CHAPTER 8
SWAMP ROADS
The dogs raced across the bridge and soon found themselves running on rough asphalt.
Behind them, Max could hear the slapping of waves as the boa constrictor slithered through the stagnant water. He had no idea how fast snakes could swim, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out.
Reaching the fork in the road, the three dogs stopped and immediately spun in circles.
“Do you see any beacons?” Max asked. “Do any of the weeds look like they’ve been trampled by tires recently, the way they would have if the old lady had driven her car through?”
Rocky bounded back and forth. “I don’t see anything,” he said. “Both roads look exactly the same!”
Max had to agree. A forest of towering trees surrounded the two roads, and clinging vines and moss had overtaken everything in sight. Neither path looked particularly inviting. Both seemed as if they could easily lead to more of the giant lizard monsters.
Splashes echoed from the swamp valley, and the snake’s voice sputtered out, “See! I made it to shore just fine! Now let me get up this hill, and we’ll finish our deal.”
Another gust of wind rustled through the trees, and mingling with the musty stench of the swamp was the sharp, distinct smell of nearby wolves.
Panicking, Rocky spun in a figure eight. “We gotta hurry, guys. I don’t think I can trick the snake again.”
Max was about to pick a road at random when he noticed Gizmo had run ahead, her snout to the ground.
“I smell Georgie!” she cried. “This way! We need to go right!”
“How do you know?” Max asked as he and Rocky trotted to her side.
“Because I picked up his scent,” Gizmo said happily. “Georgie came this way, and since he’s following the old lady, this is where we need to go.”
Trembling, Rocky looked back over his shoulder. “Are you absolutely sure it’s the right smell? I don’t know if that snake was just making up stories, but I really don’t want to go the wrong way and end up meeting that Mudlurker guy.”
Gizmo opened her mouth to answer, just as they heard a rustling near the bridge. All three dogs could make out the slick, mottled green scales of the boa constrictor as it reached the top of the muddy incline.
“Never mind!” Rocky yipped. “I trust you! Let’s go!”
The three dogs galloped down the darkened road. As they reached a bend, they heard the snake hiss in rage.
“I’ll get you!” it screamed. “You lying mutts, I’ll get all of you!”
But Max was sure there was no way the snake could catch up to the three dogs. For the first time in hours, he felt himself flooded with relief.
The winding stretch of road veered once more to the west—Max could tell by the hazy glow of the sun behind the clouds. Knowing directions by the position of the sun was a handy ability brought on by the Praxis virus. Confident that they were safe for the moment, he slowed down to a fast walk.
“Do you still smell Georgie?” Rocky asked Gizmo after he’d caught his breath.
Gizmo raised her head high and sniffed at the humid air. “I do,” she confirmed. “But just barely. His scent was strong back there, though.”
Max raised his own nose to smell. He did catch the faintest strains of another dog, but he’d have to take Gizmo’s word that it was Georgie’s, since he hadn’t memorized the scent himself. Mostly, though, he was relieved not to smell any wolves.
He was about to lower his snout when his nose picked up another odor. Something instantly familiar.
A tree branch to his left moved slightly, and through the leaves he caught a glimpse of a fat, gray body marked with scars.
Max marched toward the line of trees. Leaping over a puddle, he bared his teeth and growled up at the branch, hackles raised.
The branch ceased its rustle.
“Hey!” Max said. “I already saw you, Hank. I know you’re up there.”
“That possum is here?” Rocky asked.
Max didn’t answer. Instead, he stomped to the base of the tree, then leaped up with his front paws pressed against the smooth bark. Rearing back his head, he barked as loudly and angrily as he could.
Terrified squeals rose up, and five small figures appeared from behind the leaves.
“What you scaring my kids for?” His beady eyes narrowed, Hank glared down at the three dogs.
“It is you!” Gizmo cried. “I’ve decided I don’t like you much, Hank. And I usually like most animals.”
The possum’s whiskers twitched. “You think I care?”
Gizmo growled.
Max dropped down to all fours and paced back and forth beneath the branch.
“So why’d you do it, Hank?” he asked.
“Do what?” the possum asked.
Rocky rolled his eyes. “You know what you did. You lied! That old lady wasn’t down that road, and there wasn’t any food at all. Instead, we almost got eaten!”
“Maybe you went down the wrong road,” said Hank. “That’s what you dogs get for thinking you can read human words.”
