“Max!” Gizmo barked, panting. “Max, stop and look!”
They were almost up to the barriers. A hazy green darkness enveloped them, but there were still no festive noises and no human smells. Even so, Max wouldn’t stop running until he found the old woman’s party.
“Max, stop!” Gizmo bellowed. “Look at the barriers. There aren’t any beacons!”
Max skidded to a stop in the slick grass. Panting, Rocky stopped next to him, and Gizmo finally caught up. Together the three dogs looked up at the barriers.
And Max realized that Gizmo was right: There were no beacons atop the barriers, no flashing amber lights. No spray-painted orange circles on nearby tree trunks.
In fact, the barriers looked old, as if they had been on this road for a very long time. They were orange and white, sure, but months or years of being in the woods had coated them with a thick layer of grime. Vines sprouted from the dirt and twined up the metal supports, weaving leafy patterns.
Max had only seen what he wanted to see. Tail drooping, he sat down. “These aren’t hers,” he said softly.
“Are you sure?” Rocky asked. “Maybe the beacons fell off.”
Gizmo nuzzled Rocky’s side. “Look at how old these are compared with the other barriers we saw,” she said. “Plus, these have words on them. The old lady’s barriers didn’t.”
She was right again—Max saw there had once been something printed on each barrier, but the words were so faded that he couldn’t read them.
Looking into the trees, Max saw another sign. It was brown instead of green, with a cartoon boat beneath the words TWO MILES TO SWAMP BOTTOM/BOAT LAUNCH.
“There’s another sign,” Max said.
Rocky let out a whine. “Swamp bottom? That doesn’t sound very dry. And boats! I’m tired of boats.”
“I don’t think there’s a party down there,” Gizmo said. “I’m sorry, guys.”
“It’s not your fault,” Max said. “It was silly of me to get so excited. It’s just… I wanted to finally meet Madame’s owner.”
“Me, too,” Gizmo said.
Rocky offered Gizmo a comforting nuzzle. “We should have listened to you,” he said. “You’re getting good at this caution stuff.”
Gizmo giggled. “I learned from the best!”
Their spirits dampened, the three dogs shook themselves off and turned to walk back up the dirt path to the main road. It seemed much farther away than when they were running in the other direction.
“Why do you think Hank lied to us?” Gizmo asked. “We didn’t do anything to him.”
“I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe he—”
Before he could finish his sentence, a loud crack sounded to their left.
The three dogs froze. There was another crack, from the right this time. And then a squelching, sucking sound.
“Nice doggies,” a voice whispered.
The sound was low, a hiss almost, but it echoed all around them.
“Come play, doggies,” the voice said. Or maybe it was another voice. Max couldn’t tell.
“I-is that Hank?” Rocky asked.
“I don’t think so,” Gizmo said.
Heavy footsteps filled the air, and the grass on the side of the road rustled. Max stared wide-eyed as a head appeared—a head as long as Max.
It was a narrow, bumpy head, a green so dark it was almost black. Sharp teeth lined its long mouth, and inky eyes blinked slowly on either side.
The creature was massive and ancient, and there was no mistaking what it was.
“The monster,” Max gasped.
CHAPTER 7
SCALES AND FANGS
The creature’s long snout opened ever so slightly, and it chuckled, a sound like mud and gravel churning together. “I’m no monster, doggies,” it hissed as its breath whooshed between sharp yellow teeth. It was rancid and sour, as if the giant beast exhaled the stench of death.
With another squelch, the monster stepped closer to the three cowering dogs. Max could just barely make out the creature’s body, still hidden in the trees. It seemed impossibly long, and its skin was tough and shiny, as though it had been carved from rock.
Or, as the beach pets had said, pure metal.
The monster blinked its round black eyes. “Nice doggies,” it said. “Sit and stay. No need to be afraid.”
Next to Max, Rocky and Gizmo trembled and shook. Max’s own hind legs quaked, and he felt as if his limbs might collapse beneath him. His golden fur stood on end, and his heart thumped so fast he thought it might burst. He knew there was only one thing they could do to save themselves.
