Journey's End

by Christopher Holt

  The coyote with the notched ear—Moonrise—bared her teeth and pawed angrily at the dirt, but she did not respond.

  Max raised his head high and stepped forward. “What do you want with us?” he asked. “We mean you no harm, and we don’t want to fight.”

  Sharpshard barked a vicious laugh. Turning to the first coyote, he said, “Prickle, surely these starving dogs do not think we fear them.”

  Prickle snarled. “They think themselves mighty,” she said. “The smallest of them approached me as though we were equals. And the long one thought to chase me off. They are peculiar.”

  “The rules say that only Bonecrush and Shadow can decide what to do with any significant intruder,” Sharpshard barked. “They must come with us.”

  Rocky sat down and cleared his throat. “You know, I don’t know them personally, but I’m sure Bonecrush and Shadow are busy, being bosses of your pack. So why don’t you just let us go and resume hunting whatever it is you hunt?”

  “The rabbits are few these days,” Prickle said, her hackles raised. “Which is why we are glad you are here to possibly become our next meal. Now come!”

  All the coyotes stepped forward, growling, closing in on the dogs.

  “Let’s do what they say for now,” Max whispered. “We’ll get out of this.”

  Rocky and Gizmo huddled close to Max as the three dogs came down the porch steps. The six coyotes formed a circle around them, with Prickle and Sharpshard in the lead.

  As the coyotes in the rear nipped threateningly at Max’s heels, the dogs and their captors trotted silently around the ramshackle buildings and headed farther south into the desert. Rusted shacks and abandoned junk gave way to tall, spiny cacti and scrubby, leafless brush. The distant bluffs grew closer as the three friends were led farther away from the tracks that could bring them to the wall.

  “Should we make a run for it?” Rocky whispered.

  “Not yet,” Max said. “We’ll need someplace to hide.”

  Gizmo’s ears and tail drooped. “I’m sorry for saying hi to that Prickle,” she said. “I thought being friendly might help.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Max reassured her. “And she smelled us hiding there anyway.”

  “Still,” she said. “I should have been cautious.”

  In front of them, Prickle spun around, kicking up dust. “No talking!” she howled.

  All three dogs clamped their jaws shut and fell in line.

  Max had no idea how long they’d walked when night fell. The blazing sun was finally, mercifully gone, and a surprising chill overtook the desert. Just like the night before, when he’d ridden comfortably in a train, the sky was free of clouds, letting the full, silvery moon illuminate the rocks and sparse plants.

  The coyotes slowed their pace as they neared a pair of large, flat boulders. Two shadowy figures lay atop them, their heads and big ears raised and alert. Down below, at the base of the giant boulders, were the bones of some animal, mostly picked clean. The creature had been large—larger than Max by far—but he couldn’t tell what it was.

  Prickle and Sharpshard stood in front of Max, Rocky, and Gizmo while the other four coyotes stood in a line behind them. Max could smell their hunger. He could feel their anticipation deep in his own limbs.

  “Bonecrush!” Sharpshard yipped. “Shadow! We found intruders on our land. And as you have commanded, we have brought them to you.”

  One of the dark figures rose to all fours, stretched, and opened its lethal-looking snout in a yawn. He leaped down from the boulder, landing heavily next to the animal carcass. The coyote wrenched one of the bones free and stalked forward.

  “Bonecrush,” Prickle and Sharpshard said in unison, ducking their heads.

  Bonecrush brushed past them without a word, his glowing eyes focused on Max. He was larger and thicker than the other coyotes, and, like Dolph, scarred from many battles. One old, flesh-colored wound ran almost perfectly straight through the center of his forehead and halfway down his snout.

  Gnawing on his bone, the lead coyote slowly circled Max, Rocky, and Gizmo, huffing and sniffing. He nosed Rocky so hard that the little Dachshund almost fell over onto his side.

  Max held himself straight, refusing to show fear. He had to wait for the right time before they could escape. He had to make sure that Gizmo and Rocky would be safe—he would not let these coyotes hurt them.

  Finished with his examination, Bonecrush came to stand before Max, then spat his partially chewed bone into the dirt. “You wear the bands of human dominance,” Bonecrush said, his voice low and gruff.

