Chihuawolf (5 page)

Little Annie continued, “If you won't tell us, we'll just follow you and find out for ourselves.”

“You wouldn't!” Paco's voice became very high and tight.

“Oh yes, we would,” Norma-Jean nodded.

“Try us,” Little Annie chimed in.

Paco didn't know what to do. He couldn't think up a lie to tell them, not one they'd believe, anyway. He hung his head. He might as well tell the truth. “I'm going to find a werewolf so I can drink rainwater from its footprint and turn into one myself.”

Little Annie rolled her eyes. “That is soooo pathetic. You can't even tell a convincing story.”

Norma-Jean stared at Paco intently, understanding dropping on her like a hard rain. “I know exactly where you're going.”

“You do?”

“You're sneaking out to see your girlfriend.”

“I am?” Paco's voice became a squeak.

“Why didn't you just tell us? We'd be glad to help you.”

“You bet we would,” Little Annie agreed.

“
Por
qué?
You're not even nice to me.”

“Of course we're not nice to you. What fun would there be in that? But that doesn't mean we don't like you.”

“You like me?”

“Well, sure. You're—you're—What am I trying to say?” Norma-Jean looked at Little Annie for help.

“You're
family
,” Little Annie said.

Paco didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he could trust these two. He guessed it didn't matter. He didn't have a choice. “Well, thanks, I mean, thanks for the thought anyway. I'd better get going. I'll be back soon, not really late. Way before dawn.”

“We'll be watching for you,” Norma-Jean said.

“We'll leave a light on for you,” Little Annie added.

Then the two cats hopped up onto the wall and disappeared over the other side.

I
wonder
what
they're really planning to do?
The thought flew through Paco's mind and then winged away. He had other things to worry about. He looked down the dark alley, gathered up his courage, and took off at a run toward Elm Street.

E
ven
a
difficult
journey
over
the
tallest
mountains
goes
downhill
half
the
time.

Getting into Coco's yard took no effort. Her family used an “invisible” underground electric fence to keep her from straying. Coco was so little inclined to wander that most of the time they forgot to put the shock collar on her. She stayed inside the boundaries anyway. She knew she wasn't supposed to go any farther, so she didn't. She was a good dog and never gave anyone a bit of trouble.

Therefore, without encountering either a fence or a wall, Paco scooted into Coco's backyard. He bounded up the back steps and cautiously put his nose into the doggy door. He sniffed and didn't smell anyone. He cocked his head and listened for footsteps or voices, and hearing neither, he hopped inside. It was as easy as pie.

Paco softly tiptoed to the edge of Coco's doggy bed in the kitchen. “Wake up,” he whispered.

Startled, Coco let out a small yip before Paco put a paw to his lips. “Shhhh. It's just me.”

Coco's eyes got very wide. “Paco! What are you doing here? It's still dark out. Is Olivia here too? Has something happened?”

“Shhhh. Keep your voice down. I'm here by myself.”

“You are? But why?” Coco's heart leaped for joy. She was glad to see Paco, although it was very late at night and totally unexpected.

“I sneaked out of the house. I'm off to see the werewolf.”

“You didn't! You're not!”

“I did. I am. And I need you to come with me. You will, won't you?”

“Of course I will, but—”

“But?”

“How long will it take to find the werewolf? I wouldn't want my family to wake up and find me gone. They'd be very worried.”

“
No
problema, muchacha bonita
,” Paco grinned. “We will follow the highway out of town to Mount Diablo. It's only a few miles. The whole trip won't take more than three hours, there and back again. Maybe four, if we have to hunt for a werewolf footprint. But even then, we'll be back before dawn.”

Bonita! He
called
me
pretty.
That was Coco's first thought. Then she focused on the rest of what Paco had said. She frowned in concentration. “It's really quite a long way. More than just a few miles, I believe. We'll need to take my backpack. We'll need water if we have to run far. Maybe a snack too. We'll definitely need a flashlight. Dogs can't see in the dark, you know.”

