Groaning, the creature rose once more. As he did, he shook himself all over, sending clumps of earth flying every which way. Though he was still covered in muck, it was clear that he was indeed a dog, one that seemed almost as tall as a human, with a wide, stocky body; jowly cheeks; and big, floppy ears. He was ankle deep in a hill of dried mud that, Max saw, must have burst through the back wall of the store when the building collapsed.
And though he still looked more dirt-creature than dog, Max remembered his dream—this was the dog he was supposed to find.
Gizmo darted forward, sniffing wildly at the giant dog’s lower limbs, her tail a blur.
“This isn’t just any dog!” she barked. “It’s Georgie!”
The dog—a Saint Bernard, Max could now tell—stepped off his pile of mud. “You know who I am?” he asked.
“We sure do,” Gizmo said. “We’ve been following you, because you’ve been following the old lady in the hat! We’re looking for her, too.”
“Oh,” Georgie said, his head drooping.
“Come meet my friends!” Gizmo yipped.
She darted back through the center of the store to where Max and Rocky lay. Georgie slowly followed her.
“I’d get up to greet you,” Max said, “but I think my body won’t let me.”
“We’ve had a tough day,” Gizmo told the Saint Bernard.
“It’s fine,” Georgie said as he sat in front of the three friends. “You still have better manners than most animals I’ve run across.”
Rocky climbed out from between Max’s legs. “So I gotta know, Georgie, how’d you get here, and how’d you make all the monsters afraid of you?”
“It wasn’t really on purpose,” Georgie said. “I got tired of how all the animals on the beach acted like nothing was wrong, so I set out on my own. My people ran the inn there before all the humans left. I figured the best way to find them was to follow the nice lady who had helped feed all of us. I followed her scent and signs until I ended up here in the swamp.”
“You saw beacons here in the swamp?” Max asked. “We haven’t seen any since the mall.”
Georgie blinked his big, sad eyes at Max as a long line of slimy drool fell from his mouth.
“You didn’t?” he asked. “I bet those gators knocked them over to hide them. That seems like something they’d do.”
“Gators?” Gizmo asked.
“Gators,” Georgie said. “Or alligators, if you want to talk fancy. That’s what those monsters are called. And boy, they did hound me. Kept telling me I’d never escape and never find my people. And they were right.”
“But that doesn’t explain how you became the Mudlurker,” Rocky said.
“Oh,” Georgie said. “Well, one day the gators were chasing me right past this store and the car wash. I ran in here, and I howled and howled… and that’s when it happened.”
Rising back on all fours, the giant dog walked to the windows and looked down at the sinkhole.
“Just as I started to howl, the parking lot and the road rumbled and shook. All the gators went stock-still, and then the ground itself opened up and swallowed them whole.”
Turning back to the three dogs, Georgie shook his head. “I thought I was a goner, too. The parking lot collapsed in a waterfall of mud, and the whole store started sliding down into the hole. But I got lucky. The store slid down a good ways, but it didn’t tip over. The worst thing that happened was the wall gave way in the storeroom, which is where all that mud in the back came from.”
Georgie sat down once more. “I’ve been here ever since. All the swamp animals thought I made the sinkhole, which is why they’re afraid of me and why they started calling me the Mudlurker. So now they leave me alone. I got enough grub in here to last me awhile. And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
“That can’t be true,” Max said. “You already said you were following the old woman in the big hat, just like us. We think she knows how to bring all the people back.”
Georgie tilted his head as a glob of drool seeped between his lips and plopped to the floor.
“You think,” the big dog asked, “or you know?”
“Well, we’re pretty sure,” Gizmo said. “Right, Max?”
“Yeah,” Max said. “The old woman was the pack leader of a friend of mine. My friend told me that I should find her and she could help. And there were other animals, too.”
“A great, big elephant!” Gizmo chimed in.
“And a super-rude pig,” Rocky said.
Max nodded. “Those other animals knew the old woman, too. They said she was trying to fix the problem that made all the humans leave.”
