“Hero, come!” Ben said.
Hero’s ears flicked back on his head, but he didn’t follow the command immediately, like he always did. Instead, he hesitated—so quickly it was almost imperceptible. But Ben felt it.
“Hero, come!” Ben repeated. Hero trotted over reluctantly. As he neared, Ben heard him softly whining.
Ben wasn’t sure at first what was happening. He wrapped his arms around Hero’s neck, but instead of leaning into Ben as usual, Hero tried to pull away.
That’s when Ben understood. His highly trained, levelheaded, lifesaving dog was upset.
Ben let him go, and Hero zigzagged across the clearing again, tracking Ben’s dad’s trail as anxiously as before.
“Officer Perillo,” Ben called out over the chugging of the propeller and the whir of the engine behind them. “Do you see what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah,” she shouted back. “That’s not like him.” They watched Hero in silence for a moment. “I think he really wants to find your dad.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Three.” Perillo turned to Ben. He saw a look in her eye that he recognized: It was the steely resolve and laser focus of a cop about to embark on a dangerous mission. “We need to get going. You ready, Ben?”
“I’m ready.”
Before Ben had the chance to give Hero the search command, Hero rocketed across the clearing, toward the tree line on the eastern edge. When he got a few feet from the dark forest, he looked back at Ben, barked once, and sat down.
Hero had picked up a scent.
“Let’s go!” Perillo jogged toward the dog.
“Good boy,” Ben called, following close behind Perillo. He gave Hero a dog treat from his pocket. “Now, Hero—go!”
Hero bolted into the trees so fast Ben thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The darkness swallowed the black dog. If it weren’t for the neon yellow letters on Hero’s vest, Ben never would have been able to see him as he moved deeper into the woods.
Ben and Perillo ran to keep up, the light from their flashlights bouncing up and down as they moved. They hopped over roots and skirted rocks that littered their path. As the sound of the helicopter faded away behind them, Hero became a speck in the distance ahead.
Hero picked up speed. He ran off the trail and headed deeper and deeper into the woods, without pausing, for a mile, then two miles. Ben thought the dog would collapse from exhaustion.
But Hero just kept going. He had latched on to the scent of Ben’s dad, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found him.
Perillo slowed down a few yards ahead of Ben. She bent forward and put her hands on her knees, catching her breath.
Ben caught up to her, and she put a hand on his shoulder.
“He needs you, Ben,” she said between breaths.
“What do you mean?” Ben was panting. This was as much running as he did in an entire baseball practice—plus a few extra sprints.
“Hero’s tracking, but can you see a difference in how he’s behaving?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah. It’s like he’s . . . I don’t know . . . a little wild or something.”
“Let me ask you this, Ben—why did Hero rescue all those people over the years?”
Ben ran through the list of people he knew Hero had saved—everyone from old ladies to babies to an entire Boy Scout troop. Hero never wavered in his determination to find each and every one of those people. But he also had no reason—other than training and instinct—to find them.
“Because that’s what he does.”
“Right,” Perillo said. “He did it because he’s a search-and-rescue dog. But it’s different this time. Why do you think he’s trying to find your dad?”
The answer was easy. “Because he loves him.” Ben was starting to see what Perillo was getting at.
“That’s right. He loves your dad the way you do. It’s the same way Hero loves you. How did you feel when Hero was in trouble?”
Ben shuddered at the memory. In his mind, he replayed the horrible scene of Hero getting attacked by two vicious dogs at the dogfighting ring. “Pretty awful.”
“And did you do things you would normally do? Or did you act differently?”
“I acted differently.”
“So Hero feels the same way right now. You know he would do literally anything for you or your dad, right?”
“Yeah, and I’d do anything for him.” Ben squinted into the darkness to find Hero. He saw a tiny neon streak about thirty yards ahead. “So he’s tracking differently?”
“Yes. He senses that your dad’s in danger, so he’s feeling a kind of urgency that’s more than just the tracking instinct—or his training.”
