Rescue Mission

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  “Ben, I’m glad I caught you. Listen, I think you should know that Noah’s arm—that’s a serious injury he’s got there.”

  Ben nodded, his brow furrowing. “Yeah, Coach, I could tell. Is he going to be okay?”

  “Well, that’s the thing, Ben. I’d say there’s no way he’s going to be able to play in the next game,” Coach Lee’s voice was heavy with worry.

  Ben’s mom looked up from the dinner table and raised her eyebrows. Ben shook his head.

  “But . . .” Ben started to say as the coach’s words sunk in. “But that’s the first game of the playoffs. We can’t play without our pitcher, right?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about, actually. Just the other day, your dad and I were saying that your arm’s gotten really strong these past couple of months. What do you think about pitching the next game?”

  “Wait—what?” Ben wasn’t sure if Coach Lee was joking or not. He started to laugh, then realized the coach was totally serious. “But I’m not a pitcher! I mean, what about Joey?”

  “Joey’s a solid backup pitcher.” Coach Lee paused. “But he’s not ready to start in a playoff game. I’ve had my eye on you for a few weeks.”

  “But I can’t—it’s just a few days away. I have to play shortstop . . .” Ben trailed off, clutching the phone.

  Ben wished the world would slow down for just one second. His head was spinning with everything that had happened today. The thrill of hitting a home run and winning the game was all mixed up with his disappointment that his dad hadn’t been there to see it. And now he was full of nerves—for Noah and for himself. How could he be ready to pitch such an important game in just a few days? And how would that make Noah feel?

  There was only one person Ben wanted to talk to about all this: his dad.

  But his dad wasn’t there.

  “I know, Ben,” Coach Lee said in response to Ben’s silence. “I know it’s a lot all at once. But I need someone who can keep cool under pressure.”

  Ben swallowed. “Are you sure, Coach?” Hero came up beside Ben and nudged his wet nose into Ben’s hand.

  “I’m positive.”

  The next morning, a Saturday, three seriously bummed-out boys and one helpful dog were gathered in Ben’s front yard. It had been completely replanted since the hurricane, and the grass was still coming in. Jack was already muddy from playing fetch with Hero.

  Ben tossed the baseball up and down, while his best friend sat slumped over on a deck chair, his very swollen arm cradled in a sling. Hero sniffed around their feet, then rested his chin on Noah’s leg.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Noah sighed.

  He looked miserable. Noah had spent the night in the emergency room, where an X-ray had revealed that he really did have a stress fracture in his arm.

  Noah was going to miss the playoffs completely.

  Ben felt awful too. He hated taking Noah’s place, but he didn’t have a choice.

  “We don’t have to practice now,” Ben said.

  Noah shot him a look of horror. “This game is less than a week away, and trust me, you need all the help you can get.”

  “You may be injured,” Ben said, “but you’re still hilarious.”

  “Don’t worry, Noah. We’re only going to program Ben to win the playoffs. Then we’ll deactivate his pitching skills for good and you can have your position back,” Jack joked.

  “Thanks, Jack.” Noah shifted in his seat, wincing as he moved.

  Jack crossed to the far end of the lawn, and Ben swung his arm in a circle a few times to warm it up. Before today, he had never pitched for real before—only when he was practicing with Jack and Noah or throwing a tennis ball to Hero.

  Ben’s stomach was tied in knots. He didn’t feel confident about pitching, he didn’t feel right that he was stepping on his best friend’s toes, and, worst of all, he still hadn’t been able to talk to his dad about any of it.

  Because his dad hadn’t come home last night.

  The last Ben and his mom had heard from Ben’s dad was when he texted a little after midnight. All good, the message said. We’re getting close. Love you. Kiss the kids for me.

  They knew that “getting close” meant he and Scout were closing in on the two escaped convicts. But hours had passed since then, and they hadn’t heard a word.

  Around 6 A.M., Ben had turned on the local news and flipped from station to station. The reporters all said the same thing: The convicts were still at large.