“I don’t think so,” Max growled. “I think you knew exactly where you were sending us.” He glared up at the fat creature. “I’ll ask again: Why’d you do it?”
“I—” Hank started to say.
“And don’t you lie anymore,” Max barked. “We almost got eaten by giant lizards and a snake today, so I’m not very happy with you swamp animals. You might think you’re safe up in the trees, but I bet I could shake you loose.”
“Wow, Max,” Rocky whispered. “You ain’t really gonna harm them, are you, buddy?”
“Hey!” a high-pitched voice called out.
The smallest possum dropped from the branch, dangling upside down. “You leave my papa alone,” she squeaked. “He don’t want to hurt nobody.”
“Could have fooled us!” Gizmo said.
Sighing, Hank shook his head.
“Naw, she’s right,” he said. “I don’t want to see no one get ate. But those monsters got mean after all the humans done left. They say, if I don’t send other animals to them, they’ll eat up my kids.” The fat possum looked at the branch above him, where his children huddled together.
“They said that?” Gizmo asked softly.
“He’s awful sorry, ain’t you, Papa?” the small girl possum said.
Hank nodded.
Max couldn’t be mad anymore. The dogs were passing through the swamp, but the possums had to live there. Max knew he’d do anything to keep his friends and family safe. Could he be mad that Hank would do the same?
“We’re sorry, too,” Max said. “You shouldn’t have to be afraid. But we’re on a journey to bring the humans back. Maybe then the monsters will go back where they came from.”
Hank raised his snout. “You are?”
“Yes,” Gizmo said. “We know where a human is, and she can fix everything. These monsters only started taking over the swamp once the people left, right? If they come back, the monsters are bound to run and hide and leave you alone!”
“You might well be right,” Hank said. “In that case, I’m glad none of you got ate!”
“Me, too,” Rocky grumbled.
Dropping down next to his daughter, Hank clapped his front hands together. “You northern dogs are on your way to Baton Rouge, from what I remember. Just keep heading this way and you’ll reach there. Stick to the road and don’t go veering off none, and you’ll be safe.”
“Thanks,” Max said as he turned back to the road. “At least we know we took the right path back at the bridge.”
“Just so you know, you ain’t the only newcomers in the swamp today,” Hank called. “There’s been talk of wolves, and they ain’t that far.”
“Thanks for the warning!” said Gizmo. “I hope things get better for you and your family.”
Hank hugged his small daughter close. “Me, too,” he said.
The other four young possums dropped down next to their father. As the family watched, Max took the lead once more, and he and his friends continued down the long road.
Night was coming. Wolves and monsters, snakes and the Mudlurker… They needed shelter. And soon.
The three dogs walked on, mostly in silence, for the next several hours. The gray sky began to darken much sooner than Max had hoped. Gizmo assured them she could still smell Georgie’s trail, but they hadn’t seen any of the old lady’s beacons since way back at the mall.
As the sun set, the trees cast long, twisting shadows that writhed like ghostly beasts. Deep in the woods, the swamp gurgled and splashed, and unseen animals called out. Max could almost imagine that the shadows and the sounds were the boa constrictor or the giant lizard monsters, their razor-filled jaws wide open.
Deep in the overgrown foliage, pinpoints of light darted back and forth—fireflies, Max realized. Occasionally he would hear the croak of a bullfrog, then a snap, and one of the lights would blink out. It seemed almost every swamp animal cared only about finding some smaller creature to sneak up on and devour.
As Max helped Rocky and Gizmo over the slick, decaying bark of a fallen tree, a click sounded from overhead. Tall streetlamps that were mostly hidden by the overgrowth began to blink on one by one all along the sides of the broken road. They were far apart, and the lights were a dim, flickering orange, but it was better than the utter darkness that otherwise would have surrounded them once the sun had fully set.
Even if those lights did bring new, frightening shadows that set Max’s fur on edge.
After his friends were over the log, Max bunched up his hind legs and leaped over, too. But they walked only a few more feet before Max noticed that the road in front of them had disappeared.
“Stop!” he barked.
Rocky and Gizmo both halted midstep.
“What is it?” Rocky asked, trembling. “Is it monsters? Is it the Mudlurker?”
“No,” Max said. “Just stand still. Something is wrong.”
Max took a small step forward, his eyes trained on a circle of blackness. He didn’t want to think what would have happened if the lights hadn’t blinked on, if he hadn’t called for his friends to stop.
