| |
The flash flood swirled Shadow down, down, and scraped him head over paws against the muddy bottom before thrusting him up in a stomach-wrenching rush. He gasped, and his yelp became a strangled gargle when water smothered his cry. Deafened by the roar, scent blinded and sight dimmed, Shadow struggled to tell down from up, wind from flood. Forelegs churned the water to dingy froth, and he struggled to keep his black shepherd’s muzzle above the surface.
The night’s frigid air set fire to the shepherd’s flayed cheek. It would be easy to give up and let the tide take him, and erase his pain. But Shadow had to return to his family. To his-boy, Steven. And to September. Especially to September. She needed him. And he needed her.
He gasped, this time without choking, and snatched another two breaths without wasting further air on fruitless wails. Shadow timed gasps to match the roller coaster surge that swept him along before he fetched up hard against a floating tree.
Shadow yelped when the trunk caught his tender middle where the boy-thief had kicked him. He thrashed and managed to scrabble a toe hold across one limb. Weakened by his recent battle with the bad-man and now the wicket current, Shadow couldn’t pull his 80-plus weight any higher. He clung to the limb while the flood snatched at a good-dog’s fur and tried to swallow him whole.
One with the detritus, Shadow caught his breath as he hitched a ride on the log that now took the brunt of the flood’s abuse. Neither the sting of his scraped cheek, fire on his neck, nor his throbbing gut could compare to the empty ache inside. He’d left his family behind, without a good-dog to protect them. The bad-man could return to finish what he’d started. September couldn’t protect Steven or even herself, not without Shadow by her side.
On the bank ahead, Shadow spied a car. He barked for help. Cars meant people, and people helped good-dogs. But roaring water swept his cry away. He barked with anguished frustration when the women stared back at him, without any offer to help. Their scent shouted names louder than any human scream—Robin Gillette and Sunny Babcock—before the tree floated him out of sight.
The log he rode caught on something below the water’s surface, and slowly spun in the current. Shadow managed to lunge enough to pull himself onto the trunk, when the hissing sound stopped him dead. He glanced up, and then ducked the flashing feline paw that batted his ear, and nearly plunged backwards into the flood. Blinking to clear muddy water from his eyes, he squinted to see three rain-soaked cats, one within nose-touch distance.
Had the furious black cloud thrown them into the tree? Maybe they climbed to escape the water. Dogs couldn’t climb trees, or Shadow would’ve scrambled higher to join them. The tree bobbled in the water, and he adjusted his grip, amazed how easily the cats kept their balance despite the shifting perch.
The largest, with black and white fur, sat calmly on the highest branch, and stared at Shadow before once more licking wet from his side. The other two females—he could tell even without a close-up sniff—were only half as big as the tuxedo.
The mostly white cat couldn’t stop shivering and the heart-shaped spot on her chest quivered. She tried to snuggle closer to the heavily furred silver female, but the limb bent sharply and threatened to break. Shadow whimpered when the silver cat turned her flat face away, closed her big round eyes and slicked back tiny ears. She looked different than any other cats he’d seen, but smelled the same. Not even the cold wind could whisk away the fetid stink of fear, dumpster rot and cat pee.
When the tree’s underwater anchor abruptly let go, Shadow crouched and braced himself against the thick upright limb upon which the cats perched, leery that the trio might pounce on a good-dog’s head. But the log sailed only a short distance before it thumped into a metal dumpster that had been tumbled about by the twisty black cloud. Shadow stiffened, sniffed cautiously, but detected no sign of the hated boy-thief, only stale garbage and animal stink.
The black and white cat gathered haunches to leap from his limb to the dumpster rim, from there an easy catwalk to reach the muddy bank. Shadow cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. He could weave between upright branches along the length of the tree trunk, make his own jump to the shore, and race back to the barn to September. He whined with happy anticipation.
A low, long “aroooo” sounded from within the depths of the box. Shadow’s ears flattened. Lips curled, remembering the encounter with the scar-faced dog.
The male tuxedo froze, but the females had crept too far to stop. The branch bent, bowed and bounced over the open dumpster, inciting louder howls and frustrated claw scrabbles within.
Shadow waited another heartbeat, but the dog didn’t leap out and the log didn’t swim any closer to the bank. So he levered himself upright and took slow, shaky steps while his stomach roiled.
The tree dipped, and the overhead limb slammed the metal box with clanging blows. A bushy-tailed brown tabby exploded out of the dumpster to snag the end of the beckoning branch. His additional weight proved too much, and the branch broke, dumping the limb and all four cats inside with the unseen dog.
Loss of the limb spun the trunk and spilled Shadow back into the cold water. Energy nearly spent, only the thought of September spurred him to flounder and hook one foreleg across the bobbing tree. His eyes half closed, as he floated helpless in the chill water, and yearned for home that seemed a world away.
