The image cut to a bearded man wearing a ratty baseball cap.
“Everything was supposed to be fixed right when all this started,” he said into the microphone. “The next thing you know, we’re being escorted across the country to live like bums. Not a week’s gone by without a rumor about some new serum that’s gonna fix this mess. Been a lot of weeks, and we ain’t seen that magic medicine.”
The image cut back to the reporter, now strolling in front of a big silver wall.
“The wall,” Max said, remembering his dream.
“Many people here have told me that as the weeks and months go by, the quarantine seems less likely to be temporary.” The reporter raised a hand and gestured at the wall behind her. “And with the building of the Great Wall of Texas, their living arrangement is seeming more and more permanent.”
The picture changed to an older woman. “With that Hurricane Ruth heading through our cities and no one there to prepare them for the storm, we don’t even know if we’ll have homes to go back to,” the woman said.
The image returned to the reporter, once more walking past the tents.
“Just an hour ago, Dr. Lynn Sadler, the scientist whom many deem responsible for the Praxis virus, gave a statement outside her mobile laboratory on the safe side of the wall. She confirmed the rumor about the impending cure, claiming that she will have one within weeks, if not days.”
At this, Gizmo let out a loud bark. “Dr. Lynn!”
“Who?” Samson said. “What? Where—”
“Shh,” Max said, turning his attention back to the TV.
“But even if Dr. Sadler’s claims prove true,” the reporter continued, “with so many cities overwhelmed by storms or destroyed by the evacuations, it seems unlikely that life as we knew it will ever return to normal.” She nodded at the camera. “Back to you, Bryan.”
The screen flipped over to a man in a suit sitting behind a desk, but Max was no longer interested in the broadcast. Instead, he looked down at Samson.
“You think the humans looked happy there?” he asked, bewildered. “They’re all cramped together! Living in tents!”
“Exactly!” Samson squeaked. “I know that when I’m not with the rest of my tribe, I get anxious.”
“But humans aren’t like mice,” Gizmo said. “They’re supposed to have space, and live in houses.”
Samson flicked his tail. “Not my problem.”
Rocky paced back and forth beneath the glass window, eyes still on the TV screen.
“Is that the wall you dreamed about, buddy?” he asked.
Max wasn’t sure, but it seemed possible. “It could be.” He thought of Charlie and Emma, living like all those other people, and knew that it was more important than ever that he find them.
“What wall?” Samson asked.
Before Max could reply, Rocky said, “We ran into some horses who described a wall with all the humans on the other side. Some animal named Spots or Stripes is supposed to know more about it.”
A rush of murmurs sounded from the mice. “Stripes?” Samson asked. “Spots?”
“You know him?” Max asked.
Samson rubbed his paws together, whiskers twitching. “Them,” he said. “It’s two different animals. We heard about them from some of the strays we scared off. They live down the railroad tracks in a place called DeQuincy.”
Max felt a burst of excitement rush through his body. He hadn’t led Rocky and Gizmo astray after all! Because they had taken shelter in this mall, they had found Samson. Now Samson was going to lead them to Stripes and Spots, who would lead them to the wall, which was where they would find their people. Finally.
Max spun in a circle. “Then that’s where we need to go!” he said. “We’ll follow these tracks, find those dogs, and they’ll tell us how to get past that wall and into the city of tents.” Lowering his voice, Max met Rocky’s and Gizmo’s eyes and added, “Besides, even with the storm we shouldn’t stay in one place too long.”
“I suppose you could follow those tracks,” Samson squeaked. “It’s just…”
Rocky snorted and waddled back to Max’s side. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, pip-squeak; you don’t want to risk losing your new digs when we find the humans.”
“It’s not that,” Samson said with a slight twitch.
“Then what?” Gizmo asked, cocking her fuzzy head.
The other mice hushed as Samson peered left and right down the dim hall. Leaning in close to Max’s lowered snout, Samson whispered, “The tracks lead into a tunnel, you see.”