“Trying,” Georgie repeated in a low grumble. “The gators were right when they said that this is all just a chase for wild geese.” The Saint Bernard set his head on his muddy front paws. “I even thought about going back to Baton Rouge, where I grew up, to see if my old friends were there.”
Gizmo trotted to Georgie’s head and licked his nose. “Well, you’re in luck, Georgie, ’cause we’re also going to Baton Rouge. We’re supposed to find a Collie named Belle.”
Georgie’s tail thumped against the floor. “Good ol’ Belle,” he mumbled. “She’s a right treasure.”
“You know her?” Rocky asked. “Yeesh, Belle is the most popular dog I’ve ever heard of.”
“All the dogs in Baton Rouge know her,” Georgie said. “A lot of us came from the farms or breeders near her home, and she always made the rounds to say hello. But who knows if she’s still there.” The giant dog sighed and closed his big, sad eyes.
Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a dog in such low spirits. The disappearance of the humans and the taunts from the swamp animals—or gators, as Georgie called them—had done a number on the poor guy.
Not that Max could blame him. He wondered if he’d have continued his search without Rocky and Gizmo. Would Max just have given up and let the monstrous lizards have him? Would he have kept hoping to see his family if he’d been all alone?
Though his body still pounded with a dull ache, Max forced himself up on all fours. Legs wobbling, he padded to Georgie and lay down against the big dog’s side. The Saint Bernard’s fur was crusted with dried mud, but Max didn’t move.
Gizmo lay down on Georgie’s opposite side, joined a moment later by Rocky. Sensing their comforting warmth, Georgie opened his eyes.
“It sounds like you’ve had a tough time,” Max said quietly. “And I understand why you might want to give up. What you really need, though, are some friends. You should come with us.”
“Yes!” Gizmo said. “We’d love to have you along.”
“Definitely,” Rocky said. “No one will mess with us if we’ve got the Mudlurker on our side.”
“The swamp is so big and dangerous,” Georgie whimpered. “And there’s no guarantee we’ll find anyone.”
“Maybe not,” Max said. “But I can promise you that trying is better than doing nothing. At the very least we’ll get you to Baton Rouge. You’re bound to find some old friends, and then you won’t have to be alone while you wait for your humans to come back.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Georgie said. “It can get boring sitting in that mud pile all day.”
“It’s settled, then,” Max said. “Tonight we’ll sleep and regain our strength. Tomorrow, we’ll set out.”
On the cold, slanted tile floor, the four dogs settled themselves and closed their eyes, listening to the falling rain on the rooftop.
“You know, Georgie, I think you might need a bath,” Max heard Gizmo say before he drifted off to sleep. “We’re not in the best shape ourselves, but you’re almost more mud than dog!”
“Hey,” Rocky yipped sleepily. “Didn’t you say something about a car wash?”
Too exhausted to wonder what he meant, Max closed his eyes and slept.
Max was on a road in the woods once more.
Nearby, the metal-skinned monsters cackled as they tore through the underbrush.
Serpents slipped through the branches, venom dripping from their fangs.
Giant wolves with glowing red eyes snarled as they paced, waiting to attack.
But Max didn’t feel afraid. A giant dog plopped beside him. Watery drool fell from his lips.
Just ahead was a break in the darkness. The kind old woman, Madame’s pack leader, sat in a lawn chair. She wore a wide-brim hat and sipping from a glass of lemonade that blinked with yellow light, beckoning like a beacon. She smiled and waved at Max and the other dog.
“Are we almost there?” Max asked.
The dog lifted his head back and howled as the lady took another sip of lemonade, still smiling.
Max awoke.
In the bright morning light, Max saw that every single one of the dogs was a mess. Max’s, Rocky’s, and Gizmo’s bellies and legs were crusted with mud, and their fur was matted and tangled. They smelled awful.
But Georgie was dirtier than any dog Max had ever seen. Thick mud was slathered all over his body, as if he were a cake covered with chocolate frosting.
The dogs were definitely in need of a bath.
