CHAPTER 10

THE MUDLURKER

Max wanted to run or shout or fight. He wanted to find someplace to hide his friends and keep them safe. More than anything, he wanted to collapse into sleep, into dreams where there weren’t monstrous beasts hiding around every corner.

But he didn’t dare succumb to sleep. Not with those unknown eyes peering at him. And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t roll over or get to his feet—his body was so exhausted and hurt that it wouldn’t obey him. Not that there was anywhere to run anyway. Out there was only the pit and the forest and the many creatures who wanted to devour him and his friends.

So Max lay still, barely breathing, unable to look away from the bloodshot gaze before them.

A flash of white burst through the windows, revealing a bulbous, oozing body of brown muck. As the dogs watched, the swampy thing rose up and up, and a pair of jaws opened.

“That is what I am now,” the creature said. Its voice was deep and rumbled like thunder. “I am the Mudlurker.”

The creature closed its eyes and reared back its head, then let loose the loudest, longest howl Max had ever heard.

The Mudlurker’s howl filled the space with a deep, reverberating din that spoke of despair and the end of days. Max, Rocky, and Gizmo all covered their ears with their paws, but nothing could shut out that sound. It penetrated the walls of the store. It echoed through the trees and the night sky, overwhelming even the din of the heavy rain. Max craned his neck to look out the windows and saw all the assembled monsters turn and scrabble away as fast as they could, slithering into the darkness to hide from the Mudlurker.

Finally, after several minutes, the Mudlurker lowered its snout and stopped howling. Gasping for air, the bulbous thing collapsed toward the floor as the last remnants of its bellowing sorrow faded away.

Once more the dogs sat silent, watching the creature in the back of the convenience store and waiting for it to make a move. Instead, the thing closed its eyes and let out strange, barely audible sounds, huffing and sniffing and whimpering.

And Max finally realized: It was crying.

“Uh, is that thing gonna attack us?” Rocky whispered nervously. “Should we run?”

“It doesn’t look like it,” Max whispered back. “I think it might be crying.”

“Oh!” Gizmo said. “Poor thing. It must be so lonely with everyone too afraid to visit.”

With her tail gently wagging, Gizmo took a few steps toward the sobbing, misshapen beast. As she did, the thing opened its yellow-tinged eyes once more.

“Hello,” Gizmo said quietly. “I’m Gizmo. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You’re a dog,” the creature said. “What are you doing in here?”

“My friends and I were trying to escape those swamp monsters, and this seemed the safest place,” she said.

“I had to escape those things, too,” the Mudlurker said. “They almost got me before I ran in here a few weeks back.”

Rocky narrowed his eyes. “Wait, I’m confused. Why were you running away from the monsters? They sure seem afraid of you.”

“Why wouldn’t they chase after me?” asked the Mudlurker. “I’m just a dog like you. Maybe a bit bigger, sure, but—”

“You’re a dog?” Rocky yipped.

The Mudlurker whimpered. “Yes. You can’t tell?”

“No offense meant,” Max said, “but from here, you look like a big pile of mud with eyes.”