“What will we eat?” his sister asked. “What will we drink?”
Whimpering, the small animals huddled together. “Buck up, citizens,” Chuck barked. “I’m sure Spots has a plan. Right, Spots?”
Spots licked his jaws. “To be honest, not really. I was just planning on following the tracks.”
“Oh, no!” Rufus howled. “We’re doomed!”
In a flash of silver, Tiffany leaped off the top of the locomotive and landed with a crunch atop the remaining kibble in the coal car. She glared down at the frightened little animals.
“What a bunch of whiny babies,” she scolded, pinching her nose in disgust. “I’m barely older than any of you, and you don’t see me being all afraid, do you?”
“But what about the things in the woods?” Snow asked, her white fur standing on end.
“You have me with you,” Stripes said. “All any of those scary animals need to see is this”—she hopped in a circle and hefted up her backside and tail—“and they’ll run away if they know what’s good for them.”
“You sure?” Regina asked.
Chuck licked her forehead. “We’re positive, little lady. And me and Spots will bark and growl at anyone that tries to hurt you.”
“You three are lucky,” Rocky said to the puppies and kitten. “You have two guard dogs traveling with you, and a skunk and a Silver Bandit, too!”
Gizmo wagged her tail. “It’ll be fun,” she said. “Just imagine how jealous the other puppies and kittens will be when you tell them about your train ride.”
“Yeah!” Regina barked, leaping onto her brother. “When do we start?”
Groaning, Spots climbed onto all fours, towering above everyone except Max. “In just a few moments, pup,” he said. “Everyone gather behind the caboose and wait for me. I need to speak to Max, Rocky, and Gizmo before they head off.”
Chuck jumped up, his kerchief fluttering in the breeze. “You got it, Conductor. Citizens, follow me!”
Taking the lead, the long-eared Cavalier Spaniel led the kitten and puppies toward the back of the train.
“Bye, Gizmo!” Regina barked. “Bye, Rocky!”
Gizmo wagged her tail. “Bye! Be good!”
Stripes plopped out of the coal car and waddled up to Max, Rocky, and Gizmo. “Thank you for getting Spots out of his funk,” she said with a nod of her small black-and-white head. “I feared my old friend was gone for good.”
Spots whimpered and looked away.
Rocky licked the skunk, then stepped back with his nose twitching. “It was our pleasure.” Turning so that she couldn’t see, he hung out his tongue and forced a sneeze to get rid of her odor.
“We would never have found Spots if it weren’t for you,” Max told Stripes. “Be careful on the way home.”
“You don’t need to worry about us,” the skunk said. “Good luck finding your people, even if humans aren’t always kind to animals like me.”
“Thank you,” Max said. “We appreciate it.”
Tiffany leaped down to join them, landing right next to Stripes. “Hey, don’t let her take all the credit,” the raccoon bandit said. “I helped a lot, too!” Pointing a finger at Max, she added, “And don’t you forget, you promised to tell everyone you meet about me!”
“We won’t forget, Silver Bandit,” Gizmo said.
“Trust me,” Rocky added, “it’d be hard to forget you.”
Tiffany rubbed her hands together. “Of course. See you later!”
With her striped tail held high, the little raccoon raced away, disappearing behind the red caboose. Stripes offered the four dogs a friendly purr before joining the rest of the DeQuincy animals to wait for Spots.
“If good-byes are done,” Spots said, already walking away, “kindly follow me.”
Spots led Max, Rocky, and Gizmo to the front of the locomotive. He stood in the center of the tracks, on a wooden tie half buried beneath rocks and weeds.
His snout aimed at the horizon, the old spotted dog said, “I’d say you have a day or so left to walk before you reach the chain-link fence that runs across the track. That is, assuming you take the time to rest at night.”
Max followed Spots’s gaze. The tracks seemed to go on forever through the desert, disappearing in a haze of heat on the horizon. Even though they’d just had their fill of water, Max felt parched under the boiling sun.
Sensing Max’s concern, Spots said, “Don’t worry. It may not seem like it now, but there will be more places to drink along the way.”
