Soldier Dogs #2

by Marcus Sutter

  There! A break in the running humans! Skipper darted toward Joe. She would get to him. Protect him, get him out of here, whatever it took—

  KABOOM!

  Noise ripped through Skipper’s ears, and everything smelled like burning at once. A wall of heat lifted her off the ground and tossed her across the deck of the ship.

  Chapter 8

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

  8:10 A.M.

  Joe blinked away the spots filling his vision and tried to think.

  The deck was hard and hot on his back. His ears were ringing. His head hurt. All he could see was the sky, filled with clouds of smoke and dotted with the black shapes of oncoming planes.

  Slowly, he sat up and took in the scene around him.

  The battleship across from the West Virginia had exploded, like someone had punched a hole through its middle. Flames jetted up into the sky out of its gutted belly, sending a column of pitch-black smoke into the air. Slowly, with the sea frothing around it, the back end of the ruined ship began leaning into the water.

  Something landed on the deck next to Joe, making him start. It was a clipboard, the edge still on fire. The head of the paper clipped to it read: USS Arizona—Morning Assignments. Then the fire blackened it into a piece of fluttering ash.

  All around Joe, sailors were climbing to their feet, some looking glassy-eyed and dazed, others scrambling in panic. But Joe was frozen in horror, watching the Arizona’s tail sink deeper and deeper into the ocean. Weren’t these ships meant to be unsinkable? What sort of bomb could destroy a battleship like that?

  Who was bombing them? What was happening?

  All Joe knew was that everything had gone horribly, unbelievably wrong. His face, nostrils, eyes, every part of him stung and burned. He remembered his grandmother’s Bible stories, about the world being plunged into a lake of fire and brimstone. This must be what it was like—the end of the world.

  Out of nowhere, Skipper appeared before him. She was barking her head off and nuzzling Joe’s face. It broke Joe out of his stunned gaze, and he threw his arms around Skipper’s neck and shook with fear.

  “Oh, Skipper,” he cried, his body shaking against hers. “What’s going on? Who’s attacking us, girl? How did this happen?”

  Skipper pulled away from him and barked, moving her head from Joe to the ship and back again. Joe felt grit biting his arm as a line of machine gun fire cracked against the deck to his left.

  Skipper was right—he had to get inside the ship, out of the line of fire.

  Panic kicked in, and Joe jumped to his feet and ran blindly, Skipper at his side. Around him, sailors were trying to get to their battle stations while the planes overheard kept firing on the decks of the battleships. Joe caught quick glimpses of some sailors being blown off their feet or knocked into the water by the gunfire. He tried not to think about what had just happened to them. He tried to remember where the entrance was that they’d used to get on the deck of the ship.

  Suddenly, a terrible crunching noise rang out above him. Joe looked up to see one of the towers of the West Virginia smashed inward by a heavy black shape—a bomb. Not detonated but taller than he was, and probably twice as heavy.

  With a groan, a huge chunk of the turret split off around the bomb. Joe was frozen in terror, only able to watch as it came falling toward him—

  WHACK! Skipper threw her whole body into Joe’s butt, knocking him forward just in time. Behind them, the hunk of tower crashed to the deck with a massive crunch. Bits of glass, wood, and metal scattered all around them.

  Joe sat up, gasping, barely able to breathe. His heart pounded and sweat poured down his face. He stared at the settling pile of wreckage and thought about how if it hadn’t been for Skipper, he would be under that pile of metal and glass right now, his body broken into a million pieces.

  “Thanks, girl,” he said, and climbed to his feet.

  “HEY, JOE!”

  Who was calling him? Joe followed the voice and saw Danny leaning out of a doorway that led into the ship. He waved for Joe while a bunch of other sailors yelled and tried to snatch the door out of his hand.

  “Get over here!” screamed Danny. “I need to get you inside before we take serious damage!”

  Joe leaped to his feet and ran toward the door. He was just about to step into the hatch when something in the distance caught his eye.