Once everyone was awake, Max announced that it was time to leave. Georgie carefully led Max, Rocky, and Gizmo up the sloped floor of the convenience store to his stock of kibble, near the dried mud pile that had been his bed. As they ate their fill, Max noticed the tiny flies that swarmed above the mud and the old human food. The insects came in through a vent on the ceiling. Max guessed it led outside and had amplified Georgie’s howls. No wonder the Mudlurker’s howls were so terrifying to the other swamp animals.
When their bellies were full, Georgie took the lead once more. They had to walk on top of the mounded mud to get into the storeroom. Most of the back wall had burst inward from the force of the mudslide, and mud and rocks had buried all the store’s overstock.
Georgie had dug a small ditch beneath the broken wall and the mud. Without a word, Max dropped to his belly and scurried underneath and outside.
As he waited for his friends to follow, he studied the slope. His body still ached, reminding him of all they’d gone through the day before. He sniffed at the air and examined the trees, but he didn’t find any sign of the monsters. A minute later, Rocky emerged, then Gizmo.
“Oof,” Georgie grunted behind them.
Max turned to find the big, mud-coated dog struggling to pull his backside through the wall. The Saint Bernard gave one last tug and then barreled forward.
Rocky paced back and forth, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad,” he said. “You have a secret entrance, and those gators never knew.”
“I guess,” Georgie said. “I just didn’t want to go to the bathroom inside. My pack leaders would have a fit if they knew I’d done that.”
Gizmo scrunched her nose. “Oh, Georgie. How about you show us the car wash? It’s time for a bath!”
Together, the four dogs bounded over the slabs of concrete into an asphalt lot with a Dumpster on one side. Behind the lot was a chain-link fence dividing the rear of the store from the swamp.
To their left was the car wash, completely intact.
At one point it had sat next to the convenience store. Now it stood alone atop its own concrete lot. The building had several big windows that revealed machinery and what looked like giant rolls of cloth. Near the back of the building was a smaller structure, an attendant’s station.
The dogs trotted through the lot, jumping over hoses that snaked across the ground. There were two machines, one with letters stenciled on its side that spelled AIR. The other read VACUUM.
As they neared the attendant’s station, Max saw a sign in the window.
“ ‘Don’t bring the swamp home with you,’ ” he read aloud. “ ‘Basic wash only five dollars.’ ”
Georgie blinked at Max. “You know what those symbols mean?”
Max wagged his tail. “It’s just a trick we learned.”
“Huh,” Georgie said. “That’s neat, I guess.”
“Yeah, reading is all right,” Rocky said. “Unless what you read is bad news. This thing won’t work without people money!”
“Oh, well,” Georgie said, plopping to the ground. “Guess I’ll have to stay all muddy, which means I can’t leave the swamp.”
Gizmo butted him with her head, but the big dog didn’t budge.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “No more giving up!”
The Saint Bernard sniffed. “But I’m scared. If I’m not muddy, then I’m not the Mudlurker, and then what will keep the gators away?”
“He’s got a point,” Rocky said.
“We’ll be fine,” Max said. “We’ll all feel more like ourselves once we’re clean.”
Max marched to the attendant’s station, leaped up to press the door handle, and then shoved the door open with his snout.
He climbed onto the well-worn chair in front of the window. On the counter he saw a control panel with red buttons. The top button read SELF-WASH STATION ONE. Max pressed his paw against it, and a green light lit up.
“Oh, no, snakes!” Rocky yipped from outside.
Max leaped off the chair and burst through the door—and then laughed. Two of the hoses they’d passed were writhing and flipping over the concrete. One was squirting out soapy foam, and the other burst with clear water.
“It’s just hoses, Rocky,” Gizmo said.
“I turned them on!” Max said. “I guess people just paid some other human to press buttons for them inside this little building. You two should spray each other and get all that mud off you.”
“What about Georgie?” Gizmo asked.
Max looked up at the machinery within the bigger building. He’d been in a car wash before, riding in his pack leaders’ parents’ car. With the windows rolled up, it was like driving through a hurricane. Max figured Georgie would need a whole hurricane to get clean.
Turning to the filthy Saint Bernard, Max said, “All right, Georgie, go to the back entrance there. Once the water starts, keep walking forward. And close your eyes so you don’t get any soap in them.”
