Rescue Mission Read online

  Ben slipped out the door and gestured for Hero to come. They headed left down the hall, toward the glowing red exit sign. Ben half expected to hear someone calling his name. But they made it to the stairwell door without being stopped.

  Ben was still not totally steady on his feet. He stopped on each landing to rest, while Hero sniffed around the stairwell. After what felt like an eternity, they emerged in the back of a large lobby, where one lone security guard sat at a desk at the front of the room. From where Ben was standing, it seemed pretty certain that the guy was sound asleep.

  Ben and Hero stepped through a revolving door and into the parking lot. Leaning against the back wall of the building, Ben pulled up a navigation app on his phone and oriented himself.

  Perillo had said that his dad’s phone pinged just west of where they had found the campfire. According to the map, the hospital was just a little bit farther west of that. If Hero and Ben headed east, they would reach the right spot and Hero could find Ben’s dad.

  They made their way across the parking lot just as the sky lightened to a pink-gray. When they got to the edge of the lot, Ben stopped, pulled something from his backpack, and held it under Hero’s nose.

  Then he gave his dog the most important command he’d ever given: “Hero, find Dad.”

  Hero sniffed the sweatshirt, turned, and sniffed at the ground and the air. He began walking.

  Behind him, Ben stepped out onto the road.

  They turned east and were on their way again.

  12

  BEN FOUGHT THE FATIGUE THAT COURSED through his body.

  After the initial burst of adrenaline as he and Hero busted out of the hospital, the effects of the snake venom—and all the medicine he’d been given to counteract it—had returned. Each foot felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and every step took immense effort. He trudged down the road. Hero slowed his pace so Ben could keep up. He stopped every few yards, looked back at Ben, and waited.

  The sun had come up quickly. It was a bright, cool morning, and they walked on a sleepy residential street. The sun was soothing and warm on Ben’s face after the long night in the dark woods and a chilly hospital room.

  It was Sunday, and only a few early risers were out on their porches, grabbing the morning paper or sipping coffee in their bathrobes. They’d wave at Ben, and he’d give a weak half wave with his good hand. As Ben and Hero walked, the houses grew sparser, with more land between them.

  They were getting closer to the edge of the woods.

  They hadn’t traveled more than a mile when Ben had to stop.

  “Wait, Hero,” he said. Ben dropped onto the curb to rest.

  Hero doubled back, his nails clacking on the asphalt. He stopped in front of Ben, his tail up and his brow furrowed. Hero barked once.

  “I know, buddy,” Ben said. “I want to get there too. But I just need a second.”

  Hero whined and pranced a little with his front paws. He ran a few feet away, in the direction they had been heading, then stopped and looked back.

  Ben put his head down on his knees to steady himself, gathering his strength. A wave of nausea passed, and he felt energy returning to his limbs. He needed to get himself up off the curb and back on his feet. Hero was his dad’s best shot, and right now, Ben was keeping Hero from helping.

  “Your dog looks like he’s in a hurry,” came a voice from nearby.

  Ben’s head shot up.

  A boy straddled a bike in the road and stared at them. He was about Ben’s age, with shaggy brown hair and glasses. He was wearing jeans and an Atlanta Braves sweatshirt.

  “Um, yeah,” Ben said, his voice hoarse.

  “Why?”

  Ben wasn’t sure how to answer that.

  Even if he wanted to tell a stranger about his dad, the escaped convicts, the snakebite, and Hero’s search-and-rescue skills, there was no way this kid would believe him.

  Ben didn’t need to worry about what to say, though. The boy wasn’t waiting for an answer.

  “You in some kind of trouble?” the kid asked.

  “No—not really,” Ben said. He realized as he said it how unconvincing he sounded.

  “You kind of look like you’re in trouble.”

  Hero wandered back to Ben and sat down in front of him—placing himself between Ben and the stranger. He eyed the boy suspiciously.

  Ben stood up, trying hard not to look too unsteady. He could see the boy on the bike taking mental notes of his bandaged arm, his heavy backpack.

