by A E Faulkner
“Girls in the front and boys in the back!” Chris proclaims, his mood suddenly matching the sun’s rising rays. Looking defeated, Jeff and Aidan follow the kid as he scampers into the back seat.
Finally. We’re ready to go.
Chapter 21
As the boys choose their seats, I nonchalantly unzip the satellite phone’s bag and slide the device onto my lap. Just as I depress the button to turn it on, Riley throws her door open.
“I almost forgot something! Be right back.” She pops the trunk open one more time and dashes outside.
The phone emits a faint beep. “Hey! What was that?” Of course Chris would hear it. Before I can conjure an explanation, he leans forward, eyes darting around the front seat. “Hey! What is that thing?” He launches a pointer finger toward the phone. Aidan and Jeff lean forward, two sets of questioning eyes bouncing between the device and me. How am I gonna explain that we have a satellite phone?
Riley bursts back into the car, unfolding a paper map as she settles into the driver’s seat. She capitalizes on the hush that has overtaken the vehicle. At least it distracts from their questions about the phone.
“So, I…had an idea.” Her eyes shift to each of us. My shoulders sag in anticipation of words I won’t want to hear. We don’t need any new ideas. We’ve got a plan. All we need to do is stick to it.
She inhales a deep breath before unleashing a stream of thoughts.
“So, when I was…with…Dan and Jim,” she pauses to slip some stray hairs behind her ear. “We stopped at this place. This guy’s place. And he had dogs. Like, a lot of dogs.”
“That’s great and all, Riley, but maybe we should—” My attempt to jump start this trip is thwarted.
“So these dogs are part of a fighting ring.” Her tone rises with a slight tremor. “They’re chained outside all the time, and they’re forced to fight each other.” Squeezing her eyes shut tight, her voice drops to a whisper. “They’re starving and probably dehydrated, you guys. They aren’t really living. They’re tortured prisoners.”
From one breath to the next, her sorrow sparks into fury. “We’ve got to help them.” She turns in her seat, toward each of us individually as if willing us to understand and agree.
“Riley, you know we promised…I mean, we’ve got to head north. We don’t really have extra time.” Already I’ve got to filter my thoughts to avoid telling the guys about Bowen’s instructions.
Running a hand through his hair, Aidan slouches back into his seat. “Well, things are finally starting to get back to normal.” He motions toward Jeff. “And we both talked to our parents so they know we’re on our way. It probably wouldn’t take that long to make a quick side trip. I don’t know, I kinda think we could do it.”
“Yeah,” Chris jumps in. “I agree. Aidan’s right.”
Who gave the kid a vote?
“Shouldn’t we just report it?” Jeff interjects. “I mean, besides being cruel, it’s illegal gambling. Police investigate that stuff.” He raises his arms in question. “Why would we go all vigilante when we could just call the cops?”
“Do you really think they have the time to deal with this?” Riley’s tone hinges on frustration. “And how long will those dogs have to suffer until someone can get around to it? And what if another earthquake or something happens and everyone’s dealing with that?”
I flash Riley a look of warning. We cannot talk about Yellowstone. Besides, I really want to believe that Bowen was wrong. That it’s just a big misunderstanding.
“Either we’re going or I’m going,” Riley huffs, crossing her arms. Dread pits in my stomach. Are we ever going to get home? The guys turn away in uncomfortable silence.
This is not my sister. I mean, I love dogs too, but what can we really do? We’re a ragtag bunch of kids. We’re not law enforcement officers. I lean closer, asking what is only meant for her ears.
“What happened to you out there? This doesn’t sound like something you’d want to even try.”
Averting her eyes outside the window for a moment, she takes a breath before responding.
“Quinn, every choice we make out there right now,” she pauses to point out the window, “is going to either help or hurt others. I will fight to keep us safe, but if I have the ability to help someone in the process, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ve been paralyzed by everything that’s happened over the past few weeks and I’m done. I have to help those dogs.”
Tearfully, the Riley I know returns briefly, “They can’t save themselves like we can.”