“Run,” Max said, but the word caught in his throat. Panicked, he tried again. “Run,” he barked. “Run!”
Max, Rocky, and Gizmo barreled forward.
Just as they did, the monster attacked.
Max dared a glance back over his shoulder to see the creature leap out from between two trees. Its long, flat jaw was opened wide, its teeth glimmering with saliva. In a flash the jaws snapped shut—right where the dogs had been standing, frozen with fear.
A rustle in the undergrowth came from the opposite side of the dirt road as another of the beasts crawled forward from the shadows, almost as if it had formed from the darkness itself.
“You missed,” the second monster hissed. “After them!”
Max turned away, galloping down the dirt path, the asphalt highway terribly far ahead.
“Keep running!” he barked between heaving, panting breaths. “And don’t look back!”
Heavy, thudding footsteps echoed through the trees, growing closer. A shadow loomed on Max’s left, and he glanced to the side to see one of the horrific, giant heads thumping toward Gizmo.
The small terrier’s legs were a blur as she matched Max’s stride, but the terrifying creature was right there beside her, looking for a meal. Its mouth was open, and its razor-sharp teeth looked like daggers, but Max wasn’t about to let them bite into his friend.
Max gripped Gizmo in his mouth by the extra skin at the nape of her neck and, jerking his head, tossed her forward. Startled, the terrier flew through the air to land awkwardly in the waving grass, a car’s length ahead.
A second later, the monster’s jaws clamped together with a fleshy, slicing sound.
“You missed, too!” the other monster hissed.
While Rocky and Gizmo raced ahead, Max skidded to a stop. Growling, he rounded on the beast that had just tried to make a snack out of Gizmo. He raised a paw and smacked the creature on the end of its snout.
“No!” Max shouted. “We are not food!”
To his surprise, the second monster also stopped. It snorted in and out and blinked its black eyes in confusion.
“Did you just hit me?” the creature asked, bewildered.
Max didn’t stick around to answer. His hind legs flinging up dirt, he propelled himself after his friends. The beasts huffed and hissed as they thumped after him, but at least Rocky and Gizmo were now far enough away that they wouldn’t get caught.
Just run, Max told himself. Run and don’t look back.
The world turned into a blur of green as Max focused on the dark gray asphalt up ahead. His friends had already reached the highway.
He didn’t think his heart could pound any faster. It ached in his chest, and his lungs hurt for air. His legs quivered with exhaustion, but all Max could imagine were those monsters right behind him, their mouths opened wide to grab his tail and pull him into their swamp, where they would delight in making him their dinner.
Finally, Max felt the rough road beneath his paws. He veered right, skidding on a patch of slick moss. But he quickly regained his footing, splashing through stagnant puddles and around fallen branches. He was vaguely aware of meeting up with the tiny blurs that were Rocky and Gizmo, but he couldn’t feel relief, not yet.
The monsters were real, and he didn’t know if he could keep his friends safe.
Max ran until his legs could no longer handle it. They turned to je
lly beneath him, and he slipped, dropping to the ground and scraping his furry stomach on the rough asphalt. His chest rose and fell as he heaved for air, his tongue lolling free.
Rocky and Gizmo collapsed beside him, and for a moment they all stared up at the blanket of swirling gray clouds.
There were no thumping footsteps coming up behind them, no hissing voices, no stench of swampy death. Now that they were so far away, the sounds of the wetlands had returned—throaty animal calls and gentle splashes and an incessant buzzing. Max felt the nip of a mosquito on his flank, and he slapped his tail to scare it off.
“I think we lost ’em,” Rocky said.
“I think so, too,” Gizmo said, looking back. “They sure were monsters after all. I thought the other animals might have been exaggerating.”
Gulping in another large breath of air, Max sat up. His heart had calmed down, but his fur still stood on end. “I don’t know if they’re monsters, exactly,” he said. “They looked like giant lizards. They’re just animals.”
