Journey's End

by Christopher Holt

  But the three dogs had no choice. The wolves were behind them, and there was nowhere else to go. They had to try to cross.

  “Rocky, are you ready?” Max said, turning his head to look back at his friend.

  The Dachshund was still huddled at the jagged entrance to the cavern, trembling with fear.

  “What are you doing, Rocky?” Gizmo barked. “Dolph is coming!”

  “I’m acting as lookout,” Rocky said, sounding unsteady. “You two start crossing, and I’ll come right along.”

  Up above, the dark sky flashed as lightning crackled between the clouds. The thunder made the ground tremble beneath Max’s paws.

  Max nudged Gizmo with his nose. “Start crossing. Be very careful. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “But what about Rocky?” Gizmo asked.

  “He’ll follow us once he works up the nerve. He always does.”

  Gizmo tucked her tail low as she took a tentative step onto the first wooden railroad tie, then jumped to the next. One more—and she found herself standing on the last beam still supported by solid ground.

  The next one hung over empty space. And it didn’t look the least bit stable.

  Baring her teeth in defiance, Gizmo jumped onto the next tie. It squeaked, and the trestle shuddered in the wind.

  But it held.

  More confident now, she continued forward. Soon she was a third of the way across the unsupported tracks.

  With one last look at the terrified Rocky, Max spread his legs wide and awkwardly waddled forward. He tried to keep his paws as close to the metal tracks as he could, where the wooden ties met the steel supports. Unlike tiny Gizmo, he didn’t trust the wood to hold his weight, not the way it was quaking in the wind.

  It was achingly slow going. Max followed Gizmo over the gorge, the tracks rocking beneath him, rain and wind surrounding him on all sides. He tried not to look down, but there was no escaping the sound of the river deep below, crashing against jagged rocks.

  A piercing howl met Max’s ears, but he couldn’t tell if it was the wind or if the wolves were closing in. Then a yelp echoed from behind him, and Max dared a look back to see Rocky scrabbling over the stone ledge toward the boarded-up arch.

  With a creak and a whine, a great shudder quaked through the elevated tracks. Gizmo yipped and Max barked in fear, but the tracks did not collapse. Even with the hurricane trying to twist it free, the metal held.

  “Are you all right?” Rocky barked from behind them.

  “Yes!” Max barked, though he was so frightened he couldn’t stop shivering.

  “No,” Gizmo said, whimpering.

  Max looked ahead to see the terrier standing, frozen, on one of the wooden railroad ties. The ties that had been behind and ahead of her had come loose, and Max heard a splash as the rotten boards fell into the river below.

  The gap between the board where Gizmo stood and the next one was too far for her to jump. And as Max watched, the board that held her started to pull free from the tracks.

  She was going to fall.

  In that moment, Max forgot entirely about the raging storm, the tracks swaying in the wind, and the wolves who might be moments away from bursting out of the cavern.

  He took a deep breath and bounded forward.

  Max raced across the rotting boards, some of them breaking free from the twisted tracks and tumbling down below.

  Reaching the last wooden tie before the gap that lay between him and Gizmo, Max made a wild jump. As he flew through the air, he snatched up Gizmo in his jaws by the scruff of her neck, then leaped once more.

  There was no stopping now. Max landed on another wooden tie and ran as fast as his legs could carry him until finally, mercifully, he and Gizmo were on solid land once more.

  Max carefully set Gizmo down in the grass next to the tracks, panting to catch his breath.

  “Oh, thank you, Max,” Gizmo said, huddling up to his side and licking his fur in gratitude. “You saved me.”

  Max looked back at the bridge—horrified to see that nearly all the boards had broken free from the tracks. “You were brave enough to go first, Gizmo. Thank you.”

  “Oh, no,” Gizmo cried. “Rocky!”

  Rocky still stood on the opposite side of the gorge, in front of the tunnel entrance, staring wide-eyed and frightened at his two friends.

  “How am I supposed to get across now?” Rocky barked over the roar of the storm.

  “Don’t try!” Max barked back. “It’s too dangerous. With the wind and rain, you’ll fall.”

  Rocky paced in an anxious circle. “What am I gonna do?”