Aidan returns to the conversation. “How many dogs are we talking about? And where are they?”
“Not far from here. I think it’s practically on our way back home,” Riley answers with a weak smile. “And it’s just a few dozen dogs. Oh, and some puppies.”
“Puppies?” Jeff asks, eyes wide. He stretches an arm over the seat, giving my shoulder a gentle shove. “Come on, Quinn, no one can resist puppies.”
Crossing my arms, I give Jeff the stink eye. Of course they’re all right, we can’t leave the dogs—and puppies—to suffer. I just wish it didn’t have to be us. Why can’t someone else help them? We have our own problems.
“Fine,” I concede. “Let’s do it.”
Riley and I practically eject out of our seats when Jeff hollers from the backseat. “Buckle up, ladies! Adventure awaits!”
Chapter 22
“Okay, so we’ll go there. Then what do we do? We can’t exactly take dozens of dogs home with us,” I point out. “And they might be vicious—rightfully so.”
“We just set them free,” Riley says. “Trust me, anything is better than the life they have right now.” The look in my sister’s eyes tells me that ignoring their plight will haunt her for the rest of her days. There’s no other choice. Sighing, I point toward the map her slender fingers cradle.
“What’s the address? I’ll plug it into this thing so we can finally start moving. You all figure out how we’re going to get the chains or collars off them without having a limb torn off.”
Forty minutes. We have forty minutes to figure out a plan. With our first destination entered into the GPS, Riley finally shifts the car into drive.
Aidan and Jeff huddle in the backseat troubleshooting options. “What if we get an axe and chop the chains off?” Jeff asks, eyebrows raised.
“Giving you an axe will definitely not make this world a better place.” Aidan shakes his head, signaling the need for a better idea.
“Maybe we could get some treats. One person can distract them and then someone else can take the collars off,” Chris suggests.
“Hey, Riley, did you notice anything about the collars? Were they leather or chains?” Aidan asks, perking up.
“All I noticed were thick chains,” she glances in the rearview mirror to meet his eyes. “but I didn’t really pay much attention. There were a lot of outbuildings, though, like sheds and small garages. Maybe there are tools inside those that we could use?”
“Yeah,” Jeff jumps in. “The dirt bag that chained them up must have a way to remove the collars. I mean, when they fight, they probably aren’t wearing chains and collars.”
Aidan leans forward, rubbing his palms together. “Okay, so we park a short distance away and sneak onto the property. Magic hands over here,” he motions toward Jeff, who smiles proudly, “can pick some locks on the sheds and we’ll cross our fingers and toes there’s something in there we can use.”
“What about treats? We need something to keep them busy,” Chris reminds us. “And I’ll bet they don’t ever get treats.”
“Some of these places we’re passing look like they’re open,” Riley mutters. “Anyone have any money?” It dawns on me that I can’t remember the last time we needed to buy something. When Riley and I first got to our Aunt Grace’s trailer, we had a stash of food and supplies that our parents had packed for vacation.
Then, when everything turned upside down, I ended up relying on others for what I needed—Rose ga
ve us breakfast, we “borrowed” some food from a bowling alley and a pizza place, and we found a house that was free of people but loaded with food.
“I do,” Aidan announces. “Lucas slipped me some cash just in case we needed gas or something for the ride home.” Jeff crosses his arms and tilts his head in mock annoyance.
“Why didn’t he give it to me? I’m way more trustworthy than you.”
“He probably did eeny-meeny-miny-moe and I was the big winner,” Aidan says, shaking his head again.
“Alright,” I interrupt their banter. “So why don’t we stop at the first place we see and buy dog treats. We’ll be there before we know it.” Let’s just get this over with so we can get back to our real goal—making it home. I’d question whether we should really be doing this, but I’ve never seen that kind of determination in my sister’s eyes before. Ever.
“Okay, guys,” Riley says nervously. Her eyes flash between the rearview mirror and me. “There’s a mini-mart up ahead. I’ll stop there. Who’s running in?”
