CHAPTER NINETEEN

PACK MEETING

 

 

HOURS PASSED IN preparation. Preparation that brought Dorothy Barker and Robert Browning back to the cell, battered and bruised.

Evelyn could not rest. She returned tired and gaunt from her exertions.

Ben Gun was a pup and needed little rest. He seemed to thrive on the adventure and on the responsibility that Edward Leer had handed to him. The tale-teller showed no outward change. If he was tired or hungry, if he was anxious, he did not show it.

They made a strange group as they walked Track Two towards Ezra Pound’s den, six Aux who until two days ago had nothing in common, except for the mates, Dorothy Barker and Robert Browning. The useless omega bitch was an outsider, never seen with anyone, and the pup was just a pup.

The oddest sight was Robert Browning carrying the second pup, wrapped in the blanket, his hand reaching out to hold Ben Gun’s. He was a stranger to Zoo Pack, and everyone they passed stopped to watch them as they made their way along the track.

Some of the Aux sensed that something was afoot, and began to follow the disparate little band. They whispered to each other about the bruises on Robert Browning’s and Dorothy Barker’s faces, and about why these six Aux should be together in one group.

The tale-teller brought up the rear. He said nothing, despite one or two of the Aux calling out to him. He listened to them, though, the whispers they spoke to one another.

As they reached the command centre, word began to spread, and several of the lieutenants that had been in Robert Browning’s meeting began to appear. The dams had set up a whispering campaign too, after Dorothy Barker had spoken to them and spread the word among them.

Her mate gave her status. She had ended up scrapping with three of them, nevertheless, but had come out on top. The meeting had ended badly for her, but dams are more cynical, more competitive, with more to lose. They take longer to make decisions, are less likely to embrace change or challenge the status quo.

The dams, too, knew that change was coming, and that their lives were under threat. They sensed that Dorothy Barker might be giving them a useful warning. They, too, watched the procession. Soon, a substantial crowd began to gather behind the little group, following them down to the Alpha dog’s den.

The narrow passage allowed for only one Aux to enter the command room at a time, and Thomas Meltdown at the entrance baulked at the sight of Robert Browning carrying the pup.

“You, why have you come?” he asked.

“You know why,” said Robert Browning. “It is time.”

The Aux looked nervous, and Robert Browning was about to reason with him when Oscar so Wild stepped into the entrance. He had been in the command room with Ezra Pound. As one of his senior lieutenants, Wild was often in the command room with the Alpha dog.

“You, let him pass,” said Oscar so Wild. The two Aux, bruised and battered by each other’s fists, nodded to one another. Oscar so Wild stood aside for Robert Browning to enter the room with his burden, and for Evelyn, Dorothy, Ben and Edward Leer to follow.

Ezra Pound sat in his chair at the far end of the room, with several of his lieutenants in attendance, the same Aux who had been in Robert Browning’s meeting only a few hours before.

“What is this?” asked Ezra Pound. “Who is this?” He gestured at the pup. He seemed irked by the intrusion.

“This, him Walter Sickert,” said Evelyn War over Robert Browning’s shoulder.

“Walter Sickert?” spat Ezra Pound, as if the name meant nothing to him. Then he remembered. “Saul Bellow, him shunned the pup as mad.” He gestured with a hand as if to wave Robert Browning away.

“Saul Bellow, him dead,” said Robert Browning. “Deader and dead, and all the Warschauer Pack with him.”

“Me, I was there,” said Ezra Pound, his anger rising. “Me, I saw him, I spoke to him, I ate and drank with him. Saul Bellow, him not dead.”

“Us, we went back,” said Evelyn War. “Me, I wanted to talk to a Hearer. Alpha dog, you denied me... Me, I went back.”

“Me, I went with her. Me, I took her back to Warschauer,” said Robert Browning, defiant.

“And me! I went to Warschauer!” said Ben Gun, loudly from behind Evelyn.

There was laughter from one or two of the beta dogs in the room. The pup didn’t know what he was saying, didn’t know what he was doing speaking up in front of Ezra Pound.

“Him, shut him up,” spat Ezra Pound, glaring at Robert Browning. Browning only glanced over his shoulder at the young Aux. But Ben Gun didn’t notice. All he knew was that Walter Sickert was squeezing his hand, encouraging him.

“Deader than dead,” said Ben Gun, “the Warschauer, all of them.”

“The pup, get him out of here,” growled Ezra Pound.

Evelyn stood close to Ben Gun, one arm around his shoulder, as Thomas Meltdown drew close. If Robert Browning wouldn’t do Ezra Pound’s bidding, there were still plenty of Aux in Zoo Pack who would.

