“Oof,” Georgie grunted behind them.
Max turned to find the big, mud-coated dog struggling to pull his backside through the wall. The Saint Bernard gave one last tug and then barreled forward.
Rocky paced back and forth, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad,” he said. “You have a secret entrance, and those gators never knew.”
“I guess,” Georgie said. “I just didn’t want to go to the bathroom inside. My pack leaders would have a fit if they knew I’d done that.”
Gizmo scrunched her nose. “Oh, Georgie. How about you show us the car wash? It’s time for a bath!”
Together, the four dogs bounded over the slabs of concrete into an asphalt lot with a Dumpster on one side. Behind the lot was a chain-link fence dividing the rear of the store from the swamp.
To their left was the car wash, completely intact.
At one point it had sat next to the convenience store. Now it stood alone atop its own concrete lot. The building had several big windows that revealed machinery and what looked like giant rolls of cloth. Near the back of the building was a smaller structure, an attendant’s station.
The dogs trotted through the lot, jumping over hoses that snaked across the ground. There were two machines, one with letters stenciled on its side that spelled AIR. The other read VACUUM.
As they neared the attendant’s station, Max saw a sign in the window.
“ ‘Don’t bring the swamp home with you,’ ” he read aloud. “ ‘Basic wash only five dollars.’ ”
Georgie blinked at Max. “You know what those symbols mean?”
Max wagged his tail. “It’s just a trick we learned.”
“Huh,” Georgie said. “That’s neat, I guess.”
“Yeah, reading is all right,” Rocky said. “Unless what you read is bad news. This thing won’t work without people money!”
“Oh, well,” Georgie said, plopping to the ground. “Guess I’ll have to stay all muddy, which means I can’t leave the swamp.”
Gizmo butted him with her head, but the big dog didn’t budge.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “No more giving up!”
The Saint Bernard sniffed. “But I’m scared. If I’m not muddy, then I’m not the Mudlurker, and then what will keep the gators away?”
“He’s got a point,” Rocky said.
“We’ll be fine,” Max said. “We’ll all feel more like ourselves once we’re clean.”
Max marched to the attendant’s station, leaped up to press the door handle, and then shoved the door open with his snout.
He climbed onto the well-worn chair in front of the window. On the counter he saw a control panel with red buttons. The top button read SELF-WASH STATION ONE. Max pressed his paw against it, and a green light lit up.
“Oh, no, snakes!” Rocky yipped from outside.
Max leaped off the chair and burst through the door—and then laughed. Two of the hoses they’d passed were writhing and flipping over the concrete. One was squirting out soapy foam, and the other burst with clear water.
“It’s just hoses, Rocky,” Gizmo said.
“I turned them on!” Max said. “I guess people just paid some other human to press buttons for them inside this little building. You two should spray each other and get all that mud off you.”
“What about Georgie?” Gizmo asked.
Max looked up at the machinery within the bigger building. He’d been in a car wash before, riding in his pack leaders’ parents’ car. With the windows rolled up, it was like driving through a hurricane. Max figured Georgie would need a whole hurricane to get clean.
Turning to the filthy Saint Bernard, Max said, “All right, Georgie, go to the back entrance there. Once the water starts, keep walking forward. And close your eyes so you don’t get any soap in them.”
Groaning, Georgie climbed to his feet and stared at the devices inside the car wash. “I don’t know if it’s safe.”
“You’ll be fine!” Rocky called. He and Gizmo had run over to the hoses and were jumping up and down in the spraying water. “You’re about as big as a car, so that thing was made for you.”
“If you say so.” With his snout held low, the big dog padded slowly to the entrance of the car wash. High above him a small yellow sign read MAX. HEIGHT—7' 11" near a metal box with three glass circles on its front.
Max darted inside the booth and pressed the button next to BASIC WASH. Then he ran back outside to watch.
“Nothing’s happening,” Georgie said, taking a step backward. “Guess it isn’t working.”
