A flash of tan fur caught Max’s eye, and he saw Gizmo racing as fast as her short legs could carry her along the fence. Seeing her friends, she stopped short, then looked up at Max, panting wildly.
“You’re all right! I ran toward the tree by the wall after the alarm went off, and next thing I knew, Rocky was gone. I figured he’d come after you.”
Max started to answer, then winced as a sharp pain lanced through his injured paw. He dropped to his side, near Rocky, keeping the paw raised.
He expected Dolph to take the opportunity to lunge at him or to run away after his pack.
Instead, the scarred, battered wolf leader stood, midway between the fence and the giant, gleaming wall, his body tense as he watched the trucks come closer.
Rocky groaned as he sat up. “Max, buddy, what happened to your foot?”
He and Gizmo huddled around Max, gently licking the fur near his injury. Max didn’t respond. His throat was too dry to make a sound, scratched by his desperate barking. Instead, he kept his eyes on the vehicles.
There were three trucks coming toward them. The one in the lead was painted dark green. The roof, sides, and windshield were missing, though black poles outlined where they should be. The driver was a man in a tan uniform. Sitting next to him was a woman wearing a sleeveless white shirt and shorts, a baseball cap shading her eyes.
Behind this vehicle were two big trucks with dark canvas over their beds. Max could see more uniformed figures inside.
Animals from all over the country had warned Max about these trucks. These weren’t the good people. They were the ones who had worn frightening black masks over their faces as they’d torn humans from their homes, forcing them away from their beloved pets. They had spirited all the people away, packing them in tent cities like the ones Max had dreamed about, past the wall.
When they’d met Dr. Lynn, she had told the three dogs to follow her but to steer clear of humans—many of them distrusted animals now. Spots’s brother had gotten caught, and now he was gone. What they’d done to Dots, Max didn’t know, though he hoped for Spots’s sake that his brother was still alive.
The green truck came to a stop a short distance away from Dolph, as the two other trucks pulled up next to it.
Dolph stood his ground. When the smallest truck kicked on bright, glaring headlights, the wolf leader did not move. He didn’t even flinch when the woman in the baseball cap blasted her horn.
“What is he doing?” Gizmo asked.
Max raised his head, wincing at the effort. His whole body throbbed with pain now. Though it hurt him to speak, Max barked, “Don’t be a fool, Dolph! Run! This is over now.”
Trembling, Dolph turned his head to face Max. “It is over,” he said, “when I say it’s over.”
And then Dolph darted forward.
Not toward Max, or Rocky, or Gizmo.
Instead, he raced toward the nearest truck, the one without windows or a roof.
The woman with the horn shouted and dropped back down in her seat. The man quickly turned and reached behind him.
“Max is mine to destroy!” Dolph howled.
The wolf leader leaped onto the hood of the car, landing with a heavy, metallic thunk. He reared back his head and bellowed.
“You humans cannot deprive me of this! You are supposed to be gone! This is our world now. You do not belong! Leave here!”
The man turned to the front with something in his hand. He aimed it at Dolph, and pop! A new noise stung Max’s ears, and a feathered dart embedded itself in Dolph’s neck.
Dolph’s snarl turned into a surprised yelp, and his entire body went slack. He fell against the hood of the vehicle with another heavy thud, then slowly slid down toward the front bumper, his eyes closed.
Max, Rocky, and Gizmo huddled together next to the fence, watching slack-jawed.
“Is he…” Gizmo whispered.
Dolph’s chest rose and fell, ever so slightly.
“He’s not,” Max said, feeling an odd sense of relief. “He’s asleep.”
The man and woman hopped out of the truck to investigate the fallen wolf. Another man in tan pants and a white shirt, with dark glasses propped on his nose, ran to join them from one of the other trucks.
“Mask on, Les!” the sunglasses man said as he neared them. “You haven’t been inoculated like Cassie and I have.”