“I know that!” Paco felt more than a little put out. The cats had said the same thing. How dumb did everyone think he was? Then a funny, uncomfortable kind of feeling started wiggling around inside his chest. He had never even considered the idea of bringing food and water or a light. He worried that maybe he had forgotten something else important.

While Paco's worries grew, Coco padded over to the refrigerator. She took two bottles of water from a shelf and a pack of frankfurters from the deli drawer. She might get in trouble for stealing them, but she was willing to take a scolding. If she and Paco didn't eat them all, she'd put the remaining hot dogs back. Her family might not even notice any were gone.

After getting the food and water onto the floor, Coco pushed the supplies into her backpack, slipped her front paws through the straps, nudged it over her head, and hoisted it onto her back. Then she walked over to the coat-and-hat rack by the back door. She stood up on her hind legs to reach one of the pegs and carefully removed the headlamp Sandy wore when he walked her at night. By squirming about and rubbing on the floor, she managed to slip the elastic band over her own head.

The headlamp perched on her forehead like a frog on a lily pad. “You'll have to switch the light on for me, Paco. But we won't need it until we get to the mountain. The highway will be well lit.”

All the while, Paco had paced nervously back and forth. He kept glancing up at the clock on the microwave. “Are you all set, Coco? We need to get started. I want to be at the mountain by midnight.”

“Just one more thing.” Coco went over to the outlet where the invisible electric fence was plugged in. She carefully knocked the switch to
off
with her nose. Then she looked at Paco and asked, “Why do you want to be there by midnight?”

“Because midnight is a magic hour. If a werewolf is out there on the prowl, he'd be wandering then, don't you think?”

The two dogs trotted along the wide, white highway that led from town toward the hulking black object that filled the horizon—Mount Diablo. Only an occasional car whizzed past. Whenever one did approach, Coco insisted that they hide in the weeds beyond the berm of the road. This slowed down their progress quite a bit, but Coco said she didn't want a good Samaritan to stop, thinking they were lost.
Or
something
, she murmured, not wanting to suggest that a
not
-so-good Samaritan might want to catch them and steal them.

Coco was wise beyond her years.

Yet as long as they ran along the highway, the two dogs, one big and brown, one small and black, made good progress and didn't get very tired. Fewer and fewer cars passed them. Pretty soon, only huge semis rumbled by on the wide, white interstate. Sometimes Paco glimpsed the faces of dogs peering out the truck windows as they rode along in the cabs. The big rigs seemed in too much of a hurry to even slow down. After a while, Coco and Paco didn't bother hiding from them and were able to travel faster.

The waxing moon rose. Since it would be full in just a few days, even dogs could see quite well in the bright moonlight. Paco's confidence grew. His plan was working just as he had imagined. Perhaps he hadn't forgotten anything else at all.

After trotting along for an hour or maybe a little longer, they reached the foothills in front of the great, dark mountain. Here, the highway suddenly turned sharply to the right, away from Mount Diablo. Two smaller roads continued toward the mountain, one heading toward the eastern side; one leading to the western side.

At this fork in the road, neither route was marked “Werewolf This Way.”

But the dogs didn't hesitate long before deciding which one to take.

Why? Because only one of the roads was white.

At this fork in the road, the route that was paved with tar and asphalt twisted to the left into a murky forest and disappeared. The road that was made of crushed white quartz sparkled in the moonlight and led uphill through open fields.

“This has to be the way,” Paco pointed to the uphill road. He was puffing a little bit since he had to take two steps to keep up with every one of Coco's.

Trotting along, and quite enjoying the outing with her very best friend in the whole world, Coco smiled. “Yes. And I don't even have to use the headlamp. We can see very well. But Paco—”

“What, Coco?”
Puff, puff, puff
.

“When was the last time it rained?”

