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For a dog named Kobe, since he didn’t get a cameo.
—Christopher Holt
In Memory of Katahdin 2003–2013
—Allen Douglas
PROLOGUE
THE SILVER WALL
Max was running through a vast and dusty desert.
The sky above was a pale, milky blue, and the sun was fat and overwhelming. The heat was intense, baking the ground beneath Max’s paws and drying his tawny fur to a crisp. The few skinny, leafless trees were burned black.
On the horizon was an endless wall of silver. It glared bright and harsh, reflecting the giant sun and searing Max’s eyes.
Gusts of wind swirled behind Max, and he yelped at the sudden cold. Still running, he looked back—and saw an enormous, inky cloud that swelled like a stormy ocean in the sky. It billowed toward Max, ready to envelop him.
Max turned away from the cloud as he urged himself to run faster.
A voice rose over the wind. Hello, Maxie. The speaker was female, canine, and older. The words hadn’t been spoken aloud, but they echoed in Max’s head, as though the speaker was right next to him.
And then she was.
An elderly Labrador ran at Max’s side, her eyes sparkling and her tongue lolling free. Her fur was as dark as the night sky, flecked with white. Around her neck hung a golden collar with three rings connected in a row.
The dog was his dear friend Madame Curie.
“Madame!” Max barked, his tail wagging. “There’s something on the horizon, and I don’t know what it is.”
I do, Madame said, though her mouth did not move. I’ll show you.
She ran ahead at a speed Max hadn’t thought was possible for his old companion. He tore after her, sending up a cloud of desert dust in his wake. The huge silver wall towered above them, taller than any building Max had ever seen, stretching endlessly in either direction.
It’s time, Madame said as they neared the wall. This is the end—and the beginning.
Max slowed his pace. “I don’t understand. How am I supposed to get past it?” Glancing back, he shivered. “The darkness is almost here.”
Madame wagged her tail once more. It’s easy, Maxie. All you have to do is jump.
Before Max could question her, Madame bunched her hind legs and leaped into the air.
She soared up toward the sky, higher and higher. Then, at the very top of her jump, she arced over the wall and disappeared.
“Madame!” Max barked. “Come back!” Frantic, he jumped but only managed to rise a few feet.
“Madame!” Max cried once more, scrabbling in the cracked earth. The wind roared and screamed around him. No matter how deep he dug, there was still more wall.
Make the right choice, Maxie, Madame’s voice cried.
“Please help me!” Max barked over the storm. “The darkness is here! Rocky? Gizmo? Where are you?”
If you want to find your people, Madame said, her voice distant, you have to choose the right path.
“I don’t understand,” Max said. “What path?”
But even though he couldn’t see her, he could feel that Madame was gone.
Max was alone.
CHAPTER 1
SNAKE IN THE GRASS
Max awoke to find something wet and leathery pressing against his nose.
He barked in surprise and jerked away.
“Aah!” the creature yelped, rearing back—and Max realized it was his friend Rocky. The Dachshund had been sitting snout-to-snout with Max in the overgrown grass, intently watching him sleep.
“What are you doing?” Max asked.
“Just making sure you’re okay,” Rocky said as he hopped onto Max’s back, as if he hadn’t just startled the both of them. “Gizmo asked me to stay and watch over you.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Max asked.
The little Dachshund leaped off Max’s shoulder and landed in the grass in front of him.
“You were growling and kicking in your sleep, like you were battling dream wolves again, buddy,” he said. “We all know how your dreams can get to you sometimes.”
Max remembered glinting silver, intense heat, and black clouds. He shivered.
“What did you dream about, anyway?” Rocky asked, cocking his head. “Nothing too horrible, right?”
“Nothing horrible,” Max said as he rose on all fours. “I’m fine—don’t worry.”
It was morning, and the sun was still low in the sky. They’d spent the night beside the highway, near a row of hay bales and some scrubby brush. The day before, they’d come through a mostly empty town. In the past, they might have taken a night or two to rest in one of the abandoned houses, rather than sleep outside.
But they couldn’t risk stopping any more than necessary these days. There was a pack of angry wolves on their trail, led by the vicious Dolph, and although the three of them had come a long way, they still had a lot of ground to cover before they could be reunited with their people.
Max had insisted the dogs stop only briefly to scavenge for food and water in the empty town. Then they’d continued down the highway until they were so tired they’d had to rest.
“Where is Gizmo?” Max asked as he started toward the highway.
“She went for a walk,” Rocky said. Max could barely see the Dachshund as they waded through the overgrown grass and weeds. “I think she had a bad dream, too. Me? I dreamed I was in a land of kibble, big guy. We’re talking roads paved with kibble, and sausage trees, and… a river full of gravy! You ever had gravy?” The smaller dog’s tongue dangled from his pointed snout, and he drooled. “My pack leader poured some into my food dish once. Oh, man, it was great.”
Gurgling sounded from Rocky’s stomach, and he looked up at Max. “I think I’m just a little hungry,” he said.
In response, Max licked his friend’s black forehead reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll reach a town soon. Then we can find something to eat.”
