Eyes.
Five pairs of eyes were arrayed around them in a half circle, blinking at them from many directions at once.
The wild dogs were closing in.
A sharp pain burst in Matt’s chest, and he realized that fear had stopped him from breathing.
“Matt . . .” Luisa whispered, her voice shaky.
Matt ran through the options of what they could do. Scout could fight, and he might even stand a chance against more than one of these dogs. But there were just so many of them—how would Scout fare? Matt didn’t want to find out. “Scout,” Matt said slowly and firmly. “I need you to stay. You hear me? Stay.”
The eyes got closer. Then closer.
Scout’s growl became a snarl. He took one step forward, closing the distance between himself and the other dogs.
The dogs moved in again.
They were so close Matt could hear them panting. He, Rosita, and Luisa were already pressed against the rock behind them. They were trapped.
Matt’s heart pounded in his chest. Luisa reached out and grabbed him. He squeezed her hand back. Rosita trembled in his arms.
This was it.
The dogs were poised to attack.
20
MATT SCRAMBLED TO HIS FEET. Luisa rustled around in the dark and stood up, holding two shards of a splintered tree. She handed one to Matt.
Matt placed Rosita on the ground and tucked her behind his legs, where he could protect her.
“Stay there,” he whispered to her.
Rosita, thankfully, stayed put.
Scout had positioned himself as the first line of defense against the wild dogs. He paced back and forth in front of Matt, Luisa, and Rosita. Matt held the wood straight out in front of him like a sword, while Luisa raised hers over her shoulder, ready to swing. The dogs were within arm’s reach, but Scout wouldn’t let Matt or Luisa get any closer to them.
But Matt was just as protective of Scout.
“Scout—you need to stand down, buddy. You hear me?”
But it was too late. Scout was beyond the reach of Matt’s commands. He was operating on pure animal instinct, and he and a husky black dog with bulging muscles in his legs—who seemed to be the leader of the pack—were practically nose-to-nose. They crouched down and snarled at each other, spit flying from their bared fangs.
The alpha dog made the first move. He snapped at Scout, nipping his cheek. “No!” Matt screamed. Scout didn’t seem to be hurt. He pulled back and repositioned himself, poised to attack as soon as he saw an opening.
Something exploded in Matt when he saw Scout in jeopardy, and one thought filled his mind: No one was going to hurt his dog. He leapt forward, swinging the stick at the other dog. “Get out of here!” Matt shouted. “Get out—go—leave us alone!” The wood whizzed by the dog’s face but didn’t make contact. The dog growled at Matt but took a skittish step backward.
Scout was to Matt’s left, and Luisa was behind Scout. One of the other dogs, a lean, copper-colored hound, took a step toward Scout. Before it could get any farther, Luisa ran toward it, bringing her branch down like a hammer. She just missed the dog, but it was enough to get it to back off.
Matt swung the stick in front of the dogs’ faces. Scout snarled low and deep at them. Luisa waved her branch up and down.
The pack retreated in unison, but they didn’t leave. They stood firm in their formation, leaving Matt, Luisa, and their dogs cornered.
“Why won’t they leave us alone?” Matt asked.
“They want something,” Luisa replied. “They’re not just here to fight. We weren’t threatening them.”
“But we don’t have anything.” Matt’s mind was racing. And then it clicked, and he felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner. What else would a feral dog in the middle of a forest after a terrible hurricane want but one thing: food. “Ham!”
“What are y—” It took Luisa a second too. “Ham! Give it to them— where is it?”
Matt fumbled in his backpack for the meat. He was so nervous that he dropped it, and the alpha dog took an aggressive step toward him. Scout opened his mouth and clamped it shut around the dog’s neck so fast it seemed impossible. The dog cried out in pain.
“Scout—no!” Matt waved the stick over his head. “Let him go, let him go, let him go . . .” Scout released his hold on the dog and stepped back. “Look here,” Matt said to the hound, and opened the packet of ham. The smell of the meat traveled to the dogs. “Look what I have. Is this what you want?”
