on it as to walk, though not as painful. When the board was safely stowed in her backpack, Felicia attached two pieces of string to Gordo and Alona, the dogs who had volunteered to walk with her. As she explained to them, the last thing she wanted was another run-in with the authorities because of local leash laws. She then scooped up Lowdown and settled him under her arm.
“You’re heavier than you look,” she commented.
“And smarter,” Lowdown retorted. “Just be glad it’s me with the tired old legs and not Gordo.”
The strange caravan continued its journey. They were in a neighborhood that had once been a bustling industrial and commercial area but was now abandoned and decaying. They passed a former factory building, its long line of windows mostly smashed out and its walls decorated with scrawls of graffiti. Here and there wrecked cars littered the streets, some burned and others vandalized. In some ways the desolation of the area was a benefit to the dogs. There was no one on the street except for the occasional homeless person, who seemed as intent upon remaining unnoticeable as they were. The danger of this bleak environment was that there were no friendly passersby. Anyone the dogs met would likely be up to no good, especially the gangs that often roamed the area, according to Cicero and Pilodus.
But the big advantage of the place was the number of buildings that could be used as havens. Almost any one of the structures they saw would offer shelter to traveling animals, but there was one that the Ductors favored. In its heyday it had been a busy factory, manufacturing screws and bolts, but now it was in the same sad state of decay as its neighbors.
A chain-link fence with two padlocked gates surrounded the whole structure, but there were several places where the fence had been broken open, and the dogs filed one by one into the yard. It was one of those situations where dogs had an advantage over people. There was no break in the enclosure big enough to allow Felicia through.
“I’ll just pop ’round the back and see if there’s a wall I can climb over or something,” she said cheerily, and disappeared around the back of the building after putting Lowdown back on the pavement. Pilodus led the dogs to a side entrance, carefully hugging the wall. The yard was lit with powerful lights that cast a yellowish orange glow, but the interior of the building was as black and dark as anywhere Waggit had ever been. Even though Pilodus had used this haven many times, he was always cautious when approaching it. The receptor had told him that it had been vandalized a number of times. All the copper piping had been stolen, and most of the machinery, and although there was little of value left to take, it was smart to be careful. Everyone was relieved when a black and white dog with a huge mane of hair poked his head out of the doorway and said, “It’s okay. Everything’s safe.”
It was then that they heard Felicia’s screams.
12
Reunited
The screams were scary anyway, but because Waggit knew Felicia so well, they were especially frightening. He had watched her in tough situations before, and she had always kept her cool. He had only ever seen her break down once, and that was after they told her about the death of Lug when he was killed in the fight with Tashi. To hear the terror in her shouts now was alarming.
“Quick,” he yelled, “follow me! Felicia needs us.”
And without thinking about what they might find, the dogs all turned and ran with him ba
ck through the hole in the fence through which they had come just moments before. Even Lowdown hobbled after them, not because he could contribute to the group’s fighting power, but because there was nobody better at coming up with an instant battle plan.
Once they were on the other side of the fence, the dogs raced around the building. As they turned the far corner, they were faced with a sight that froze the blood in their veins. In front of them were five or six young men and one older one. He was holding Felicia from behind, with one hand over her face, trying to smother her screams, and the other hand pressing the blade of a knife to her throat.
“Stoners!” cried Waggit.
“Be careful,” warned Magica. “They’ve got silver claws.”
The dogs barked ferociously at the men and then crouched into attack position, ready to spring.
“Get her money!” yelled the older man to the others. “I know she’s got some. It’s hidden on her somewhere.”
But the younger men had seen the dogs and were backing off.
“Never mind those mutts!” shouted Felicia’s attacker. “They ain’t gonna hurt you, but I will if you don’t get the money.”
“But I’m scared of dogs,” whimpered one of the tougher-looking Stoners.
“Oh, poor me, I’m scared of dogs,” mocked the older man in a whiny voice. “Well, be more scared of this.” He took the knife away from Felicia’s throat and pointed it at the frightened young man.
“Go, Waggit,” said Lowdown who had been watching the action. “Go now!”
Without another word Waggit leaped toward the man’s hand. Before Felicia’s attacker could return the knife to her throat, Waggit’s jaws trapped his wrist, and he bit down with all his might. The man howled in agony.
“Get him off me,” he cried to his sidekicks, who were torn between their fear of the dogs and their even greater fear of the older man. They started kicking at the animals, trying to keep the dogs away as they inched toward their leader. It was at this point that Gordo threw his considerable weight against the back of the man’s knees, causing him to come crashing down, bringing Felicia with him. Waggit was still clamped to the man’s wrist, while Gordo, not the fastest mover at the best of times, was unable to get away from the two humans before they fell and was now squashed underneath both of them. The other dogs were snarling and snapping at the young men when Alona looked up and cried, “Tazar!”
Sprinting around the building toward the tumult came the rest of the team, led by Tazar. The sight of reinforcements was too much for the young men, who ran for their lives in all directions. The older one released Felicia and tried to scramble to his feet, kicking Waggit in the stomach. This had the effect the man was hoping for. Waggit had to let go of his wrist, and the knife clattered to the ground. Without bothering to pick it up, the would-be mugger ran off, nursing his injured arm.
