“I’m so grateful to you for letting Jack come to your house during this awful storm,” Jack’s mom said. “I feel terrible that I can’t be home with him, but I have to get back to the hospital. All doctors are required to report for duty until . . . Well, we’ll see how bad it gets and what we find after the hurricane passes.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, Dr. Murphy,” Ben said.
“Anyway,” she said with a distracted smile, “I know Jack and Scout will be safe with you and Hero. Please tell your parents I said thank you. I’m sure your dad is having a busy day too.”
“Yes, ma’am, he is.”
“Be right back.” Jack’s mom disappeared around a corner, headed toward the kitchen. With a furtive glance in her direction to make sure she wasn’t looking, Ben reached up and grabbed Jack’s baseball team sweatshirt off a hook. He stuffed it into his backpack.
He thought it might come in handy as a scent item, just in case his worst fears were confirmed. In case Jack was trying to get to his dad’s house with Scout.
But Ben really hoped he wouldn’t need it.
6
THE RAIN HADN’T STARTED YET, BUT the wind was picking up. Tree limbs bent and bobbed at sharp angles. Entire tree trunks swayed from side to side.
Ben’s eyes burned from the grit and dirt that flew into his face. He and Noah rode through the nearly empty streets of Gulfport, pedaling hard against the wind. Even Hero looked like he had to work just to move forward, his eyes squeezed almost shut and his ears pressed back against the sides of his head.
“What the heck was that about?” Noah shouted over the noise of the gusting, whistling wind.
Ben knew he couldn’t keep the truth from Noah any longer. Plus he didn’t want to. His chest was tight with worry about Jack and Scout—and with stress from being the only one to know Jack’s plan. Keeping secrets was a miserable job.
“It’s Jack,” Ben shouted back. “His mom doesn’t know this, but he took Scout and left town.”
“Left town?” Noah cried, pulling up beside Ben so they could hear each other better. “Now?! Where is he going?”
“To see his dad. In Jackson.”
Noah shook his head.
“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Noah called out.
“I know, and I need to find him fast. I don’t even know if he’s heard that the hurricane is headed straight for us. And I’m afraid he and Scout are going to get stuck in it. He’s not answering his phone.”
“So what are you going to do?” Noah asked.
“Hero and I are going to find him.”
Until he said the words out loud, Ben hadn’t been entirely sure what his plan was. But now he was certain of what he needed to do.
The boys didn’t speak for a few blocks. The neighborhood was empty except for a couple of stray cars quickly heading to their final destinations. The wind continued its dance down the abandoned streets. Screen doors slapped shut, then flew open again. Ben felt the moist air thickening all around him, like it was wrapping him in a heavy, wet blanket.
Ben tried to focus and map out the steps in his head. He knew Jack would have to head north on the main road, Route 49, to get out of town. But that only led to more questions. How long ago did Jack leave? Maybe he’d tried to take the bus, but Ben was pretty sure that a bus wouldn’t run in this weather. Was he on foot or on his bike? How far ahead were he and Scout? The road led right through the woods outside of town. Was it safer in the forest during a hurricane—or more dangerous? Could Ben and Hero even catch up to Jack now if they tried?
A huge crack shot through the air, and a blur of movement flashed before Ben’s eyes.
“Whoa!” Noah screamed, pulling his bike sharply to the side and skidding to a stop. Ben slammed on his brakes just a couple of inches from him.
A massive tree branch had fallen across the road. It stretched from one side of the street to the other.
Ben pictured Jack and Scout in the woods, surrounded by tall, strong trees bending and sending branches toppling in the wind—just like this one. He couldn’t imagine how terrified and alone they would feel when the storm really hit.
Fat raindrops began to pelt Ben on the face. He touched his hand to his cheek, where the water had stung his skin. More drops struck him on the head. The rain was starting—and already it was intense, forceful.
“Let’s get out of here,” Noah called out. He steered his bike up onto the sidewalk and across someone’s lawn to get around the tree. Ben and Hero followed closely behind.