A shot of hope flashed through Ben. “Does that mean he’ll find my dad faster?”
“Well . . . not exactly.” Perillo straightened up and shook out her arms and legs. She started walking quickly after Hero. Ben had to take two steps for every one of hers to keep up. “It can actually slow him down. It can mean that he’s stressed, which can make him distracted.”
It had never occurred to Ben that Hero could be anything but perfect.
In Ben’s mind, Hero never failed, never faltered, and never slowed down, even if he was hurt. He couldn’t bear the thought that Hero could be sad—it sent a pang through Ben’s chest that made him feel even worse.
“He’s a good dog. He’ll be okay—he just needs our support,” Perillo said, as if she knew what Ben was thinking.
“How do we do that?” Ben asked. The neon speck was getting smaller. They needed to hurry or they might lose him.
“You need to take over.”
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
“I mean that you need to be his boss—more so than ever before. He needs you to lead him.”
“Like, be the alpha dog?”
“Exactly. You need to be the alpha. You two are a team, but every team needs a leader. And that’s you.” Perillo pointed a finger at Ben’s chest.
“So what do I do?”
“Well, first things first—you need to stop him right now. He’s too far away.”
Ben figured that wasn’t so hard. “Hero!” he called ahead, his voice echoing in the quiet woods. “Stop.”
Hero kept running.
“Hero!” Ben couldn’t keep a note of surprise out of his voice. It wasn’t like his dog to ignore Ben’s command. “HERO!” Ben’s voice was getting higher as well as louder.
Hero kept running.
Ben looked at Perillo, unsure what to do next.
“Use your voice,” she said simply. “Dig deep, Ben.”
He filled his lungs with air and, when he called out Hero’s name again, projected his voice far out across the woods.
“HERO! STOP!” Ben’s voice vibrated deep within his chest. It sounded stronger and richer than usual.
Hero stopped. The neon flicker of his vest went still, then grew bigger as Ben and Perillo approached him.
“That was good, Ben,” Perillo said. When they were within a few feet of Hero, the dog started moving again—but he was walking instead of running this time. Perillo tipped her head in Hero’s direction. “See? He still has other ideas.”
Ben shook his head. This was truly unlike Hero.
“There will be times when you can’t communicate with him verbally,” Perillo went on. “So what would you do then?”
“Use hand commands?” Ben wasn’t sure how that would work in the woods, in the dark.
“Well,” Perillo replied, “yes, but a hand command won’t always work. He wouldn’t be able to see one right now, for example. And soon we’re going to be closing in on these guys, and we’re not going to want to shout and tip them off that we’re coming. So what would you do if you couldn’t call out to him?”
Ben had no idea. “Um . . .”
“You’d have to rely on some kind of sound, but more than that—you’d have to rely on how he hears the sound coming from you.”
“I don’t understan
d,” Ben said.
“It’s kind of hard to talk about—it’s a lot easier to do. Try something for me, would you?”
Ben nodded.
“Make a sound like this.” Perillo made a loud clucking sound with her mouth.
Ben did the same. Hero’s ears flickered slightly, but he didn’t so much as slow down.
“He didn’t really care about that, did he?”
“No.” Ben shook his head.
“Right,” Perillo said. “So try it again—but this time do it in a way that you know he’ll hear and understand.”
Ben thought about her instructions for a moment. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but he got what she meant.
“Tsk tsk!” He made the sound again, this time a little more forcefully. Hero’s ears pricked up and he tilted his head to the side.
“Again,” Perillo instructed Ben. “You got his attention, but this time, you’re in charge. Think about what you want him to do.”
“TSK TSK!” The sound was firmer, sharper-edged. Hero’s ears went up again, and he paused mid-step, turning back to look at Ben. He watched Ben for a moment, then turned his head forward and began walking and sniffing at the ground once more.
