Soldier Dogs #2

by Marcus Sutter

  It wasn’t his fault, Skipper knew. These humans were strong and smart in some ways but weak in others. Maybe it was because they were always throwing out the best parts of their food, like the gizzards and fat. But she was running on pure excitement, and she knew that the longer they stood still, the greater the chance that both of them would lose that strength too early and not having enough energy to continue. They’d get tired and sloppy, which would only be more dangerous for them.

  Besides, she could hear more noises nearby—more crashing, fire crackling, loud swishing in the water around them. And behind all of it, Skipper could hear more sounds, the kinds humans couldn’t pick up on. There were crackling words in a different human language than she was used to. There were pulsing beeps that seemed to sweep out through the air around them, and steady clicks in patterns that she thought sounded like someone talking.

  Whatever was happening, she knew it wasn’t over. The flying machines and giant metal fish attacking them weren’t done. They needed to keep moving.

  Skipper saw the glazed look in Joe’s father’s eye and the way his lips shook as he breathed. Now, after they’d saved so many human pups, she wanted to protect him, to save him from his own thoughts and feelings.

  Skipper remembered Joe clutching her as the attack had broken out. She walked to Joe’s father’s side, nuzzled his face, and put her head down against his chest. Joe’s father wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her fur. His body shook, and he breathed heavily. Skipper stood still and let him clutch her. She had felt this sorrow before when her old master had left her, and she had howled in her fear. She knew Joe’s father was just howling in his human way.

  Once he’d calmed down a bit, Skipper backed up and barked at him while wheeling her head down the corridor. They had more work to do. Joe was somewhere in this ship. They needed to find him.

  Joe’s father stared at her blankly, and for a moment Skipper wondered if he was totally broken . . . but then his brow set and he climbed to his feet. His heart beat fast and strong, and the smell of fear sweat and sadness disappeared. He’d had his moment to rest and deal with his feelings, and he could now return to the task at hand.

  Joe’s father put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, and they were off again.

  As they continued into the ship, Skipper heard more voices. She barked for Joe’s father and led him to a door from which she could hear pounding fists and panicked screams. She barked louder and nodded at the door.

  Joe’s father put his ear to the door, then tried to pull it open—but it wouldn’t budge. He gripped the handle, put his foot up on the wall next to the door, and pulled as hard as he could. Skipper watched every muscle on Joe’s father’s body tighten and strain. His neck corded, his eyes clenched shut, and—

  BANG! The door flew open, and Joe’s father stumbled back. Water spilled out of the compartment as five soaking-wet humans came stumbling out, panicked and screaming their thanks. Two of them held up a third, who had a stream of blood coming from a wound in his head.

  Joe’s father spoke to them. He turned to Skipper, whistled, and said three words Skipper understood: “Skipper! Out! Go!”

  Skipper didn’t need to be told twice: she had to find the outside of the ship and get the hurt human to safety. She just hoped everything would be safer outside than it was in here. She could still hear flying machines buzzing away up there, and she could smell fuel and burning all around them.

  She guided them through corridors and up staircases, dancing impatiently as they took their time loading the injured human up the stairs. Joe’s father was the human alpha, his orders followed by the others, but Skipper was in the lead!

  They reached a passageway down which Skipper could smell and hear the outside from a distant opening—but Skipper stopped so fast that her nails scratched along the floor. Down the hall, she could see a broken tube shooting white smoke, which she knew was actually water—steam, the humans called it, water so hot it was smoke. From here, Skipper could feel the heat from it, and she knew the poor humans’ skin wouldn’t be able to take it.

  Skipper thought fast. They could try to find another exit, but that could take a while, and the injured human was losing blood fast. But she could hear the steam shooting out of the pipe, and her ears followed the sound back toward the door. Through the cloud, she could make out one of those wheels on the wall like the ones these humans used to open doors.

  Skipper lowered her head and ran. Joe’s father called out after her. She was scared, but she knew she needed to act fast. She couldn’t have them following her into the heat.

