Night of the Howling Dogs (11 page)

Louie looked out at the ocean, studying it closely.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Masa said.

Louie nodded.

“What?” I said.

Louie frowned, his lips tight. “Maybe the others got sucked out to sea…. Maybe the ocean taking them south…. Maybe they drowned.”

Sharks jumped into my mind…and the memory of sinking into the silent black depths.

Louie started out, heading in the direction of the howling. It had stopped, but the sound still lingered in my mind. I couldn’t move. This nightmare was getting all too real. I leaned over and put my hands on my knees, dizzy.

“Go slow,” Masa said, nudging me toward Louie.

I nodded, still bent over.

The dizziness settled. I stood. Don’t think, just do it. I headed after Louie.

The round rocks were no problem, but the jagged ones slowed me down. Louie waited, looking back.

“Two things could have happened,” he said when I caught up. “They got buried under the rocks or sucked out to sea. Maybe they drowned. But if they got sucked out, the current would drag them that way.”

He gazed south.

I looked at the bleak coast. It grew hazy in the far distance.

“All we got,” Louie said.

I nodded. We moved on.

Camping gear bobbed in the small waves along the rocky shore—half-submerged sleeping bags, ground pads and air mattresses, food containers, clothes, tangled tents. It would take forever to collect all that stuff. But who cared?

Louie held up a hand. Just offshore, a dead horse was stuck on the rocks. Its ballooned belly was all we could see. Small waves bobbled it. “There’s the last one.”

“Man, I hate to see that,” I said, turning away.

Louie watched the water.

“Let’s go,” I said. “I don’t want to look at that horse.”

“Yeah, fine. Just checking the current.”

We hiked on over the slippery rocks and boulders along the edge of the sea. “Look at all the dead fish,” I said. They were everywhere, dragged inland and left high and dry.

I glanced back as we started around the point. Masa and Lenny had made it back to the others higher up. From where we were, they were just smudges of color.

Around the point and farther on, the low coast turned into cliffs, way down where the island grew fuzzy. If we had to go that far, carrying someone back would be almost impossible. And if they’d gone as far as the cliffs, we’d never be able to get down to them and pull them out.

The sun now was a fireball climbing the sky. The ocean was quiet. I could hardly believe it had just tried to kill us.

“How far should we go?” I said. “A half hour?”

Louie squinted at the heat waves already rising off the rocks in the distance. “Whatever it takes. I’d walk around this island six times to find them.”

I flinched. I would, too. So why’d I say a half hour?

“Yeah,” I said, looking away. “But…but what if they’re not in the water? What if they got buried in the landslide? Or what if they’re trapped inside the…the crack? Way in the back?”

“We were there. We didn’t see them.”

“It was dark.”

Louie squatted, concentrating. “Okay…we go down the coast for thirty minutes. We don’t find anything, one of us goes back to check the crack.”

“Good. Let’s do it.”

The sun’s heat was growing stronger by the minute. But Louie kept on going, hopping from rock to rock.
I’d walk around this island six times to find them.
Why had that thought lived in Louie’s mind and not mine?

Mr. Bellows, Zach, Sam! Where are you!

I squeezed shut the eye behind the cracked lens and tried to keep up. It was hard; you need two eyes to get three dimensions. Using only one eye left my vision flat…which wasn’t good for jumping rocks. But it was better than adding the distortion of the cracked lens.

Ten minutes went by.

Down close to the ocean, the rocks had been smoothed by the sea and were easier on my feet.

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty.

“Dylan!” Louie pointed out to sea.

Something was out there, way out. Looked like two bodies hanging over an air mattress. “Yeah!
Yeah!
”

“Looks like Mr. Bellows…and Sam, maybe. I don’t think that’s Zach.”

We scrambled down to the water, black crabs scattering into the cracks as we approached.

I shaded my eyes. “Are they moving?”

“No.”

“We got to get out to them.”

“I can’t…I can’t swim that far.”