“Yeah, lizards the size of cars!” Rocky said. “Animals or not, they sure seemed like monsters to me.”
“I’m just glad you two are safe,” Max said. “That was a close call.”
“Oh!” Gizmo said, her ears perked up. “You tossed me out of the way right in time. That was superbrave of you. Thank you!”
“Hey, I made you guys a promise, remember?” Max said. “I’ll never let anything hurt you.”
Rocky growled, and Max and Gizmo saw him staring back the way they’d come with angry, narrowed eyes.
“What is it?” Gizmo asked. “Do you smell something?”
Rocky shook his head. “No, I’m just angry that we got set up.”
“What do you mean?” Max asked.
Rocky started to pace. “Think about it. That possum lied to us. It’s like he wanted us to run into those monsters!”
“But why?” Gizmo asked. “We never did anything bad to him. Maybe it was just a coincidence he sent us where there were monsters.”
“I don’t think so,” Rocky said. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted that guy.”
“I don’t know what Hank was trying to do,” Max said. “But I do know that there’s no shelter here. We need to get out of this swamp before it’s night again.”
“Lead the way!” Gizmo yipped as she ran to Max’s side.
Groaning, Max climbed to all fours. His muscles throbbed with a dull ache, but he felt rested enough to continue. “Follow me,” he said, padding forward over the broken road. “And if we see any barriers, let’s make sure they have beacons, too!”
Afternoon came quickly, with occasional glimpses of sunlight through the clouds. A rainbow glowed in the mist on the western horizon, but Max couldn’t enjoy it. He was too busy going tense at every unusual sound, certain that he and his friends were being followed.
None of the dogs could walk very fast after their terrified run. Max was almost limping, each step sending a jolt of pain through his legs.
Before long, a bridge came into view. A sign on its metal archways showed there would be restaurants and gas stations and other human buildings up ahead.
“Hey, look,” Max said as he picked up his pace.
“Yeah, I saw, buddy,” Rocky said. “Gizmo pointed out that rainbow ages ago.”
“It’s pretty!” Gizmo protested.
Max chuckled. “No, look ahead. I think we might be getting somewhere.”
Both of the small dogs looked up, and immediately their tails started wagging. Together, the three friends trotted quickly down the cracked highway.
The land on either side of the entrance to the bridge sloped away from them, down to a valley filled with stagnant green water and lily pads. The bridge was much shorter than the one they’d crossed on their way to the beach town. Sheets of moss and tangled vines enveloped the metal railings, turning the man-made crossing into a thing that almost lived and breathed.
At the center of the bridge, a thick, coiled something hung from a rusted metal beam. It was much too large to be a vine, so Max guessed it was a tree branch that had twisted to fit through the bridge’s trusses. It was slick and shiny and pale green, with spots of blackened bark along its sides.
Max stopped and sat down in front of the bridge. Peering up, he tried to read the sign.
“Can you see what it says?” Gizmo asked. “I can see the symbols for rest areas, and some words about a town, but there are also the words right and left.”
Max shook his head—this sign was too overgrown to read clearly.
Ahead of him, Rocky let out a groan. The Dachshund had stepped onto the bridge, his eyes on the road at the opposite side of the valley.
“There’s a fork in the road,” he said. “That’s why the sign says right and left. It’s giving directions.” Turning to face his friends, he let his tail droop. “But if we can’t read the sign, how are we supposed to know which way to go?”
Max climbed back to his feet. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe we’ll see a beacon.”
He began walking down the center of the bridge. The metal beneath his paws wasn’t terribly comfortable, but they would be back on the regular road soon. He listened to the gentle splashes of the swamp water beneath their feet and studied the strange coiled branch. The branch seemed different now, as though the coils had rearranged, but perhaps it was just a trick of the light.
As they neared the center of the bridge, Max saw the branch move.
It wasn’t a branch or a vine at all. It was an animal.
