“I swear I heard someone barking around here,” Whitey said. “Do you know who might live here?”
Georgie sniffed the air, then raised his snout and howled, just loudly enough to alert anyone nearby. Moments later, the sound of barking echoed from farther north. When Georgie heard it, his tail wagged. “We’re close!” he told the other dogs. “This way!”
With renewed energy, Georgie galloped forward up the street. The dogs followed him past a post office, through a garbage-strewn alley, and onto a smaller street that led into a suburban neighborhood. The houses were small, built on a single level, with faded, peeling paint.
Georgie howled again. This time the response was much closer. He led the dogs around one more corner, to the entrance of a large brick building.
The place was several stories tall, with concrete steps rising from the sidewalk. Twin lion statues guarded either side of the entrance, and in the dark interior Max could make out shelves of books. A sign above the doors read LIBRARY.
Georgie bounded up the steps, then proceeded to sniff the concrete landing and the wooden benches and garbage cans in front of the doors. Max saw a little slot on the wall next to the doors, under the sign that read BOOK RETURN.
“Hello?” Georgie called as the others crowded behind him. “Is anyone there?”
A shadow passed in front of the book-return slot. Max stiffened, wary—but when the creature stepped into the light, he saw it was just a small brown mutt with ragged fur and a friendly expression.
“Georgie?” the dog asked. “Is that you, old boy?”
“Fletcher!” Georgie bellowed.
His eyes alight with glee, the Saint Bernard practically tackled the smaller dog, licking her all over.
“Georgie Porgie!” Fletcher squealed, laughing. “I thought that was you howling last night, but when you didn’t show up in town, I figured we were wrong.”
The big dog stopped his licking. “Well, the tunnel everyone howled about turned out to be full of rats, and they kind of took us hostage. But we’re okay now!”
“Rats, huh?” Fletcher asked. “The world’s gone crazy, my friend. But I’m just so glad to see you—we assumed you’d left for good!”
“I thought so, too,” Georgie said. “My pack leaders took me to a beach inn, but after they disappeared, I had no one to talk to but a bunch of lazy pets, and they all wanted me to take care of them. I tried to be good and help all of them, but none were truly my friends. I got so lonely, especially after being trapped in that swamp.…”
“Wow, you were in a swamp?” said Fletcher, her eyes wide.
Max cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m Max, and these are my friends Rocky, Gizmo, and Whitey.”
Fletcher sniffed at Max, then brushed past him to take in the scents of the others. Satisfied that none of them seemed dangerous, the mutt, who was not much bigger than Rocky or Gizmo, leaped atop one of the benches, then onto the back of the lion statue.
“Nice to meet you,” Fletcher said, observing them from her new perch. To Georgie, she said, “These guys follow you from that beach place?”
“Oh, no,” Georgie said. “They helped me, actually. If it weren’t for Max, Rocky, and Gizmo, I’d probably still be the Mudlurker, alone in a broken shop in the swamp. And without Whitey, all of us would still be at the junkyard, trapped by rats.”
Fletcher shook her head. “Mudlurker? Junkyard rats? This story of yours is getting crazier by the minute, Georgie Porgie.”
“We’d love to tell you all about it,” said Gizmo, “but we’ve got wolves after us—”
The mutt’s fur bristled. “Wolves?”
“—and we really must get to Belle before they catch up.”
Fletcher went rigid. “Belle?”
Rocky sighed. “Yeah, Belle. You have a bad habit of repeating everything we say as a question.”
Max nosed Georgie’s side. “Now that we found one of your friends, maybe you could take us to Belle’s home. It’s near some puppy farm, right?”
“Happy Paws,” Georgie and Fletcher said at the same time.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been here,” Georgie admitted. “I don’t recognize much except the big buildings downtown.”
“What about you, Whitey?” Gizmo asked.
The dingy junkyard dog lay near one of the trash cans. “I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere, but I’ve never much left the junkyard, though the rats talk about Belle a bit.”