In another minute, they could see the highway up ahead. It wasn’t a huge road, just a couple of two-lane streets divided by a grassy median. Beyond it was another open field bordered by towering trees, but no houses or barns.
Gizmo looked up from a puddle as Max and Rocky approached. She offered them a brief, halfhearted wag of her tail.
“Good morning, boys,” the Yorkshire Terrier said. “I found this puddle. It’s a little muddy, but it’s not too bad.”
Max nodded at her and took a few laps of water. She was right—it was gritty with dirt, but Max’s mouth and throat were parched, and he needed to drink.
While Rocky drank his fill, Max studied Gizmo. “You took a walk by yourself?” he asked her. “You’ve got to be careful. The wolves are still following us.”
Gizmo’s ears drooped, and she looked away. “I know,” she said. “I had a dream about Belle—a nightmare, really. It made me sad, so I wanted to chase away the thoughts.”
Belle was a Collie whom Max and his friends had been asked to seek out by an old Australian Shepherd named Boss. Boss had heroically given his life to save many other dogs, and it was his last wish to let Belle know he hadn’t abandoned her. They’d found Belle, half mad from loneliness, in a filthy, decaying mansion in a city called Baton Rouge. It took
everything they had to persuade her to leave her home and make a new life with other dogs.
“She has friends now,” Max said. “Georgie and Fletcher and Whitey. She’s not alone. And besides, Dr. Lynn said the people will come home soon, remember?”
“I know,” Gizmo said. “But what happens if Belle’s people decide not to go back? Or if they find her, what happens to her friends?” She ducked her fuzzy head, looking sad. “Everything has been so different since the humans left. More changes might be hard for Belle.”
Smacking his lips, Rocky stepped away from the puddle. “You two sure are gloomy today. Where’s my chipper, energetic Gizmo? And our fearless, tireless leader, Max?” Running onto the highway, he looked back at his friends and barked. “No more moping, guys! Let’s get a move on!”
Max barked, and Gizmo’s short tail wagged itself into a blur. They galloped after Rocky, following the road west, away from the rising sun.
“You’re right,” Gizmo said as the dogs slowed their pace. “It’s a nice day for a walk, isn’t it? I wonder if we’ll meet someone new today. I hope we do.”
Rocky trotted at Gizmo’s side. “You know these long walks aren’t my favorite, but as long as I’m with you, it’s time well spent.”
“Aww!” Gizmo said. She nudged his side with her head and offered him an appreciative lick.
Rocky was right, Max thought. Though their travels were often exhausting, having his two friends beside him was a help.
Just ahead, Max noticed a car in the median. It was partially hidden by the tall grass and covered with dirt and leaves. Max was used to seeing these rusting, empty signs of humanity now.
Their journey had started months ago, when Max found himself locked in a kennel. Not long after Max had run out of food and water, Rocky had freed him. That was when Max learned that all the humans had disappeared, leaving their pets behind. The birds had disappeared, too.
Max knew his human family—his pack leaders, Charlie and Emma, and their parents—wouldn’t have left him if they’d had a choice. He had decided he would do anything to find them.
It was then that Max and Rocky had first faced off with Dolph. When Max protected Rocky from one wolf in Dolph’s pack who was trying to steal the Dachshund’s food, the vicious gray wolf vowed to track Max down and make him pay.
The three friends had traveled across half the country, and still Dolph tailed them.
Now, silent and watchful, Max padded down the highway behind Rocky and Gizmo, who were deep in a friendly conversation. He raised his snout high and inhaled. Pollen. Grass and weeds. Damp earth. Moss and fungus and mold, and the tangy scent of hidden squirrels and rabbits.
No wolves. So far.
Still, Max had to stay alert. Dolph always showed up eventually.
“Hey, look!” Gizmo barked.
Max glanced past her down the road—and saw the beacon.
It was an amber light attached to the top of a small traffic barricade painted with orange and white stripes. More beacons like this had been placed along the other roads the three friends had traveled, marking a trail they were meant to follow.
“Yes!” Rocky ran around in an excited circle. “We’re heading in the right direction! Maybe we don’t need to be wearing these collars after all.”
“I think your red collar looks very handsome,” Gizmo said.
Rocky wagged his tail. “Thank you! That green collar brings out your eyes.”
Gizmo’s eyes widened. “It does?”
“Sure,” Max said. “You both look good. Well, as good as any of us can look at this point.”
Rocky groaned. “Don’t remind me. Remember that day with Dr. Lynn? When we were all pampered and clean?” He sighed. “That was the best.”
“It was,” Max agreed as he took the lead and began walking once more. “We’ll be with her again soon. We’ll follow her trail while she tracks our path, and we’ll find each other in the middle!”
The tag on his collar jingled softly. Just when Max forgot it was there, the collar would rub his neck or get caught on a branch, and he would remember all over again. He hadn’t worn a collar in the past—if Max had ever gotten lost, he had a little electronic chip planted under his skin that a vet could scan to find out his name and who his pack leaders were. But these new collars were special. They contained trackers that would help Dr. Lynn locate Max, Rocky, and Gizmo once it was safe for them to be reunited with the humans.
