Read Online The Pack by Dayna Lorentz - Free Book Online Page B

these seafaring survivors lay on its side several stretches from the top of the ramp, jammed against the buildings: a giant boat, thirty stretches long at least.
    â€œIt’s sturdy,” Blaze woofed, “and all the walls and floors are intact, even if some of the windows are broken. It’s a lot more than one dog can defend, but I think the pack of us can keep it secure.”
    Shep stared. His boy had taken him on a boat once, though one much smaller than the specimen lying on the street in front of him. Shep hadn’t liked riding in that boat. It had bounced around on the water and spat spray at him as it skittered along the waves. But this boat looked calm enough, sleeping on its side. Perhaps when out of the water, boats couldn’t give a dog stomach cramps that made him moan for a whole sun.
    If that was true, it was perfect in every way. The boat looked big enough to house the whole pack, with extra space for any other dogs they rescued. The top level was smashed, but below it was a level lined with windows, and Shep thought there was another level still inside the curved beetle-shell of the boat’s hull: The part of the boat that cut through the water was a single sheet of plastic save for a band of small windows like eyes around its edge.
    In terms of defense, the boat appeared impenetrable. Its topmost level was pressed against a building, its hull was solid, and the space between the curve of the beetle-bottom and the street was jammed full of sand and garbage. That left only the narrow, square back and pointed front, and the windowed top-side exposed. Any attackers would have a tough time finding a way in.
    Even better, all around them were buildings to be scavenged for food. And finding a drink wouldn’t be a problem, as several of the small boats in the plaza were filled with fresh rainwater. It was paradise!
    â€œMy, my,” woofed Higgins, “now that’s a yacht if I ever smelled one.”
    â€œIt’s not a yacht,” barked Shep. “It’s a boat.”
    Higgins growled, then snorted loudly. “A yacht is a boat, you fuzz head.”
    â€œWatch it, Furface,” Blaze grumbled, moving to stand over Higgins.
    Surprise flashed across Higgins’s muzzle, but he left it alone. Shep panted to himself — it was nice to have one dog on his side. Then again, did he need Blaze to defend him? And from Higgins, at that? Higgins was just joking. Right?
    â€œIf we can stay on the scent,” Callie snapped. “How do we get inside this thing?”
    The dogs loped closer to the top level of the boat, which was crushed against the metal-covered front of one of the buildings. The plastic sheets and metal branches that had once formed flimsy walls on this upper deck were bent and folded against the building, forming a web of ceiling. Dim shafts of light shone through the bars, illuminating the tangle of wreckage on the street. About ten stretches in, the cracked remains of a window wall extended above a wide counter with a silver wheel, which Shep recognized as the place humans sat to control the boat.
    Higgins sniffed the metal front of the building. “Smells salty,” he yapped. “The wave must’ve knocked the boat out of the canal and rammed it into this wall.”
    Callie poked her nose into the debris. “There’s a hole in the boat’s wall — grr, former floor, it seems. I think it leads into the den.” She leapt over a toppled stool and trotted straight up to the edge of the hole, gave a quick sniff, then glanced back at the others, ears up and tail waving. “Last dog in is a soggy kibble!” she barked and sprang into the dark.
    Blaze snorted, as if offended by Callie’s exuberance, then bounded in after her. Higgins scampered through the hole and got stuck halfway through. Shep nudged his rump, pushing him inside. The Furface glanced back, and in a sheepish woof, said, “Much