And with a rustle of leaves and moss, half of the creature uncoiled from the high beam and dropped in front of them, a few feet above the bridge’s metal floor.
“Snake!” Rocky yipped.
“Watch out!” Gizmo barked.
Max stopped a yard from the dangling, giant snake. Its thick body seemed to stretch forever. Rocky and Gizmo backed away, their fur on end.
It was a boa constrictor, Max realized as the snake slowly raised its head. A small, forked tongue slipped in and out of its mouth.
“None shall pass,” the boa constrictor hissed.
“Oh, yeah?” Gizmo barked. “Says who?”
The boa constrictor focused its beady eyes on Gizmo. It flicked out its tongue once more.
“Says me,” it hissed again. “And a dog your size is in no position to argue.”
Growling and baring his teeth, Max took a step forward. “She’s not alone, snake.”
The boa raised its head to meet Max’s angry gaze. “I noticed,” the snake said. “But don’t you worry. I could give a big dog like you a nice, long squeeze. You would take more effort to eat than the little ones.” Its tongue slipped in and out. “But I would relish the challenge.”
Max stood his ground, but he did stop growling. “We could always outrun you.”
“Perhaps,” the snake hissed.
Slowly uncoiling, the boa let its tail release the high beam, and it fell to the ground with a heavy plop. The metal bridge vibrated from the force of the landing.
The boa constrictor reared its head while the rest of its impossibly long body slithered and coiled beneath it.
“But,” the snake continued, “are you willing to risk that the little ones are as fast as you?”
“We are!” Gizmo barked.
“Shh, Gizmo!” Rocky whispered.
The snake ignored them. “I heard you talking. You have no idea where to go. One of the roads ahead leads to shelter. The other will take you deeper into the swamp, to the lair of the Mudlurker.”
“The what?” Max asked.
The snake slithered back and forth across the center of the bridge. “Oh, you haven’t heard tales of the Mudlurker? He’s a terrible, giant creature with jaws like this.”
The snake’s jaws opened wide, and it snapped its mouth closed a foot away from Max’s snout. Instinctively, Max scrambled backward.
Hissing, the snake pulled its head up, away from the dogs. “So you might get past me on
ly to head in the wrong direction. Sadly for you, only I know the correct path.”
Gizmo growled. “We’re not afraid,” she barked. “Not of you and not of this Mudlurker. We actually just fought off some swamp monsters a little while ago. It was easy!”
The snake tilted its head. “I’m not sure I believe that. But the Mudlurker? He’s the monster that the monsters are afraid of.”
To Max’s surprise, Rocky waddled forward. “Okay, we get it. We deal with you or we get eaten. I’m tired and hungry, so why don’t you tell us what you want?”
Lowering itself so that its head was only half a foot off the ground, the boa constrictor slithered forward to meet Rocky nose-to-nose. Rocky trembled, but he did not back away.
“Right to the point,” the snake hissed. “I can appreciate that. Here’s my offer: I will tell you the way to go for a price.”
“And what price is that?” Max asked, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
The boa constrictor’s tongue circled its mouth. “I want one of you,” the snake said. “Just one.” Its eyes darted past Max to Gizmo. “I’m hungry, too, and I need to eat.”
“No way!” Gizmo barked.
“Don’t be so hasty with an answer,” the snake called. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.” Lifting its head, it slithered back to the center of the bridge.
Rocky shook his head. “This thing thinks he’s so smart, but he’s never met a real smart animal before. Let me talk to him.”
“But Rocky—” Max said.
A gust of wind rose up, and the blankets of moss rippled above them. But that wasn’t why Max stopped speaking.
With the wind came a familiar scent: the musky stench of wolves somewhere behind them in the swamp.
Gizmo went rigid. “Do you smell that?”
“Yes,” Max said, peering into the trees.
“Wolves,” Rocky whispered. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Lying possums, horrible monsters, hungry snakes, and now wolves? This swamp is just the worst.”
The Long Road Page 6