  His dad had been on so many risky cases before, but for whatever reason, this time was different. Ben felt it, and he could tell his mom did too—though neither one of them wanted to admit it to the other.

  There was nothing to do but wait. And pitching was the perfect distraction.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Noah said drily.

  “Ready when you are, Ben,” Jack said.

  Ben shifted his weight onto his back foot, turned his body sideways, and pulled up his knee. He drew his arm back and fired a ball right at Jack. It landed with a satisfying thwack right in the leather pocket.

  “Nice,” Jack said.

  “Decent,” Noah said with a shake of his head. “But you need to pull your arm back more.”

  Hero pranced over to Jack, stuck his muzzle into Jack’s mitt, and gently took the ball in his mouth. He carried it over to Ben. Ben wiped the slobber off on the leg of his jeans.

  Ben threw again.

  “Better,” Noah said. “Now release a second sooner.”

  Ben released sooner and turned to Noah for feedback while Hero retrieved the ball again.

  “Not bad. Release it at the same time, but let your fingertips feel it for, like, a millisecond more.”

  Ben wasn’t quite sure how exactly he was supposed to do that, but he bit his tongue and tried again. They went on like this for more than an hour, with Noah seemingly making up tiny corrections and dishing them out. Ben was tired, but he was finally starting to get into the zone. Hero was getting a workout too, dashing between Jack and Ben in an endless loop.

  Ben wound up for another pitch, but before he could release the ball, something caught his eye.

  It was a patrol car moving slowly down the block.

  Ben let his arm fall to his side and held the ball loosely in his hand. Noah and Jack froze.

  Hero barked once, then ran over and sat down, leaning against Ben’s leg.

  A horrible feeling washed over Ben—some grim combination of numbness, fear, and despair. He had never allowed himself to really contemplate the what ifs of his dad’s job, but he was the son of a cop. Every day was a risk. Every day could mean danger.

  But maybe today was the day that danger became a reality.

  As the car drew closer, Hero moved in front of Ben, his ears up and his body on alert. He watched the car approach. Hero was guarding Ben, protecting him, as if he could stop the worst kind of news from arriving.

  The patrol car turned slowly into the Landrys’ driveway and came to a stop.

  4

  BEN INHALED SHARPLY AND STEADIED HIMSELF. Blood pounded in his ears; the grass beneath his feet and the sunlight and trees overhead suddenly felt very far away.

  Hero tucked his head under Ben’s hand. The feeling of the dog’s warm fur brought Ben back to himself.

  Ben couldn’t see who was inside the car—was it the chief? The mayor?

  At last, the car doors swung open at exactly the same time. Two police officers climbed out, their faces blank, betraying nothing. One of them was Officer Perillo, who worked in the K-9 unit with Ben’s dad. She had helped show Ben how to train Hero—and Hero had been Perillo’s canine teacher when she first joined the unit.

  In fact, Perillo was one of the officers who had arrested Mitch, the head of the dogfighting ring, after Ben and Hero had found him.

  Ben’s mom rushed out to the driveway and stopped by his side. She clasped her hands together in front of her chin, holding her breath.

  “Is my dad missing? Is he
okay?” Ben’s throat was dry, and his heart was about to burst from his chest. He took a step forward and tried to read Officer Perillo’s face. She looked right at him, her eyes filled with concern and kindness.

  “Don’t worry, Ben,” Perillo said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Did that mean his dad was all right?

  Ben’s mom reached out and put her hand on his arm. Hero stepped forward, positioning himself between the officers and Ben.

  “Mommy! Benny!” Erin called from the doorway, where she stood with a frightened look on her face. “Is that Daddy?”

  “I got her,” Noah and Jack said at the same time. They jogged over and led Erin into the house.

  Ben’s mom gripped his arm tightly. She took a breath. “Is he missing? Do the convicts have him?” she asked, her voice steady.

  “We don’t know,” Perillo said. “But we haven’t heard from him since last night.”

  Ben felt his mom sway a little. He put an arm around her shoulder to steady her.