Rocky rested his head on his front paws. “What do we do now? Just walk and hope we stumble on her?” He looked at Fletcher. “Unless you can give us directions?”
“But why do you even want to find Belle?” Fletcher asked. “Do you know what’s been going on?”
“Well, we heard from our friend Boss that she was known as the nicest dog in Baton Rouge,” said Max.
“She was,” Fletcher said.
“But the closer we’ve gotten to here, the stranger everyone acts when we say her name.” Max tilted his head. “I figure she must have gone sad and angry at being abandoned, but a lot of dogs have. Surely if we just talk to her and tell her what we know about her lost friend, she’ll find some peace.”
“Belle used to be a sweetheart,” Fletcher said. “Happy Paws was built near her pack leaders’ property, so she would wander over to play with the puppies. All the Happy Paws pets knew her. Sometimes she and Boss would sneak out and walk into town to say how do. Even the humans found it charming.”
Fletcher shivered. “But she went bad after the people and Boss left. She couldn’t handle how everything had changed, and she holed herself up in her mansion. Then she started appearing from the shadows at night, growling something fierce and stealing food. I hear she gathered some of the angriest, meanest dogs from the city to come stay with her. There’s a whole gang up there now.”
She finished, “And that’s why you shouldn’t go anywhere near Belle. If there really are wolves after you, then forget about her and find someplace where you’ll be safe.”
Scratching behind one of his curly, floppy ears, Whitey said, “Sounds reasonable to me.”
Georgie said, “I had no idea things got so bad with her. That’s really sad.”
Max could tell by Rocky’s and Gizmo’s worried, weary looks that they were both questioning whether they should finish this mission.
Besides, Boss was dead. How would he even know?
That last thought came to Max unbidden, and as soon as it drifted through his mind he shuddered. Memories of Dr. Lynn came back to him, along with the words she spoke.
You are loved.
After all the pain, worry, and heartache, that simple phrase had meant so much.
No matter how bad Belle had gotten, she deserved to know the same thing.
“Thank you for the warning, Fletcher,” Max said. “I really appreciate your concern. But we made a promise, and we came a long way to fulfill it. If you can’t lead us to Belle, at least send us in the right direction. We won’t ask you to put yourself in danger.”
“Are you sure, Max?” Gizmo asked.
Rocky climbed to his feet. “He’s sure. Besides, we survived a swarm of gators. Packs of angry dogs are old news!”
“Well, you can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Fletcher said. “I guess I can figure out some directions.”
“I’ll go with them, Fletcher,” Georgie said. “I sort of know the roads.”
Rising up from beside the garbage can, Whitey stretched his legs. “Yeah, I think I’d like to see this place, too, if you don’t mind me tagging along.”
“Of course not!” said Gizmo.
Fletcher sighed. “So I suppose I’m going to look bad if I’m the only dog who doesn’t come along?” She shook her head and leaped down from the statue. “Fine. Besides, Georgie Porgie and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Thanks for this,” Max said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Fletcher said as they reached the sidewalk. “But I
ain’t going past the front gate. Once we get there, it’s up to you.”
The morning sky had grown gray and turbulent, the clouds writhing and swirling like an angry ocean. The air was damp and warm. Fletcher took the lead with Georgie at her side, the two of them reminiscing about old times. As they shared stories of what they’d been up to, Whitey trotted just behind them, listening and occasionally piping in with some joke. Rocky and Gizmo followed him, and Max brought up the rear.
The six dogs padded through the neighborhood where Fletcher lived, following a road that led west. Max spotted a few other dogs in the yards, but they seemed skittish at the sight of a pack. He could smell their anxiety and fear, and he could tell this wasn’t the first time they’d hidden from a roving group of canines.
It wasn’t long before the neighborhood gave way to great stretches of land surrounded by ornate iron fences with pointed tips on every spike. Inside each fenced-off area, Max could see tall, gangly trees and large, stately white homes.