The rain picked up speed. The boys reached Ben’s driveway just as the skies opened and a curtain of rain came down. They stashed their bikes in the garage and ran inside, water running off them onto the kitchen floor. Ben grabbed a stack of towels. He tossed one to Noah, then dropped to his knees and held a towel out toward a soaking Hero. But Hero didn’t want to dry off. He walked away from Ben to the front door and stood by it, waiting. He watched Ben carefully, and Ben knew exactly what his dog wanted.
Hero wanted to go get Jack and Scout. He knew they were in trouble.
“Okay, buddy.” Ben sighed and looked at Noah. “I guess Hero and I are heading back out now. The full hurricane’s not supposed to hit for a couple more hours. You’ll be safe here. We’ll be back soon.”
Noah tossed his towel onto the back of a chair. “I’m coming with you.”
Ben shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Is it a worse idea than going alone to Jackson in a hurricane?”
“I don’t want anyone else to be in danger.”
“Well, it isn’t all up to you, Ben. I don’t want you to be in danger either. Especially not by yourself.”
Ben thought about what his friend was saying. He realized that Noah wanted to help him the same way Ben wanted to help Jack. And there was no way Ben would take no for an answer if the roles were reversed.
“Okay,” Ben exhaled. “Thanks.” He tried to shake the feeling that not one but now two of his friends would be in danger. Ben and Hero would have to bring their A game—more than ever before. “We need some supplies,” Ben told Noah. “Rain gear, water, food, a radio.”
“Got it,” Noah said. “I’ll start packing up.” He grabbed his backpack and started making room in it. “How do you think Scout will do in a storm?” Noah asked.
At the mention of Scout’s name, Hero let out a soft bark. He whimpered and paced by the front door. He was anxious to go.
“Hero, buddy, sit,” Ben said from across the room. Hero sat but didn’t look happy about it. He followed Ben with his eyes. The dog’s whole body was jittery and tense.
Ben filled water bottles and stuffed them into his backpack. He dug around in the mudroom for rain ponchos and his dad’s spare rain pants and waders. He snatched up a handful of protein and granola bars, trail mix, and lots of treats for Hero. His backpack weighed about a zillion pounds by the time he was done, but he knew he might need everything in it. Every few minutes, he stopped to call Jack. It went straight to voice mail. Jack was ignoring his calls.
Noah stood by the door in Ben’s mom’s rain gear—a coral-colored slicker and pants—with a scowl on his face.
“Sorry, dude,” Ben said. “That’s all I could find.”
“It’s fine,” Noah said. “Let’s just get going.”
Hero was up on his feet, his tail wagging, his eyes pleading with Ben to hurry.
Ben ran upstairs to get something from his dad’s closet. He came back down, his arms full of gear for Hero. Without any commands from Ben, Hero sat down and waited expectantly for Ben to suit him up.
Ben slipped a stiff neon yellow rain vest over Hero’s head. It circled his neck and extended along his back to his tail. The front flap covered his chest and reached under to his belly. The sides hung down low. Ben buckled the nylon straps under Hero’s chest and stomach, holding the vest in place. There were reflective strips along the top and sides so Hero could be seen in the dark.
“Looking
good, Hero,” Noah said.
Hero gazed up at Ben, ready to go. Finding people was what Hero was trained to do—what he had done on the police force for years, for as long as Ben could remember. And he did it better than any other dog out there.
“I know, pal,” Ben said, rubbing the top of Hero’s head. “I want to go find them too.” He had stuffed Jack’s sweatshirt at the top of his backpack. He pulled it out and held it under Hero’s nose. Hero ran his snout over the fabric, sniffing and exhaling sharply, sniffing again, then snorting again. He did this dozens of times before sitting down and looking at Ben, waiting for a command.
Ben studied Hero’s face, with its shiny dark fur and expressive eyes. Hero couldn’t speak, but Ben felt like they always understood each other anyway. Hero had Jack’s scent. He was ready.
“Let’s go,” Ben said.
With a last look around his warm, safe, and dry house, Ben turned the doorknob. As soon as it was unlatched, the door flew open, pushed hard by the howling wind outside. The door knocked Ben in the chest. He stumbled backward, almost tripping over Hero. Horizontal rain flew into the house.