I tried to judge the distance. Looked like half a mile. Maybe more, and maybe I couldn’t swim that far, either. And what about sharks? If we’d seen one, there could be more…maybe lots more.

“Never been a good swimmer,” Louie said, bunching his lips. For the first time I noticed that his shark’s tooth and silver skull were missing.

I looked out to sea. It would be five times farther than I’d ever gone before, at least.

But there was no other choice. The cliffs were not that far away, and the current was taking them south. Another few miles of drifting would make it impossible for us to get to them. The cliffs were too high. There’d be no way to bring them up. This was our only chance.

I handed Louie my glasses and ripped off my T-shirt, then moved onto a rock that jutted out over a spot where the water was deep enough to jump. “Keep your eyes on us,” I said.

“I follow you on the rocks.”

The ocean was warm. It stung my cuts, but it felt good to swim, easier than crabbing over the boulders onshore.

“Haole!” Louie called. I turned back. “You can do it!”

I hoped he was right.

I started too fast. In minutes my heart was pounding. My arms were weakening. Slow down. Pace yourself.

I caught glimpses of the air mattress. It was blue…and so far away…too far.

Swim. Don’t think about it. Keep moving.

Closer, closer.

I stopped to rest, my legs dangling, drifting, moving just enough to keep my head up. Back on shore I could see Louie moving slowly down the coast to keep pace with the barely noticeable current. “Thank you for being so peaceful today,” I whispered to the ocean.

I swam on.

And on.

Glancing up, making sure I was still aiming for them.

Keep moving…. Keep—

When I saw it, I gasped and sank. I gagged on swallowed ocean, came back up coughing, wiping water from my eyes and frantic to be sure I’d seen what I thought I had…. There!

A fin.

Fear slammed into me. A lone shark was circling Sam and Mr. Bellows. How could I get to them now? Dread burst inside me. I sank again and came up gasping.

The fin turned and headed toward me. I squeaked out a cry of shock and turned wildly to swim back toward the island.

Too far.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pulled my feet up into a ball. And sank. Kicked and rose again, breathing fear and salt water.

The fin came toward me.

I could see the ripples it made as it cut the water, coming closer and closer.

“Dad!”

I thought I saw Mr. Bellows look up.

The shark was almost on me.

Close, so close.

The same eerie stillness washed over me that I’d felt when I’d believed the rushing sea had killed me. Rest. No need to panic now. It’s over.

Let go.

I watched death approach.

But the fin slipped past, not five feet away, and I could see the dark, puckered hole. It circled me once. And vanished.

Poof!

Went under. Gone.

All that was left was a vast ocean and a blue air mattress. “Mr. Bellows!”

He peeked up, then sagged back down.

I swam as fast as I could, wanting to climb up on that air mattress with them, get out of the water.

“Mr. Bellows!”

Was he hurt? Had the shark attacked him? Where was it now? I swirled around, searching for it. Sank and opened my eyes to an underwater emptiness that glowed. Deep blue radiated up in rays, as if there were a light at the bottom, a thousand fathoms down.

I came up gasping and wiped the water from my face. Looking back, I could barely see Louie, now squatting on the rocks looking out at us.

I started swimming again.

Not far. Keep going, don’t stop now.

So tired.

Stay up, kick.

My arms slapped the water. Desperate strokes.

My hand hit something. I yanked it back and looked up. Blue.

Blue!

Mr. Bellows lifted his head. Blood streaked down his face.

“Mr. Bel—”

I sank, sputtering. My arms were weak, almost useless.

Mr. Bellows reached out and grabbed my hand. His arm was ripped with cuts.
Semper Fidelis
was all sliced up.

I clung to his hand, too tired to speak.

“Thank God,” Mr. Bellows croaked, his voice raspy.

“Me and…Louie…we…”

My arms trembled. I rested on the edge of the air mattress. The current slowly carried us south.

Suddenly I looked up. “Did you get bit…by a shark?”

“No…but it was here,” he said weakly.

“Can you kick, Mr. Bellows? We have to make it back.”