  Toward the front of the ship, a broad figure sat behind one of the West Virginia’s .50 caliber machine guns, empty shells the size of cucumbers tumbling to the deck next to it. In quick bursts, he fired into the air, his body heaving with the kick of the gun. But it was the shape of his frame and the way he pumped his fist when one of the planes overhead exploded in flames that sent a flash of recognition through Joe’s mind.

  It was Pop!

  Joe couldn’t believe his eyes, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. Pop, who the navy said could never be anything other than a cook, shooting down enemy planes with a gun he’d never used before!

  Joe watched his father’s body shake as his machine gun lit up with fireballs and spat shells from its sides. Another plane disappeared in a smoky explosion.

  “Pop!” he screamed. “Pop, it’s me!”

  “He can’t hear you over the guns!” screamed Danny. He grabbed ahold of Joe’s arm. “Inside, now!”

  “We can’t leave him out here!” yelled Joe. “What if something happens? We can’t—”

  Just then, Skipper turned to the side of the ship and started her panicked barking again. This time Joe recognized it for what it was—her warning bark—and looked to where she faced. Off in the ocean at their side, a huge shape was making the water ripple in a line—heading right for them!

  “Look!” shouted Joe, pointing.

  “What the— Oh no,” said Danny. “Torpedo! Torpedo off the port side! Prepare for impact—”

  The deck under Joe kicked with a horrible rumble as the shape beneath the water hit the bow alongside them.

  Joe was bounced into the air and dropped onto his back. White flashed across his vision, and then he felt the whole world lurch forward, tossing him toward the port railing of the battleship.

  Before he could catch himself, Joe was sliding down the deck toward the edge. He scrambled at the deck with his fingernails and the heels of his shoes, but it was no use—he was going down!

  The railing collided with Joe’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. For a brief moment, he thought of Mama and Pop, of Baby Kathy, of how sorry he was to have snuck on here and gotten mixed up in all of this. Then he lurched over the edge—

  And froze in midair!

  Joe stared down at the churning water below him, sloshing hard against the side of the West Virginia. He could see flaming slicks of oil moving up and down along the surface and sailors swimming for shore.

  Why wasn’t he falling toward them? How was he still alive?

  He heard a growl and the scrape of nails and felt a tug at the back of his pants.

  Skipper! Joe looked over his shoulder. Skipper had the back of his belt in her mouth and was leaning all the way back on her legs to pull Joe back up on the railing!

  Joe reached back, felt for the railing, and grabbed it. He pulled himself back on the slopping deck and threw his arms around Skipper.

  “Thank you, girl!” he cried. “You saved my life! Again!”

  The ground kicked and rumbled beneath them, making Joe jump and Skipper whine.

  “There’ll be time to thank her later!” screamed Danny from the door. “We’re getting torpedoed, kid! Get in here!”

  Joe looked again for Pop. He thought he could just make him out through the smoke, collapsed but climbing to his feet, but he wasn’t sure. What had happened to Pop when that torpedo hit? Had he been thrown over the edge without a Skipper to save him?

  “JOE!”

  Joe fought back tears. There was no time. More than anything, Pop would want him to be okay. He had to go.

  Joe scrambled up the tilt
ed deck and grabbed Danny’s hand, Skipper hot on his heels. Once the sailors had pulled Joe and Skipper into the ship, Danny yanked the door shut.

  Just as he did, two more kicks hit the West Virginia, sending them all reeling around the passageway of the battleship.

  A deep groan echoed through the ship around them as the hallway leaned even deeper to the port side. All of the sailors around Joe shared wide-eyed glances, their faces slick with sweat. Among them, Joe saw Seaman Norman, shaking like a leaf and clutching the collar of his uniform.

  “They’re going to sink us!” shouted Norman. “They’re going to sink us just like they sank the Arizona!”

  “No, they won’t,” said Danny. To Joe, he looked as pale and sweaty as any of the other sailors, but there was a wild gleam in his eye that none of the others had. “Not if we can help it.”