The sea of mice trembled. Softly at first, then louder and louder, their voices rose in a chorus of fearful “Oooooohs.” The sound was so eerie and unsettling that Max’s heart started to beat faster.
Samson blinked—his red-rimmed eyes looked fiercer than ever. “And no one who’s gone into the tunnel has ever come back out.”
CHAPTER 5
DARK PASSAGE
Rocky stepped forward, his head high and defiant. “We aren’t afraid of some tunnel,” he barked over the frightened squeaks. “We’ve been in plenty. Take us there!”
Gizmo scrambled to Rocky’s side. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Rocky whispered back. “If a train track goes through that tunnel, I bet you anything the reason no one comes back is ’cause they went out the other side!”
Max gulped, relieved. Of course Rocky was right.
The large white mouse rubbed his paws together. “Well, if you insist on going, I won’t stop you. Lower your snout, Max, and I’ll hop back on.”
Max lowered his head so that his nose rested against the cold, dusty tile. Samson climbed back up between Max’s ears and grabbed two tufts of fur.
The mouse led Max, Rocky, and Gizmo farther down the main hall, trailed by a small group of curious mice. There were no skylights at this end of the mall, and all the lights were off.
“That door,” Samson said as an exit sign appeared up ahead. “Push that big metal bar.”
Max could barely make out another sign on the door. Squinting, he read to himself, “ ‘Employees Only. Improper entry will sound alarm.’ ”
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Max asked. “If I open that door, it might make a loud noise.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Samson said. “We chewed through the wires that make the noise ages ago. Behind the door, there’s a hallway that leads to where the big trucks used to deliver stuff. You can get out the back of the mall there. Then just run across the parking lot to the train tracks and the tunnel.”
“All right, then, hold on!”
Max leaped back on his hind legs and pressed his front paws against the metal bar. With a click, the door swung outward into blackness.
Max shoved himself against the door to hold it open, then looked back to see Gizmo and Rocky huddled together, nervously eyeing the dark hallway.
None of the mice seemed concerned. They skittered past the dogs, disappearing into the darkness ahead. The hall echoed with the clicking of their tiny claws against concrete.
“What’s the holdup?” Samson squeaked. “You wanted to see the tunnel, and this is the fastest way to get to it.” He puffed out his tiny white chest. “I can’t stay with you dogs all day, you know. I have a hundred and sixty-seven mouths to feed.”
Rocky backed away from the doorway. “Maybe we should wait until the storm is over and leave from the front of the mall. I mean, there’s all that kibble back in the pet store. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
“No,” Max said, “we can’t stay in one place too long. We should at least check out this exit. Meanwhile, the rain will wash away our scent so that our, uh, old friend won’t be able to find us.”
“You mean Dolph?” Gizmo asked.
“Who’s Dolph?” Samson replied.
“No one you need to worry about,” Rocky said. To Max, he said, “But, big guy, what about the beacons Dr. Lynn left?”
Max’s tail drooped. “We saw one fly by earlier, reme
mber? I have a bad feeling the storm might have blown away the trail she left for us. But on the TV, they said Dr. Lynn was working behind the wall, so that’s where we need to go. And we know the animals at the end of the train tracks can help us get there.”
“All right, all right!” Rocky said, already waddling into the hallway. “I give up.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Gizmo said, following Rocky. “Samson wouldn’t lead us the wrong way.” Glancing up at him, she added, “Would you?”
In spite of Gizmo’s chipper expression, Max could sense a subtle growl in her voice, an unspoken Because if you do, you’ll have to answer to me.
Samson seemed to sense that, too. “Yeah, of course you can trust me.”
“Then let’s go!” Gizmo said as she bounded forward.
Max padded through the doorway after his friends.
With a slam and a click, the door shut, thrusting them into blackness.
Max stopped walking. There were no windows, and no light leaked from under the door. He could sense the ceiling above him, and the concrete floor was hard beneath his paws. But he still felt lost in nothingness.