  She put everything she had into her legs and bounded off the ground, through the cloud of steam. It was so hot that she couldn’t help but cry out, though her fur took a lot of the heat that would’ve burned the humans.

  She followed the rushing sound to a wheel. When she jumped up and put her paws to it, it moved under her. Listening closely for the sound of moving metal in the pipes, Skipper jumped up and put one paw over the other through the spokes of the wheel. It turned, turned . . . and then stopped.

  Just like that, the steam stopped spewing from the pipe! Skipper barked to the humans, and they came forward. Joe’s father smiled down at her and laughed, ruffling the fur on her head. Skipper looked up at him, feeling warmth in her heart. She’d done right by Joe and his father. She was a good girl.

  At the end of the corridor was a door to the outside. Joe’s father put his ear to it, and after a moment he swung it wide and waved the other humans through. At the end he yelled for Skipper, and the two of them ran out onto the ship.

  Skipper’s mind reeled. The top of the ship had gone from bad to worse, covered with piles of wreckage and punched full of holes. The other ships around them were burning and jetting clouds of black smoke. There were even columns of black coming out from parts of the island, across the water! It seemed that the attack was happening everywhere, that her whole world was full of fire, anger, and noise.

  Joe’s father handed the humans they’d saved off to another group of masters, who ushered them into a boat. Once they were loaded on, the masters waved for Joe’s father and Skipper to join. Joe’s father waved to Skipper, and she took a step toward the boat—

  BOOM!

  Skipper’s head snapped up. Overhead, one of the flying machines had exploded over the ship . . . and from its belly poured fire. But this fire was different—it moved like water, pouring down onto the ship.

  Everywhere the fire landed, the ship burst into flames. Slowly, the flames cascaded down the deck—right toward them!

  Before they could get on, the boat lowered itself down to the water by rope.

  Joe’s father turned to Skipper and screamed, “Go!”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice! Skipper turned and ran as hard as she could, feeling the heat growing behind her. Side by side, she and Joe’s father bounded across the top of the ship, toward the edge . . . and the water that Skipper knew lay beyond it.

  Chapter 14

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

  8:40 A.M.

  As they got to the door to the deck, Joe noticed the heat. The passageway around him was definitely warmer than the one they’d just come from. He wiped at the sweat forming on his brow with the back of his hand.

  Danny leaned Commander Harper up against one wall and grabbed the door handle, but then he yanked his hands back and hissed angrily.

  “You all right?” asked Joe.

  “I’m fine,” he said, shaking his red-palmed hands. “That thing’s hot as a kettle, though. Wonder what’s going on outside.”

  “Might mean there’s some sort of fire,” said Harper. “Be careful. Here . . .”

  Harper unbuttoned his shirt, leaving him in only a white undershirt with a stain of glistening red on one side. He tossed the shirt to Danny, and Danny covered his hands with it before turning the wheel and opening the door.

  Instantly, black smoke blew into the passage. Flames licked the
edges of the doorway. Joe’s eyes teared up, and his throat stung as heat seared his face in a harsh gust of blazing air. Everyone coughed and squinted as Danny tried to wave the smoke out of their way so they could look outside.

  The whole deck of the West Virginia was burning. Walls of uncontrollable orange flame flickered violently, making thunderous blowing noises as they raged. The world beyond the fire rippled with heat and was sometimes impossible to see between gusts of black smoke. Those sailors still on the West Virginia were clustering in patches of the deck untouched by the fire, climbing into rescue boats, or shimmying their way down on ropes.

  “Oh no,” mumbled Joe, dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was feeling, as the smoke and fire whipped around his world. Once again, he remembered his grandmother’s Bible stories from when he was small, her fantastic descriptions of the world ending in a storm of fire and brimstone.

  But this was no story. There was nothing fantastic about it. The flames burned him, the air blinded him—it was too real.