“Since I’m the one with the money, I’ll go. Quinn, why don’t you come with me?” Aidan’s blue eyes drill into mine, clouding any coherent thoughts. I nod dumbly.
“I’ll go!” Chris yells, practically throwing himself out the door when we pull into the lot. Aidan shakes his head, but the smirk spreading across his face proves he’s nowhere near as annoyed with Chris as I am. The kid’s been so moody since he tagged along with us. Again. One minute he’s thoroughly inconvenienced by where we parked the car and the next moment, he’s practically jumping out of it to go buy dog treats.
Taking our cue from the kid, Aidan and I stumble out of the car and catch up to him. Two other cars linger in the parking lot. It sheds a touch of normalcy to the situation. Still, a month ago, I didn’t even know these people and now I’m walking into a store with them to buy treats for dogs my sister wants to rescue. All because of an earthquake. A major earthquake along the Eastern seaboard that yanked my family tree from its roots. And the government knew about it. My parents were pretty cautious people. If an earthquake warning had been issued, they would have delayed our trip, no matter how much Riley and I whined about it. Glancing toward the sky, I shield my eyes from the sun’s harsh rays. It shines as if nothing bad is on the horizon. Could Bowen’s source be wrong? Maybe everything is getting back to normal. Or maybe I’d just really like to believe that.
Chapter 23
The clerk calls out a half-hearted greeting as we enter the store. It’s barely discernable over the jingling bell wrapped around the door’s handle. Aidan responds with a slight hand raise, throwing an awkward wave toward the man behind the counter.
Chris dashes up and down each aisle, searching for what is bound to be a meager assortment.
“I found ‘em, guys!” Chris’ announcement draws bored glances from customers gathering their slushy and cigarette purchases.
His fingertips leave a trail along the dusty shelf, tracking between a stack of slightly dented cans of dog food and exactly four boxes of bone-shaped crunchy treats. They’ll have to do. Chris reaches toward them, pausing to look over his shoulder for our unspoken approval. Aidan gives him a single nod.
After a quick monetary exchange, we’re back in the car buckling up for what’s left of the drive to our first stop.
“So, do we know anything about who lives at this place?” Jeff asks.
“Yeah,” Aidan adds. “If nobody’s home can we just walk right on the property, release the hounds, get back in the car, and head north?”
Riley’s shoulders noticeably slump. Her eyes remain glued to the road. Queasiness seeps from my stomach to my toes. She knows who lives there and it isn’t good. Not that I really expected the homeowner to be a kind, misunderstood person who just happens to make dogs fight to the death.
Shooting me a side eye, Riley nervously answers. “I don’t know much. Jim took us there, trying to get some help. I just walked around outside. That’s when I saw all the dogs. Jim went in the house to talk to his friend, Vic. He owns the house and runs the dogfighting. All I know is that Jim came running back to the vehicle with his tail between his legs and couldn’t seem to drive away from there fast enough.”
She nervously laughs at the memory, covering her mouth with one hand, as if the reaction is inappropriate. Emotions in the car run a bit warped, fueled by the impending danger. Before she can silence the giggles, Chris and I join her. The three of us share a common hatred of Jim, thus we also share an inherent pleasure from hearing about him narrowly escaping misfortune.
My laughter dissolves when I realize that we’re heading to the same place. I can only hope our outcome is very different. This would be a great time for karma to step in and let us do a good deed unscathed.
Seventy-four Newport Lane. The robotic GPS voice slices into my thoughts, announcing that we’re five minutes from our destination. Jeff reiterates our plan. My nerves tingle with apprehension.
“We should start looking for a place to park,” he says, eyes scanning both sides of the road. The rolling hills of the countryside morph into upturned dirt, downed trees, and scattered construction equipment.
“What’s all that?” Chris asks, pointing out the window.
“Someone’s building a pipeline here,” Jeff answers. “Should we try to hide the car behind some equipment?”
“The driveway’s pretty long. I was thinking we could just park toward the end of it and walk from there,” Riley says.