“That’s good,” Rocky said. “I’m thirsty already.”
“When we reach the chain-link fence, is that where we should dig?” Max asked, squinting into the sun.
“No,” Spots said. “Once you reach that fence, you’ll head south until you find two big boulders next to a road. On the southern side of the boulders, behind some bushes, is where we dug under the chain-link fence.
“After that, it’s a straight shot to where we dug the tunnel under the metal wall. Just remember to keep an ear out for trucks. When you hear them, you should run south along the wall to an old, withered tree and hide. Once the trucks have gone by, it’ll be safe to dig some more.”
“Thank you,” Max said. “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
“And even though you think he’s gone,” Gizmo said to the coonhound, “we’ll look for Dots once we’re there. Won’t we, Max?”
“Absolutely,” Max said.
Spots gazed longingly one last time at the shiny red locomotive. “I don’t think you’ll find anything,” he said softly. “But… I appreciate that you’ll look anyway.”
“Stay safe, Train Dog!” Rocky said.
“You be safe, too,” Spots said.
And then the old dog ran off behind the caboose to join the ragtag group from DeQuincy and lead them home.
Hours later, Max walked slowly down the center of the abandoned tracks, Rocky and Gizmo at either side. His head ached, and his tongue hung free from his jaws as he panted, desperate to ease the dryness in his throat. His skin felt as if it was roasting to a crisp.
The desert heat was relentless. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been some shade, but the landscape was empty of trees or buildings.
Rocky and Gizmo weren’t faring much better. Neither of them spoke as they slogged along, not even when they saw a scorpion clatter out from beneath the tracks, its sharp tail raised as it darted away.
By midafternoon, Max felt ready to collapse. Even thoughts of Dr. Lynn and his family—and Dolph—were barely enough to keep him going. But just as he was about to sink down beside the tracks, he saw a mobile home off to the south.
Like all the trailer homes he’d seen, it was long and narrow, with corrugated metal roofing. It had once been white, but time had tinged its corners yellow, and dust coated its windows. Red rust had eaten through the roof’s overhang, leaving a jagged hole.
Behind the trailer, cordoned off by fencing, were mounds of junk, mostly sheets of metal but also stacks of tires and steel tire rims. Out front, on either side of a potted cactus, were two armchairs. They were faded brown, the torn upholstery revealing springs and foam inside. Nearby, a tall windmill creaked back and forth in the gentle breeze.
There was clearly no one home, but that wasn’t important. It was a sign of civilization.
Lifting his head, Max stared down the tracks. Through the hazy veil of heat he could see buildings not too far ahead. A town!
“Guys,” Max said, his voice rough from lack of water. “Look.”
Raising her head, Gizmo saw the town, too. “Do you think we can rest, Max?” she said. “I know Dolph is still out there, and you’re eager to reach the wall, but…”
Rocky groaned. “I hope there’s food, buddy. It’s so hot that I don’t want to eat, but my stomach is telling me I need to.”
Max licked his exhausted friends one at a time. “Let’s see what we can find.”
The town was built on the southern side of the tra
cks. Past the station platform was a main street made of packed dirt. The buildings there were almost like a modern, bigger version of the small town back at the train museum. The largest building was a grocery store the size of a single-story house. Above its porch, a wooden sign read WALTER CHANG’S MARKET. Next to the market was a tower made up of metal beams supporting a large barrel. Painted on the barrel were the words CITY OF PERFECTION.
It wasn’t much of a city, Max thought as he led his friends to the market. There were a few other wooden buildings, and some more trailer homes, but everything was in a state of disrepair. Holes in walls were patched with metal sheets, and rusty trucks without wheels or seats were parked outside ramshackle shacks.
Max padded up the dirty steps of the market, the dry wood creaking beneath his paws. The shaded porch was a welcome escape from the sun, though it was still achingly hot. On one side of the market’s front door, a rocking chair sat beneath a horned skull that was mounted on the wall. On the other side of the door was a big white box with a sign that read ICE.
