CHAPTER 6
THE TREE DWELLERS
The creature—or whatever it was—hissed and growled, and Max took a step back.
“It’s going to eat us!” Rocky yowled.
Panicked, the Dachshund sprinted to the opposite side of the cracked road, running in a wild zigzag. Meeting the concrete ledge on the far side, he spun around in a desperate circle.
Max’s instincts told him to flee as well, but he remembered the last few times he’d thought a monster or some other beast was out to get them.
Instead of running away, Max took a purposeful step forward. Though the sprinkling, misty rain made him blink, he was able to see that the dozen yellow eyes belonged to six different small faces. It wasn’t the dark, deadly gaze of the monsters described by the beach pets. And it certainly wasn’t the icy glare of Dolph or his wolves, who wouldn’t be up in a tree, anyway.
“Don’t get close!” Rocky howled. “We gotta run away!”
Max moved closer so that the tree canopy blocked some of the rainfall, and he finally got a good view.
The creatures looked like giant rats with messy gray fur. One was bigger even than Gizmo or Rocky, but the other five were younger and smaller. They dangled upside down from the mossy branch, holding on with their thick, hairless pink tails. The strange things stared at Max with beady eyes, their rounded ears perked up.
For a long moment, Max and the six creatures watched each other silently. Then, from behind Max, came a loud thud. He spun around to see that Rocky had run headfirst into a guardrail. The Dachshund sat upon a patch of weeds, looking confused.
“Rocky!” Gizmo barked, and she ran to his side to sniff and lick his forehead.
From the trees, the tiniest rat-creature giggled. She raised her tiny front claws to cover her snout, but she couldn’t stop laughing. Soon, she was joined by the other four small ones.
“Did ya see that, Papa?” one of the creatures squealed. He pointed at Rocky. “That dog there done hit his head! Isn’t that silly?”
“It was funny, it was!” the smallest one squeaked. “He went ’round and ’round and ’round, and then he smacked his head like this!” She bounced her fist square in the center of her forehead.
All the small rat-creatures burst into another bout of laughter. Only the largest one remained unamused.
“Hey, it’s not funny!” Rocky barked from across the road. “You can’t go around scaring people and then laughing at them. It’s not right.”
Next to him, Gizmo giggled, then ducked her head when Rocky glared at her. “It was a little funny,” she said. “But only because you’re not hurt!”
The big creature growled again, and Max turned his attention to him. The younger things seemed harmless enough, but if the big one decided to attack Rocky or Gizmo, they could be in a lot of trouble. He was fat-bellied, with long whiskers that twisted off his snout like metal wire. Part of his left ear was missing, and there were scars all over his face. The creature’s jaws were clamped shut, but Max had seen the tiny, sharp teeth that filled the snouts of the babies. He could imagine how much bigger those teeth would be in an animal who’d clearly been in more than a few fights.
“Sorry about my friend,” Max said, gesturing to Rocky. “We’ve heard lots of stories about monsters in these woods, so he gets scared easily. I’m Max. Who are you?”
“He’s Papa,” said one of the tiny creatures, rolling his eyes.
“In actuality,” the big thing said, “the name is Hank. These be my children.”
“Nice to meet you,” Max said warily.
Hank looked Max up and down. “Uh-huh,” he said.
Rocky tilted his head at the creatures. “What are you supposed to be, anyway?” he asked.
“We’re possums!” the youngest girl squealed.
Gizmo furrowed her brow. “We know a Possum,” she said. “But she’s a cat.”
Hank grunted. “She musta been named after us real possums, then. Or she’s trying to be mistook for one of us. Lots of animals wish they was as nimble as us.”
Rocky nodded. “I’ve heard of animals like you. But why don’t you have any hair on your tails? Don’t you get cold?”
“Nah,” a boy possum said, his voice deeper than his sister’s. “Don’t need no hair. That would make it hard to dangle from branches.”
“And why do you hang upside down?”
The smallest one sniffed and crossed her arms. “Why don’t you?”