  “Fuel fire!” Danny coughed. “We’ve got to get off this ship ASAP! Come on!”

  One by one they exited, crouching to try to stay below the worst of the smoke. But everywhere they turned, another wall of flame leaped out at them, and crept closer and closer to them. Joe felt panic grip his heart as he watched the sailors look around frantically, realizing that there was no way out.

  No way out, except . . .

  “We have to jump!” said Joe, pointing to the railing at the edge of the ship. A patch of railing close to them was untouched by the fire and provided a narrow passageway off of the burning apparatus. “We can go over the edge and into the water. It’s the only way out.”

  “That’s a drop of at least twenty feet!” shouted Norman over the roaring blaze. “We could break our necks jumping from that height. Besides, those waters are full of submarines. They could shoot us the minute we land!”

  “It’s that or stay here,” said Danny.

  “I’m with the kid,” said Harper, nodding at Joe. “Let’s do this.”

  The four of them limped their way over to the railing as fast as they could, the heat from the flames getting stronger the closer Joe got to the edge. In the distance, Joe could see the island, along with the dark wreck of the Arizona beneath a halo of debris on the surface of the ocean.

  Cool ocean water, he thought as he squinted and put a hand to his face to block the heat. Soothing Pacific water that’ll wash all this heat away. A few minutes ago he wanted to do everything in his power to escape the water, and now it was all he could think of! Where was a counterflooding valve when you needed it?

  Joe got to the railing and looked over the edge at—

  Fire!

  His eyes bugged. His mouth clapped closed and open over and over.

  The water was on fire! Beneath the bow of the ship, orange flames danced along the surface of the ocean, undulating up and down with the waves coming off of fallen wreckage and passing ships.

  Joe gaped in panic—he didn’t know what to do! Water wasn’t supposed to burn! The sea was actually turning into a lake of fire that was going to swallow them whole.

  “Fuel fires!” cried Norman at his side. “Must be the remaining fuel that was inside the Arizona!”

  “Oh no,” said Danny, his brave face finally falling. “This . . . this might be a problem.”

  “There has to be some other way out!” screamed Norman.

  “Do you see another way out?” bellowed Harper, seizing Norman by his collar.

  Joe took in the faces of the men around him. He saw anger, confusion, and fear. But for the first time, he understood how they felt, because he’d been through it all. He’d felt overwhelmed by all of those emotions, but he’d worked through them and had done what needed to be done, thanks to the bravery of his friends.

  Now it was his turn to be the brave one.

  Joe saw the world spin around him as he climbed up the rungs of the railing and stood, unsteadily, with one foot on the top. Everything was burning smoke, flashing flames, sloshing water. He felt dizzy, sweaty, unsure if this was a dream or if he was actually getting ready to do something so dangerous. Below him, the fire on the waves seemed to burn higher, as if to say, Come on, little boy. Let’s see what you’re made of.

  “I’ll signal for a rescue ship once I’m down there,” he said.

  The men behind him went silent. “Joe, wait,” shouted Danny.

  Joe looked down and gulped. He thought of a trip he, Kai, and Millie had taken to Waimea Bay, when they jumped off a fifteen-foot-high rock. Joe had been so scared that Kai had to give him a little nudge in the back to get him to go, and he’d landed right on his butt. Millie had said he fell off more than jumped off.

  This time he wouldn’t fall. This time he would jump.

  He took a deep breath and launched himself forward. For a moment he was suspended in the air, with the whole world frozen around him—the fires burning on the water, the planes spiraling overhead, the island spewing smoke and flames, Danny’s scream ringing out in the background—

  And then everything came unstuck, and he dropped toward the lapping flames and inky water below.

  Chapter 15

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 1941

  9:00 A.M.

  CRASH!

  All at once the world faded from around Joe, except for the gurgling sounds of water and the hiss of bubbles that came off of him. All the noise and madness vanished. He felt still and cool, floating in a calmer version of the world than the one he’d just come from.