On the metal box, one of the glass circles lit up red. A moment later, another circle flashed yellow.
Max wagged his tail. “It’s working fine. When the light turns green, that means it’s time to go. And then you can finally stop being the Mudlurker.”
“You can do it, Georgie!” Gizmo barked.
The green light blinked on, and the car wash came alive as a heavy spray of water burst from the ceiling. At the same time a track began to move. That carried the cars through the machine, Max remembered.
But there was no such track for dogs, so Georgie just stood there, his sad eyes open wide at the machine-made storm.
“Think how good you’ll feel!” Max barked.
“You’ll be superhandsome,” Gizmo added.
Rocky snorted. “Come on, big guy, it’s just water. If we could handle that storm last night, you can handle this!”
Georgie took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All right,” he bellowed. “Here I go!”
The big dog leaped forward, and Max ran to look through the window. Despite the mist, he could see the dried muck on Georgie’s fur turning into dark, sludgy mud, which oozed down his sides and puddled on the concrete floor.
Then, with a squeak of valves, the water stopped.
“Is it over?” Georgie barked, his eyes still closed.
A few feet ahead, two tall white plastic tubes began to rotate. Streams of thick foam squirted from metal openings while the tubes twisted back and forth, sending the soapy froth flying.
“Keep walking forward!” Max barked loudly.
Soon, Georgie was lathered from snout to tail, making him look like some doggy version of the snowmen Max’s pack leaders built in the winter.
Sputtering, Georgie ran forward. As he did, rollers covered with strips of cloth descended from the ceiling and walls. As the rollers spun, the cloths whipped and slapped at Georgie’s sides.
Georgie yelped in surprise, but the rollers acted like a hundred hands holding washcloths, and the soap and mud flew off his fur in heaps. The rollers stopped after a few seconds, and Georgie trotted forward, only to be greeted by more bursts of water, scrubbing him clean.
As the machine died down and Georgie reached the exit, gusts of air blasted him, puffing up his fur. When he emerged, he looked like a whole new creature.
The former Mudlurker was now a giant, regal, stocky beast of a dog, a Saint Bernard whose pristine white fur was spotted with wide swaths of tan. “How do I look?” he asked.
Gizmo appeared next to Max, clean and soaking wet. She shook herself, barking excitedly. “I knew there was a real dog under there! No more Mudlurker. Now all your friends in Baton Rouge will be able to recognize you.”
For the first time since they met him, Georgie wagged his tail and opened his snout in a doggy smile. Drool fell from his lips, but no one commented.
“Hey, Max, guess what?” Rocky called from behind them.
Max turned—and was met with a face full of foam from a hose held in Rocky’s jaws.
The other dogs laughed as Rocky dropped the hose and wagged his spiky tail. “Your turn!”
Together, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie sprayed Max with the hoses, cleaning him of the filth from their long journey. Dirt and sand washed free from his fur and was carried in rivers to the drains.
The morning sky was bright and cloud-free, and the swamp swayed with a gentle breeze that smelled of wet dog fur and soap. The
pounding water massaged Max’s muscles, easing the pain from his fall the day before.
As the dogs continued to splash in the water, it was almost easy for Max to think that the worst was behind them and the rest of the journey would be carefree.
But Max knew the long road wasn’t over yet and the day had only begun.
CHAPTER 11
THE FINAL STRETCH
With everyone clean and refreshed, Max shut off the hoses and led his three companions forward to resume their journey. Now that it was daytime, he could see the pit more clearly. The bottom, as he’d discovered the night before, was a murky pond. Fallen leaves floated atop the water. Mosquitoes and dragonflies darted from leaf to leaf, sending out gentle ripples. Debris jutted out from the pond—the hood of the sunken car Max had seen, streetlamps, hunks of concrete and asphalt.
The sinkhole seemed to stretch as wide as a whole city block. It was a good thing there hadn’t been any people around when the ground had given way.
Leaving the car wash behind, the dogs walked single file up the edge of the pit, back onto the overgrown highway that had been cut in half by the landslide.