“Let’s not insult our new friends, Rocky,” Max said. To Hank, he nodded once more. “We’d best be on our way. It was nice to meet you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hank said. “It was real pleasurable-like. Enjoy the swamp, ya hear? It plans to enjoy you back.”
“Uh, all right,” Max said. Something about what the possum had just said felt very strange to him.
The possums watched silently as Max, Rocky, and Gizmo started down the road again. Once more, Max was astounded by the sudden shift in the world around them. A hazy green fog hung in the air, a mixture of the moisture rising off the swamp and mist from the earlier storm. Grass, weeds, and moss squelched between their toes, and mosquitoes buzzed around the puddles.
The tall trees and the dangling moss waved gently in the breeze, and Max heard distant splashes and shrieks. He ignored the noises until he heard creaks and cracks from the branches immediately to his left.
“What was that?” Rocky wheezed.
Max looked up and saw, once more, twelve eyes looking down at them. It was the possum family, only this time they sat atop the branch in a neat row, with Hank nearest to the road.
“Uh, hello again,” Max said.
“Hi!” Gizmo said.
Hank’s messy whiskers twitched. “Where you all headed?” he asked. As the possum spoke, Max caught flashes of his teeth, sharp and yellowed with age.
The possum children stared at them with unreadable expressions.
Something in the back of Max’s brain tingled, saying, Don’t trust this possum.
But that was silly, wasn’t it? Walking forward, Max answered, “We’re just passing through on our way to Baton Rouge.”
“Hmm,” Hank said.
The branch swayed as the possums leaped to another tree, keeping pace with the dogs. They watched silently.
Max led Rocky and Gizmo around an abandoned car. Its wheels were flat, and vines and moss dangled from its open doors.
Again the trees creaked, and the possums jumped to a branch up ahead. Rocky shivered, but Gizmo trotted in front of the others.
“Hi!” she called. “It’s Gizmo. I have a question.”
“What question?” Hank said from his new perch.
“I was wondering if a great big slobbery dog came through here not too long ago,” she said. “I smelled him back at the mall, but the rain’s washed away his scent.”
Leaves rustled as the five small possums dropped down to dangle from the branch by their naked tails. They whispered to one another, but Max couldn’t make out what they were saying.
Hank, meanwhile, stayed perched above them. His notched ear twitched as he listened to his children’s whispers, and slowly he nodded.
The largest of the five smaller possums peered up at his father. “Papa?” he asked.
“I done heard,” Hank said. To Gizmo, he said, “Yeah, a few weeks back some dog came through. He was awful confused and whiny, but no one ever did say big things is always smart.”
“He slobbered all over!” one of the young possums squealed.
Coming up to Gizmo’s side, Rocky called out, “Okay, thanks for the help! You can shoo now. We’ll be fine traveling on our own.”
Hank’s whiskers twitched. “If you say so.”
Despite Rocky’s clear irritation, the possums did not shoo. They stood where they were, still watching.
Rocky whispered to Max, “How about we pick up the pace and lose these guys? I don’t like how they’re watching us.”
Max nodded.
“Aw,�
�� Gizmo said. “Their dad sure is a grump, but the little ones are cute in their own way.”
“Yeah, yeah, they’re cute,” Rocky said. “Now can we get out of this swamp before we make any new creepy friends? Like those giant monsters everyone went on about?”
With one last glance at the dangling possums, Max led the way back up the overgrown road, this time at a full trot, and soon the three dogs found themselves cresting the top of the hill.
As far as Max could see, they were surrounded by the swamp, and the road, though it leveled off, was still overgrown. A little ways ahead was a big green sign, elevated high above them by steel posts. More of the gray-green moss dangled from the sign, and it was splattered with mud. There was a location printed on the sign in bold white type, but half of it was obscured by a spray-painted version of the three-ring symbol.
The paint was dark red, all the more garish amid the green of the swamp. Drips of paint made long trails down the sign, leaving spots of red on the road below. Max managed to make out the words NATIONAL WETLANDS PRESERVE, the white letters barely showing through the red paint. SOUTHERN ENTRANCE—ONE MILE.