“Boss lived there,” Fletcher called back as she gestured at one of the big mansions with her snout. “It’s one of the more modest manors, but he didn’t seem to mind.” Max could see the front porch and the rocking chairs where Boss must have lain at his pack leaders’ feet, Belle beside him. Then he pictured Boss, injured on the riverbank after Dolph and his pack had been defeated, imploring Max to find Belle.
Dolph had played a large part in why Boss wasn’t here himself.
Max tried very hard not to think about the wolf leader, but he was still after Max and his friends. Surely Dolph would be close by now.
Max was going to keep his promise to poor Boss and find Belle—but he also needed to put much more distance between the single-minded wolf and his friends.
Fletcher came to a stop at the end of Boss’s yard. “Belle lives over there,” she said.
“Where’s the gate?” Rocky asked.
Fletcher waved a paw. “Up ahead some. But this is as far as I go. You can probably find the way in on your own.”
“I’m sure we can,” Max said. “Thanks, Fletcher. We appreciate all your help.” He turned to Georgie. “You’ve been a great help leading us here. But the wolves aren’t after you, and who knows how dangerous it is up ahead. If you want to stick with Fletcher, find more of your friends, and go somewhere safe, I’d understand.”
“Oh,” Georgie said, glancing between Max and Fletcher. “I actually thought I could come with you to talk to Belle. In case you needed help,” he added. “Unless you don’t want me.”
“Of course we do!” Gizmo said.
“Yeah,” Rocky said. “You’ve been great to have around, Mudlurker. But we know how you get in situations like this. After all you’ve been through, big guy, you deserve a break.”
Georgie parted his lips into a doggy smile, and a big drop of drool plopped to the dirt. “Thanks so much. I’m going to help, though. You’re my friends now, and I always help my friends.”
“Georgie Porgie!” Fletcher cried.
Georgie lowered his head and licked her forehead. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Whitey cleared his throat. “If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll wait out here with Fletcher,” he said. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this now that we’re so close.”
“That’s fine,” Max said. “We’ll be quick. If either of you two senses any danger, though, don’t be afraid to run.” He started forward, with Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie following behind.
The land beyond the iron fence was dense with trees, and everything inside was shrouded in dingy gray darkness. Blankets of moss hung like clothes on a line from the high, leafy branches, swaying gently in the breeze.
“Here we go,” Max told his friends.
“So far, so good,” Rocky said.
Side by side, the four dogs padded through the open gate and started down the road. Despite the overgrown grass and dead leaves, everything seemed normal.
But the farther they walked, the stranger things became.
At first it was just a distant, rotten stench, like a Dumpster full of old food. Max was mostly used to that smell by now.
Then he caught sight of a gazebo half hidden by the trees. It looked as if someone had chewed through the supports on one side of the small building, and the roof was on the verge of collapse. Max swore he heard the skittering of giant claws, but saw nothing.
Then Max forgot all about the gazebo. The driveway circled a once-grand fountain at the entrance to the mansion, and every last bit of blacktop was taken up by bags of trash. Giant black and white garbage bags were piled on top of one another and shredded by desperate, vicious claws and teeth.
Mounds of rotted, decomposed food spilled forth from holes in the bags. Old newspapers and banana peels and plastic bags floated in a fetid pool that swarmed with a thick cloud of flies.
The smell was so terrible that Max felt he could almost taste it. His eyes watered, and it was all he could do not to gag.
“Why is there so much garbage?” Rocky asked.
“It was never like this before,” Georgie said.
Gizmo shook her head in disbelief. “So someone dragged these bags here on purpose? Why?”
Max turned back to the piles of trash. “It doesn’t matter. We need to keep going.”
“But, Max, buddy,” Rocky pleaded. “I might pass out.”
“We can do it,” Max said. “Just hold your breath and run!”
Taking in a deep, gulping breath, Max galloped forward, not waiting another second. He ran around the piles of garbage bags to the steps that led to the mansion’s entrance.