  “He was supposed to check in every hour,” Perillo went on. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

  “He texted around midnight,” Ben’s mom said. “He said everything was fine and that he felt like he and Scout were getting close to the convicts.”

  Perillo shot a look at the other officer, who walked a few feet away and started talking into the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder.

  “That’s good,” Perillo said. “That’s almost an hour after we last heard from him. That means another hour that everything was fine.” Perillo stepped closer and took Ben’s mom’s hand. “Listen, Jessica, everything’s going to be okay. Dave is the best cop out there. He knows how to take care of himself.”

  “Thanks, Janine.” Ben’s mom managed a weak smile. “I know. And he has Scout with him too.”

  Perillo nodded. “Scout is smart and strong—like this guy right here.” She reached down and scratched Hero behind the ears. “Scout is going to look out for the Sarge the same way Hero would.” Perillo turned to Ben. “We have every officer on the force, plus federal agents, out there looking for him. We’re going to find him.”

  Ben nodded and bit his bottom lip to steady it. “Okay,” he muttered. Hero looked up at the sound of his voice. Ben ran his fingers over his dog’s smooth forehead.

  “Remember all the things Hero did to keep you safe?”

  Ben nodded.

  “That’s what Scout is going to do for your dad. He has your dad’s back—you know that, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” Ben thought of something. “Officer Perillo?”

  “Yes?”

  “What were they in for? The guys who escaped, I mean?”

  Perillo sighed. She looked to Ben’s mom, who nodded.

  “Armed robbery,” Perillo said.

  Ben felt queasy.

  “I know you’re scared, Ben, but we got this,” Perillo reassured him. “I need you to do something for me, though.”

  Ben took a couple of quick breaths and got it together. “Sure.”

  “I need you to stay here with your mom and sister. Can you do that?”

  “No,” Ben blurted out before he could stop himself. His mom spun around to look at him, and Perillo’s eyes went wide. A wave of frustration and adrenaline washed over him. “I want to help—I want to go look for my dad! You guys know Hero and I can find him!”

  “Ben—” Perillo started.

  “Ben,” his mom said, putting her hands on Ben’s shoulders. She tipped his chin up and locked eyes with him. “We need you. Erin and I need you here.”

  “Dad needs me more!” Ben cried.

  “Ben, please. Listen to me,” His mom’s voice cracked, and she pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Ben could feel his mom’s heart beating through her chest. She was as scared as he was.

  5

  BEN’S MIND SPUN IN AN ENDLESS LOOP.

  Was his dad safe? Was he hurt?

  Jack and Noah had gone home and kept texting to see if there had been any news. Ben just kept replying with one word: Nope. His friends had offered to hang out at his house, but Ben just needed to be alone.

  He wandered the house. Hero followed him from room to room, his head and tail hanging low. He wasn’t going to let Ben be alone for a split second.

  “I know, buddy,” Ben said to Hero as they sat together on Ben’s bed. “I don’t want to be stuck here any more than you do. But we don’t have a choice. We promised.”

  Hero looked up at Ben with big, sad eyes. The soft fur of his forehead was wrinkled with worry. He whimpered and dropped his head into Ben’s lap.

  Ben didn’t know how Hero could tell that things weren’t okay—but he could. He felt that Ben was upset.

  “What should we do?” Ben asked Hero.

  Hero looked up at him without lifting his head. He let out a short, sharp snort.

  Ben studied his dog’s sleek dark face and scratched the soft spot around Hero’s whiskers.

  One of the things Ben loved most about Hero was how calm and solid he was—how strong. He always knew what to do. Sometimes Ben envied Hero’s clear sense of purpose, his lack of self-doubt. If someone he loved was in danger, Hero acted. He never worried about his own safety or whether or not it was the “right” choice. He just did what his instinct and training told him to do: help.

  Ben watched Hero for another moment.

  This time Ben knew what he needed to do.