And there, nestled in the underbrush, was one of the old woman’s beacons.
“Guys, look!” Max said.
He barreled across the cracked road and skidded to a stop next to the orange-and-white barricade. Unlike the barricades back where the gators had set up their fake party, the colors on this one were still vibrant. The plastic amber beacon blinked steadily, and spray-painted on a nearby tree was an orange circle with a black X through it.
“Finally!” Rocky said. “Guess we didn’t lose the old woman after all.”
“I knew Georgie’s trail would lead us to her,” Gizmo added.
Max sniffed at the base of the spray-painted tree. The storm had cleaned the area of most smells, but he could just barely make out the swirling scents of a lab and flowery perfume.
Which meant it couldn’t have been that long since the woman had been there. And since the beacon was past the sinkhole, she must have made it across the road before it collapsed.
“She was a nice lady,” Georgie said. “I don’t blame you for wanting to see her again.”
“Well, we’ve never actually met her,” Max said. “Or Belle. But our friends know both of them very well.”
“You sure do take a lot on faith, Max,” Georgie said. “Coming all this way to find a human and a dog you don’t even know.”
“I guess I do,” Max said. “But doing something sure beats doing nothing at all.”
“Not always,” Rocky said. “You know me, big guy; if I can get out of doing, I’m a happy dog.”
Gizmo giggled. “Oh, Rocky, think how bored you’d be if you’d never met Max and me! You’d still be all alone in a vet’s office with no one to talk to but some wolves.”
“Hey! I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have all my kibble.”
The sun rose higher in the sky behind them, and now that they were past the sinkhole, the swamp seemed less oppressive. The trees had begun to thin out, and between them Max saw dry ground instead of algae-choked water. Moss still hung in sheets from the trees, and grass and weeds rose through cracks in the road, but Max felt they were leaving the worst behind.
It wasn’t long before they reached the top of a gentle incline, where a tall tree had collapsed across the highway. It lay at an angle, its branches and leaves leaning against the trees on the left side of the road. Its bottom was burned and blackened, perhaps snapped free by lightning.
The dogs dropped to their bellies and scooted beneath the leafy end of the tree. Branches scraped Max’s back, like bony fingers digging into his fur and skin. For a moment his heart pounded, thinking the thing might fall and crush him.
He scrabbled his way from under the collapsed tree as fast as he could.
“Hey, Max! Come look!” Rocky was spinning in excited circles next to Gizmo and Georgie. Max bounded to meet them across the highway, where a smaller road veered off into the trees.
Just to the side of the small road was another of the old woman’s beacons and another spray-painted orange circle.
“Look!” Rocky barked again. “The old lady must have gone this way.”
Max trotted up to Georgie and wagged his tail. “See, we didn’t even have to go very far and we’re already almost out of the swamp.”
Georgie nodded. “I guess I—” The Saint Bernard stopped speaking, his entire body going stiff. Max didn’t know why—until a gust of wind brought him a scent.
Swampy, musty water. A stench like rotten fish and decaying meat.
And as he watched in horror, four dark, giant shapes slithered onto the road.
The monstrous alligators were here.
Georgie moaned and trembled.
Max backed away, until he bumped into Georgie’s hindquarters. He started to tell the others to make a run for it—but two more alligators were creeping down the highway behind them.
Rocky and Gizmo yelped and huddled next to Max and Georgie.
As the dogs sat there, quaking in fear, the six giant lizards surrounded them.
The biggest alligator stepped forward, its jaws parted in a vicious grin.
“And so we meet again,” the creature said in its ancient, soothing voice. “Once more walking through the swamp as if you own the place.”
Though the sun still shone bright and cheery, the gators looked just as menacing as they had in the dark and rain. More so, Max thought, because now he could see every crack and line in their green-black skin. Everywhere Max looked he saw glinting teeth, shining black eyes, and scaled feet ending in sharp claws.