Max heard his friends moving slowly forward. It was strange to be unsure of each step he took. At the same time, the musk of the rodents was stronger than ever in Max’s nostrils, and each step pinged loudly in his ears, making them twitch.
“Hey,” Samson chirped, “watch out for—”
“Whoa!” Rocky yelped.
“Rocky!” Gizmo barked.
Samson yanked back on Max’s fur to signal him to stop. “Yeah, there’s a step there,” he said.
Chittering laughter came from unseen mice. Some were so close Max wondered how he hadn’t stepped on the tiny creatures.
“You could have told me,” Rocky growled.
“I tried!” Samson said. “Anyway, there are steps down to a landing, then more steps leading to another door.”
“Are you all right, Rocky?” Max asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Rocky answered. “Just surprised me, is all.”
“Be careful,” Gizmo said. “Both of you.”
Thumps echoed as the two small dogs plopped down the concrete steps.
“There’s another door here!” Rocky called up.
Max carefully made his way to the bottom step. From there, he could hear the muffled hush hush of the storm, and cold radiated from the metal door in front of him. Beyond it, Max could swear he heard waves crashing against rocks. Why would there be a lake under the mall?
Leaping up once more, Max reached out with his front legs. They landed heavily against a metal bar, and the door flung open.
Through a haze of gray-green light, he saw a vast room that seemed to be under the mall. Great gusts of wind swelled over him, splashing his fur with water. Samson squeaked, and Max felt the mouse press himself flat onto his head.
Blinking, Max stepped out of the dark stairwell and onto a wide concrete platform that overlooked a pool. The ceiling high above was crisscrossed with pipes and metal grates—the underside of the mall. The stairs had taken them to an area that shoppers never saw.
To Max’s left, yellow stairs led into the water. Next to that, a waterfall cascaded down a wide asphalt ramp into the strange little lake. High on the walls were white doors, like the doors on garages.
This room wasn’t meant to be a lake at all, Max realized. It was some sort of loading dock. Before the humans left, trucks must have backed down the ramp to the white doors so that their contents could be unloaded into the mall.
Max vaguely heard the squeals of mice behind him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying over the wind.
“Max!” Gizmo barked loudly. “Can’t you hear the mice? Shut the door before they all get blown away!”
“Oh, sorry,” Max said. He stepped away from the door and let it swing shut behind him.
It closed with a heavy, solid thunk. Max turned to see that there was no handle on this side of the door, just a keyhole.
“Hey!” Max barked, his hackles raised. “How are we supposed to get back in?”
“Sorry!” Samson squealed over the wind. “Can’t hear you!” He tugged with his left paw. “Tunnel is thataway, and let’s make it snappy.”
Rocky spun around in a frantic circle. “Did we just get locked out? What if the storm is so bad we can’t get to that tunnel?”
Gizmo growled and flattened her ears. “We trusted you, Samson.”
The white mouse said, “If it’s necessary, I’ll find a way to get you back in, all right? Excuse me for wanting to help some human-loving dogs leave my home. I didn’t have to come with you—remember? I’m the good guy here!”
Max fought back his own growl. “Come on,” he said, padding toward the yellow stairs. “We’re outside; we might as well check it out.”
He hesitated at the edge of the top step. Turbulent black water filled the loading bay and had already swallowed the bottom few steps. There was no way his two small friends would be able to wade through it.
“What’s wrong?” Gizmo asked.
Max saw a narrow concrete ledge along the wall above the exit ramp.
“Nothing,” he said, veering left. “This way.”
The three dogs walked single file along the ledge, Samson still clinging to Max’s head. It was easy enough for Rocky and Gizmo, but Max had to hug the wall, fighting the wind, and he worried he’d fall off at any moment.
Reaching the end of the ledge, he craned his head around the corner—and was met with a faceful of icy rainwater.
