Jo Treggiari - Ashes, Ashes

Aidan, who had been hanging back near the stairs listening for the Sweepers, looked excited. “If they were getting big deliveries of food, then there’s probably a loading dock or something down here. We should head in that direction.”

Del shrugged helplessly. “Your guess is as good as mine. It’s as big as a football field. I wandered down here for a couple of hours before Dr. Lessing—” She broke off, her cheeks reddening. Before Dr. Lessing convinced you to rat me out , Lucy thought, and then was a little ashamed of herself. They’d still be fighting a losing battle if it weren’t for Del.

She cleared her throat. She hated to say it, but it seemed only rational. “If they trucked in mass amounts of dog food, then they probably stockpiled it near the dog kennels. We can follow the sound of their barks.” She turned slowly, tracking the sound. They were subdued now, but in her mind she could see the dogs. She remembered the rottweiler leaping at her legs as she struggled to climb the tree, the thick froth of spit at the corners of its jaws. Three narrow halls stretched in front of her. They were lit with dim bulbs.

“Look down on the ground,” Aidan said. A jumbled trail of muddy footsteps led down the central one. “The middle way gets used a lot.” He squeezed Lucy’s hand. She moved into the hollow of his arm. A series of sharp thuds jolted them apart. Someone was trying to kick in the cellar door.

Exchanging panicked glances, the group crept down the narrow hall, moving as quickly as possible. Del soothed the kids with soft murmurs. The air was very still and dank. The acrid odor of urine and sawdust grew stronger, and the yelps of the dogs increased in volume.

They hurried toward the sound. Sammy ran ahead. His cloaked shadow leapt across the walls. The kid was attached to his back like a monkey.

They’d come a few hundred yards down the passageway, and still Lucy could heard the sound of wood splintering behind them and the buzz of voices. How many were there? Three or four? All of them?

Another volley of barks, louder and more excited.

They can smell us , Lucy thought with a thrill of fear. And then her mouth suddenly turned dry. They can smell me .

“Nearly there,” Aidan said.

The corridor twisted and then opened up. Wire cages lined one long wall. Dogs of every shape and size pressed against the mesh. Some threw their bodies against the doors or clawed frantically, hard enough to rip at their paws. The yelping was deafening.

“Can you see a door out?” Lucy yelled. She was transfixed by a large dog that was staring at her. She flicked her eyes away, trying not to challenge the animal. Its black lips lifted away from sharp white teeth and the dog began to howl. At once the rest of the dogs lifted up their snouts and began to howl, too.

Aidan pulled at her arm and she realized she’d been standing still. “Come on,” he said.

She tore her eyes away from the dog and moved across the room as quickly as she could, keeping her gaze on the ground under her feet and ignoring the rumble of growls, the clanging of dogs pushing against their metal doors to get to her.

The space narrowed into two corridors. Sammy hurried down one and almost immediately doubled back. “Locked door,” he said. They all ran down the other way. The passage was lined with stacks of cardboard boxes. The dogs had quieted again, except for a few excited yips. Lucy heard the dull thud of running feet against the concrete.

She turned to see Simmons, Dr. Lessing, Mrs. Reynolds, and one other Sweeper who wore his faceguard down and held his Taser in front of him like a sword. Dr. Lessing was sweating and pale. Mrs. Reynolds grabbed her arm. The doctor roughly shook it loose. Lucy stopped, feeling more exhausted than she ever had before. Her hand could barely hold her knife. The generator hummed and then roared into life. Lucy remembered how she’d thought the light on the roof resembled the gigantic eye of a beast. Now she felt as if she’d been swallowed alive.

Del raised her slingshot. Aidan wrapped an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. They backed up as the doctor and Sweepers advanced.

Lucy snuck a look behind her. A shadowy hallway stretched back. More boxes were piled five feet high—rows and rows of them. They were marked with the names of ready-to-eat food, vegetables, precooked meat, and dog chow. There was no outlet that she could see.

“Don’t let them force us into a dead end,” she said. They spread out in a thin line across the corridor. She noticed that the air was fresher. The scent of dog mingled with something she realized was the smell of rain. Del ordered the two kids to get back as far as they could.

“There’s got to be some kind of outside access around here,” she said. “How else did they get all these crates in here?” She reached into an open box and pulled out a can of dog food. She tossed it to Aidan, who caught it with his free hand. “Weighty,” he said, hefting it.

Sammy helped himself to a couple.

“Just grab the girl, Ross,” Dr. Lessing shouted suddenly. “I don’t care if the others get hurt.”

The Sweeper came toward them at a run. He aimed himself at Lucy. Aidan pelted the can at him, but Ross ducked.

Sammy threw both of his at the same time. One hit the man with a sharp crack , fracturing the plastic visor. Mrs. Reynolds shouted out a warning. Attempting to avoid the man’s weapon, Lucy threw herself backward so hard she hit the stack of boxes, knocking the topmost one to the ground. The column teetered and came crashing down, splitting the cardboard and spilling tin cans everywhere. Aidan tripped and fell. The Sweeper came on, his Taser dangerously close. He flung his arm out, and the black box skimmed the sleeve of Lucy’s leather jacket. She felt a jolt, which seemed to stop her heart for a second, and then her legs turned to water. Her head smashed against the ground, and she felt a trickle of blood edge into her collar. Aidan swept his leg around, felling the Sweeper. He stomped on the man’s wrist with his thick-soled boot. There was a crunch as the bone broke, and the black box flew from his fingers. Aidan pounced on it quickly.

“Sammy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the Sweeper who was curled up, cradling his injured arm. “Help Lucy up, will you?” He stepped toward Simmons. The black box sent out its flickering prongs. Simmons held his hands open in front of him and shook his head. He took a few paces backward.

“Just let me check on Ross, okay?” he said. Aidan nodded. Simmons prodded Ross’s wrist. “Broken in about three places,” he muttered. He helped the Sweeper to his feet and propped him against the wall.

Lucy’s legs still felt like limp noodles. Her heart was pounding, and her head buzzed. It was difficult to fill her lungs with air. She freed herself from Sammy’s tight grip. “Where’s Dr. Lessing?” she yelled, looking for the white lab coat. The woman was nowhere to be seen. The dogs had started up a crescendo of whining. Then she heard the sound of electronic bolts shooting open. The barking broke out and quickly became a cacophony. A single howl rose. The sound made the hairs on Lucy’s arm rise, and she felt cold despite her leather jacket. Mrs. Reynolds’s face blanched.

“She’s letting the dogs out,” she said. “They’ll go mad when they scent you. The trainer left a few days ago. If they find you before Dr. Lessing does, they’ll tear you apart.”

Simmons stepped forward. He spoke hurriedly. “Down that hallway. Green-painted steel door about ten feet on. You can bust the lock. It leads to a dog run with an eight-foot chain-link fence.”