The animals’ entire demeanor changed. They went from ferocious to frantic in the blink of an eye. Their eyes followed the food, their heads moving side to side.
Matt felt a pang of pity for them. They weren’t there to hurt Matt and his friends—they were hungry. Who knew how long it had been since their last meal? They were animals, doing what animals do: surviving.
“You want it, you can have it!” Matt said. He cocked his arm back and released the package in a perfect arc over their heads. It disappeared into the darkness, and so did the dogs. Moving as one, they turned and sprinted toward the meat, which had landed with a soft thud about forty feet away.
After a moment, Matt and Luisa heard them barking and baying at each other, fighting over the small feast. Scout barked after them, then paced and swatted at the ground as his fight response faded and his heart rate came back down.
Matt dropped to his knees at Scout’s side and wrapped his arms around the dog’s chest. “You’re amazing,” he said into Scout’s fur. “Thank you.”
Luisa knelt down too. She ran a hand down Scout’s back and scratched him behind the ears. “You’re like a one-dog army.” She looked up at Matt. “Let’s get out of here before they come back.”
“Okay.” Matt swallowed hard. He didn’t relish the thought of heading out into the woods in the dark, but they couldn’t stay there—he knew that much. “Rosita, come—” Matt stepped toward the rocks where he’d left her. “Come on, girl, we need to get go—”
He froze.
“What?” Luisa asked, her voice rising with worry. “Is she okay?”
“I—I don’t—” Matt spun around, looking at the piles of broken trees, the rocks covered in leaves and mud, the sludgy ground all around them, as the moon peeked out from behind a cloud.
But she wasn’t there.
Rosita was gone.
“Where is she?” Luisa choked back tears.
Matt didn’t know. And he couldn’t bring himself to speak out loud the terrifying questions blaring in his mind.
Had Rosita run away again while Matt was distracted?
Or had she been snatched by one of the savage dogs?
21
MATT FELT SICK TO HIS STOMACH.
He stood there, in the spot where Rosita had just been, burying his face in his hands. He was paralyzed.
Matt wanted so badly to do something—to run after Rosita and pick her up and save her from the endless dark forest that dwarfed them all. But he couldn’t do that, because he had no idea where she was, or which way she had gone, or even if she was still alive.
He had no idea what to do, and he hated himself for that.
“I don’t think the dogs got her,” Luisa said quietly. Matt wasn’t sure if she really felt that way or if she was just hoping that saying it out loud would make it true.
He didn’t reply, because he knew there was nothing he could say to make either one of them feel better. The coquíes had picked up singing where they had left off, but Matt barely noticed.
Scout sniffed at the ground by Matt’s feet. He moved in a circle, grazing the ground with his nose and exhaling sharply to clear his nostrils. But the rain had come down so hard and so steadily that Matt didn’t know if Scout would be able to catch Rosita’s scent. Had it been washed away completely?
The thought topped off Matt’s despair. He didn’t know if he could possibly feel worse. Matt raised his head to watch his dog move in ever-widening loops. At first Scout didn’t seem to be hea
ding in any particular direction, but soon he took a sharp right and headed into the trees.
“Is he taking us somewhere?” Luisa asked.
“I’m not sure,” Matt said.
And what difference did it make? They didn’t have much choice but to follow Scout—where else would they go? They couldn’t just sit there, doing nothing.
Using the flashlight, Matt lit up the woods around them. The beam was a burst of brightness in the dark, hurting their eyes and turning everything in its path a bright, flat white. Blinking nervously, Luisa headed off after Scout, her feet squishing into the soaked, soft ground. Matt walked behind her, keeping a lookout for tangled piles of debris—and snakes.
Scout was still moving along at a steady pace, but he didn’t seem to be following any particular scent. He seemed to be trying to reorient himself, pausing from time to time to look up at the trees or turn his head in the direction of a particularly loud coquí call.