“I knew it,” Georgie whispered. “It was a nice try, friends, but we were doomed once we came into this swamp.”
“Don’t say that!” Rocky yipped.
“There has to be a way out,” Gizmo said. “There’s always a way.”
“Not this time,” the lead alligator said. “Welcome to our party!”
The gators surged forward as the dogs barked and whimpered in fear.
Then the trees began to rustle.
First it was the leaves directly above the dogs’ heads, and then the canopies across the highway. Branches broke free and whipped to the ground, erupting into wooden shards. It was as though a great wind had risen up, except there was no wind at all.
High-pitched voices screeched and squealed and hissed. Startled, the alligators looked at the sky.
And Max heard a familiar voice squeak, “Run! Up the fallen tree!”
It was Hank the possum’s youngest child!
Max didn’t waste a moment. He nipped Georgie’s side, then barked, “Come on!”
Together the four dogs raced past the ancient alligator toward the giant dead tree that blocked the road.
“No!” the gator bellowed, but they were past the creature in a blur.
The trees on either side of the road were swirling and swaying now; the rustling of branches joined in with the din of screaming animals. Dozens of glowing yellow eyes peered from the darkness.
“What’s happening?” one of the alligators asked.
“Ignore it!” the lead alligator commanded. “It’s just some trick! After them!”
“They’re gonna get us,” Georgie wailed. “They’re gonna eat us up!”
“No, they’re not!” Max barked. “Come on, Georgie! Keep yourself together! We’re going to get out of this swamp!”
“But—”
Rocky yowled, “Come on, big guy, listen to the other big guy! There’s no time to get scared!”
At the jagged base of the fallen tree, Max picked Rocky up by the nape of his neck and tossed the Dachshund onto the tree, then did the same for Gizmo. As the two small dogs scrabbled up the trunk, Georgie leaped atop the decaying wood with a massive thud.
“I don’t know if I can do this!” Georgie barked.
“Yes, you can!” Max said. “Grab the tree with your claws and run up as fast as you can!”
&nb
sp; The big Saint Bernard did as ordered, awkwardly shuffling along the tree trunk toward the branches. Max climbed up to follow him.
Moss and clusters of fungus grew in patches along the fallen tree, and Max did his best to avoid slipping. He clung to the rough bark, keeping himself steady.
The alligators huddled together, hissing at the dogs. Still the possums in the trees made a ruckus, confusing the beasts, who didn’t know which group of animals to focus on.
Whipping its fat tail in annoyance, the lead alligator crawled on top of one of its followers and tried to climb onto the tree itself. But the lizard monster’s legs were too far apart to get a solid foothold.
The alligator gnashed its teeth. “You dogs can’t stay up there forever!”
Satisfied that they couldn’t follow, Max stopped listening to the raging alligators and kept his attention on climbing the tree. All he could see ahead of him was Georgie’s massive backside.
With each step, the snapping of tree branches and screeching possums grew louder, and the dead tree groaned and shifted ever so slightly, creaking from the excess weight. Max worried that it might collapse onto the ground.
The lead alligator was right: They couldn’t stay up in the tree forever.
Georgie stopped suddenly, and Max almost barreled into him. He halted just in time, waiting as the bigger dog stepped gingerly to the side.
The top of the dead tree spread out into two thick branches, leaving a hollow just wide enough for the dogs to fit. Rocky and Gizmo already sat there, beneath a swath of moss that draped above their heads like an awning.
Max and Georgie settled in as best as they could. The tree bounced gently from their weight, but it held.
“That was close,” Rocky said, panting. “Except now we’re backed into a corner again.”
Her eyes narrowed, Gizmo said, “I’m really starting to hate those gators. Why can’t they leave us alone?”
“And what’s with all the noise in the trees?” Rocky asked. “We didn’t just escape one set of monsters to go into the hands of others, did we, buddy?”
“Ohhh,” Georgie moaned. “We probably did.”
“No,” Max said, “it’s the possums. I think they came to help us.”
The Long Road Page 10
