by Allen Zadoff
“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Junebug says to me.
“I’m focused on keeping us safe.”
Chance nods. “Safe sounds good to me.”
We walk in silence for a long time after that, moving up the mountain until the sun gets low in the sky.
We come to an area near the crest of a small mountain ridge. It’s well hidden in a bank of trees, yet it allows a good line of sight around us.
“Let’s stop here and camp for the night,” I say.
“I don’t see a campsite anywhere,” Chance says.
“We have to make our own.”
“You mean we’re sleeping in the forest? There are all kinds of bugs out here. And snakes. And who knows what else,” Chance says.
“Are you afraid of bugs?” Junebug asks, rolling her eyes.
“Not afraid. I just don’t like them crawling on me while I sleep. And what about a bathroom?”
“Nature is our bathroom.”
“Gross.” Chance makes a disgusted face.
“I’ve been camping plenty of times,” Junebug says. “You just use the leaves to wipe—”
“I’m starting to change my mind about the benefits of homeschooling,” Chance says, waving his hands in surrender.
“My dad likes to rough it, and he has a place in the mountains.”
“Big surprise there,” Chance says flatly.
“We used to go on vacation a lot. It’s like his own secret hideaway. It’s near Point Mugu, maybe thirty-five miles from here.”
“Point Mugu? If it’s close, maybe we could go and ask for his help,” Chance says.
“I’m sure he’s not around,” Junebug says. “He’s on a business trip this week, which is why I thought the car thing wouldn’t be a problem.”
“How did he—”
“He watches me like a hawk. He was probably tracking the car’s GPS.”
“On second thought, maybe Point Mugu is not a great idea,” Chance says.
I want to ask her more about her father, but we have work to do, so I let it pass for the time being.
We set up camp, clearing brush and laying out bedrolls and blankets. Junebug suggests creating a security perimeter with leaves and dried branches so we’ll hear any intruders before they get too close.
I tell her it’s a good idea. We leave Chance with the supplies, while Junebug and I walk out together to collect materials and scout around the area.
“I was thinking about the first time we spoke,” I say.
“You mean when our signals crossed. That was interesting, wasn’t it?”
“How did they cross exactly? What were you doing?”
Dr. Pao was right. There’s a lot I don’t know about Junebug, and it’s time I find out more, especially if I’m going to keep her near Chance and me for a few days.
“I was listening to Homeland Security operations around Los Angeles,” Junebug says.
“You were hacking Homeland Security?”
“Not hacking. Just listening. I like to listen to radio comms—Homeland Security, the FBI, even regular police frequencies.”
She lays down sticks in concentric circles with space between them. If an intruder were to avoid one layer without making a sound, they’d step on the next one and give themselves away.
“That day I heard the Animal Control chatter first. It didn’t sound like anything I’d heard before, and it got my attention. Then I saw your chip transmitting, and I realized you were the one they were talking about.”
I watch in amazement as she gathers leaves and uses them to camouflage the perimeter. She’s obviously done this before.
“Why do you listen to security communications, Junebug? Is it a hobby of some kind?”
She snaps a branch across her thigh. “My mom was an FBI agent,” she says.
“Was?”
“She’s dead, Wild. She died on assignment three years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Her face is calm, but I can sense her pain under the surface.
“My dad got weird after that. He got really strict and he added survival skills to my homeschooling.”
She adds dry twigs to the perimeter to amplify the sound if someone steps on them.
“So that’s how you learned to make a perimeter like this.”
“I learned how to do a lot of things.”
She stops and stares at me, frowning. I can feel her irritation—she doesn’t like that I’m questioning her.
“I listen to radio comms because they remind me of my dead mom. Okay? Are you satisfied? Interrogation over.”
Her face is red and she’s breathing heavy, obviously upset.
“It’s not an interrogation,” I say. “You’ve been helping us, and I appreciate that, but it’s normal that I’d have some questions.”
“Maybe I have some questions, too. Like how are you going to keep us safe when we’ve got a secret military force after us?”
“It’s a fair question.”
“But you don’t have an answer, do you? You act like top dog when you’re talking to Chance, but you don’t really have a plan.” She confronts me, hands on hips as she stares me down.
“I told you. My plan is to stay under the radar until I can get you home.”
“And after?”
I lick my paw, stalling for time.
“What about after?” she demands.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Once you’re safe, I’ll figure something out.”
“I thought so,” she says, and her anger softens. “You know Chance would do anything for you, right? He wants to help you find your home.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think he’ll leave you. Even if you ask him to.”
I lick my muzzle, fearful that what she’s saying is true.
“Make sure you don’t ruin his chance to go home. You got that, Wild?”
“Got it. What about you? Aren’t you worried about getting home?”
She sighs and drops down cross-legged, staring at the ground in front of her. I trot over and plant myself next to her.