Dr. Lynn was a scientist and a veterinarian. She had been the pack leader of Max’s old friend Madame Curie, a fellow Labrador. Near the start of their journey, Madame had urged Max to follow a three-ringed symbol to find the doctor, who would reunite Max with his people.
Tracking the symbol had led Max, Rocky, and Gizmo to a laboratory. It turned out that the symbol represented Praxis, a virus that was meant to help people with mental illnesses or brain injuries but had infected animals instead. The virus was harmless to pets and wildlife, but it had mutated to become dangerous to humans, which meant they couldn’t be around their pets. And so all the people had left.
It was a pig named Gertrude who had blasted the dogs with electricity. The electricity had triggered the Praxis virus, which transformed the dogs’ minds and made them so smart they could read and understand human speech. The pig had told them to follow the orange-and-white barricades with the flashing beacons, which led the dogs farther south. Eventually, they’d found Dr. Lynn, a kind older woman who wore a big straw hat over her white hair.
Dr. Lynn had bathed them, fed them, and loved them, and when she discovered they were smart enough to understand her, she explained that she was working to find a cure so that all the people could return home. Once the virus had been triggered, Max, Rocky, and Gizmo were no longer infectious to humans, so before Dr. Lynn left, she gave them their new tracking collars and promised that she would come back for them soon.
Without her, the dogs walked on, exhausted and hungry and aching all over, but determined to be reunited with their families.
Now, as the sun rose higher in the sky and the day grew warmer, Gizmo stopped in the middle of the road, her whole body rigid, her tufted ears perked up.
Rocky came to a stop next to her, his head darting frantically from side to side. “What is it?” he whispered anxiously. “Is it Dolph? Is it food? Is it Dolph eating food?”
“Is everything okay?” Max asked.
“Shh,” Gizmo said. Dropping to her belly, she inched toward the grassy median. “Be very, very quiet.”
Confused, Max sat next to Rocky and watched as Gizmo crept near the weeds in the center of the highway. She stopped as she came to the edge of the asphalt and raised her paw—then let it swing down to slap the dirt.
What looked like a long, slender stick darted out of the grass and onto the road, slithering quickly away from Gizmo.
“What is that?” Rocky asked nervously.
Gizmo jumped up to all fours, her tail wagging ferociously. “A garter snake! I love garter snakes.” She turned to look back at Rocky and Gizmo. “Come on, let’s chase it!”
“What?” Rocky asked again. He looked at Max. “Why would we want to chase a snake?”
But Max was caught up in vivid memories of his days on the farm, when he was just a puppy and life was simple. He’d bounded through the fields at dusk, chasing the harmless snakes through the grass, catching and releasing them, and occasionally delivering them, squirming, to his squealing pack leaders.
“Who wouldn’t want to chase one?” Max barked at Rocky as he leaped up and raced after Gizmo. “Come on!”
The garter snake wound down the center of the road just ahead of Gizmo, its stripes standing out stark and white against the dark asphalt. Gizmo jumped forward to bat at its tail.
“Don’t be afraid,” she yipped after the fleeing snake. “We just want to play!”
The snake did not respond, but it flicked out its tongue and slithered forward.
Max quickly gained on Gizmo. Leaping over her,
he landed in front of the fleeing snake, darted his head down, and carefully snatched it up in his jaws. The creature squirmed helplessly, its tail curling around Max’s snout.
Holding his head up high, Max pranced in a big, triumphant circle.
Gizmo jumped up and down. “Aw! You beat me to it,” she said. “But that was so fun! I bet if you let it go, I’ll get it first.”
Snout scrunched in disgust, Rocky approached the other two dogs. “Max, buddy, did you really put that thing in your mouth? You don’t know where it’s been!”
Max gently set the garter snake on the ground and let it slither away toward the grass.
“I can’t believe you’ve never chased a snake before,” Max said to Rocky. “It’s like trying to catch a living stick!”
“You two are crazy,” Rocky said.
Gizmo butted him playfully with her head, then started after the snake again. “You’re just saying that because you know you’ll never catch it!”
“Oh, yeah?” Rocky said. “Well, watch out, ’cause here I come!”
Max barked happily as Gizmo ran up behind the snake once more, and all three dogs gave chase. Worries about Dolph and their missing people faded for a few joyful moments—until, captured in Rocky’s jaws, the snake flicked out its tongue and hissed, “Friendsss, thisss hasss been entertaining.”
Startled, Rocky dropped the snake, yipped, and leaped back.
Raising its head, the snake nodded at the dogs. “Really, it hasss been a blassst. But haven’t you noticed? The weather hasss turned. I mussst go.”
Max looked up to find that the snake was right.
Clouds had mounded in the sky, fluffy and white in front, then swelling with dark gray. The wind rose in heavy gusts. The air felt thick and charged, tingling Max’s fur and skin.
“Nice to meet you!” Gizmo said to the snake. “Thank you for being a good sport.”
The snake responded with a final flick of its tongue, then wiggled off toward a nearby field.
“Don’t tell me it’s going to rain,” Rocky moaned, glancing up at the darkening sky. “I’m not in the mood to get wet.”
Journey's End Page 1