It was hard to focus on the mansion with all the garbage to distract him, but Max could tell that it was at least four stories high and painted white. Tall pillars rose up from the main porch that surrounded the building.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Max gasped for air. The stink of garbage still wafted around him, but it wasn’t quite as bad as below.
Seconds later, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie joined him on the porch. The enormous wooden door was ajar, revealing a deserted foyer beyond. Next to the door were two wicker chairs, both knocked on their sides, the weaving slashed and frayed. Mounds of dirt were everywhere, and the windows were cracked.
Max padded toward the front door, hoping to catch some scent of Belle, but all he could smell was the festering trash heap behind him.
He shoved the massive door, and it opened inward, creaking on its hinges.
“Hello?” Max called out.
He stood in the doorway, his friends behind him, waiting.
Max took a step inside, then another. It was dim in the foyer, but the open door and the broken windows offered enough light to see by.
Just opposite the door was a wide stairway that rose up to a landing above. Set next to the entryway was a painting, shredded by claws, of a woman. To Max’s right, he saw a living room. The furniture was covered in white sheets, spotted with ashy paw prints. There was a fireplace filled with soot, the rug in front of it burned black.
“Belle?” Max called louder. “I’m a friend. I’ve come to speak to you.”
By now, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie were crowded behind Max in the foyer. None of them spoke.
Max cleared his throat, preparing to call out again—when he heard paw steps from the landing above.
A regal Collie was standing at the top of the stairs. Her fur was caramel-colored, as fluffy and clean as if she’d just come from a doggy salon. A great crest of white fur ran up her chest, and her pointed ears were high and alert.
She looked like any other dog, except that someone had tied a floral bedsheet loosely around her neck. It fell over her back and dragged behind her on the floor like some makeshift cape. Max remembered the golden cape she’d worn in his dream, and how it had shredded to pieces.
“Visitors!” the dog barked. “In my home. I always do delight when strangers come calling. It happens so rarely in these dark days.”
“Are you Belle?”
Max asked.
The Collie raised her snout. “Of course. Who else would I be?”
She spun in a slow circle, her cape flopping stiffly against the floor.
“Do you like my outfit?” she asked. “I do so love to be fancy on a cloudy day.” Meeting Max’s eyes, she added, “And what about my home? Isn’t it splendid?”
“Um, yes,” Max lied. “Your home is very nice.”
Belle danced down the steps, tossing her head back and forth to some unheard rhythm.
“Of course you think so,” she said. “Everyone does.”
Leaping off the bottom step, she came to stand nose to nose with Max. “And that’s a very good thing, since now my home is your home, too.”
Behind Max, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie, the giant front door slammed shut. They spun to see two thin, mangy brown dogs standing in front of it, their eyes narrowed and their teeth bared.
“Welcome to my mansion,” Belle said. “Make yourselves comfortable. You’ll never leave here again.”
CHAPTER 22
SOUTHERN BELLE
Max, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie stood in the dusty, dim foyer and stared at Belle in shock.
Belle’s tail twitched in a halfhearted wag. “I see you have no complaints. So many of the dogs whom I’ve invited to live with me protested, and it was simply dreadful.”
“Stupid dogs,” the female mutt growled.
“They didn’t know a good thing when they saw it, Lady Belle,” the male mutt added.
The two brown dogs were the same height as Max, but they were a mix of so many different breeds that their features were a mishmash. There was a manic glint in their brown eyes, the same glint Max saw in Belle’s stare.
Rocky was the first to find his voice. “Uh, Belle, lady, we were just coming to visit. Nice digs and all, but we really can’t stay.”
“Nonsense!” Belle barked loudly. “No one is allowed to leave me. You came inside, and so now you must stay forever.”
Swishing her sheet, the Collie turned to the two mutts. “When are Romeo and Beadle back with food? Our new friends will want to eat.”
The Long Road Page 20