Matt started to notice how uncomfortable he was. His clothes were heavy with rain and stuck to his body. His shoes squirted out water with every step he took. His skin was clammy. Luisa’s hair was plastered to her face, and she shivered, but she didn’t complain.
Matt couldn’t believe he had gotten her into this terrible mess.
“This was a really stupid idea,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Luisa stopped and turned to face him. “What was a stupid idea?”
“This.” Matt waved his arms at the woods around them. “It’s all my fault. I should have listened to you when you said we shouldn’t come into the forest.”
Luisa shot him a sympathetic look. “Stop.”
Matt wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Matt, stop. This isn’t your fault.”
“Of course it is.”
“Actually no, it’s not. This was my decision as much as it was yours. You didn’t make me follow Rosita—I wanted to.”
“I guess. But I told you we could trust Scout.”
“And we can,” she said. “So far he’s saved us from a snake and a pack of hungry dogs. Oh, and he carried Rosita over a flaming pit.”
Matt had to laugh.
“Okay, so it wasn’t flaming,” Luisa went on. “But he still saved her.”
“I guess.” Matt wasn’t convinced. Anything Scout had done to save them was done in spite of Matt’s bad judgment—as a way of trying to correct his bad decisions. Wasn’t it?
“If it makes you feel better,” Luisa said, “I know these dogs.”
“How so?”
“I mean, I know what they can do. Rosita is an island dog. She’s tough—look how much she’s already been through. She knows how to survive.”
Matt wanted so badly to believe her, but he couldn’t stop picturing Rosita, small and soaked and shivering, struggling to make her way through this broken and unkind landscape.
“I know,” he said. “She’s amazing.”
Just then, Scout came to a sudden stop ahead of them. His head rose up, and Matt noticed a familiar shift in the dog’s body language. The muscles in his legs grew taut. His ears rotated back on his head, and his tail curled up in a C over his back.
He had caught a scent.
“Is it Rosita?” Matt asked, his voice rising. “Scout—can you find Rosita?”
In response, Scout shot off into the woods at full tilt.
22
MATT FORGOT ALL ABOUT HOW WORRIED he was. He forgot about being chilled to the bone. He forgot about the blisters on his feet and the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere.
All he thought about was following Scout.
Scout bounded ahead, his back legs flying out in the air behind him as he sailed over fallen trees and piles of rocks. When Scout was almost out of sight, Matt looked out for the tip of his tail floating in the darkness, or a flash of light against Scout’s reflective vest.
Matt and Luisa ran as fast as they could behind him, trying to keep up—and keep upright. They climbed small, rocky rises and stumbled down the other side. They ran on the tightrope of a narrow path that wended through the dense trees, then trailed off into dirt. They skirted small, empty buildings—tourist stops under normal circumstances—with busted walls and no roofs. The ground was slippery and Matt’s flashlight beam bounced unevenly as he ran. His lungs hurt and his heart pounded in his ears.
But Scout wasn’t going to slow down or wait around for them. He had Rosita’s scent, and he wasn’t going to stop until he found her. Matt had never seen his dog like this. Usually, even under the worst and most dangerous circumstances, Scout would slow down and let Matt catch up to him.
Not this time.
The light of Matt’s flashlight dimmed as the sky started to lighten. Soon the very air had a pinkish cast to it, and the trees and vines and rocks began to fade into view, as if a curtain had risen to reveal them. The forest woke up along with the light, and soon a loud conversation between birds began above their heads. If Matt had been paying attention, he would have noticed a dozen cries and calls and squawks he had never heard before.
But he was too focused on Scout. Dawn made no difference to the dog, who was following his nose more than his eyes as he moved at the same crazy pace. Soon the sun was fully up and Matt began to notice more and more light between the trees, and not just above them. The forest was thinning out.
Scout powered ahead and stepped through the edge of the tree line and out onto a small road. Matt and Luisa stumbled out after him. With their feet on solid ground again, they bent over and put their hands on their knees to catch their breath.
