Hidden Hills is on the edge of the mountains of Malibu Creek State Park. We stop halfway up the mountain road and ditch the car, pushing it into the forest and covering the tracks so it won’t be seen from the road. I have the children transfer as much food and equipment as they can carry into the backpacks Ruben loaned us.
“We’re really close to Dr. Pao’s house,” Junebug says.
“That’s the point. They’ll expect us to run, so we hide nearby in the mountains.”
“You’re a smart dog,” Junebug says.
“Evidently one of the smartest,” I say with a laugh.
“But it’s scary up here,” Chance says. “What if we have to escape fast?”
“Look around,” I say. “There’s only one road in and out. If they try anything, we’ll see them coming from far away.”
“I guess,” Chance says.
“Hey, we just survived a military attack. Why not do some mountain climbing, too?” Junebug says.
Chance laughs nervously. “Fine, you guys. Whatever. Let’s do it.”
We begin our hike up the mountain. There’s a double peak across the canyon like a sideways letter K. I use the landmark to navigate, keeping us moving northwest.
“What do you think happened to Dr. Pao?” Chance asks.
“I don’t know exactly. I’m glad she had her dogs to protect her.”
“But the soldiers had weapons.”
Junebug glances back at me. I can see she’s thinking the same thing.
“I’m sure she’s all right,” I say, even though I can’t be certain. I’m worried about her labradoodles, too. They were cute, and they were like a family. It seems that every time I get near anybody, they end up being hurt.
I look up ahead where Junebug is struggling to walk over a loose patch of dirt. Chance reaches out to give her a hand, and they steady each other, finding their way across the rocky ground.
We’re becoming like a family, too. What’s going to happen to us?
“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Junebug says to me.
“I’m focused on keeping us safe.”
Chance nods. “Safe sounds good to me.”
We walk in silence for a long time after that, moving up the mountain until the sun gets low in the sky.
We come to an area near the crest of a small mountain ridge. It’s well hidden in a bank of trees, yet it allows a good line of sight around us.
“Let’s stop here and camp for the night,” I say.
“I don’t see a campsite anywhere,” Chance says.
“We have to make our own.”
“You mean we’re sleeping in the forest? There are all kinds of bugs out here. And snakes. And who knows what else,” Chance says.
“Are you afraid of bugs?” Junebug asks, rolling her eyes.
“Not afraid. I just don’t like them crawling on me while I sleep. And what about a bathroom?”
“Nature is our bathroom.”
“Gross.” Chance makes a disgusted face.
“I’ve been camping plenty of times,” Junebug says. “You just use the leaves to wipe—”
“I’m starting to change my mind about the benefits of homeschooling,” Chance says, waving his hands in surrender.
“My dad likes to rough it, and he has a place in the mountains.”
“Big surprise there,” Chance says flatly.
“We used to go on vacation a lot. It’s like his own secret hideaway. It’s near Point Mugu, maybe thirty-five miles from here.”
“Point Mugu? If it’s close, maybe we could go and ask for his help,” Chance says.
“I’m sure he’s not around,” Junebug says. “He’s on a business trip this week, which is why I thought the car thing wouldn’t be a problem.”
“How did he—”
“He watches me like a hawk. He was probably tracking the car’s GPS.”
“On second thought, maybe Point Mugu is not a great idea,” Chance says.
I want to ask her more about her father, but we have work to do, so I let it pass for the time being.
We set up camp, clearing brush and laying out bedrolls and blankets. Junebug suggests creating a security perimeter with leaves and dried branches so we’ll hear any intruders before they get too close.
I tell her it’s a good idea. We leave Chance with the supplies, while Junebug and I walk out together to collect materials and scout around the area.
“I was thinking about the first time we spoke,” I say.
“You mean when our signals crossed. That was interesting, wasn’t it?”
“How did they cross exactly? What were you doing?”
Dr. Pao was right. There’s a lot I don’t know about Junebug, and it’s time I find out more, especially if I’m going to keep her near Chance and me for a few days.
“I was listening to Homeland Security operations around Los Angeles,” Junebug says.
“You were hacking Homeland Security?”
“Not hacking. Just listening. I like to listen to radio comms—Homeland Security, the FBI, even regular police frequencies.”
She lays down sticks in concentric circles with space between them. If an intruder were to avoid one layer without making a sound, they’d step on the next one and give themselves away.
“That day I heard the Animal Control chatter first. It didn’t sound like anything I’d heard before, and it got my attention. Then I saw your chip transmitting, and I realized you were the one they were talking about.”
I watch in amazement as she gathers leaves and uses them to camouflage the perimeter. She’s obviously done this before.
“Why do you listen to security communications, Junebug? Is it a hobby of some kind?”
She snaps a branch across her thigh. “My mom was an FBI agent,” she says.
“Was?”
“She’s dead, Wild. She died on assignment three years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Her face is calm, but I can sense her pain under the surface.
“My dad got weird after that. He got really strict and he added survival skills to my homeschooling.”
She adds dry twigs to the perimeter to amplify the sound if someone steps on them.
“So that’s how you learned to make a perimeter like this.”
“I learned how to do a lot of things.”
She stops and stares at me, frowning. I can feel her irritation—she doesn’t like that I’m questioning her.
“I listen to radio comms because they remind me of my dead mom. Okay? Are you satisfied? Interrogation over.”
Her face is red and she’s breathing heavy, obviously upset.
“It’s not an interrogation,” I say. “You’ve been helping us, and I appreciate that, but it’s normal that I’d have some questions.”
“Maybe I have some questions, too. Like how are you going to keep us safe when we’ve got a secret military force after us?”
“It’s a fair question.”
“But you don’t have an answer, do you? You act like top dog when you’re talking to Chance, but you don’t really have a plan.” She confronts me, hands on hips as she stares me down.
“I told you. My plan is to stay under the radar until I can get you home.”
“And after?”
I lick my paw, stalling for time.
“What about after?” she demands.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Once you’re safe, I’ll figure something out.”
“I thought so,” she says, and her anger softens. “You know Chance would do anything for you, right? He wants to help you find your home.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think he’ll leave you. Even if you ask him to.”
I lick my muzzle, fearful that what she’s saying is true.
“Make sure you don’t ruin his chance to go home. You got that, Wild?”
“Got it. What about you? Aren’t you worried about getting home?”
She sighs and drops down cross-legged, staring at the ground in front of her. I trot over and plant myself next to her.
“I lied to that cop yesterday,” she says softly. “I really did steal my dad’s car. I hate him, and I wanted to get away for a while. I figured he wouldn’t care since he was out of town.”
“How did he figure it out?”
“Probably our spying neighbor. Or GPS. Or whatever. He’s tricky like that.”
“Don’t you think your dad is worried about you?”
“Not all parents care about their kids, Wild. You’re a dog, so everyone wants to pet you and act all nice to you. Maybe you don’t know that people are complicated.”
I drop my chin on my front paws.
“I am a dog. But I understand more than you think I do.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Junebug says.
I listen to the crickets chirping, their song carried on the wind. It’s getting late.
“We should get back before dark,” I say.
“For sure.”
I stand and kick some leaves into place, finishing off the perimeter. Junebug stretches and breathes in the mountain air.
“You have to go home eventually,” I say.
“Eventually I will,” she says, turning back toward camp. “Once I’m done helping you.”