“I can try,” he whispered.

“Is Sam…”

“Weak…The heat…Casey…is—”

“He’s okay…. We moved higher up…. He has a cut knee.”

He closed his eyes and laid his head on his arm.

I was so tired I could hardly move. But I had to. The current was dragging us away. I gulped air, deeply. Searched for strength.

“Mr. Bellows, we have to move.”

We started kicking. Slowly moving toward an island that now seemed impossibly far away.

I gave it more.

The easy current carried us gently, luring us into the great emptiness of the Pacific Ocean, where there would be nothing but weeks or months of empty sea. No one would ever find us. We’d be nearly invisible specks.

Louie stood and followed along the shore as we slowly drifted south.

Kick!

It took hours. Or maybe it was only one. Mr. Bellows stopped kicking soon after we’d started. He seemed dazed.

But I kept going, whispering, “Kick…kick…kick.” Like a clock. My mind locked. Kick, kick.

I lifted my head at the sound of a voice. Faint, but clear. “Push it! Push! You almost here!”

I looked up and saw him waving from shore. “You can do it!” He jumped down into a cove. There was a small coral beach. I aimed for it.

Louie waded out as far as he could. The bottom fell away quickly. There were no shallows on the island, anywhere. It was an undersea mountaintop.

“Mr. Bellows,” I said. “We’re almost there.”

He raised his head. The sight of land seemed to revive him. He struggled to kick. We surged ahead, and when we got close to the coral beach, he let go and tried to swim. Louie grabbed him. Mr. Bellows looked back.

“Go,” I said. “I got Sam.”

Louie helped Mr. Bellows climb up to dry rock. Mr. Bellows wore only a white T-shirt and his boxer shorts. Sam was shirtless, in a pair of white skivvies.

Louie found a place for Mr. Bellows to sit, then dropped back down to pull me, Sam, and the air mattress in. “Here,” he said, handing me my glasses. I took them in my fist, my spent arms shaking. I put my head down on the air mattress. “I’m so tired.”

“Sleep later. Look.”

I peeked up.

Sam was stirring. He moaned. “Sammy,” Louie said, and Sam tried to raise his head. “You safe now…. We going help you out…. You ready?”

Sam nodded.

I was so relieved I dropped my head back onto the air mattress. Sam was doing better than he’d looked.

“Wake up,” Louie said, shaking my arm.

I found my footing on the sharp coral beach. Louie and I each took one of Sam’s arms and helped him out of the water. His eyes were rimmed red and swollen. Blood oozed in small tears from his cuts. The ocean hadn’t let them dry out. But there were no deep gashes, and no broken bones, as far as I could tell. We climbed up to dry rock and let him lie down.

I felt his skin. Hot, clammy.

Louie knelt and put his ear to Sam’s chest. “Fast heartbeat. We got to find some shade, cool him down.”

I looked up, searching. Shade wasn’t something we were going to find.

“We make it,” Louie said, reading my thoughts.

“Heatstroke?”

“Prob’ly…or close.”

We laid Sam down on the flattest rocks we could find. Louie pulled his T-shirt off and took it down to soak in the ocean. He wrung the water out, brought the shirt back, and folded it over Sam’s forehead. “Wet your shirt,” he said. “It’s over there.” I grabbed it, soaked it, and tossed it up to Louie.

Shade…anyplace out of the sun.

But there was no such place.

Mr. Bellows crawled over and sat next to Sam. “We got dragged out to sea in the second wave. We were—” He stopped suddenly and pointed. “Grab that air mattress. Don’t let it get away.”

I climbed down and waded out, the hungry sea already tugging it from the shore.

Mr. Bellows took it from me. “This saved our lives…and we can use it as a shelter.” He stood it on its side, blocking Sam from the blazing sun. Hot shade flooded over him. Scratches like spiderwebs crisscrossed his back and stomach, his arms, legs, and face. Sam had taken a beating. We all had.

“Thank you,” Mr. Bellows said. “Both of you…for finding us.”