“What do you think that means?” Gizmo asked.
Rocky stuck his head through the guardrail. “The land down there sure is wet. I’m not sure why they’d want to preserve this place, though. It’s stuffy, and it smells awful.”
“If we’re already in the wetlands, why is there an entrance in a mile?” Gizmo asked. “Unless it’s a special type of swamp. Maybe it’s nicer than this one!”
Max stretched his legs. “The sign says it’s only a mile away, so I guess we’ll find out.”
Gizmo’s stubby tail wagged. “That’s not far at all! Maybe Georgie will be there, or the old woman. Let’s go see!”
A branch next to the sign rustled and bounced, and a flash of gray fur burst from between the leaves. The fat possum, Hank, landed with a thud on a slender ledge at the base of the sign, sending the moss and vines waving.
“What you dumb dogs playing at?” the possum hissed. “Acting like you learned how to read people symbols? Animals can’t read.”
“You’re still following us?” Rocky yipped. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
Gripping the metal ledge, Hank regarded Rocky with narrowed, beady eyes.
“Maybe I do, and maybe I don’t. It ain’t none of your business.”
Rocky growled. “Then I don’t see how it’s your business if—”
“It’s fine, Rocky,” Max said. He looked up at the fat possum. “Hank, it’s a long story, but we actually can read. That’s why we’re on this journey. We’re looking for an old woman with a big hat who might have come through here. She’s involved with why all the people left and why some animals are smarter now.”
Hank waved a dismissive paw. “You go on and pretend you understand what these symbols mean. I’ll have you mutts know that we ain’t following you, we’re just going the same direction.”
“We are?” Gizmo asked. “You’re going to Baton Rouge, too?”
“Naw!” Hank spat. “Who wants to go all the way there? No, that old lady with the hat is having a party down the road. I’m taking my children. I’d invite you, but—”
Max’s ears perked up. “The hat lady? She’s here?”
“And she’s having a party?” Rocky asked. He spun in an excited circle. “With food?”
“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Gizmo asked.
The leaves above the sign rustled, and three of the small possums’ heads popped out. “Yeah, Papa,” one squealed. “We didn’t know about no party!”
Hank shook his head. “It was supposed to be a surprise. But now it’s all ruined.”
Gizmo sniffed at the cracked asphalt. “I don’t smell the lady’s scent,” she said.
Hank glared down at the dogs. “Well, you wouldn’t, would ya? Not with all the rain. You said that yourself.”
Gizmo sighed. “That’s true.”
Hank stroked the underside of his scarred snout with his paw. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you dogs went to the party. That dog you asked about is probably there, too.”
“Where is this party?” Max asked.
Stringing his thick, naked tail through a gap in the ledge, Hank dropped to dangle beneath the sign. He pointed down the road with his front paws.
“It’s thataway. You’ll see another sign and a dirt road on the right. Just keep going straight and you’ll find it in no time.”
“What about us, Papa?” one of the children squeaked.
“You hush,” Hank called. “You ain’t near clean enough to go to a party yet. You best start grooming yourselves afore all the possum food is ate up by these dogs.”
The smallest children let out a disappointed “Aww!” but they were quickly herded away by their elder siblings to get ready. Hank watched them go with a stern glare.
“Thank you for letting us know,” Max called up to Hank. “We appreciate it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the fat possum said. “Have fun.”
Max, Rocky, and Gizmo quickly trotted toward the sign and the branch that held the large possum. Just as they passed beneath, Max dared a glance up at him.
There was a strange look in the possum’s eyes. Once more the little voice in his head told him to be wary, but he didn’t know how to read possum expressions. And he so wanted to meet Madame’s owner. If she was truly just down the road, it meant this part of their desperate journey was finally over.
Once the sign was far behind and the possums out of earshot, Gizmo stopped to shake herself free of water from the mist and damp foliage. Max did the same, even though he knew it wouldn’t help much.