The blackness was a giant hole in the ground that had formed a deep, muddy pit. On either side, the road ended abruptly, its edges jagged. Broken slabs of asphalt littered the bottom of the pit. A streetlamp lay toppled, having tumbled down from above.
The pit was more of an oval than a circle, and a good chunk of the land that had once been to the right of the road had collapsed to the bottom as well. Max scanned that side of the pit, expecting to see upturned trees and dangling roots.
Instead, he saw a white concrete building. Its glass sign was fractured and broken, and wires dangled through the cracked glass. It appeared to be some sort of small convenience store, a rest stop for travelers.
“Whoa,” Rocky whispered, taking in the mess. “What happened here?”
“I think it’s a sinkhole,” Max said. “I saw one on TV once. It’s when the ground beneath a road washes away and everything up above falls in.”
“Well, I’m glad we weren’t around when that happened!” Rocky yipped.
“Look how far across the road is,” Gizmo said, her gaze on the opposite side of the sinkhole. “How are we supposed to get over there?”
She was right. The sinkhole extended so far ahead that Max could just barely make out the crumbling edge where the road picked up again.
Max looked to his left and right. Towering trees surrounded them, darker than ever now that the sun had set. They’d been told many times never to stray too far from the road, what with all the beasts about. And certainly never to do so at night.
A gust of wind rose up, and several drops of rain plopped against Max’s fur. One of the raindrops splashed Rocky, and the Dachshund jumped.
“Maybe we can go around?” Gizmo said. “We’ll have to be careful not to fall into the hole, but maybe we can do it.”
Rocky dropped to his belly. “No way, Gizmo. Who knows what’s waiting for us in those trees?”
“Oh,” Gizmo said, her ears drooping. “You’re right.”
Max paced back and forth. They hadn’t seen any of the old lady’s beacons in a long, long time, and with this hole in the ground, how could she have possibly gone this way? Unless it happened after she’d driven through?
“What do we do, big guy?” Rocky asked.
Max shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe we took the wrong path after all. Maybe we should go back and try the other way.”
“But it’s so dark!” Rocky yipped.
“And I can still smell Georgie,” Gizmo added.
Max sighed. “For all we know Georgie went the wrong way, too.”
Another burst of wind whooshed through the trees, so strong that it sent them stumbling sideways. High above, the clouds twisted and boiled into a deep, inky black, and then the rain came in slicing, warm sheets that soaked the dogs in seconds.
Rocky and Gizmo darted underneath Max’s belly, hugging the ground and sheltering themselves as best they could. Max closed his eyes until they were merely slits—the sudden downpour was so dense he could barely see.
“How about we find us some shelter?” Rocky shouted over the rain.
“All right,” Max shouted back. “We’ll have to take our chances in the trees.”
“What about that building that’s partway in the pit?” Gizmo said.
“I don’t know if that’s safe,” Max called. “Especially with all this rain turning the dirt to mud!”
“Can’t we look anyway?” Gizmo asked. “It’s an actual shelter, after all. It’d be much safer in there than anywhere we can find in the swamp.”
Max had to admit that a building would give better protection than the trees. So, despite his better judgment, he nodded.
The way down to the half-collapsed building was a gradual slope, with plenty of rocks and exposed roots to grab on to, even though the dirt had turned to slick, goopy muck.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” Rocky said.
“Stay here,” Max called over the rain. “I’ll see how stable it is, then you two can follow me.”
The two small dogs nodded. Gizmo’s usually fluffy fur was matted and drooping, and streams of water fell from the ends of Rocky’s floppy ears.
Taking a breath, Max stepped one paw off the road and onto the hill, then another. Mud squelched up between his toes.
He took another careful step forward, then another.
And then, his front paw met a wet rock, which tumbled down the incline. Max lurched and almost fell, but he caught himself, then quickly scrabbled backward up to the hard surface of the road.
Max was about to tell his friends that they’d need to find some other path when a voice echoed over the pounding rain.
“Yoo-hoo!”
The voice was slick and dangerous, sending a shiver of fear all along Max’s spine.
“Oh, no,” Gizmo gasped.
“Yoo-hoo!” the voice called again, closer. “Doggies! We’re so happy to see you.”
Slowly, Max turned away from the sinkhole and back toward the road. At the same time, a searing flash of white lit up the sky. It was followed seconds later by an explosion of thunder that made Rocky yelp in terror.
And in that brief moment of light, Max saw polished, ridged skin and glittering black eyes and the edges of daggerlike teeth.
The monsters had found them.