“The storm is getting closer!” Noah shouted. “We need to hurry!”
Ben grabbed hold of Hero’s collar and, with the other hand, pointed in a go command toward the door. Noah led the way, bending forward and tipping his head down, keeping his face out of the intense wind and rain. They pushed ahead and made it to their bikes.
All the houses were locked up tight. Everyone in the neighborhood had shut their doors, boarded their windows, and retreated to safety inside.
Ben had never pedaled so hard in his life. The boys could barely move in a straight line—they slalomed all over the road, just trying to keep biking forward. Rain lashed at their faces. Ben shook his head to get the water out of his eyes so he could see where they were going.
All he had to do, really, was follow Hero. It was clear to Ben that even in the rain, with the wind blowing so hard, Hero had latched on to a scent. Hero barreled forward through the darkening, soaked streets, his yellow vest flashing. Water flooded the gutters, and trees bent in the heavy wind.
Ben and Noah followed Hero as closely as they could. Hero made a few turns and led them north, toward the edge of town. Ben kept expecting Hero to head for the smooth pavement of Route 49, but he stuck to smaller roads. Where was Hero taking them? Would Jack and Scout really have traveled along this winding route?
But then, after a couple of miles, Ben realized why Hero wasn’t taking them to the road.
Because his dog was leading them straight into the dark, wet woods.
7
THEY REACHED THE EDGE OF THE forest, and whatever light was left in the sky was soon obliterated by trees. Ben and Noah followed Hero just inside the tree line. They stopped to catch their breath. The rain beat down, and the trees sounded like a raging sea, crashing back and forth above them.
Ben wiped the rain off his face and shook out his hands. His fingers were pruny and stiff from gripping the wet handlebars for so long. Tree branches snapped overhead. Branches plummeted down, some catching on lower limbs, others crashing to the ground.
“Maybe we should turn back,” Ben said, loudly enough to be heard over the wind and rain. “This is getting really dangerous.” Before Noah had a chance to reply, Hero barked several times at Ben. He was agitated—he pranced in a circle, then ran a few feet farther into the woods, then stopped, turned back to Ben, and barked again.
Noah surveyed the darkness ahead. He looked at Ben. Just as Noah opened his mouth to speak, Hero barked, then shot off deeper into the forest. He disappeared from their sight within seconds.
“Hero!” Ben called out. “Stop!” But it was too late. Hero was long gone. Ben turned to Noah. “I’m sorry—I can’t leave Hero out here by himself.”
“Me neither,” Noah said. “Let’s go.”
The boys pedaled off after Hero. Once they were farther inside the protective enclosure of the thick foliage, the wind and rain weren’t as bad. Ben used a flashlight to light the way. The narrow beam bounced off the trees closest to them, leaving everything beyond them in utter darkness. He saw a tiny dot of flashing, reflective yellow bouncing in the distance—Hero’s vest.
They wove around trees, following the path Hero had taken, which was muddy and thick with leaves and debris. Their fat bike tires barely turned in the muck. Ben’s legs ached, and his lungs burned.
Ben wasn’t familiar with the spot where they had entered the national park—it wasn’t anywhere near where the boys practiced baseball, or where he and Hero had been the day they’d found Scout.
After a few minutes of hard riding, Ben saw Hero stop up ahead to sniff at something. Ben tried to pedal faster on the muddy ground so they could catch up, but his front tire struck something hard and fixed—a root or a big rock. He managed to hang on to the handlebars and catch himself before he went flying over the front. Noah slid to a stop behind him.
“We need to ditch the bikes,” Ben said, hopping off and letting his bike fall to the ground. He would worry about finding it again later.
“Yeah.” Noah dropped his bike to the ground too.
The boys moved ahead on foot as quickly as possible. Hero’s ears twitched as he watched Ben and Noah get closer. The sky was barely visible through the tops of the trees that loomed over them—trees as tall as buildings.
Ben turned off his flashlight and followed the reflective strips on Hero’s vest. He couldn’t even make out Hero’s dark fur. Ben heard Noah right behind him.