  “Come on, boy,” Ben said. Hero was on his feet so fast it was almost as if he’d never been lying down. He stood by the door, his head up, his senses alert. His ears twitched as he listened to the sounds of the house and the street beyond it. He watched as Ben laced up his sneakers and pulled on a sweatshirt.

  “Come, Hero. We need a few things.” Hero followed Ben down the hall to his parents’ room and stood guard while Ben rummaged through his dad’s closet. Ben emerged with his dad’s worn-out police academy sweatshirt, which he wrapped tightly around his own waist, knotting it in front.

  They headed downstairs.

  Ben’s mom had drifted off to sleep on the couch, with Erin curled up next to her. Ben stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching them. Then he scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen counter.

  He knew his mom would be mad when she woke up and discovered Ben was gone.

  At the same time, he didn’t feel he had a choice.

  He had to act.

  Ben opened the front door and slipped outside, Hero by his side. He couldn’t stay trapped in his house, waiting for the phone to ring, while the best search dog in Mississippi was leaning against his leg.

  Ben’s phone dinged in his pocket. It was a group text from Jack to him and Noah.

  What’s the word? Jack wrote. I’m coming over after dinner, like it or not.

  Me too, Noah wrote.

  Ben took one last look at his house, then turned back to his phone.

  Don’t bother, he wrote. I’m coming to you. Meet at Jack’s in 15.

  Ben pedaled fast.

  Hero ran at his side, wearing a black vest with the words K-9 UNIT written across it in neon yellow letters. His movements were fluid, purposeful—graceful. As hard as Ben was pedaling, Hero looked like he was barely breaking a sweat.

  Noah and Jack stood waiting for them on Jack’s lawn, worried looks on their faces.

  “Is everything okay?” Noah asked.

  “Did you hear something about your dad?” Jack asked.

  Ben shook his head. He hopped off his bike and let it fall to the ground. He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and tossed it down on the grass.

  “We haven’t heard anything,” he said. “But I need your help.”

  Noah looked down at Ben’s backpack, then at Hero in his K-9 vest. Ben saw the wheels turning in his best friend’s head.

  “You and Hero are going to look for your dad.” Noah wasn’t asking a question—he was making a statement.

&nbs
p; “Yeah.”

  Jack looked from Ben to Noah and back again. “What do you need us to do?”

  “I need supplies. Snacks, water, walkie-talkies.”

  Without a word, Noah and Jack turned and headed inside. Jack’s mom was at the hospital where she worked as a doctor, and they had the house to themselves. The three boys filled up Ben’s backpack with energy bars and water, maps and phone chargers, fifteen dollars in cash and a familiar-looking compass. They hadn’t been able to use their phones when they’d gotten stranded in the woods during the hurricane; that compass had come in handy.

  The backpack was stuffed to the limit, and the zipper barely stayed closed. Ben hefted the bag onto his shoulders.

  Noah and Jack looked at each other, then at Ben.

  “We’re coming with you,” Jack said.

  “You can’t stop us,” Noah added.

  Ben sighed. He should have known his friends weren’t going to want him to go looking for his dad alone. They had been with him and Hero through plenty of adventures.

  But this time was different.

  “Thanks, guys,” Ben said. “That’s really cool of you.”

  “I sense a major ‘but’ coming,” Jack said drily.

  “I sense a major ‘I gotta do this on my own’ coming,” Noah said, rolling his eyes.

  “Ha,” Ben shot back. “But no. First of all, Noah—you’re not exactly in the best shape.”

  Noah looked down at his injured arm and shrugged, then screwed up his face in pain. “True,” he said.

  “And I need someone to look out for Erin and my mom. Someone has to be there if they hear bad n—” Ben couldn’t finish the sentence, because he couldn’t even finish the thought. “I need you guys to be my home base, okay?”

  Noah looked down at the floor. Jack looked up at the ceiling.

  Ben understood. He wouldn’t want to let either one of them go off by himself either.

  “Fine,” Noah said.

  “Okay,” Jack said.

  The boys walked single file into the front yard, where Ben’s bike lay waiting. They stood silently on the lawn for a moment. No one knew what to say.