  Ben felt like he was under a microscope.

  “Can I help you?” Ben asked.

  The boy shrugged. “Seems like you’re the one who needs help.”

  “I’m fine,” Ben said. “We were just taking a break. But we’re gonna get going now. Come on, Hero.” Ben took a few slow steps.

  “Okay. Bye, then.” The boy put his feet on the pedals and cycled slowly in a wide circle, heading off in the opposite direction.

  Ben took a few more steps. His arm began to throb, and he felt like he was going to collapse. He stopped, put his good hand on his knee, and took a few deep breaths.

  A thought occurred to him. He stood up and called after the kid.

  “Hey—”

  The boy jammed on his brakes and looked over his shoulder at Ben.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know what? You were right. We do need help.”

  The boy didn’t say anything.

  “We have to get into the forest kind of quickly,” Ben went on. “It’s super important. And I’m not feeling so hot. I . . . uh . . . I got bit by a snake last night.”

  The boy still said nothing. He just stared at Ben, waiting.

  “And, well, um . . .” Ben said, “I’m having a hard time walking.”

  Finally, the boy spoke. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Ben wasn’t sure what to make of this kid. Was he being serious—or was he totally messing with him?

  “So,” Ben went on, “it sure would be a lot easier if I had a bike. What do you say I borrow yours, and I’ll bring it back to you later today? I can pay you.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. A scrap of orange fabric fell out with it and floated to the ground. As quickly as he could, Ben picked it up and shoved it back in his pocket. He checked his wallet for cash. He had a ten and a five. “I can give you fifteen dollars now. But as soon as we find my dad”—Ben regretted including that detail the second it came out of his mouth—“I can give you more.”

  The boy kept staring at Ben. His eyes were big and unblinking.

  Ben waited.

  Had the kid even heard the offer? Did Ben need to repeat himself?

  “No.”

  Ben opened his mouth to respond, then realized he had no idea what to say and closed it again.

  “But I can get you a bike.” The boy pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stared at Ben some more.

  Ben was flooded with relief. “Great!” He turned and walked toward the kid. “Let’s go. Hero and I are in a serious hurry.”

  “It’s just over there,” the boy said, pointing back toward the last house on the block. “We’ll grab it real quick. Then we’ll get going.”

  Ben stopped in his tracks.

  “We?”

  Hero looked from Ben to the kid and back again.

  “I’m coming with you.” The boy spoke as if it were a fact.

  Ben shook his head. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean that I needed your help. I just meant that I need a bike so I could move faster.”

  The boy didn’t say anything.

  “Thanks anyway,” Ben went on, foundering for words, “Hero and I would rather go on our own. So . . . where’s that bike?”

  “Well, I can’t give you the bike”—the boy shrugged—“unless I can come with you.”

  Ben thought he would lose his mind with frustration. The clock was ticking, and he was wasting precious time talking to a kid he didn’t even know. He took a few deep breaths so he wouldn’t say anything
he would regret.

  “We don’t need you to come with us,” Ben said. “But I’ll still pay you for the bike.”

  “I don’t need your money,” the boy said. “But where you’re going, you’re going to need me.”

  “You know what? Forget it.” Ben didn’t have time to play games. He waved a dismissive hand in the kid’s direction, turned, and headed slowly back toward the forest, Hero close by his side.

  “Have a nice walk.”

  Ben could feel the boy’s eyes on his back. He’d only gone a few feet, but his arm was already pulsing with a dull pain and his legs felt like jelly.

  “These are my woods,” the kid called after him. “I can get you there faster than you can get there on your own.”

  Ben stopped. He sighed. He shook his head. But he couldn’t argue with the chance to get to his dad faster. He turned slowly and looked at the boy.

  “Fine. But can we please get going?”

  A huge grin spread across the kid’s face. “Follow me!”

  The boy slowly pedaled his bike while Ben and Hero walked beside him. “I’m Tucker. What’s your name?”

  “Ben.”