  Huddling next to Max, Gizmo shouted, “We’ll walk south. There has to be another way across somewhere.”

  Suddenly, growls echoed from the cavern.

  Looking across the gorge at the craggy opening in the rock, Max saw several shapes creeping out, barely visible through the downpour.

  But Max didn’t have to see the creatures to know who they were.

  Dolph and his wolves had arrived.

  And Rocky was mere feet from the whole pack, all alone, with nowhere to run.

  CHAPTER 8

  LEAP OF FAITH

  While the dogs stood watching, shaking with fear, the rain suddenly softened from a torrent into a gentle shower, as though the storm itself had been scared away by the wolf pack. The howling wind became a strong breeze, and a few of the sickly clouds parted to reveal shafts of late afternoon light.

  But there wasn’t any time to enjoy the end of the storm.

  Wolves filled the cavern entrance, eight in total. Half were large with gray-and-white fur, the other half slightly smaller and a reddish brown, including one who seemed familiar. All were skinny and scarred from battle, especially Dolph, who had angry-looking scratch marks on his snout and scorched patches in his gray fur.

  The wolves flattened their ears and bared their teeth, growling at Max from across the gorge.

  They hadn’t seen Rocky by the boarded-up tunnel entrance.

  Yet.

  Max nudged Gizmo with his front paw. “We need to distract them,” he whispered.

  Mimicking the wolves, Gizmo flattened her own pointed ears and showed her teeth. Yipping at the top of her lungs, she raced back and forth on the cliff edge.

  “Go away!” she barked. “You leave us alone! No one wants you here, you big mean wolves!”

  While Gizmo had their attention, Max caught Rocky’s eye and gestured with his snout toward the trestle. It would be dangerous, but there were still enough wooden railroad ties attached to the track bed that Rocky might be able to leap over the gaps—if he was careful.

  Rocky dropped to his belly and backed away from the edge of the gorge until his hind legs hit the plywood barricade. He shook his head wildly, his whole body trembling.

  From the cavern entrance, Dolph howled over the patter of the rain and the surging river. “I do not care what you want, meat,” he said to Gizmo. “Max knew this day was coming.”

  He jerked his snout at Max and said, “Face me, mutt. I gave you a head start for feeding my pack, and again because I did not want that crazy mongrel at the garbage house to destroy you before I was able to. You get no more chances to escape.”

  Hackles raised, Max bounded away from the track and through the weeds. He skidded to a stop next to Gizmo on the smooth ledge, sending tiny pebbles tumbling into the gorge.

  “Give up, Dolph,” Max growled. “You have no way across, unless you want to hurt yourself more than you have already. Still got that limp?”

  One of the smaller red wolves came to Dolph’s side, his fur also raised. “He runs like the wind, meat! We will leap over this gorge and rip out your throats!”

  Max recognized the wolf as Rudd, who had tried to attack him once before. He didn’t doubt the angry creature would try to jump the gap, no matter how wide it was.

  “We will get across,” Dolph said with a snarl. “You and your puny friends can try to run, but—” He stopped speaking, and h
is ears perked up as he scanned the cliff face.

  “Where is your little sausage-shaped follower?” Dolph called.

  Lowering her front end against the slick ground, Gizmo growled, “He ran ahead. We have friends the next town over. They’ll be here any second to take you on!”

  One of the gray-and-white wolves slunk out of the cavern and took a few steps toward the boarded-up archway. She sniffed the ground, then jerked up her head.

  “They lie!” she howled. “I smell the small one. He is this way!”

  Frantic, Max backed away from the cliff edge, then raced toward the tracks. “Rocky, run!” he barked. “Run right now, as fast as you can!”

  Rocky seemed to have another idea.

  As Max watched in horror, the small black Dachshund bounded out of the archway—toward the cavern full of wolves.

  Barking wildly, he held his tail in the air as he neared the gray wolf who’d caught his scent. His yips echoed through the gorge, drowning out the retreating storm.

  “What is he doing?” Gizmo asked, pacing helplessly back and forth.

  The gray wolf yelped in surprise as Rocky leaped toward her, a small black blur. She padded backward, her tail tucked and her paws skidding over the wet rock.