“Yes, sir, Ben,” the man in the uniform said. He reached into the car, producing a little white mask that he put over his mouth and nose. The man with glasses—Ben—and the woman in the baseball cap—Cassie—didn’t seem concerned about doing the same.
“That was a clean shot, Les,” Cassie said, adjusting her cap. “I thought the wolf was going to jump into the truck.”
Les laughed, his voice muffled by the mask. “No problem, Cassie. Sometimes you need a good old-fashioned tranquilizer to knock out those wild ones.”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Please, you weren’t doing it to help me. You just wanted to protect that pretty face of yours from the big, bad wolf.”
“I dunno,” Les said. “I’d probably look pretty cool with a scar.”
While they talked, Ben pushed his sunglasses onto his head and examined Dolph. He lifted up Dolph’s black lips and shone a penlight in his eye, then gingerly touched the scars, burns, and fresh wounds on the wolf’s gray-furred body.
“This guy,” Ben said as he stood up, “is not from around here.”
Turning toward him, Cassie said, “No kidding. We’re in the middle of the desert. And that is definitely not a coyote.”
Ben shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t mean this wolf just hopped the border. This species is exclusive to the north. He had to have traveled hundreds of miles to get here. And judging by his scars, he went through a lot.”
“What do we do with him?” Les asked.
Ben stroked his chin and looked Dolph up and down.
“Put him in the back,” he said finally. “We’ll figure out something.”
Wearing gloves, Cassie took Dolph’s hind legs while Les hefted up the great beast’s head and shoulders. Together, they gently placed Dolph’s sagging, limp form in the back of the small truck.
“What are they going to do with him?” Gizmo asked.
“I don’t know,” Max said.
Again, Max recalled the sad, harrowing tale of Dots digging through to the other side of the wall. There’d been a flash of light—headlight beams from a truck like this one?—and then Dots was gone. Could he have been shot with a tranquilizer, too? Max wasn’t entirely sure what that was, except that it seemed to have put Dolph to sleep.
Side by side, Ben, Les, and Cassie strode purposefully past the trucks, directly to where Max, Rocky, and Gizmo lay huddled together.
Les still held the thing that had sent a dart to put Dolph to sleep.
This was it. Max had been warned many times about these people. He had met so many animals who claimed they preferred a world without the two-legged humans.
And Max himself had reassured so many abandoned pets that the people still loved the dogs and cats they’d had to leave behind.
But the world had changed.
Maybe only a few humans, like Dr. Lynn, still cared for their lost animals.
Maybe the rest of them wanted to shoot dogs with darts and throw them into the back of trucks to be carted away.
As the humans approached, Max whimpered. Sensing his pain and fear, Rocky and Gizmo stood tall between him and the people.
If this was the end, Max thought, at least Rocky and Gizmo were here. At least he was surrounded by those he cared about, when Dolph, Bonecrush, and their packs would have forced him to die alone.
But he did not want this to be the end, not when Charlie and Emma were so close. With the chase over and the wall looming just beyond the parked trucks, he could hear the murmur of thousands and thousands of voices on the other side. Two of those voices belonged to his pack leaders. He knew it deep in his aching bones.
As the hu
mans drew near, Rocky growled and Gizmo flattened her ears.
“Whoa,” Cassie said, adjusting the brim of her cap. “Looks like we’ve got some feisty ones here.”
Ben put his hands on his hips. “They’d have to be to have come this far.”
Les raised the thing that had shot the dart at Dolph. “Should I tranq ’em?”
Cassie said, “That thing has way too big a dose for dogs this size. We’d need one with a dosage like we used on the coonhound that dug under the wall.”
“That the dog you’re keeping in quarantine by the mobile lab?” Les asked.
Cassie nodded. “The old man and woman who own him have been sitting vigil outside his kennel for weeks now. They don’t seem to care if Dots gets them sick.”
Max’s ears perked up at the name. Dots wasn’t dead after all—and he was with his people!
Ben knelt down in front of the dogs, his lips pursed. “These aren’t just any dogs. They’ve got collars with trackers on them. Looks like the big dog is favoring his paw.”