  Then he opened his eyes.

  The world under the water was more chaotic than anything going on above. Huge pieces of wreckage from both battleships and airplanes sank around him in white clouds of bubbles. On the surface, the bottoms of boats cut along the water like black knives, moving toward the flailing arms and legs of sailors in the water. And up ahead, huge and black like some sort of castle of shadows, the wreck of the Arizona sat on the ocean floor, leaking a steady stream of ruined equipment and cloudy, toxic oil.

  Oil, thought Joe, remembering the fires overhead. He knew that he had to swim past the fire if he wanted to break the surface safely. He heard loud splashes behind him and turned to see Harper and Norman crashing into the water. Danny came last, his arms at his sides, cloaked in bubbles.

  Danny opened his eyes and saw Joe. He gave him a thumbs-up and began swimming toward him.

  WHOOSH! A heavy green crate crashed into the water over Danny and smashed into the side of his head. For a moment, all Joe could see were bubbles. Then the crate sank beneath them, and he saw Danny floating, stunned in the water, unmoving. A cloud of red was beginning to flow out of the right side of his forehead.

  “No!” screamed Joe under the water, but it just came out in a cloud of bubbles. With all his might, he pumped his arms and legs, powering forward toward Danny. He wrapped an arm around Danny’s middle, hugging him tight to his chest. Then Joe moved his legs for all they were worth, trying to outswim the spread of the oil fires while keeping his knocked-out friend from sinking.

  Quickly, Joe’s chest ached. His limbs felt numb. He tried to keep swimming, but he was growing weak, lightheaded. He turned his eyes upward, to the blades of light coming down through the surface. He needed air.

  He kicked . . . but Danny was too heavy! He reached up, but though his fingers were inches away from the surface, they didn’t break.

  Joe felt his shirt billow up around him as he and Danny began to sink toward the bottom. He tried to kick hard, but soon his limbs felt heavy. He watched the surface slowly begin to drift away . . .

  The light on the water was blotted out by a shadow. Two hands broke the surface and seized his outstretched fingers. The hands pulled, and the surface rushed to meet him.

  The gasp of air that Joe sucked down was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He heaved with breath as the two men pulled him onto the boat. He slumped onto a bench along the boat’s edge and panted f
or dear life as the men who’d rescued him laid Danny down on the floor. By the crossed anchor insignia on their uniforms, Joe knew they’d been rescued by the coast guard. While one of the men began pumping on Danny’s chest, the other began pulling Harper and Norman out of the water behind them.

  Danny’s skin was pale and clammy. The wound on his forehead leaked red rivulets through the water on him. Joe thought he looked dead already.

  The coast guard officer pinched his nose and blew into his mouth. Then he put his hands on Danny’s chest again, one, two, three—

  Danny lurched, and seawater bubbled out of his mouth. The officer turned him on his side and slapped him on the back to get him to spit it all out. Joe had never been so excited to see someone throw up.

  They got Harper and Norman aboard and got them stabilized; both of them looked pale as death but were conscious and speaking. Then the coast guard officer fired up the boat’s motor and aimed it toward shore, with his partner standing at the front scanning the sea for more sailors to rescue.

  As they drifted, Joe took in the madness around him. The West Virginia’s deck was burning like crazy, sending pieces of flaming ship sailing down into the water around them. The other battleships along the row were all at least partially destroyed, their decks smoking and burning.

  Joe saw a line of sailors standing on a huge gray shape that he assumed was a surfaced submarine . . . until he saw the massive propeller jutting out of the water at one end.

  “Is that the bottom of a ship?” he asked, almost unable to believe it.

  “That’s right,” said Harper. “The USS Oklahoma, by the looks of it. It must have taken on too much water and capsized entirely.”

  “That’s why you counterflood,” croaked a distant voice.

  “Danny!” said Joe, kneeling down next to his friend. Danny’s eyes had finally opened. His breathing was slow, but he managed a smile. “You okay, man?”