“I lied to that cop yesterday,” she says softly. “I really did steal my dad’s car. I hate him, and I wanted to get away for a while. I figured he wouldn’t care since he was out of town.”
“How did he figure it out?”
“Probably our spying neighbor. Or GPS. Or whatever. He’s tricky like that.”
“Don’t you think your dad is worried about you?”
“Not all parents care about their kids, Wild. You’re a dog, so everyone wants to pet you and act all nice to you. Maybe you don’t know that people are complicated.”
I drop my chin on my front paws.
“I am a dog. But I understand more than you think I do.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Junebug says.
I listen to the crickets chirping, their song carried on the wind. It’s getting late.
“We should get back before dark,” I say.
“For sure.”
I stand and kick some leaves into place, finishing off the perimeter. Junebug stretches and breathes in the mountain air.
“You have to go home eventually,” I say.
“Eventually I will,” she says, turning back toward camp. “Once I’m done helping you.”
WE STAY HIDDEN.
There are recreation areas dotted throughout these mountains, but I don’t let the kids light a fire. There’s no reason to test fate with a smoke trail. It’s going to be a cold night, but the blankets Ruben provided should be enough to keep us warm.
I walk around the kids, assessing their health after our long, intense day.
“You’re both scratched up from our walk through the woods. There’s hydrogen peroxide and gauze in one of the backpacks.”
“On it,” Junebug says.
She grabs the backpack and brings it over.
“You’ve got blood on your shirt,” she tells Chance. “Take it off so I can clean you up.”
“Tak
e off my shirt?”
“Are you embarrassed?”
Chance shivers and looks down. “Of course not. It’s just a little cold out.”
She rolls her eyes. “Pretend I’m your sister.”
He pulls off his shirt, and she dabs at him with the hydrogen peroxide.
I leave them alone and finish setting up the campsite. I pull our bedding into a tight circle, and I walk the area, scanning for any vulnerabilities I might have missed.
“I’ll fix your phone tomorrow,” I hear Junebug saying. “I can use parts from one of the flashlights if I need to.”
“You know how to do everything,” Chance says admiringly.
“Not everything.”
“A lot more than me. I’m pretty useless at most things, really.”
“You’re good at taking care of Wild.”
I smile inwardly as I think of Chance bringing me home the first night, risking a lot to sneak a stray dog into his room.
“We sort of take care of each other,” Chance says.
“I know how to do things because my dad’s a fanatic. He forced me to learn all this stuff so I’d be ready for anything.”
“At least he cares,” Chance says quietly.
“Your dad doesn’t care?”
“I don’t even know my dad.”
“What about your mom?” she asks.
“She has a lot of problems. It makes it hard for her to care as much as she wants to.”
I stand in the wind, letting the scents roll up the mountain. I smell pine, earth, and the musty odor of foliage rotting on the forest floor.
I’ve smelled these things before, I realize.
“My turn to get cleaned up,” Junebug says back at camp. I hear the sound of fabric rustling as she pulls off her shirt.
“Oh my gosh,” Chance says.
“What’s the big deal? I’m wearing a sports bra. It’s just like a bathing suit.”
“A bathing suit. Right. What’s the big deal?” Chance says, but I hear the nervousness in his voice.
I step out farther from camp, leaping over and around the security perimeter laid out by Junebug. I walk to the highest point nearby and look down the slope.
Something tugs at my memory.
Have I been here before?
I try to remember, but nothing comes.
I turn back toward camp, disappointed, but knowing my job is to get the children home safely before I focus on myself.
The forest is silent around us, which leads me to think we’re okay, at least for the night.
And in the morning?
The badge in the soldier’s pocket said he was from the Agoura Division of Animal Control. The Animal Control thing is obviously a cover, but if there’s a real base in Agoura, it might lead me to Maelstrom.
Once I get the others to safety, that’s where I’ll begin.
I head back to camp, following the sound of Chance and Junebug’s conversation.
I give out a low bark as I get closer to let them know I’m coming.
“It’s almost dark,” I say. “Let’s eat something and go to bed. We’ll get an early start tomorrow, then we’re heading back into the city to Chance’s group home.”
“No!” Chance says.
“We’ll discuss the details in the morning,” I say.
He wants to argue, but Junebug puts an arm around his shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” she assures him.
We eat quickly, grateful for the food Ruben packed for us. I notice the kids yawning between bites, and I sense their exhaustion from the long day we’ve had. By the time we’re done it’s pitch-black in the forest, and I have them under their blankets, a bed of dry pine needles beneath to insulate from the cold ground.
“Good night, you guys.”
“You have to sleep, too,” Chance says.
I’m as exhausted as they are, but it’s not time for me to sleep.
“I’m going to sit up and keep watch,” I tell Chance.
He smiles and rubs at his eyes, pulling the blanket up to his neck.
I walk the perimeter one last time, my nose in the wind, scanning for the scent of danger.