  “That’s Hero?”

  “Yeah. That’s Hero,” Ben said.

  They turned into the driveway, and Tucker pulled around the back of the house. Hero sniffed at the grass and gravel. At the far edge of the yard, a jungle gym and an aboveground pool sat empty.

  Ben looked around. There was only one bike leaning against the back of the house: a pink-and-white Schwinn with a long narrow seat, rainbow streamers dangling from the handles, and a white wicker basket with a pink kitten face—complete with whiskers—hanging off the front.

  “There’s your bike,” Tucker said.

  Ben sighed. “Let me guess. It’s your little sister’s?”

  “Yup.”

  “Fine, let’s go.” Ben could not have cared less about the bike. He would have ridden a purple unicorn with feathers if it meant they could get going. He hopped on the bike, which was at least five inches too short for him. Steering with his one good arm, he started to pedal down the driveway. His knees nearly hit him in the face as he rode the tiny bike.

  “Hang on,” Tucker said. “I need to get my supplies.”

  Ben screeched to a halt. “Your supplies—are you kidding me?!” Ben couldn’t hide his frustration. “This isn’t a camping trip! I need to get going. My dad is in trouble, and he needs me and Hero right now!”

  “Okay, okay, sorry.” Tucker threw his hands up in apology. “I’ll hurry.” He ran into the house through the back door and returned a couple of minutes later carrying an open backpack in one hand.

  In the other, he held a fistful of items, including a water bottle and a plastic bag full of something shriveled and brown. “You hungry?” He held out the plastic bag in Ben’s direction. “I’ve got some jerky.” Hero sniffed at it and turned away.

  A sharp, pungent smell drifted toward Ben. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  Tucker shoved all the items into his pack, zipped it shut, tossed it onto his shoulders, and hopped on his bike in one smooth motion.

  “You ready?” Ben asked with an impatient exhale.

  “Sure am.” Tucker grinned.

  With an eye roll, Ben rode down the driveway and turned onto the quiet, empty street. Tucker rode next to him.

  Hero ran out ahead of them both. He picked up speed effortlessly, his muscular legs working in rhythm as he ran at full tilt, leading the way back into the woods.

  13

  BEN ANGLED HIS KNEES OUT TO the side and scooted as far back as he could on the banana seat. As much as he would have liked to have Noah’s and Jack’s help finding his dad, he was glad they weren’t there to point out how dorky he looked at that moment.

  As awkward as it was, the bike was still better—and quicker—than walking. And if it would get him to his dad even a minute faster, then he didn’t care if he looked like a rodeo clown.

  They rode down the middle of a deserted street with no houses. Ben was starting to feel a little less wiped out, and his arm wasn’t throbbing quite so much. Mostly he was relieved to be moving again.

  He pedaled silently a few feet ahead of Tucker, who was riding along at a steady but decidedly not fast pace behind him. Hero dashed out ahead of them, his nose low to the ground and his tail up. Every few minutes, Hero stopped and waited for them to catch up.

  Ben didn’t know if dogs could actually feel impatient, but if they did, then Hero was as impatient as could be. If Hero could roll his eyes, Ben was pretty sure that’s what he would have been doing.

  “Is he . . . tracking?” Tucker called out ahead to Ben.

  “Yeah,” Ben replied. “He’s a search-and-rescue dog. That’s what he does.”

  Tucker pedaled quickly so he could ride side by side with Ben.

  So he can ride faster, Ben thought.

  “He any good at it?” Tucker asked. “He looks like he’s pretty good at it.”

  “He’s the best. He was on the police force with my dad.”

  “Your dad’s a cop?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That how he ended up missing?”

  “I never said he was missing.”

  “No. But you said you were going to find him. And you said you were in a hurry. And you seem pretty stressed out. So I’m just doing the math, that’s all. And to me, it all adds up to your dad being missing.”