  “Yeah, you better run!” Rocky cried. “I’ll nip you all over!”

  Dolph shoved himself past his wolves, Rudd at his heel. “You think you can take me on, little meat?”

  Rocky stopped mere feet from the cavern entrance. The wolf pack leader was so close that with one quick lunge he could snatch the small dog in his jaws.

  Max’s heart pounded so fast it hurt his chest. Maybe he could find some way to distract the wolves.

  Gizmo butted Max’s hind leg with her head. “We have to do something, Max!”

  “I know,” Max said, panting. “I’m thinking!”

  On the opposite ledge, Rocky stood firm, even as his tail drooped and his body trembled. Pointing his snout toward the tunnel, the tiny dog barked louder than Max had ever heard him bark before.

  “I sure hope there aren’t any bats around who got woken up by these loud, mean, ugly wolves! Aaarooooooooooooooooooo!!!”

  Dolph spat out a laugh. “Now I am meant to be afraid of flying rats?”

  “Uh, Dolph,” Rudd said from behind him.

  All the wolves craned their necks to look back into the depths of the cavern.

  Then Max heard it, too.

  The sound was soft at first, but it quickly rose louder and louder.

  It was the flapping of hundreds upon hundreds of wide, leathery wings. The chittering squeaks and squeals of a thousand angry bats who’d been woken abruptly from their slumber.

  In a furious, furry brown cloud, the bats swarmed through the cavern exit—directly toward the wolves.

  Rocky half ran, half leaped back to the barricaded archway. Dolph and Rudd followed, howling in distress.

  The rest of the wolves weren’t so lucky.

  The throng of bats slammed into the wolf pack. Two wolves fell off the cliff edge, scratching desperately at the muddy walls as they slid and tumbled down the slope toward the whitecapped river.

  The other wolves howled and ran in blind circles as tiny bat claws scraped at their backs and heads, and leather wings slapped their snouts. High-pitched shrieks tore into their ears. Four more wolves slipped off the ledge, following the first two down into the gorge.

  As the swarm of bats billowed up into the gray sky, the wolves dragged themselves to the narrow riverbank far below, where they huddled together, wet and frightened.

  Up above, by the cavern entrance, Dolph and Rudd held themselves flat as the bats flittered around them. By the tunnel, Rocky did the same, making himself as small as possible.

  Soon the cloud of brown bats headed west, disappearing into the trees. Their squeals faded as they flew off toward the setting sun.

  From across the gorge, Gizmo jumped up and down. “Rocky!” she yipped. “Come on, Rocky, while they’re distracted!”

  Dolph and Rudd were so overwhelmed by the sudden arrival of the bats that they didn’t seem to hear Gizmo. But Rocky did. He raised his head and blinked his big brown eyes. Seeing the two wolves nearby, he jumped up and ran forward onto the tracks—stopping at the last board before the big gap.

  He trembled, his eyes on the swollen river far, far below. The larger, stronger wolves had barely managed to escape its torrential waves. If Rocky fell, he’d be swept away.

  “I don’t know if I can make the jump,” Rocky barked at his two friends. “It’s a long way down.”

  Visions of the tiny dog tumbling to his doom flitted through Max’s brain, but he couldn’t show his fear. He shouted to Rocky, “You can do it! Just leap from board to board.”

  Rocky’s tongue lolled free as he panted for breath. He scratched with each hind leg and shook his backside.

  Then he leaped into the air with a “Hiiii-YAH!”

  Max went still as he watched his friend’s black figure soar through the air.

  Rocky landed with a heavy, wet thud atop the next damp, rotting board. It creaked beneath him.

  “I did it!” he yipped in surprise. Meeting Max’s eyes, he wagged his spiky tail. “I actually did it!”

  “That was amazing!” Gizmo said.

  Down below, the wolves leaped against the cliff face, scrabbling with their claws, eyeing the dogs.

  “The bats are gone!” one of them howled. “The meat is getting away!”

  In front of the boarded-up tunnel, Dolph raised his head, and Rudd climbed to all four paws. Snarling, he stalked toward the tracks.