“Ohhh,” Rocky moaned. “Ice. Let’s open it and see if there’s any inside.”
Max remembered being in the kitchen of his old farm home, watching his pack leaders licking red and orange Popsicles from the freezer. Beads of colored water would drip down their hands as they gave Max a taste. He thought of the times the farmhands had given him an ice cube to play with. Suddenly, frozen water became all he could think of.
With his snout, Max hefted up the big white icebox’s metal lid, which slammed back against the wooden wall with a heavy clang. Max stuck his head over the box’s edge.
And found it to be full to the brim with water, plastic bags floating on the surface.
Max figured that whatever power had kept the machine full of ice had probably failed only recently.
Not that it mattered. He stuck his head into the icebox, shuffled aside some of the plastic bags with his snout, and began to lap up great mouthfuls of water. It was lukewarm and tasted strange, but he didn’t care.
“What’s inside?” Gizmo asked.
Max finally pulled his head free, panting. “Water,” he said, wagging his tail. “A whole big tub full of water.”
Max shoved the rocking chair across the porch to the ice chest, and Rocky and Gizmo hopped up so that they, too, could reach the giant water dish. Their thirst slaked, they turned their attention to the market.
The door swung open on hinges, so they didn’t have to fuss with doorknobs or locks. Inside, the three dogs sniffed at the dusty wooden floor, trying to pick up the scent of food.
The store was dark. Most of the windows had been boarded up, and barely any light streamed in. But it was enough to see by.
Three tall shelves formed aisles between the checkout counter and the back wall. Cans of food and bags of flour lined some shelves, while others held tools like hammers and screwdrivers. The market was stocked with all sorts of strange things, from postcards showing the water tower to bows and arrows displayed on the wall.
What it didn’t have was kibble.
“Hey,” Rocky said, huffing at some people snacks hanging from pegs. “These smell like meat.”
Max joined Rocky at the end of the aisle. The packages were filled with brown strips that looked like tree bark but smelled of smoked meat. Printed on them were the words BEEF JERKY.
“Did you find something?” Gizmo asked.
“Let’s see,” Max said.
He yanked down several of the packages with his teeth, then wrenched one open with his incisors. Carefully he picked up one of the dried strips and started to chew. And chew.
The flavor was tremendous—sweet and smoky and beefy. Though it was the texture of leather, he quite liked having something to bite into, and he found himself gobbling up one strip, then another, and another.
Rocky moaned in ecstasy as he rolled onto his belly, a piece of jerky in his jaws. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” he said. “And I’ve eaten… a lot of things!” Gizmo lay next to him and nodded in agreement, gnawing on her own piece, practically purring with delight.
It was still daylight outside, but Max was so exhausted from the heat, and so thrilled to have found this market with its water and jerky, that he decided they’d traveled enough for the day. The wall wasn’t going anywhere. And the wolves—
Outside, the front porch creaked.
Max had been so busy chewing that for a moment he wondered if he’d just imagined the noise.
But the wooden boards on the porch groaned once more. Something was outside.
Rocky and Gizmo heard it, too. Jerky still clenched in their jaws, they went still, their ears alert. Max swallowed his last bite, his eyes at the bottom of the swinging door. A shadowy, four-legged creature paced in front, huffing. Max sniffed, his heart pounding, wondering if somehow Dolph had caught up with them.
The musk he smelled was wild and furry. It was similar to wolf but different, smoky and not as sour.
“What is that?” Rocky whispered. “It doesn’t smell like wolves.”
Max shushed him as he carefully backed behind the checkout counter. Leaving the scraps of their meal, Rocky and Gizmo followed him into the shadows.
Slowly, the swinging door creaked open, letting in harsh, yellow daylight. The huffing creature stood in the doorway, its shadow doglike.
No, Max realized, the animal was definitely not a wolf.
It was worse.
CHAPTER 17
COYOTE COUNTRY
Light from the grimy window illuminated the creature. Its head was shaped like a wolf’s, with large ears that rose to a point. They would have looked funny if not for the animal’s bared fangs and the devious glare in its yellow eyes.