Scout didn’t wait around for them. He ran off down the road without a backward glance. Matt and Luisa exchanged a hopeful look and jogged after him. As he ran, Matt checked his phone—there was no service. He winced at the thought of how angry his mom was going to be, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. He would explain everything later . . . and hope she understood.
The road rose and fell in gently sloping hills. They climbed a steep incline and rounded a curve, and in the distance saw a small town—nothing more than a cluster of houses and a couple of stores, really. They made their way toward the old wooden structures. There were holes in the roofs and boarded-up windows, but even the damage couldn’t diminish the absolute beauty of this spot.
Matt had traveled a lot with his family and he’d lived in a long list of places across the U.S., but he’d never seen anything like this. He spun around in a circle and took in the 360-degree view—over the treetops—from the hill where they stood. Lush, undulating greenery spread out around them like a carpet at their feet. Other hilltops peeked out above the foliage and into the brilliant blue sky, and in the far distance, flashing and sparkling in the morning sun, was the ocean.
A morning breeze brushed Matt’s face. The day felt fresh, new—hopeful.
They followed Scout toward the buildings. An elderly lady stepped out of a house and began sweeping her front steps.
“Buenos días,” Luisa said.
“Buenos días,” the lady replied. She shot them a strange look—which, Matt figured, made sense, since they had just emerged from the forest and probably looked like they’d slept under a rock . . . which they essentially had. “¿Éstán bien, niños?”
“Sí,” Luisa reassured the woman. They chatted in Spanish, and soon the woman’s husband came out to join them. A middle-aged man stepped out of the house next door to join the group too. From the few words of Spanish that he recognized, Matt could tell that Luisa was telling them about their night in the forest and also describing Rosita. They patted her on the shoulder and clicked their tongues with concern.
Scout had continued down the road, quickly moving past the houses and a small mercado, where a woman was stacking fruit on a table outside. A low pyramid of spiky soursop sat next to a pile of guavas, a couple of pineapples, and some waxy starfruit. It wasn’t a plentiful display, and Matt could tell that the townspeople were doing the best they could with the food they had available
to them—or that they could pick themselves—since the storm.
Scout raced past the fruit stand without pausing to sniff at it. He continued on, running his nose over the ground, ignoring everything else. He wasn’t just moving fast, he was moving with purpose—his whole body was animated and alive.
“¡Gracias!” Luisa said to the assembled group. “Matt!” she said excitedly, turning to him. “They know who—”
“Look!” Matt interrupted her. He pointed at Scout, who had come to a halt in the middle of the road.
His whole body wriggling with barely contained excitement, Scout sat down and looked down the road at Matt.
“Scout?” Matt called out. “Did you— Are you—”
Scout’s tail began swishing back and forth across the ground. He opened his mouth and his tongue dangled out the side. He was relaxed, happy—triumphant.
“Yes!” Matt pumped a fist in the air.
“He found her?”
“He found her!”
They took off running down the street. Worried thoughts fought their way into Matt’s mind—Was Rosita okay? Was she hurt? Had she made it here on her own?—but one fantastic, familiar, delightful sound blew all those fears to bits.
It was a happy, hearty bark.
Rosita’s bark.
23
A BLACK-AND-WHITE BLUR ZOOMED INTO the road. Matt barely had time to register it when suddenly it was streaming in circles around his legs. From somewhere at the center of the dark flash of movement, Matt heard a joyful yipping.
Scout hopped to his feet and did a funny, skittering dance, his tail going so hard it whapped Luisa in the leg.
Matt and Luisa dropped to their knees right in the middle of the street, holding out their arms. The blur became a bouncing dot as it jumped from Matt’s lap to Luisa’s and back again. It slowed to a steady wriggle, and finally Luisa was able to wrap her arms around Rosita, who stood up on her hind legs and planted her front paws on Luisa’s shoulders. Rosita stretched her neck to reach Luisa’s face, which she promptly and vigorously began licking. Luisa squeezed her eyes tightly shut so Rosita wouldn’t lick her eyeballs.
Storm Dog Page 9