Despite the retreat of their attackers, there was still chaos at the scene, with Felicia sitting on the ground, Waggit next to her trying to get his breath back, and the other dogs yelping in victory, ecstatic to be reunited with their teammates. Everyone was licking everyone else. Finally Tazar walked up to Felicia, who still hadn’t made it to her feet.
“Lady Felicia,” he said graciously, “it’s good to see you again, even under such troubling circumstances.”
“It’s always good to see you, Tazar,” Felicia replied breathlessly, “but never more so than now.”
“Where did you find Waggit and his group?” asked Tazar.
“Actually they found me,” she replied. “I was making a tour of every park in the city trying to find you. We met at the one that runs beside the river just a few hours ago, although I must say it seems longer.”
“How did you get separated from them?” he asked.
“Looking for a way into the yard,” she answered. “As you can see, I don’t fit into any of the holes in the fence.”
“Ah, it’s a pity you didn’t go the other way,” said Tazar. “There’s a gate there that even someone as tall as you can fit through. Follow me.”
Felicia staggered to her feet, and with the black dog leading, the entire entourage made its way to the opposite side of the building. Sure enough, halfway along there was a gate that had almost completely fallen off its hinges and now leaned in an open position. They all filed through it and entered the haven.
It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the blackness inside the building, but once they became used to the gloom, they could see that they were in a huge open space that once was the heart of the factory. The remains of some wrecked machines lay in parts on the floor, but anything valuable had been stolen long ago. The dogs were so delighted and relieved to be together again that they paid scant attention to their surroundings. Even Gruff, who was the grouchiest dog anyone had ever met, seemed quite pleased to see his teammates, and so were Cicero and Pilodus when they found Dragoman and Naviga.
The receptor, however, was far from happy. He might have had the mane of a lion, but he certainly didn’t have the heart of one.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” he fretted to no one in particular. “Oh my, oh my, I can’t stand it when things like that happen. I don’t like attracting attention. I know there aren’t many people around, but you never know. It’s not good to create a stir. It brings down the tone of the location.”
Looking around, you would have thought it impossible for this desolate place to become worse, but Waggit had noticed that receptors seemed to be overly sensitive about the spots they were in charge of. As with most havens, this one had good points and bad points, and sometimes they were the same. Here the isolation made it safer because there were fewer human beings, and yet that also made it more dangerous, because those people who were in the area were usually up to no good. The same applied to the food supply: A lack of humans meant a lack of trash for scavenging. Because of this the haven had to have a stash nearby, and the food that it contained had to be brought in from other areas, a time-consuming and dangerous process. But there was always an extra source of sustenance. As they settled in, the dogs heard the telltale rustle of rats.
“Scurries!” said Raz gleefully.
“Fresh meat!” said Cal.
In no time at all a hunting party was organized, and soon they returned with a meal fit for a queen—but not a human queen. When Felicia was offered some, she looked as if she was about to be sick but managed to overcome it by nibbling on a stale bagel that had been retrieved from the stash. Nobody got much sleep that day. There were stories to be told and plans to be made. Everyone wanted to hear about Felicia’s adventures in “South.” She was a good storyteller, and the dogs rolled around howling with laughter over the outrageous things that had happened to her, or stayed deathly quiet when she described the scary, perilous parts of her journey. Even the Ductors enjoyed the tales, once they got over the shock of being able to understand what she was saying.
Notes were compared between the two groups, each trying to outmatch the other in the degrees of danger and discomfort they claimed they had suffered on the trip. The reality was that for such a difficult undertaking, everything had gone remarkably smoothly, except for the attack on Felicia. Secretly, the Ductors thought the Tazarians had brought the incident upon themselves by being involved with a human in the first place, even one dogs could understand. When they finally ran out of stories and began to drift off to sleep, a visitor woke them; Beidel had arrived.
He entered like an emperor, with the other Ductors fussing around in attendance, and went straight to Tazar. Waggit had noticed that Beidel rarely spoke to anyone else if a leader was present, and this made the younger dog glad, not for the first time, that Tazar was head of the Tazarians. He couldn’t imagine that Beidel was ever fun in the way that Tazar could be, and couldn’t imagine him playing the kind of practical jokes that Tazar loved.
“I assume your journey was uneventful,” Beidel said, leader to leader.
“It was fine,” Tazar complimented him. “Very sm
ooth. You have a good organization.”
“It has been honed over many risings and through the passage of many dogs,” the other replied. “We live to serve our fellow animals.”
Even when he was trying to be humble, Beidel sounded boastful.
“I hear,” he continued, “that the only incident didn’t involve a dog at all, but an Upright some of your team traveled with. Do you think it’s wise to associate with the enemy like that?”
“If it was any other Upright, I would emphatically tell you no,” replied Tazar, “but this one is well known to our team and has been a true friend. She is always welcome among us. I would introduce you, but I see that she’s sleeping, and like most Uprights, she’s difficult to wake.”
Felicia was stretched out in her sleeping bag at the far end of the building. As if to emphasize Tazar’s comments, she let out a huge snort and rolled over, blissfully unaware that she was the topic of conversation.
“Well, that is a pleasure that will have to be delayed,” said Beidel, his tone of voice implying he thought it unlikely to be a pleasure and one that he would be happy to delay forever.
“This will be your last haven,” Beidel continued, changing the subject. “We should be able to guide you to the new park before the next light.”
“The assistance you have given us is greatly appreciated by my team,” said Tazar. “If there is any way we can repay you, don’t hesitate to call on us.”