The animal stepped all the way into the store, letting the door swing shut behind it. It moved slowly and carefully toward the checkout counter, following Max, Rocky, and Gizmo’s scent.
Its coat was tawny brown, shaggy and wild, with ruddier fur on its ankles and the sides of its snout. Its bushy, black-tipped tail was alert, and its body was slender and taut with muscle.
A coyote.
Max had heard stories of wild coyotes. They had no qualms about sneaking into yards to steal away livestock and even small dogs and cats. They were clever, brazen creatures, and their high-pitched howls struck fear into anyone that heard them.
And now a coyote was right here, feet away from Max and his two snack-sized friends.
“Hello?” Gizmo asked tentatively, leaving Max’s side and stepping out from behind the counter.
Max nipped at her tail, trying to force her back into hiding, but she spun around and swatted at his snout.
“It’s just one animal,” she whispered to Max. “Maybe we can convince her we’re friendly.”
“Gizmo, wait, she’s a—”
But the terrier darted away.
The coyote had frozen at the sound of Gizmo’s barks, hovering over the torn jerky wrappers. Her big ears were aimed forward.
Gizmo crept into the dingy daylight, offering a slow wag of her tail.
“Hello,” she said again. “I’m Gizmo. Is this your territory?”
The coyote bared her sharp teeth.
Hesitating, Gizmo stopped with one paw raised, midstep. “Um, my friends and I, including my very large, very strong friend Max, were just resting,” she said, her fur standing on end. “We’ll be moving on soon.”
Drool dripped from the coyote’s jaws, plopping on the shredded jerky wrappers. The coyote tensed, preparing to make her move.
Rocky raced out from behind the counter, barking loudly as he ran in circles around Gizmo.
“Get out of here!” he yelped. “Get!”
Max stalked out of hiding to join his friends, his hackles raised, his own teeth bared as he growled deep in his throat.
Then the coyote did something he did not expect.
She raised her head all the way back, opened her snout, and let out a high-pitched “yi-yi-yi!” that echoed
through the dusty market.
Outside, another coyote called back. Then another, and another.
The coyote’s gleaming eyes met Max’s, and she took a purposeful step forward. “You are in our territory,” she said. “And you are surrounded. Come with me.”
Panting, Rocky stopped running and growled at the beast, who towered above him. “And what if we don’t?”
The coyote slowly lowered her head until she was snout-to-snout with Rocky. The smell of decay wafted on her breath. “Then my pack mates will storm in here,” she said, “and shred you all to bits.”
Tucking his tail, Rocky took a step back. “All right, that’s a convincing argument.”
Standing, the coyote looked at Max once more and said simply, “Come.”
Max hesitated, his eyes darting from side to side. The coyotes had them cornered. Going outside would bring them face-to-face with the rest of the pack, but at least they’d be in the open, with a better chance to escape.
Lowering his tail in a show of concession, Max padded toward the swinging door. The coyote growled at him as he passed, but she did not move; she just watched as Max held the door open for Rocky and Gizmo to dart through.
A dry late-afternoon breeze rose as Max, Rocky, and Gizmo came to stand side by side at the top of the steps. Down below, on the hard-packed dirt road, were five more wild coyotes. They were similar to the female coyote in shape and coloring, though one had a torn ear, and another had a thick scar running through an eye that he kept closed.
The door squealed as the female coyote exited the market, then pushed past Max and leaped down the stairs. She stood next to the one-eyed coyote.
“Your smell sense was strong and true, Sharpshard,” she barked to him. “These were the intruders I found: three domesticated dogs.”
The coyote with the notched ear snapped her jaws. “The two small ones are perfect for an evening snack. The large one will provide us a feast.”
The other coyotes, save for one-eyed Sharpshard and the female who’d found them, howled and yipped in response.
“Quiet!” Sharpshard barked, his eyes on Max. “You know the rules, Moonrise.”
Journey's End Page 13