“Nice,” Perillo said. “You got through to him. But now you need him to stop—and stay stopped. Again.”
Ben took a couple of breaths and cleared his throat. He watched Hero’s sleek black fur and muscular back, and his tail pointed straight back and curled up at the end.
“You’re talking directly to him,” Perillo said. “It’s just the two of you. You speak your own language.”
Ben rounded his lips, put his tongue to the roof of his mouth, and made the same noise again, but this time it was firm, and loud, and quick. It wasn’t just a sound, it was a command.
Hero stopped.
Ben and Perillo were about ten feet away. Ben made the sound again, but a little faster—building on what he had just communicated to his dog—and this time, Hero sat down. He looked over his shoulder at Ben, his dark brown eyes big and round. Gone were the frantic movements and rapid pace. Hero looked calmer, more focused—and ready to do what Ben needed him to do, instead of what Hero wanted to do.
“Good boy.”
Hero watched Ben approach.
Ben reached his dog’s side and squatted down next to him, scratching Hero’s back. “Good boy,” he repeated. Ben gave Hero a treat from his pocket and tipped his water bottle to Hero’s mouth. Hero snapped up the food and water, then resumed his still position, waiting for a command, his eyes on Ben.
Ben didn’t know how else to describe it: Hero looked relieved. He needed Ben to take charge.
“What now, Ben?” Perillo asked.
Ben thought for a moment. “He needs to stay closer. We don’t know who’s out there, so I don’t want him to get too far ahead of us.”
“Right. So, tell him.”
Ben took a deep breath and stood up. He looked down at Hero and held his gaze. Hero was ready to go but didn’t so much as flex a muscle. He was hanging on Ben’s every word.
“Hero,” Ben said, his voice clear and firm. “Stay close. Find Dad!”
Hero leaped to his feet and shot a few feet ahead of Ben and Perillo. He grazed the ground with his snout, moving it back and forth, then raising it to sniff at the air. He trotted at a steady clip. When he started to get a few yards farther out, Ben repeated himself. “Hero, stay close!”
Hero slowed his pace without looking up. He forged ahead, never moving out of their sight.
“Atta boy,” Ben said.
8
“THAT WAS AMAZING, BEN,” PERILLO SAID. “I’m proud of you.” They trudged ahead side by side. Her words floated to him across the darkness.
“Thanks.” He shrugged.
“You know,” Perillo went on, “we really come to think of our dogs as our partners—our equals. And in so many ways they are. But that’s the way we see it, not the way they see it. They see us as the boss, and that’s the way it should be.”
They were quiet for a moment. Ben listened to the underbrush crunching under their feet as they walked behind Hero.
“It took me a while to feel that way with my first K-9 partner,” Perillo said. “Moose was such a sweetheart. And tough too. Like a warrior. It was about a year before I really felt like we had it down, you know? Like I could get through to her no matter what was happening.” Perillo laughed. “But you know what? She had one strange fear that I could never get her past.”
“What was it?”
“For the life of her, she couldn’t jump through a car window—”
“Wait,” Ben interrupted, “dogs can do that? Jump through a car window?”
“Sure they can.”
“When the car’s moving?”
“When the car’s moving.”
“No way.”
“Pretty amazing, right? Anyway, Moose just couldn’t do it. She could climb ladders, track while swimming—I mean, she was incredible. Second only to Hero. But any time I commanded her to jump into a car, she froze. It was really frustrating. And it was keeping her from going out on the job.”
“Wow. So what did you do?”
“Well, your dad taught me what I just taught you, and it worked.”
The mere mention of his dad brought a swell of love—and fear—into Ben’s heart.
He had heard so many stories about his dad from other cops and from people in town over the years—funny tales, expressions of gratitude, moments of total awe—but this time it was different.
This time, he didn’t know if he would ever see his dad again.
Ben and Perillo fell silent as Hero tracked a path in front of them. He stayed close. They were deep into the woods now. The quiet around them deepened, and the foliage grew denser. Something in the air began to feel different.