  “You will not escape!” Rudd howled.

  Gizmo spun in a panicked circle. “Keep going, Rocky!”

  Rocky dared a glance behind him, then yipped at the sight of the red wolf’s dripping fangs.

  “Don’t have to tell me twice!” Bunching his legs, Rocky made another wild leap, and once more landed safely on one of the remaining boards. Another leap, another solid landing.

  Groaning, Dolph climbed to his feet. The big, scarred wolf scanned the trestle, then growled at Rudd.

  “Get back here,” he said. “You want to fall into the river, too?”

  But Rudd ignored him.

  The wiry, angry red wolf howled as he jumped from the ledge onto the trestle. He landed heavily, sprawling across the tracks so that his hind legs dangled over the metal support and his chest thumped against a rotting railroad tie.

  The track rattled and quaked, screeching in protest. Rocky clung to his board, shivering.

  “Keep going,” Gizmo barked. “You’re over halfway there!”

  “You can do it!” Max shouted.

  Behind Rocky, Rudd kicked his hind legs, trying to hoist them back onto the track.

  “You will not escape!” he howled.

  Rocky peered ahead, clinging to the narrow railroad tie. Then, taking a deep breath, he jumped over the gap.

  And fell short, smacking against the next board with his chest.

  “No!” Gizmo cried.

  Rocky clung to the damp wood with his front paws, his long body and hind legs dangling in the air. Max could see the Dachshund slipping down, losing his grip.

  “I can’t hold on!” Rocky yipped, his voice high-pitched and terrified.

  Max wanted to jump across, to snag Rocky in his jaws, just as he had done for Gizmo. But there was nowhere for him to land. No way for him to crawl back across the swaying trestle.

  Then, several things happened at once:

  Rudd managed to climb onto the surface of the bridge, and he flung himself forward, frothing wildly at the mouth. As he did, the tracks bounced.

  The sudden drop and rise of the tracks hefted Rocky’s hind legs into the air, and he managed to land with all four paws on the wooden beam.

  The twisted tracks groaned as they started to pull free from the ledge in front of the tunnel entrance.

  Rocky leaped to the next beam and the next, landing on solid ground with one
final jump. Gizmo tackled him in relief, wagging her tail and licking his face. Rocky barked as he tumbled to the ground.

  “You did it!” Gizmo said between licks.

  “Of course I did,” Rocky said, wiggling on his back. “I was never afraid, not once!”

  Boards creaked and metal screeched. Max looked past his friends to see Rudd standing in the center of the bridge.

  The red wolf opened his jaws and roared. “I am coming for you, meat!”

  From the safety of the ledge outside the tunnel entrance, Dolph watched silently.

  Rudd placed one leg atop the metal rail, then struggled as the track swayed beneath him. Unable to support his weight, the rotten beam sagged beneath his front paws.

  Just as he was about to jump, the board beneath his feet snapped, and Rudd was pitched headfirst off the trestle. He howled as he tumbled through the misty air, until he landed with a splash far below.

  Max, Rocky, and Gizmo looked over the edge of the cliff. For a moment, all they could see was the rushing, surging water.

  Then Rudd’s head popped up from beneath the waves. The wolf fought for air as he paddled toward the bank where the rest of his pack still huddled—all except Dolph.

  “Serves him right.” Gizmo leaned into Rocky’s side.

  Max licked them both between their ears. “I’m glad we’re all okay. We should hurry and move on, though. The storm has died down, and night is coming. We need to find someplace safe to stay before Dolph and his pack can recover.”

  Groaning, Rocky got to his feet. “You think they’ll be able to get out of that gorge anytime soon?”

  Max looked down at the soaking wet, enraged wolves pacing by the river, then up at Dolph.

  The big wolf stood stock-still on the narrow ledge outside the boarded-up tunnel. He did not bare his teeth, or raise his hackles, or flatten his ears.

  He just glared directly at Max. Max could almost taste the wolf’s anger.

  “I don’t know,” Max said to Rocky as he turned away and followed him and Gizmo down the old tracks and through a wide field. “But I do know that nothing will stop Dolph from coming after us.”