“Are they the ones Dr. Sadler is looking for?” Cassie asked.
“Could be,” Ben said. He stood up. “You remember the breeds?”
Cassie shrugged. “I thought one was a yellow Labrador, like this guy.”
Rocky and Gizmo relaxed, ceasing their shows of aggression.
“They don’t seem like they want to hurt us, big guy,” Rocky said.
Gizmo licked between Max’s ears. “Yeah! They seem nice. The lady even said Dots is safe on the other side of the wall!”
Max closed his eyes, shutting out the bright, blazing sunlight. He inhaled, taking in the scents of the humans: their sweat, their crisp clothing, the mixture of soap and deodorant.
They were people. Real, live people, just like Dr. Lynn. People who wanted to help them.
Rocky and Gizmo rose up in frantic barks as Max felt someone loom above him. He opened his eyes just in time to find Ben clipping a leash to his collar. He flinched, wanting to recoil—he didn’t know this man or where he intended to take him. But he didn’t have the energy to resist.
“Shh, shh,” Cassie said, her hands held out for Rocky and Gizmo to sniff. “I smell like a nice lady, right?”
The two small dogs huffed at her hand, but Max could tell they were anxious.
“Up we go,” Ben said as he helped Max roll over onto his good feet. “We need to get a look at that paw of yours.”
“What should we do with the other two?” Cassie asked.
Ben turned to her and said, “Put them in the back of truck two. We’ll scan them for the virus and decide if they need to join Dots in quarantine. I’ll put this injured guy in the back of my truck.”
Gizmo’s ears snapped up, alert. “What?” she yelped. “No! Max, don’t go with them. They’re going to separate us!”
Rocky recoiled from Cassie’s fingers and spun in a frantic circle, howling, “We need to find Dr. Lynn, big guy!”
Les shifted uncomfortably, holding his white mask close to his face. “Why are they doing that?”
Cassie backed away slowly. “Something’s agitating them. Could be coyotes coming by on the other side of the fence, maybe?”
Ben started back toward his truck, tugging on Max’s leash. “Come on, boy,” he said. “It’ll be all right. I’ll make the hurt go away.”
Gizmo leaped up and down. “Please let us go with him. We’re a family now.”
Max sat down and yanked back with his neck, resisting the urgent tugging that he knew was meant to make him follow, a tugging he hadn’t felt in many long months.
“It’s all right, boy,” Ben said.
“Don’t freak out,” Cassie told the dogs. “Remember, it’s been a long time since they’ve seen humans,” she said to the two men.
“They can’t understand us,” Rocky said, tucking his tail. “They don’t know who we are.”
Gizmo dropped to her belly in despair. “What do we do?”
Tires squealed and an engine roared. The three confused humans and the three dogs all looked up to see another small truck—the one that had veered off to scare away the wolves and coyotes. It came to a screeching halt, and a figure jumped down from the passenger side. The woman waved her arms to brush away the dust that had enveloped her.
And as the dust cleared, Max saw who it was.
Dr. Lynn.
She was just as he remembered her: flower-print shirt, white hair tied back, and a giant straw hat to keep the sun off her kindly, wrinkled face.
Happiness flooded Max’s body. Despite his exhaustion and the pain in his paw, he leaped back onto his hind legs and barked, “Dr. Lynn! It’s me, Max!”
All three dogs’ tails went into overdrive as they quivered with unbridled glee. Their tongues lolled free, and they barked their greetings.
“We missed you!” Gizmo yipped happily.
“Come tell these bozos who we are,” Rocky barked.
Cassie laughed. “So I think you know these guys.”
Ben nodded respectfully as Dr. Lynn ran past him, straight toward Max. “Dr. Sadler,” he said to her.
And then she was on her knees in front of Max, ruffling the fur on his sides, graciously taking all the licks he had to offer.