They traveled for a mile or more, deeper into the woods—and the farther they went, the more Ben felt they should stop. They should turn around and go back to the safety of his house. They should dry off and hunker down and pray that Jack and Scout would be okay.
This was a terrible idea.
Suddenly Hero stopped, and Ben and Noah came to a halt too. Hero raised his head and looked around. His ears pricked up, and he sniffed at the wind. Then, with a yelp, he quickly sat down and turned to look at Ben, his eyes full of urgency.
This is what Hero was trained to do when he found what he was looking for.
But there was nothing there—just trees, and rain, and darkness. Ben’s heart sank. Had Hero’s tracking skills been thrown off by the storm?
Ben was about to ask Hero what he had found, when he suddenly heard a small, familiar bark not too far off in the woods.
Scout!
“Go, Hero!” Ben called out, giving Hero the hand signal to go along with the command. “Go get Scout!”
Hero dashed toward the sound of Scout’s bark. Tripping over vines and roots, Ben and Noah followed the dog as closely as they could. Hero stopped short, and Ben and Noah paused. Scout’s high-pitched barking was much louder and closer. The puppy had to be nearby—right?
So why had Hero stopped? And why wasn’t Scout running to them?
Before Ben had a chance to find out the answers, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. His skin tingled. It was like an electrical current passed through the air all around him. He looked up and realized that the world had gone silent. The rain above them had stopped. The wind had ceased. The trees were still, and everything was frozen. It was as if someone had pushed the off button on the weather.
Ben knew that was what happened right before things got bad. They were in the eye of the storm.
About ten feet away, he spotted a small cove created by two downed trees leaning against a low hill. The space was just big enough for the three of them to squeeze into—and just big enough to protect them.
“There!” Ben shouted, pointing with one hand and grabbing Noah’s slicker with the other. They dashed toward the shelter, with Hero herding them along. The two boys and Hero tucked themselves into the small space and huddled together.
They ducked their heads, wrapped their arms around each other’s shoulders, and held on tightly.
The hurricane was about to hit.
8
BEN WAS TR
EMBLING, AND HE COULD feel Noah shaking too. The tall trees waved back and forth. Ben hoped their trunks and branches would be able to withstand the worst of the wind. If they got knocked over, they’d land right on Ben, Noah, and Hero, trapping them—or worse.
And if that happened, Ben’s parents would probably never find him. They would never know how sorry he was for coming out here.
But it was too late to turn back. Too late to run and hide in the dry safety of his basement. They were stuck here now, and they were about to ride out the worst storm in Ben’s lifetime.
Ben buried his fingers in Hero’s fur, which radiated warmth, and felt his dog’s steady breathing. Breathe, Ben heard his dad’s voice say. That’s what he always told Ben to do first if he was in a bad situation. Breathe. Stay focused. Find a solution.
Ben inhaled and exhaled in time with the rise and fall of Hero’s rib cage, trying to calm his own nerves. The smells of wet earth, wood sap, and crushed leaves filled his nose. Slowly, Ben’s heart rate began to come down and he could think a little more clearly.
The seconds dragged by as the air crackled. It felt like forever, until finally it happened: A blast of air and a deluge of water slammed into them, hard, knocking them sideways. Ben clutched Hero for dear life as the storm washed over them. The wind was so strong it sounded like shrieking. Ben thought it would rip off his rain gear. The downed trees over their heads protected them from above, but the wind and rain were coming at them from every other direction. The pelting drops felt like a thousand tiny knives scratching at his face.
“Hang on!” he shouted at Noah over the din.
“Trying!” Noah yelled back, his voice filled with fear.
Hero’s body was coiled and tense under Ben’s hands as the boys huddled over him. “It’s okay, Hero,” Ben whispered into Hero’s ear. “I got you, boy. I’m right here. We’re going to be okay.”
The sound of the rain and wind became a steady white noise in Ben’s mind. He shut his eyes and tried to think of it like music. Every few minutes, he heard the sharp crack of a tree branch snapping in the woods around them—followed by the heavy thud of it hitting the ground.
Hurricane Rescue Page 3