  Chapter 9

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

  8:11 A.M.

  Danny led them down the corridor and into a room lined with three rows of bunk beds. When they got to his bed, he pulled a bag out from under it and produced a rolled-up tube of paper. He spread it out along the bed, and Joe saw a blueprint of the USS West Virginia, its many decks and passageways carefully labeled.

  “We’re taking water on our port side, right?” said Danny, pointing to one side of the ship diagram. “If we don’t stop the water flow, the ship will take on too much water and capsize. We need to stop the flow on the port side by sealing all the waterproof hatches and doors. Then we have to even out the amount of water on the ship by using the counterflooding pumps on the other side to let water in.”

  “Let water in?” cried Norman. “You’ll sink this thing!”

  “If we don’t, the Wee Vee will flip over,” snapped Danny. “Don’t you know what capsize means? The entire thing’ll go butt-up, and everyone on deck will be pulled down with it. We can’t let that happen.” A murmur moved through the crowd, and Danny cursed and looked at his watch.

  “I say we abandon ship,” said one of the other sailors.

  “If you want to leave, leave,” snapped Danny. “But we don’t have time to make this a discussion. We have maybe fifteen minutes—”

  Another kick and rumble. The ship jumped and rocked under them. Personal items—boots, tin cups, bundles of letters—came spilling to the floor and sliding to the port-side wall.

  “Or maybe only ten minutes,” said Danny, a little breathless. “Are you with me or not?”

  The men looked at each other, then nodded and called out that they were. Danny scanned them, and then his eyes fell on Joe.

  “Joe, you with me?” he said. “We need all the help we can get.”

  Joe blinked and breathed hard. He felt swelling in his throat, stinging in his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of these men, but he couldn’t control himself.

  He was so scared. He just wanted to be home in bed, or in the kitchen watching Mama put the icing on Pop’s cake, bouncing Baby Kathy on his knee.

  “I’m not a sailor,” he croaked out.

  Danny knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. The quiver of Danny’s lip and the pale, sunken color of his face told Joe that Danny was scared too.

  “I don’t need sailors right now,” said Danny. “I need heroes.”

  The words pushed Joe’s fear back down into his stomach and made his heart swell. He thought of Pop, shooting down planes on the deck of a ship. He thought of Skipper, risking her life to pull Joe out of the fire twice in five minutes.

  If they could be brave, then so could he.

  “I’m in,” said Joe.

  Danny smiled. “Great. Skipper, you up for it?”

  Skipper barked. Joe and the other sailors laughed, maybe a little nervously.

  “All right, boys,” said Danny. “We go down two levels. Then you, you, and you, head port side and seal every hatch and door along the way. We can’t let the water get any farther in. You, you, and you”—Danny pointed at Joe—“come starboard and help me operate the pumps. If the ship starts to go down, you all get up top and jump for it. Ready?”

  “Ready!” yelled the men, Joe included.

  “Let’s save this ship,” said Danny.

  They bolted into the ship, Danny leading the way with his blueprint in his hands. Lights overhead flickered wildly. They jogged down narrow corridors, some filled with smoke, others sparking from light sockets and split panels. As they ran, other sailors came out of their rooms and joined the crew, getting filled in on the plan as they ran.

  Joe put his head down and kept one hand on Skipper. He was still terrified, of course. It was scary—the smoke, the fire, the panicked sailors. But being scared wasn’t a good enough reason not to help.

  They trundled down two flights of stairs, and Joe felt his feet slap into ankle-deep water. Even though it was the warm Hawaiian Pacific, his feet felt ice cold as it soaked into his shoes. Danny wiped sweat from his eyes as he studied the blueprint, and then he began pointing.

  “Port-side team, you’re going that way,” he said, pointing. “Seal all waterproof hatches, as many as you can. Starboard team, this way to the pumps. Let’s move it!”

  Danny grabbed Joe’s shoulder and pulled him through a doorway into another compartment.