Then Edward Leer stepped forward.

“Ezra Pound, Alpha dog, leave the pup, him alone. Him is foolish, him is eager. Him brought your scrappers home safer and safe. Him is true to the Zoo Pack.”

“You defend him?” roared Ezra Pound, sitting upright in his chair, his hands squarely on his knees.

“Us, we all defend him,” said Robert Browning, “and each other. The Warschauer Pack is deader and dead. Them didn’t get whet. Them didn’t kill. Them died.”

“Us, we’re dying,” said Oscar so Wild, quietly.

“You!” shouted Ezra Pound. “You! What do you know?”

“Me, I know what we all know,” said Oscar so Wild. “I know what you know.”

Ezra Pound thought for a moment.

“What do I know?” he asked.

The meeting was long and slow, and there was much arguing. No one challenged Ezra Pound. No one got the bone to challenge the Alpha dog. There was too much change in the world for change in Zoo Pack.

They talked of the ice dying and of the sentries disappearing, and finally they talked of Them.

Edward Leer soothed the Aux with his legends of Zoo Pack’s founding, of them finding their home, staking out their fiefdom and keeping peace within it.

He frightened them with tales of the Masters, of the Master’s Voice, of the Urgings and of Them.

Finally, he roused them with his myths of Gene the Hackman, of the legend’s prowess and his bravery, of him getting whet and killing Them, deader and dead. He gave them hope.

“We will mourn the Warschauer Pack, but we must make alliances, tougher and tough. There is strength in numbers,” said Edward Leer as he finished his final tale.

“The ice, it dies,” said a melodic voice in the silence after Edward Leer’s tale-telling.

Walter Sickert’s voice had gained strength since Ben Gun and the tale-teller had last heard it in Evelyn War’s cell. It seemed to resonate around the room, filling it with warm, musical sound. Everyone listened.

“Them come back, because the ice dies,” he continued. “The Voice, it tells me so.”

The silence continued as the Aux waited for more.

“I do not want to Hear, but the Voice, it is there. Them whistle and Them kill. The Aux, we must stand together, tougher and tough, to kill Them, deader and dead.”

The silence continued for a long time after Walter Sickert had made his short speech.

Then someone standing in the entrance to the command room finally coughed and said, “Sentry rotation.”

Ezra Pound was deep in thought.

“How many sentries have we lost on this duty?” asked Robert Browning. “When will us, we know? How many?”

“There is strength in numbers,” said Evelyn War. “Robert Browning, him killed my father, and yet us, we stand together.”

Ezra Pound, his head still down, gestured with his hand, and several Aux moved to leave the room to take up their sentry duties.

“Sentries, double up,” said Ezra Pound. “This, it is the last rotation at Old Zoo. Us, we pack what we can carry. Every Aux, him carries four cycles of rations. Every Aux, him carries all arms. Leave no weapons. Every Aux, him wears his bedding. Every Aux, him ready to leave Zoologischer Garten in one rotation. Every Aux, him ready to get whet. Me, I call every Aux to scrap, male and dam, every Aux who can hold a blade or carry a crossbow will get whet.”

There was a hubbub in the room for the short minutes that it took the Aux to organise double sentries and for them to leave.

As the noise died down, Ezra Pound looked at the little group of scrappers that had defied him and made the long Walk Around to Warschauer. His gaze landed on Ben Gun, still holding Walter Sickert’s hand. The pup’s eyes were alight and he was smiling.

“Pup, you are proud to be called,” said Ezra Pound, amused.

“No,” said Ben Gun. “Me, I am proud that Evelyn War was right. Me, I am proud to be Walter Sickert’s friend.”

Ezra Pound frowned at Ben Gun and his hands tightened around his knees, where they were resting as he leaned forward a little further.

“Every Aux, him proud to be called,” he said. “Every Aux him proud to be a scrapper.”

“Me, I was already called,” said Ben Gun. “Evelyn War, her called me, but I refused.” He hesitated for a moment, a frown of regret flashing across his face. Then he smiled again. “Then Edward Leer, him called me to take Evelyn War to Warschauer. Me, I was called twice.”

A hush fell over the command room. The Aux pup had made another misstep. A terrible misstep at a crucial moment.

But Ezra Pound was a simple Aux, a pragmatic leader. He had been shown an enemy, and he had been shown a solution. If Them were killing Aux, he would stand against Them, and if it would take many Aux to kill Them, he would ally with many Aux Packs.

Ezra Pound lifted one meaty paw from his knee and brought it down with a resounding slap. He bellowed a great roar of laughter that washed through the command room. The tension in the room broke and a wave of laughter followed in the wake of the leader’s roar.