“Come here, Rocky,” she said, spreading one arm wide to welcome him into her embrace. “You, too, Jane,” she added, using the name she’d given Gizmo when she couldn’t retrieve any information about her, back in the little town.
The three dogs huddled together, letting Dr. Lynn take them into a great big hug. The other humans watched, amused.
“I take it these are the ones you told us about,” Ben said, handing Dr. Lynn the leash he’d attached to Max’s collar.
Dr. Lynn stood and straightened her straw hat. “That they are,” she said, detaching the leash from Max’s collar and tossing it aside. “These three dogs are the ones who helped save us. I want them with me at all times.”
She turned to the dogs. “I think we found each other just in time, my friends,” Dr. Lynn said. She smiled wide. “I have located your families.”
CHAPTER 23
REUNION
Les was the one who carried Max to the truck.
The white mask he’d worn now dangled below his chin, since Dr. Lynn had said Max and his friends posed no threat of infecting him with Praxis. The soldier shoved his sleeves up to his elbows, crouched down, and carefully took Max in his arms.
Max leaned into the man as he walked around the backside of one of the large, canvas-covered trucks. Les smelled of the ocean, briny and fresh. He whispered softly to Max.
“That’s a good boy,” he said. “You’re doing great.”
Max narrowed his eyes in contentment, then gave the man a long, appreciative lick on his face. His cheeks were rough against Max’s tongue from the stubble growing on his jaw.
Les laughed. “I think he likes me!” he said.
Someone held the green cloth flap aside so that Les could climb into the back of the truck. It was dark in there and warm, with a sweaty, damp heat. Another uniformed man sat on a bench. Gently, Les laid Max on a low metal table, cool beneath his matted fur.
Max moved his paw, then immediately whimpered.
“Poor guy,” Les said, scratching between his ears.
The other man wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Never thought I’d see the day again,” he said. “But here we are, petting dogs like nothing ever happened. I still can’t believe Dr. Sadler found a cure.”
Max leaned his head into Les’s scratching fingers, lingering on the simple joy of a human’s touch while idly listening to the two men.
“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Les said as he moved his hand to rub Max’s belly. “The doctor says these three are safe, but she’s still got to do her science stuff before we can all go home. Cassie—you know, the girl with the baseball cap, one of Dr. Sadler’s assistants?”
“I know her.”
“Well,” Les went on, “she to
ld me they need to manufacture a cure for everyone who’s gotten infected before they can mass-produce vaccines for the rest of us, and they need to release some airborne component to get rid of Praxis in all the wild animals. Then there’s all that damage to clean up before it’s safe to go back to the cities.…” He shook his head. “I try not to think about it. You don’t think about much, do you, Max?”
Max barked, “I actually think about a lot,” but of course Les couldn’t understand him. The man just laughed at the dog trying to answer him.
Crossing his legs, the other soldier leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and asked, “You a dog man, Les?”
“I always had cats, actually,” Les said. “I grew up in the city.”
“Naw, I don’t do cats,” the other soldier said. “It’s all about dogs. Big ones like Max here. Best friends you’ll ever have.”
More people approached the back of the truck, and Max held up his head to watch as Ben climbed in holding Rocky, followed by Cassie with Gizmo.
“Hi, buddy!” Rocky barked.
Max wagged his tail. “Hey, guys.”
Carefully, Ben and Cassie placed Rocky and Gizmo in a black plastic crate next to the machinery. They immediately jumped up with their paws atop the crate’s edge, their tails wagging.
“Thank you!” Gizmo barked. “That was fun!”
Rocky turned to Gizmo. “What’s a dog gotta do to get some kibble around here?”
Max’s own tail wagged even harder, thumping against the tabletop.
And suddenly, Ben and Cassie had attention only for him. They offered him comforting shushes as they stroked his fur. Max was so consumed with pleasure that he barely noticed when they pricked him with a syringe.
Panic flooded him at this new, small hurt, and he tried to sit up. His injured paw smacked against the table, and he howled.
Journey's End Page 18