Groaning, Georgie climbed to his feet and stared at the devices inside the car wash. “I don’t know if it’s safe.”
“You’ll be fine!” Rocky called. He and Gizmo had run over to the hoses and were jumping up and down in the spraying water. “You’re about as big as a car, so that thing was made for you.”
“If you say so.” With his snout held low, the big dog padded slowly to the entrance of the car wash. High above him a small yellow sign read MAX. HEIGHT—7' 11" near a metal box with three glass circles on its front.
Max darted inside the booth and pressed the button next to BASIC WASH. Then he ran back outside to watch.
“Nothing’s happening,” Georgie said, taking a step backward. “Guess it isn’t working.”
On the metal box, one of the glass circles lit up red. A moment later, another circle flashed yellow.
Max wagged his tail. “It’s working fine. When the light turns green, that means it’s time to go. And then you can finally stop being the Mudlurker.”
“You can do it, Georgie!” Gizmo barked.
The green light blinked on, and the car wash came alive as a heavy spray of water burst from the ceiling. At the same time a track began to move. That carried the cars through the machine, Max remembered.
But there was no such track for dogs, so Georgie just stood there, his sad eyes open wide at the machine-made storm.
“Think how good you’ll feel!” Max barked.
“You’ll be superhandsome,” Gizmo added.
Rocky snorted. “Come on, big guy, it’s just water. If we could handle that storm last night, you can handle this!”
Georgie took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “All right,” he bellowed. “Here I go!”
The big dog leaped forward, and Max ran to look through the window. Despite the mist, he could see the dried muck on Georgie’s fur turning into dark, sludgy mud, which oozed down his sides and puddled on the concrete floor.
Then, with a squeak of valves, the water stopped.
“Is it over?” Georgie barked, his eyes still closed.
A few feet ahead, two tall white plastic tubes began to rotate. Streams of thick foam squirted from metal openings while the tubes twisted back and forth, sending the soapy froth flying.
“Keep walking forward!” Max barked loudly.
Soon, Georgie was lathered from snout to tail, making him look like some doggy version of the snowmen Max’s pack leaders built in the winter.
Sputtering, Georgie ran forward. As he did, rollers covered with strips of cloth descended from the ceiling and walls. As the rollers spun, the cloths whipped and slapped at Georgie’s sides.
Georgie yelped in surprise, but the rollers acted like a hundred hands holding washcloths, and the soap and mud flew off his fur in heaps. The rollers stopped after a few seconds, and Georgie trotted forward, only to be greeted by more bursts of water, scrubbing him clean.
As the machine died down and Georgie reached the exit, gusts of air blasted him, puffing up his fur. When he emerged, he looked like a whole new creature.
The former Mudlurker was now a giant, regal, stocky beast of a dog, a Saint Bernard whose pristine white fur was spotted with wide swaths of tan. “How do I look?” he asked.
Gizmo appeared next to Max, clean and soaking wet. She shook herself, barking excitedly. “I knew there was a real dog under there! No more Mudlurker. Now all your friends in Baton Rouge will be able to recognize you.”
For the first time since they met him, Georgie wagged his tail and opened his snout in a doggy smile. Drool fell from his lips, but no one commented.
“Hey, Max, guess what?” Rocky called from behind them.
Max turned—and was met with a face full of foam from a hose held in Rocky’s jaws.
The other dogs laughed as Rocky dropped the hose and wagged his spiky tail. “Your turn!”
Together, Rocky, Gizmo, and Georgie sprayed Max with the hoses, cleaning him of the filth from their long journey. Dirt and sand washed free from his fur and was carried in rivers to the drains.
The morning sky was bright and cloud-free, and the swamp swayed with a gentle breeze that smelled of wet dog fur and soap. The pounding water massaged Max’s muscles, easing the pain from his fall the day before.
As the dogs continued to splash in the water, it was almost easy for Max to think that the worst was behind them and the rest of the journey would be carefree.
But Max knew the long road wasn’t over yet and the day had only begun.