“You know, I usually like everybody,” Gizmo said. “But I’m not sure about Hank. Did you guys think he might be making all this up?”
Max nodded. “I can’t shake the feeling there’s something strange going on with him.”
“I hope he’s not lying,” Rocky moaned. “I’ve had enough of this dampness. Someplace festive and filled with food sounds amazing.”
“It does,” Max said. “I guess we’ll find out.”
As the three dogs walked on in silence, Max sensed the elevated road slanting down. He caught glimpses of mud and dirt through the guardrails, islands of dry land peeking up through the slimy green swamp water.
The sky above was still gray, and the air was much too warm. Max felt as though someone had thrown a hot, wet blanket on top of him. The idea that Madame’s owner would throw a party for animals out here in a swamp seemed strange, but he also never would have expected a scientist to end up helping a colony of animals at an abandoned beach resort.
So maybe Hank’s odd tale did have some truth to it.
“Hey!” shouted Gizmo.
Following the small terrier’s gaze, Max looked into the clustered trees on the right side of the road. There, partially hidden by overgrown branches, was another green sign. This one was smaller than the sign a ways back, but Max read the same words on it: NATIONAL WETLANDS PRESERVE. There was an arrow pointing to the right.
And just like on the bigger sign, someone had spray-painted a three-ringed symbol on this sign as a warning that Praxis-infected animals were nearby.
Max licked Gizmo’s forehead. “Good eye! Let’s go check it out.”
The three dogs darted to the side of the road. Now that it was level with the land once more, the guardrails had disappeared, replaced by a narrow ditch between the road and the swampy woods.
Max sniffed the ground as they passed the sign. He couldn’t hear any party sounds, and there weren’t any human or dog smells, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. The storm would have cleansed the air of many scents, and maybe the party wasn’t a loud one.
Not far past the sign, they saw a hard-packed dirt road that disappeared into the trees. Without asphalt to keep the plants at bay, it was more grass and weeds than road, though there were still evenly spaced ruts where cars and trucks would have driven thro
ugh.
Were they fresh? Max sniffed and pawed at the dirt, but he couldn’t tell.
“It sure is dark down there,” Rocky whispered.
“Yeah,” Max said. “Maybe this is the wrong road?”
“I don’t think so,” Gizmo said. “Hank’s directions said it would be this one. But I think he must have been lying to us, don’t you? I don’t see any sign of a party.”
“What’s gotten into you? You’re superwary today,” Rocky said to the small terrier. “Usually you’d be the first one to dart into a dark forest.” He wagged his tail. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”
Ducking her head, Gizmo said, “Thanks, Rocky. It’s just, sometimes running ahead without thinking can get us into trouble, so I thought I’d try to be more like you.”
Rocky’s spiky tail wagged even faster. “You want to be like me? That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!”
While the others talked, Max took a few cautious steps down the grassy dirt road. All around him the trees swayed, the strands of moss floating on the breeze like ghostly beings. It was strangely silent in the woods. There wasn’t even the sound of bugs or frogs or other swamp creatures.
Despite the day’s heat, Max shivered.
Then, something caught his eye, and he went rigid. It wasn’t movement, but a flash of unnatural color that shouldn’t have been in the swamp. Up ahead, partially hidden by the tall grass, were a half-dozen barriers set in a line across the road. Orange-and-white-striped barriers.
His tail a blur, Max spun to face his friends. “Hey, guys! I see the old woman’s beacons! Hank wasn’t lying: She’s here!”
“Forget everything bad I ever said about that possum,” Rocky said as he ran to Max’s side. “Let’s party!”
“Wait, Max, are you sure it’s—” Gizmo started to say, but Max and Rocky were already bounding through the tall grass, and Gizmo was forced to run to keep up.
Images of being petted and fed by a human—a nice person!—flooded Max’s brain. He no longer cared about the stench or the humidity or the threat of monsters. The nagging voice from before kept trying to ruin his day, but he ignored it, because Gertrude the pig had said to follow the beacons. Now the beacons were here, and so was the old woman! He just knew it!
The Long Road Page 5