  It took Max a moment to realize the large coyote meant their collars. “Yes,” he said, “these were given to us by a human.”

  “So you are pets.” Bonecrush spat the last word with disgust. “Captives of the two-legged fiends. Yet those humans in the town where we found you know better than to keep pets, for we have eaten many of their dogs and cats. The humans who lived there know that our hunger is not always sated by rabbits and voles and insects, not in these lean times.”

  “We’re not from that town,” Rocky said.

  Bonecrush snapped his head to look down at Rocky, and growled. “You allow your pack to speak for you?” Bonecrush asked Max, incredulous. “And one so small?”

  “Hey!” Rocky called.

  Max stepped forward. “We speak equally,” he said. “And like my friend said, we are not from around here. We’re just passing through, on our way to the wall out west.”

  Bonecrush’s eyes went wide. “The wall?” he asked. Turning, he called to Shadow. “You hear that, my mate? These dogs want to go to that wall!”

  “Ha!” Shadow barked from her boulder. “Dogs. So predictable.”

  The entire pack broke into howling laughter, their snouts aimed at the moon, their calls rising in a chorus of mocking yi-yi-yis that echoed through the desert. In the distance, another pack of coyotes joined in.

  Shadow leaped down from the boulder and came to stand near Bonecrush, between Prickle and Sharpshard. She took one sniff at the dogs, then scrunched her snout.

  “What do we do with you?” Bonecrush said as he paced in front of the dogs, his tail twitching. “Shadow, my dear mate, tell me what you would want.”

  Shadow stalked forward to Gizmo. Lowering her head, she licked between the small terrier’s bushy brows. “I say we let them go.”

  Gizmo shuddered and bunched herself as small as possible.

  Rocky’s whole body practically heaved with relief. “You’re going to let us go?”

  Shadow turned to Rocky and wagged her tail. “Sure thing, small pet. I will let you go… straight to my belly.”

  All eight coyotes formed a tight circle around the three dogs, their eyes glimmering an unearthly yellow. They closed in, teeth bared, relishing the scent of fear, and let out an eerie round of laughter that chilled Max to the bone. He glanced at Rocky, who was trembling, and then at Gizmo—who seemed surprisingly fearless, as if she was formulating a plan at that very moment.

  And then she spoke.

  “Oh, well, I suppose that’s more rabbits for everyone else, then,” Gizmo barked loudly.

  She was so calm and assured that the pack of coyotes stopped in place. Shadow’s large ears perked up, and she looked down at Gizmo with renewed interest.

  “Rabbits?” Shadow said. “There is a scarcity of rabbits in these parts. We have been looking for such delicacies for a long time. Where did you see rabbits?”

  Gizmo plopped to her belly and let out an exaggerated sigh. “Never you mind,” she said, her voice muffled by the dirt. “At least the other dogs will be able to eat the rabbits in peace.”

  Leaning into Max, Rocky asked quietly, “Uh, did I miss something, big guy?”

  Max answered, “Remember what Gizmo said at the train museum—she learned from the best.”

  None of the coyotes paid Max and Rocky any attention. All eyes were on Gizmo.

  “I demand you tell us,” Bonecrush barked, curl
ing up his lips in an evil snarl. “Where are these rabbits now? We long ago sensed they were driven away.”

  “I can’t eat another lizard,” Moonrise moaned with a feral, wild expression. “I want rabbit.”

  Gizmo lifted up her head. “I thought everyone had heard about how on the other side of the wall, the humans—I mean, of course, the two-legged fiends—have rounded up all the rabbits in the entire desert. They’ve been breeding them to be fatter and juicier, a carnivore’s feast!” She let her tail droop. “That’s the whole reason we were going to the wall. It’s sad that I’ll leave this life not having tasted a nice, meaty bunny ear.”

  The coyotes scrunched their snouts, confused.

  “Ear?” Prickle asked.

  “I mean thigh,” Gizmo said. “Thighs, right? Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

  Sharpshard snarled and walked in an agitated circle. “What good are rabbits on the other side of the wall?” he yipped. “We can’t get past it.”

  “If you only…” Gizmo said, looking up at the night sky. “Never mind.”