“Rained?”
Puff, puff
. “The day before yesterday, I think. Livy always puts on my red rubber boots when it rains.
Sí
, it rained two days ago, I'm sure.
Por
qué?
”

“Didn't you say that you have to drink rainwater out of the werewolf's footprint?”

“
Sí, sí
. I did.” More puffing.

“What if we find a footprint and there's no rainwater in it?”

Paco slowed his pace. He caught his breath. Doubt attacked him like a swarm of mosquitoes.

Coco realized her friend had fallen behind. She turned around. “What's wrong?”

“I didn't think of that.” Paco's mouth drooped in an unhappy frown. He stopped walking. “Maybe the footprints will be dry, and we've come all this way for nothing.” He sat down on the side of the white road, his head hanging.

Coco looked up. No clouds stretched misty fingers across the heavens. The night sky was so clear she could see the face of the man in the moon on the bright lunar surface. “It's not going to rain tonight.” She paused in thought for a moment. “But it did rain very hard two days ago. There's a chance some water might remain in a footprint.”

“You think there could be?” Paco lifted his head. A small flicker of hope rekindled in his heart.

“Yes, I do think it's possible. We've come so far, we might as well find the footprints, even if they're dry.”

“
Ay, caramba!
If they are dry, what's the use of finding them?” Paco's hopes dimmed again.

“When will the moon be full, Paco?”

“Not until this weekend.”

“And you need to drink from the footprint before then, right? To turn into a werewolf?”

“
Sí.
That's what B-Boy said.” Paco cocked his head to one side and looked at Coco.

“And it might rain before the weekend, right?”

“
Sí.
It might,” he nodded.

“Then we have to try. If the footprints
are
dry, we go home. We wait for the rain, then come back.”

“Come back? You mean do this again?” Paco thought about how hard it was to sneak out and how far they had walked and how tired he would be when he got back. “I won't—”

Coco's eyes flashed. “Paco! Do you think dreams come true just by giving one try and giving up?”

“I guess not.”

“Then how many times should you try?”

Paco frowned. “I'm not sure.”

“Neither am I, but I think you need to keep trying until you decide that maybe that dream isn't going to come true.”

Paco listened very carefully and considered what Coco had said before he spoke. “If it's not going to come true, what do you do then, Coco?”

“You find a new dream, Paco. Maybe an even better dream. And you go after it.”

The two friends walked uphill on the white road for another quarter of a mile. The way became steeper. Paco puffed a little harder. The fields disappeared too. Instead of the open meadows, bushes now closed in from both sides. Trailing vines snaked into the road and tangled around the dogs' paws as they walked.

Paco didn't like them. They weren't friendly vines at all.

Then the white road led under an avenue of trees, whose arched branches created a black tunnel.

Paco stopped. “I can't see where the road is going, Coco.”

“Me neither.” Coco stopped too. She put her backpack on the ground. “Let's take a break. I could use a drink. Are you thirsty?”

Paco's mouth felt dry as sandpaper; his pink tongue hung out. “I am!”

Coco removed one of the water bottles from her pack. She pulled the top off with her teeth and tipped it so Paco could lap at the water dribbling out. Then he held it for her.

“I'm hungry. Let's split a hot dog,” Coco suggested.

“Okay!” Paco felt hungry too.

Coco opened the pack. She gave half a frankfurter to Paco and gulped down the other half herself. With a little food in her stomach, she felt much better. She stood up and put on her backpack. “You'd better switch on my headlamp, Paco. We need to go.”

Paco hopped over, stood up with his feet on Coco's shoulder, and managed to turn on the light. Coco swung its yellow beam toward the darkness under the trees. The white road lit up.

“The road doesn't look too bad with the light on.” Coco smiled encouragingly.

“No, it doesn't,” Paco agreed, but secretly he thought it looked a little scary.

Very soon, Coco thought the same thing.