Hero slowed to a stop. He sniffed heavily at one spot, then moved a few steps, stopped, and focused on a new spot.
“What is it, Hero?” Ben whispered.
Hero looked up at Ben, then turned back to his work. He moved farther ahead, then a little farther, finally leading them into a small clearing. Every few sniffs, Hero snorted sharply to clear his nostrils. His muzzle and whiskers twitched as he worked.
Ben smelled the familiar scent of campfire smoke. It was faint.
Hero began to walk—and sniff—in a large circle. Ben stepped closer to see.
“Officer Perillo!” Ben whispered. “Over here.”
She rushed to his side. They stood together looking down at a flattened, burned circle in the underbrush.
At the center of it, a small bed of orange embers flickered and darkened just before going out. They were barely lit—but they had definitely been burning hot not long ago.
Someone had just put out a fire.
Someone who might have heard them coming.
Someone who could still be close by.
“Stay close, Ben,” Perillo whispered. With one arm, she pushed him behind her and began to turn in a slow circle, scanning the area carefully.
Ben held his breath. Hero was a few feet away. Ben whistled—so softly it was almost no more than an exhale—to get his attention, then, when Hero was looking at him, Ben gave him the hand signal for come. Hero snapped to Ben’s side and sat down next to his leg. Ben gave him the hand signal for stay. The dog eyed the trees around them, his ears up and back.
The three of them stood silently, listening, watching, waiting.
Nothing.
Perillo released her grip on Ben’s arm but remained alert. Hero dropped his head to the ground and began sniffing again.
“Okay, Hero,” Ben said. Hero stood up and began to move around.
“They can’t be far,” Perillo whispered to Ben. “We need backup.” She pulled her walkie-talkie from its clip on her shoulder and spoke softly into it.
As Ben watched Hero follow a scent around the edge of the clearing, his eyes fell on a large rock resting by the base of a tree. Something just beneath
it looked out of place. Ben got closer and spotted a shiny red object jutting out from under the rock, half covered in dirt and leaves.
Ben leaned down to investigate.
It was an empty packet of Big Red gum.
He picked it up, and his fingers brushed against a large leaf lying on the ground. The leaf moved to reveal a small triangle of fabric, frayed at the edges as if it had been ripped from a larger piece. It was covered in dirt, but its bright orange color was still clear.
Like an orange prison jumpsuit.
Like the color an escaped convict would wear.
Ben’s heart pounded as the reality sank in: If the prisoners had just been here, then his dad had to be nearby.
He started to turn toward Perillo to tell her what he had found. As he did, he saw something sparkly out of the corner of his eye, just underneath the rock. Was it another clue?
Ben had spent his whole life wandering through the woods of Gulfport. He had camped out more times than he could remember. He knew the rules of safety and common sense that guided anyone who ventured into the woods.
But in his excitement he forgot everything.
Ben reached out a hand and, with shaking fingers, lifted the rock.
As he did, he realized two things at exactly the same instant: Hero was suddenly at his side and going nuts, barking and snarling and baring his teeth; and something was moving under the rock.
Ben turned to shush Hero—and at just that moment, the sparkly thing under the rock shot out toward him.
Before he had time to process what it was, Ben felt a sharp sting, burning, and warmth spreading up his arm.
That’s when he saw two small, bloody puncture wounds on his wrist, and he understood instantly what had just happened.
Ben had been bitten by a snake.
9
BEN STAGGERED BACKWARD AND FELL TO the ground. His arm was on fire, and he was so woozy he couldn’t even lift his head. He tried to call out Perillo’s name, but no sound came out. He let his head rest on the ground and stared up at the leaves on the tops of the trees, far above him, swaying and revealing flashes of the night sky.
His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Just as he was about to lose consciousness, Ben felt pressure and warmth on his chest.
Rescue Mission Page 4