  Joe felt his hand leave Skipper’s coat. He turned just in time to see her looking up at him—before Norman yanked the door shut.

  “NO!” Joe screamed, and tried to run back, but Danny was pulling him along.

  Skipper was gone!

  Chapter 10

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

  8:14 A.M.

  Skipper barked at the door, but no one answered on the other side. She growled and looked to the other masters to give her a hand, but they were already running off into the ship, splashing through the water.

  Joe was gone! She’d lost her pup! What could she do? How would he survive without her?

  Skipper knew that Joe was a good pup. He was strong and kind and smart enough to put her in the straw box to get her on board. But he was still a pup. Even the toughest ones needed to be looked after.

  Now Joe was gone, leaving her surrounded by booming sounds and burning smells. It wasn’t right. She couldn’t just leave him.

  What could she do? She didn’t even know where she was, and everything was strange and unfamiliar. The ground was shifting under her, shaking and leaning to one side. There was water where there wasn’t supposed to be, and it was rising quickly. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear it rushing into the ship, moving closer.

  Skipper whined. She felt angry, but she also felt helpless. It made her want to run away, like she’d always done. Like she should have done the minute she noticed Joe . . .

  No. Skipper put her head down and turned her growl into a bark of determination. She’d been strong enough to survive on the beaches and in the alleyways. And she’d been smart enough to find Joe, the one human who’d been really kind to her.

  She would find a way back to him. There was always a way.

  She ran through the halls of the ship. She did her best to block out the sounds and smells that weren’t important right now—smoke and seawater, clanging metal and whooping alarms—and tried to catch a hint of Joe or Danny. She knew if she could just get a whiff of them on the air, or could hear their voices somewhere in the distance, she could follow them. She was smart like that, able to catch a little sound or smell and follow its trail to whatever she wanted.

  She’d find him, she just had to work at it.

  She held up her nose, sniffed the air . . .

  There! On a gust of wind, she caught it—Joe’s smell, straight ahead!

  She charged in the direction of the smell, but a human cry made her stop in her tracks. Through a doorway, she could see one of the humans now, not still a pup but not yet a master. He was trapped under a fallen piece of pipe and couldn’t get free . . . and the water was rising around him.

  Skipper paused. If she helped this human, she mi
ght not find Joe.

  But if it were Joe under that pipe, and another dog didn’t help him, she’d hate that dog forever. She’d find him down under the docks and bite him. Each of these pups, even the ones that were almost masters, was another dog’s Joe.

  Skipper darted into the room and quickly saw the problem—the human’s bottom coverings were caught. It didn’t help that he was panicking, yelling and thrashing and waving his arms at her. She barked at him to be quiet, then ducked her head down under the water and ripped at his coverings with her teeth. Instantly the human was free, and he scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room without so much as a “good girl” to Skipper.

  In the hallway, there was just a shred of Joe smell left in the air, and she focused on it. She followed it up one staircase, then another, then another, until she was out in the open again. All around her was noise and burning, screams and flying machine roars, but Skipper stayed focused, letting Joe’s smell guide her around the side of the ship. It went past the door and up some stairs into one of the towers. Could Joe have gone so far up?

  At the top of the tower, Skipper stopped. It wasn’t Joe there, it was Joe’s father!

  Joe’s father stood with the man in the shiny coat, holding him up with a big arm looped under his shoulders. The man in the shiny coat was talking in a calm voice, but he was doing a poor job of hiding that he was hurt. Even if Skipper couldn’t smell the blood on him or hear his slowed-down heartbeat, she could see the dark patches on his coat.

  The man in the shiny coat caught sight of her and smiled. Then he looked to Joe’s father and said something. It was a lot of human talk, but Skipper understood two words: “Skipper” and “Joe.”

  Joe’s father looked down at her, his eyes wide. Skipper saw how strong he was, but she could also smell his fear and hear his heart pounding. To try to put him at ease, she sat up straight and gave him a single bark.