The dogs had gone just a short way into the gloomy tunnel when they spotted the dark shapes of broken-down cars and old refrigerators lying in jumbled heaps between the trees. Coco's headlamp also lit up broken baby carriages, heaps of worn-out tires, piles of weathered boards with nails poking through, and stacks of shattered windows, their panes knocked out. Wickedly sharp glass shards littered the ground.

They had entered a place of broken things.

“I think we're in a junkyard,” Coco said.

“It smells pretty bad too.” Paco's nose twitched as he took a deep breath.

Coco slowed her pace. Her voice became a whisper. “What does it smell like, Paco? Not garbage.”

Paco began to shake. A terrible suspicion poked him like a stone in his paw. “No, it's not garbage.”

Coco sniffed loudly. “It's definitely something else. It smells stinky and terrible.”

Paco took a long deep inhale. “It smells—” He inhaled again. “
Ay, ay ay!
It smells like hate and fear. And, and—” his voice began to tremble, “it smells
alive
.”

Coco whispered. “Turn off my headlamp, Paco. Be quick now.”

Paco rushed over, hopped up, and flipped the switch.

The light went out. The dark closed in swiftly. The two dogs standing side by side could barely see each other.

“Shhhh. Listen,” Coco said.

Paco listened. He heard something moving. He heard footsteps. He heard the junk on the ground go clunk under something's feet. He heard snorts, not like any human made, but not like any animal either. He heard a low, deep growling. He heard whatever was making all the noises coming, slowly, surely, step by step, closer and closer.

Paco quivered from his head to his tail. He wanted to run. “Let's get out of here,” he urged.

“Paco, go. Go now,” Coco said. But she didn't turn to leave. Instead, she took off her backpack.

“What about you?” He would not go without her. That he would not do.

“I'll use the hot dogs to try to slow up the—the
thing
that's coming. I'll toss them on the ground. Maybe it will eat them.”
And
not
eat
us,
she added under her breath.

“I'll wait for you,” Paco insisted.

As Coco frantically tore open the frankfurter pack, she talked to her friend in a fierce whisper. “I can run much faster than you. You need to go first. Run, Paco! Run now!”

And Paco ran.

Without light to guide him, Paco hurtled downhill through a dark so inky and absolute that only the feeling of the crushed stones beneath his feet helped him stay on the road. A few times he strayed into the dirt or grass. He instantly corrected himself to get back on course. But every time that happened, fear nearly took away his senses. If he accidentally ran into the junkyard, he would be lost for good in that terrible place of danger and broken things.

Finally Paco rushed out from under the trees and into the moonlight. With the white road now brightly lit, he started to scoot down the hillside. Then he stopped. His whole body trembled. His little legs shook. But he straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. He reached deep inside himself to find courage. He turned and looked back. He needed to know if Coco was coming. What if she had run off the road and was lost?

Nothing moved on the road behind Paco. Coco wasn't there. Paco didn't hesitate. No matter how scared he was of the creature that might be the werewolf, no matter how terrified he was of being eaten, he started to run back uphill toward the darkness to find his friend.

At that very moment, Coco burst into the moonlight from the darkness under the trees.

“Run!” she shouted at Paco. “Run! He's coming!”

Paco had never felt a deeper joy than he felt the moment he saw Coco burst free from the unlit and evil place. With a lighter heart, he turned around and dashed along the white road toward the highway.

Soon Coco caught up with him. Together they ran, tongues hanging out, breath coming hard, feet churning as fast as they could move them.

From behind them came a terrible howling. The awful sound chilled Paco's blood. It made him quiver from his head to his tail, even while he hurtled headlong down the foothills of Mount Diablo.

Coco stayed by his side. The comfort of her next to him made him feel better. He didn't feel so afraid as long as she was there.

After a little while, the howling stopped. The night became still. The two dogs slowed down and their ears perked up.

Paco swiveled his head one way, then the other way. He concentrated hard. He heard nothing, no footsteps, no growling, no snorts.

“Maybe he turned back,” Coco whispered.