“Maybe some of us should stay in the car and wait.” Aidan runs a hand through his hair nervously. “I mean, the more people running around out there, the more likely we are to draw attention.”
Riley and I lock eyes. Mine widen in surprise when I detect a determination that matches my own. The guys think we should wait in the car while they do all the dirty work—or pretend to and expect us to be naïve enough to believe the charade.
“Nope!” I start. Riley completes my thought. “Not happening!”
“Oooookkkaaayyyy,” Aidan says, hunching his shoulders and raising his palms in defeat. “It was just an idea.”
“So I guess we’ll just take Chris out there with us,” Jeff muses. “Instead of keeping him in the car, where it’s safer.”
Riley’s narrowed eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. “That’s a good point. You stay with him in the car. Quinn, Aidan and I will be back as soon as we’re done.” I nearly burst with laughter when she flashes the guys a sweet smile.
“Fine,” Jeff concedes. “We all go!”
Chapter 24
As we creep up the driveway, hugging the edge where stones meet worn grass, it’s clear we’re not alone. A deep thrumming rents the air. Although my ears can’t distinguish a song, the pounding rhythm overwhelms my senses, forcing my heart to race even faster than it was when we stepped foot on the property.
We gather behind the closest shed between the driveway and a massive white house. A thundering bass radiates within its walls, spilling outside and polluting the otherwise peaceful air, like a murky haze.
I scan the endless backyard, swiping the beads of nervous sweat from my forehead before shielding my eyes from the sun. Trees and bushes dot the far perimeter, but just like my sister said, the land before us bears the sorriest-looking bunch of dogs I’ve ever seen. From what I can tell they’re all pit bulls.
Each is chained to a pathetic structure that’s probably meant to resemble a doghouse. Some are attached to barrels resting on their sides with square openings cut into the round lids. Others are tethered to wooden boxes with shabby roofs.
Whatever grass may have once grown within the chain’s radius has worn down to random patches of dying yellowed grass, dusty dirt, and the beginnings of exposed tree roots.
Although any sounds we make are likely muffled by the blaring music, a few nearby dogs sniff the air cautiously, as if sensing our presence. Aidan presses a finger to his lips in a “Shhh” signal.
I carefully lower the treat boxes to th
e ground and kneel, wedging a finger between each seal and sliding it to separate the cardboard. We’ve got to be ready to deploy our secret weapon when necessary.
Jeff tilts his head, motioning toward the closest shed, before he and Aidan slink away. Their mission is to investigate it as quietly as possible while Riley, Chris, and I stay rooted in place, watching for threats—human or canine.
Hopefully, they’ll find something useful without having to search more than a few structures. At least half a dozen shack-like sheds litter the property, as far as I can see. The guys peer through the dirty windows and, satisfied with their choice, drop to their knees and set to work on the lock.
Less than two minutes later, Jeff raises his hands in victory while Aidan slowly pushes the door open. I take a quick inventory of my elite team.
Chris’ eyes bounce from one dog to the next while his fingers dance as if he’s silently counting them. Riley studies a treat box as if instructions for this mission hide in the nutritional details.
Confident I’m not needed, I investigate the shed with Aidan and Jeff. Tiptoeing toward the open door, I peek around it. My heart warms at the sight.
They found the mama dog and puppies. Wasting no time, Jeff moves around them carefully, fingers reaching toward dusty wooden shelves as he inspects random objects to evaluate their usefulness as tools.
He spots a partially-crumped sheet of paper and immediately stiffens. Smoothing it out on the teetering shelf, his eyes dance across it quickly. Shifting focus to the next shelf, his fingers deftly fold the paper and slide it into his back pocket. When he turns to catch me watching, he waves a free hand toward me dismissively and nods as if saying, “Go about your business.”
Aidan kneels close to the mama dog. His lips move but the words are muted by the cascade of vocals—from low whimpers to screaming lyrics. Still, his demeanor says more than words ever could, from the dopey slant of his smile to the gentle arc of his hand as he lavishes the dogs with affection. And those piercing blue eyes. They radiate kindness and…