“Why do you call yourself Junebug?” I hear Chance whisper. “They’re ugly, aren’t they?”
“They’re super tough,” Junebug says. “They fling themselves at the light, and they don’t stop until they get where they want to go. I’m like a hacker version of a junebug.”
“Do you have a real name?”
There’s a pause, and then Junebug says, “Jasmine.”
“Good night, Jasmine.”
Jasmine. It doesn’t ring any bells for me.
“What’s your real name?” she asks him.
“You know my real name. Chance.”
“How’d you get it?”
“My mom said I was her chance for a new life.”
“It’s a cool name,” Junebug says.
“I think so, too.”
Junebug giggles appreciatively, and the conversation ends. Within minutes they’re asleep, their breathing slow and heavy. I walk back into the middle of camp where I can watch over them. I feel a powerful protective instinct swelling my chest. This is my pack now, and I will protect my pack at all costs. I briefly think of tomorrow and the separation to come, but it’s too painful to imagine, and I have to let it go.
I listen to the sound of crickets chirping in the night air. Eventually my eyes grow heavy, and I drift off to sleep.
THE DREAM RETURNS.
The blond soldier screams as I attack.
The dream is more detailed this time. The soldier holds a black zapper weapon in his hands like the Maelstrom soldiers. I go after the weapon first, clamping down on his wrist and forcing him to drop it.
As soon as it hits the ground, I change direction and attack his midsection.
“Are you okay, Wild?”
Chance’s voice is in my ear, pulling me up out of the dream.
I hear myself panting in the night.
The dream is about a Maelstrom soldier. Which means I’ve fought these people before.
I shiver from snout to tail, shaking the dream away.
A moment later, Chance slides in behind me. He pulls the blanket over us and wraps his arm around me, tucking himself against my back.
I breathe slowly, resisting the instinct to fight or flee.
“Were you having a bad dream again?” Chance asks.
“Again?”
“I’ve heard you barking in your sleep the last two nights.”
We’ve never been this close. He squeezes me tighter, burying his face in the fur on my back.
“Do you think we’re going to be okay?” he whispers.
“I know we are.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
I sigh and settle in, allowing myself to relax in his embrace.
“I have to get you back to your mother,” I say. “You need each other.”
“That’s true,” he says. “But I need you, too.”
I snuggle closer. His breathing deepens and he falls asleep, snoring lightly in my ear.
I close my eyes and feel Chance’s body against mine. My breathing falls into rhythm with his, and I drift back to sleep.
The dream does not come again.
But something else does.
HIS SCENT IS MASKED.
Otherwise I would have smelled this creature, even in my sleep. But somehow his scent is hidden, so he is inside the camp before I know it. He’s almost on top of us when the crunch of sycamore leaves gives him away.
My eyes snap open and I instantly leap up, guarding the children in a protective posture.
“What’s going on?” Chance mutters, half-asleep.
“I’m not s—”
The creature springs before I’ve even finished my sentence, leaping out of the darkness and crashing into me with such force that the air rushes from my lungs and I’m sent spraw
ling. He hits me hard again and we roll over and over through the brush.
He leaps away from me, and I stand quickly, my head spinning as I get my balance. I look behind me and gasp.
I’m on the edge of a cliff, the earth dropping away into nothing a few inches from my paws. I regain my footing and move away from the edge.
“Watch yourself. It’s a long way down,” the dog says.
“Where are you?!” I demand, snorting and trying to draw the creature into the open.
I edge forward, marking the location of the mountain cliff behind me.
The wind shifts, and the smell hits me.
The creature’s scent has been masked beneath a chemical layer, but once the layer is disturbed, the smell is unmistakable.
Male dog.
Not just any dog, but something abnormal, savage, bordering on feral.
Chance shouts, “Where are you, Wild?”
He’s still back at camp looking for me, and the dog’s head whips around, tracking the sound of his voice.
I snarl, pulling the dog’s attention back to me.
His eyes glow ghostly red in the moonlight. I look around, scanning the area for additional dogs or men.
“There’s no one else,” he hisses. “Only me.”
I’m startled by his ability to speak. His voice is low and empty like wind echoing through a canyon.
“You can talk like the humans,” I say.
“Of course I can. We can. Why does that surprise you?”
“I didn’t know there was anyone else like me,” I say.
“But we’ve spoken many times before.”
“I don’t know who you are,” I admit.
He barks laughter. “You lost your memory. They didn’t tell me about that.”
“Did they tell you I was zapped in the head and left for dead?”
“Ugly business,” he says.
The moon peeks out of the clouds above us, and I catch a glimpse of him. He’s much larger than me, and he stands on huge paws. His furry tail whips through the air.
“I had nothing to do with you being zapped,” he says. “But I give you credit. You’re one tough dog to be able to survive that. Which makes what’s about to happen a great shame.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You survived being zapped, but you’re not going to survive this night.”
He leaps, jaws open, fangs bared.