  Ben had to give it to Tucker. He was smart—and observant. “Yeah, he’s missing,” Ben admitted. “Since the night before last. He was out looking for these two escaped convicts—”

  “I saw them on the news,” Tucker said, a look of understanding spreading across his face as he pieced Ben’s whole story together. “Your dad is the guy they took?”

  “Yeah.” Ben swallowed the knot in his throat.

  “Wow. That sucks.”

  “It sucks a lot.”

  They rode in silence for a while. When they finally reached the edge of the woods, Hero charged right into the trees. Ben and Tucker followed, riding along a narrow dirt path. Ben tried to pick up the pace, but Tucker lagged behind.

  Ben wasn’t going to wait around for him. He pedaled as fast as he could, even though the bumping and jostling made his arm ache. If Tucker didn’t want to keep up, that was his problem.

  Ben kept his eyes on Hero and steered one-handed. He heard the sound of Tucker’s tires on the dirt right behind him. Suddenly Tucker pulled up next to Ben.

  “Hero—is he tracking your dad right now?”

  “Well, he’s trying to find his scent,” Ben replied. “He’s catching tens of thousands of different smells right now—way more than we ever could.”

  Tucker looked impressed. “That’s pretty cool.” He started to drop back behind Ben again.

  “Listen, Tucker,” Ben said over his shoulder. “I appreciate your help and all, but Hero and I really need to hurry. So I’m just gonna go on ahead, okay?”

  “No problem,” Tucker said from behind him.

  Hero had become a faraway speck in the woods. Ben double-timed it, trying not to lose sight of him. “Hero,” he called out, his voice strong and clear, like Perillo had coached him. “Stay close, buddy.” Hero slowed his pace a drop so Ben could keep up.

  “I could ride with you,” Tucker called out from behind him. “But that wouldn’t help us get there any faster.”

  Ben squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to keep his cool—Tucker wasn’t even making sense. He opened them again. “What do you mean?” he called out over his shoulder.

  “I mean, if we go too fast, then I can’t pay attention.”

  “Pay attention to what?”

  “Same kind of stuff Hero pays attention to, only not with my nose. Like, for example, footprints. Tree branches that were snapped or messed with. Cigarette butts. Gum wrappers.”

  Ben’s head shot up at “gum wrappers.” “Did you already see something?”


  “Sure I did.”

  Ben skidded to a stop and waited for Tucker to ride up next to him. “What did you see?” Ben asked excitedly.

  “Some old soda cans. A spot where someone definitely lay down for a while. Oh, and a gum wrapper.”

  Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. “Was it Big Red?”

  “It was,” Tucker said. “Does that mean something?”

  “It means,” Ben said, pedaling again, “that we’re going the right way.”

  They rode side by side, the wind whistling in Ben’s ears as they went.

  “Keep your voice down,” Ben said softly. “We could be getting close to them.”

  Tucker nodded. His face was serious as he scanned the trees around them, looking for signs of the two convicts—and Ben’s dad.

  “How do you know what to look for?” Ben whispered.

  Tucker shrugged. “I’ve been coming here every day my entire life. I just . . . notice stuff.” He was quiet for a moment, deep in thought. “Could your dad’s scent have been on someone who was with your dad?”

  Ben thought for a moment, reviewing everything he’d learned about tracking since Hero had come to live with him. “I guess so.”

  “Well,” Tucker said. “Then that makes more sense.”

  “What makes more sense?”

  “I only see one set of boot prints. And I doubt they’re your dad’s, because if he’d come this far toward the edge of the woods, he would have seen the road we just came from and gone for help. So I think Hero was picking up his scent on someone else.”

  As Tucker said it, Hero came to a sudden stop up ahead, turned around, and galloped through the trees back toward them. Ben and Tucker slammed on their brakes. Hero crossed the path to Ben, sat down, and waited for a command.

  Ben knew that could mean only one thing.

  Hero didn’t have his dad’s scent.

  Panic rose in Ben’s chest. He wanted to scream in frustration, but he forced himself to take a few deep breaths instead. He exhaled slowly. Breathe, he could hear his dad telling him. You can be afraid later.