  Shadow lowered her front half to meet Gizmo snout-to-snout, her backside raised. “You know something, don’t you, pet? Tell us.”

  “Well,” Gizmo said again, her small nose brushing against the coyote’s. “We were sent this way by a dog named Spots. He’d already dug a hole under the wall, one that leads directly to the rabbit hutch. It’s as big as that whole town back there and just overflowing with bunnies. So many bunnies they’re stacked three high!”

  Excitement coursed through the coyote pack, and they broke ranks, leaping and nipping at one another in a hungry frenzy.

  “We shall feast forever and ever!” Moonrise howled up at the stars.

  Bonecrush loomed over Gizmo, drooling, his eyes wide and frantic. Max restrained himself from jumping between the small dog and the coyote. He had to trust that Gizmo was still in control.

  “Tell us where this place is,” Moonrise demanded. “You and your friends are scrawny, and your meat will be tough and chewy. We prefer the rabbits.”

  Gizmo climbed to all fours and turned her back on the coyote pack leader. “You want us to tell you so that you can kill us and eat all those plump, scrumptious rabbits by yourself? No, thanks.”

  “We will eat only our fill,” Bonecrush said.

  “And we can make your deaths quick,” Shadow offered.

  Rocky scooted closer to Max. “Great,” he muttered.

  “I don’t think so,” Gizmo said. “Though, if you promise to let us go after we arrive, we could lead you to the secret hole.”

  “Hmm,” Bonecrush said.

  The coyote leader backed away from Gizmo. He yipped, and the rest of his pack joined him in a huddle. They barked and growled at one another, deciding what to do.

  Gizmo trembled next to Max, and took in slow, shallow breaths. “I think it’s working,” she said.

  “I couldn’t have done it better myself,” Rocky said, nuzzling her neck. He eyed the coyotes, whose barks rose in pitch as they leaped up and down, arguing. “Should we make a break for it while they’re distracted?” he asked.

  “Not yet,” Max said. “We’re too out in the open. We need to wait until we have somewhere to hide.”

  “Enough!” Bonecrush bellowed over the yelps of his pack. “I have decided. Come.”

  With Shadow by his side, Bonecrush approached the three dogs once more. “We will let you lead us to this hole and to the rabbits,” he said, his bushy tail held high.

  Gizmo let her tongue hang free as she wagged her tail happily. “And then you’ll let us go, right?”

  Bonecrush hesitated. Instead, it was Shadow who barked, “Oh, yes, of course.”

  A lie. Just like Gizmo’s lie about the rabbits.

  But with nowhere to run, the three dogs had no choice but to agree to the deal. With Bonecrush and Shadow nudging them into the lead, Max, Rocky, and Gizmo walked side by side, leading the pack of salivating, bloodthirsty coyotes to the west.

  Gizmo had bought the dogs some time—and now Max had to figure out how to outsmart these deadly coyotes for good. Because rabbits or not, once they reached that wall, the coyotes would make the dogs their feast.

  CHAPTER 18

  CANYON RUN

  As the pack of coyotes followed Max, Rocky, and Gizmo through the desert night, the wild animals sang of hunger and death, and of the joys of hunting with their pack.

  The coyotes didn’t sing with words, but in howls and cries aimed up at the vast, starry sky. The song was a celebration. It warned other packs away, while declaring how brave, smart, and ruthless Bonecrush and his fellows were. Max found himself swallowed by the wild verses, some part of him deep inside wishing he could join in.

  But of course he couldn’t. Wildness had been bred out of him and the other domestic dogs long ago. Coyotes—and wolves—feared and distrusted humans, while Max felt lost without humans by his side. It was a difference that would forever keep the species apart.

  The caravan of dogs and coyotes headed west past endless boulders, cacti, and bushes. Sensing their presence, small creatures—lizards and snakes, hairy spiders and scorpions—darted away to hide. One of the coyotes yipped as it snatched up a fleeing vole; the others growled, jealous of his snack. Max kept his eyes open for a place where they could lose the coyotes, but everywhere he looked was wide, open space—the desert held few opportunities for escape.