“Hey!” Samson squeaked. He scrambled down Max’s spine, then leaped over Rocky and Gizmo onto the ledge.
Ignoring the rodent, Max studied the parking lot, the rain soaking his fur.
Just as in front of the mall, the back lot was under a half foot of water. There were big semitrucks parked back there, as well as several huge metal containers. To Max’s right, streetlamps lit the parking lot. On the other side of the lot, the tall lamps were off, leaving the area as dark as night under the heavy clouds.
Beyond the parking lot was a road, and behind that road was an overgrown field, where grass was tossing back and forth in the heavy winds. Barely visible through the weeds was a metal railroad track that disappeared into the face of a cliff.
“What’s it look like, big guy?” Rocky asked. “Think we can make a run for it?”
Max shook his head to fling off the water and turned back to his friends.
“I don’t know,” he said. “The storm is still pretty bad.”
Gizmo rounded on Samson. “You have to let us back inside,” she demanded. “We were nice to you, and we promised not to hurt anyone. We’ll have to wait out the storm—then we’ll leave.”
Samson twitched his whiskers. “Fine, fine. Follow me. I think one of those big white doors may be open enough for you to slip under.” He scrabbled ahead, and Gizmo and Rocky trotted after him, the wind gusting at their backs. But there was no way for Max to turn around on the narrow ledge. Instead, he moved slowly and carefully backward, one step at a time.
He was halfway to the main platform when he heard the mice squeal in distress. Rocky yelped, and then both he and Gizmo began to bark, sounding frantic.
“What is it?” Max called back over his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Are the mice swarming you?”
The patter of paws sounded on the ledge behind him. Panting, Gizmo and Rocky came to a stop behind Max’s hind legs.
“The mice saw more animals in the mall,” Gizmo said. “Their speaker trick didn’t work, and now they’re being hunted!”
“Do they want our help?” Max asked.
“No!” Rocky said. “They came to warn us, Max. The animals—they’re not dogs or cats.”
“The mice are afraid,” Gizmo said. “And they think we should be, too.”
“What should we do, big guy?” Rocky asked.
Before Max had time to answer, they heard muffled howls from behind the closed bay doors.
&
nbsp; Then more howls came from outside the mall, loud enough to be heard clearly over the raging storm.
Despite the hurricane, despite how far they’d traveled since their last encounter in Baton Rouge, Max recognized those howls.
“It’s wolves,” Gizmo yipped.
Dolph and his pack had found them.
CHAPTER 6
THE TUNNEL
Squealing at the top of his tiny lungs, Samson scampered across the ledge toward the three dogs. He was trailed by the slender brown mouse Max had seen earlier—Lilah.
“I told you!” Lilah squeaked. “We shouldn’t have trusted these dogs. My babies are going to get eaten!”
Samson squeaked furiously, “You didn’t tell us there were wolves after you. You have to get out of here so they’ll follow you and leave us alone!”
Gizmo’s pointed ears flattened, and she growled. “Stop accusing Max. It’s not his fault.”
Spinning so fast she was a brown blur, Lilah squealed, “My babies! I need to save my babies!”
Samson pounded Max’s foot with his paw. “You better leave now. I’ll go on the speaker and tell those wolves that you’re outside. Then they’ll scoot out there and leave us alone!”
Eyes wide, Rocky whimpered. “You’re going to tell them where we are? Why would you do that?”
“Do what you have to do, Samson,” Max said. “But at least give us a head start.”
“Fine!” Samson said, already racing back toward the main platform with Lilah. “You better hurry!”
More howls pierced the air, slicing through the torrent of rain and wind. Because of the storm, Max couldn’t smell the wolves searching for them outside, but from the sound of their howls, they were getting close.
“Storm or not, we have to make a run for it,” he told Rocky and Gizmo. “Are you ready?”
Gizmo bared her teeth, gathering her courage. “We could always stay here and face Dolph. I wouldn’t mind giving him a good talking-to.”
Journey's End Page 4