  Soon, walls of rock rose around them, a shallow canyon cut into the earth. It was a craggy maze of stone, its pathways bathed in black.

  And Max knew: This was where they could make their getaway.

  Lowering his head, he whispered softly to Rocky and Gizmo, so the howling coyotes could not hear him.

  “Keep your eyes open for a passage off the main path,” he said. “One just big enough for us to fit through. When one of us makes a run for it, the other two will follow—then we’ll lose the pack in the maze.”

  “Got it,” Gizmo whispered back.

  “Will do, big guy,” Rocky said.

  They didn’t have to walk much farther before Max spotted an opening.

  Turning to face the pack of coyotes, Max leaped up and down, wagging his tail in a show of excitement. “Look!” he barked. “Up there! A deer!”

  “Where?” Shadow asked, spinning around.

  “We will devour it!” Bonecrush howled.

  With the coyotes distracted, Max spun back to his friends. “Go!” he said, and made a break for the passage.

  They shot through one by one, Rocky in the lead, followed by Gizmo. Max brought up the rear, slipping behind a bend in the passage just as the coyotes realized they’d been tricked.

  Bonecrush roared in rage. “After them!”

  The three dogs bounded blindly down the dark, narrow path between the rock walls. The fit was so tight that the craggy stone scraped Max’s sides. He didn’t care—if the coyotes caught them, the pain would be much worse.

  Panting for breath, they veered down side passages in the mazelike canyon, trying to lose their pursuers. Coyote yips echoed off the walls and into the sky, surrounding them with the predators’ rage.

  At last, they shoved through a dried bush and stopped short, finding themselves face-to-face with a towering wall of black rock.

  A dead end.

  “We’re okay,” Max said, even as the coyotes’ cries grew louder. “We’ll just turn around. Come on.”

  “What if the coyotes are right behind us?” Rocky asked, trembling.

  “We’ll outsmart them again,” Max answered. “They still don’t know that Gizmo was lying about the rabbits.”

  “Let’s hurry,” Gizmo said, shoving past Max and climbing over the bush once more. “Come on!”

  Just then, something shifted in the shadows, and Max froze in place. Several round stones rolled free from an alcove up ahead. It could have been an avalanche of rocks loosened by the commotion, except these stones—one large as a basketball and four the size of tennis balls, all
dark in color—rolled together to block Gizmo’s path.

  “The stones,” Rocky said with a gasp. “They’re alive!”

  It was impossible. Stones couldn’t move by themselves. Had the coyote’s howls somehow summoned them?

  Gizmo flattened her ears and bared her teeth as she slowly backed away from the round balls.

  And one by one, the stones unfurled themselves into strange-looking creatures.

  The largest one was as big as Rocky and Gizmo combined. It appeared to have the long, narrow head and ears of a hairless rat, with a thick, tapered tail. It walked on four short legs, its feet tipped with sharp claws.

  But the most unusual part was its body. The creature’s back looked like the rounded shell of a beetle or other insect, with colors and textures that mimicked the rocks around them. Somehow it had managed to roll its head, legs, and tail up inside this hardened, bony shell, forming a ball.

  Next to the creature were four tiny versions of itself. They huddled beside the big one, unrolled just enough to see what was going on.

  “What are you?” Max asked, astounded. “Where did you come from?”

  “There’s no time to explain,” the large armored creature said, huffing with her long snout. Her voice was urgent but kind. “The coyotes are after you, yes?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Gizmo said, letting her hackles down.

  “Quick, then.” She shuffled toward the hidden alcove. “Get into my burrow. There will be just enough room for all of us.”

  Max couldn’t help but notice the animal’s sharp, shredding claws, and he wondered if he should trust her. But coyote howls rose from very close by, and he realized he had to take her on faith.

  He stepped past Gizmo and dropped to his belly. There was a hole dug beneath the wall of rock, leading into a wide, dark underground burrow. He crawled in, dirt and stone scraping his sides, then shuffled over to the burrow’s back wall.

  Rocky and Gizmo came next—he couldn’t see them, but their smells were reassuring as the two small dogs nestled into his flank. Curled into balls, the four tiny animals rolled in, followed by the big one. Once again, from the inside, the wall of rock looked complete and impenetrable.