Legend of the Ghost Dog (10 page)

“Sorry,” I said, slowing down.

“Let's just keep it to a slow sprint,” she said. “We're making good time.”

I adjusted my pack slightly, and shivered when the sun went behind a cloud. The temperature was well below freezing, and without the sun it felt even colder.

“Oh no,” Quin exclaimed. “I just remembered what we forgot.”

“Oh well,” I said.

“Seriously. We forgot to check the weather report,” she said. “That was really important. Maybe we should —”

“We're practically there,” I said. “It's sunny out. It's not going to snow in the next hour.”

“It's actually not sunny anymore,” Quin said. “And no offense, but I've lived in Nome for three years. I think I know more about the weather here than you do.”

“Fine,” I said, coming to a sudden stop, causing Henry to spin back around as his leash went taut. “Go back, then. Listen to the stupid weather forecast. I don't care. I'm going to find Shadow.”

Quin grabbed my arm.

“Will you just stop it?” she cried.

“Stop what?”

“Every time I ask a question, you get all — ‘fine, I'll go myself!' I'm on your side. I'm with you. I'm not going to flounce back to the cabin or something. Don't bite my head off just because I'm pointing out that we forgot to do something important.”

I started to say I wasn't biting anyone's head off, but my voice didn't come out right. I felt tears coming into my eyes. Quin squeezed my elbow again.

“I'm on your side,” she repeated. “Don't worry about Jack — he'll be fine, and we'll make it up to him this afternoon, just like you said.”

As soon as the words were out of Quin's mouth, I realized this it wasn't only anger at my father that was making me feel so terrible. It was guilt, for leaving Jack by himself. I wondered how Quin could know something about me before I even knew it myself.

“I know you're on my side,” I said, looking at her. “I know you're my friend. I'm yours too.”

Quin's face, already flushed from the cold, reddened a little more. She smiled at me.

“Okay, then. Let's go,” she said. “That's the place where the trail branches off, right there, isn't it?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “Wow, we did make good time. Do you remember exactly where the cabin is from here?”

“Yep,” Quin said, pointing, then heading toward a clump of bushes and low trees. “Through here.”

I was glad Quin remembered, because all the clumps out here looked exactly the same to me. I pushed through the branches, keeping Henry's leash tight, getting caught up a couple of times when my pack snagged on something. It was a little easier this time since we'd blazed a path of sorts when we forced our way through the last time. Quin seemed to wiggle right through like an eel.

“Quin, wait,” I called. I knew she was just ahead of me, but having her out of my sight made me feel panicked. There was just one place where the bushes were especially thick and I was having trouble getting through with Henry. I picked him up in my arms, then put my head down and shoved my way forward, hoping I wasn't ripping my pack or my fleece in the process. Moments later I was free, standing in the clearing, just behind Quin. There was the cabin, looking gloomier and more decrepit than I remembered it. With the sun still behind clouds, everything looked eerily dark. I
gently put Henry back on the ground. He took one look at the cabin and tried to back through the bushes the way we came. I pulled him to my side.

“I don't think Shadow's here,” Quin said.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But I don't feel what I felt last time.”

Quin walked to the door of the cabin, then disappeared inside. Remembering the uncomfortable damp and ruined feeling of the remains of the cabin's interior, I decided to stay where I was. A moment later, Quin came back out.

“I really don't think he's here,” she said again. “I don't see anything, don't feel anything.”

“So we wait?” I asked.

It had seemed like such a good idea yesterday. Now I wasn't so sure. I wasn't feeling any less guilty about leaving Jack behind, and my toes were already numb with the cold. But we'd come all this way.

“We could sit over there,” Quin said, pointing. “See that rock? It's close enough to those little trees that we won't be right out in the open.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

We walked over to the rock, took off our packs, and sat down together, our shoulders touching. I looped Henry's leash around my foot and cinched it, but he'd be okay. As
long as I was sitting, he'd stay sitting too, or he'd lie down and go to sleep. I unzipped my pack and pulled out the camera, checking the battery and making sure it was all set to go. Then we sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, though it was likely not more than ten or fifteen minutes. My feet and fingers ached with cold, and my face felt numb. I was hungry, but the thought of taking off my gloves to open the protein bars was unbearable. The light kept fading. More than ever I wanted to see Shadow again. I wanted to photograph him, but even more, I wanted him to see me. I wanted to connect with him like Quin did, so that he'd know people cared what happened to him. What
had
happened to him.

But I knew I couldn't stand the cold much longer.

I was about to say something to Quin when I heard a sound. She turned toward me, her eyebrows raised. She had heard it too. Henry's head came up too, his ears pricked, his nose twitching, and his tail slightly wagging. We listened intently, and the sound came again, and another.

Something was moving through the bushes. Coming toward us.

Another twig snapped. I fumbled for my camera, then took off my gloves so I could work it better. I trained the lens toward the bushes where the noise was coming from.
Henry did not move at all, just kept his eyes on the bush, his tail still wagging a little. There was more rustling, then the branches of the bush itself were parting. I tried to steady my shaking hands as I looked through the viewfinder and pressed the button. The image froze on the view screen, and I'd captured the moment perfectly, a face emerging from the bushes. But it wasn't a dog.

It was the face of my brother, Jack.

My screams not to shoot fell on deaf ears. Neither Daddy nor Caspian seemed to hear them. So I lunged forward, pushing my father as hard as I could. He lost his balance, and the shot he fired off went over Caspian's head.

Even then, Caspian remained standing there, so rigidly, with such urgency, needing us to know something.

But Daddy didn't mean to let Caspian live another moment. Like me, he knew in his heart that Silla was already gone. No child with weak lungs could survive three days and three nights in that storm with no food or water, not even with Caspian to protect her. Something in my father's mind had already snapped, and from the wild look in his eyes I knew he believed Caspian had killed Silla. Now he was going to kill Caspian.

I could not let that happen. I took hold of the barrel of the shotgun with both fists, angling it hard down
toward the ground, and I shouted at Caspian to run. He took a single step forward and his eyes locked with mine. I felt his sorrow over the shock of the second gunshot. While I was still struggling with my father, Caspian turned and ran back the way he'd come. By the time my father was able to push me into the snow and raise the shotgun once more, Caspian was gone. No one would ever see him again.

They never found Silla. When the snow finally melted and summer came, maybe twenty-five people combed the woods looking for her, searched every inch of ground surrounding the pool in Dorothy Creek. But not a trace of her turned up. My father told everyone that Caspian had killed her, that he was a dangerous dog and anyone seeing him should shoot him on sight. There was no reasoning with Daddy. I believe by this time his mind was dangerously unstable. It took only one more thing to break it entirely.

Three weeks after Silla disappeared, a telegraph arrived informing us that Jim had been killed in Vietnam. My mother took to her bed, and my father was simply ruined. He began selling off the dogs, letting the buildings fall into disrepair. My youngest brother's tour had not yet begun and Clyde had received his assignment from the
army to serve stateside. Between the two of them, my brothers finally convinced my parents to move into town.

I didn't want to leave this place where I had lived all my life — where Silla and I had played with countless puppies, where there was space and quiet enough to read the wind — where I could watch the northern lights dance in the sky. Where somewhere, my beloved Silla had died and Caspian as good as gone. I was almost eighteen now, old enough to live on my own. I wanted to move my belongings to Vernon's old place, which stood empty. My father agreed, for he did not want me in town with him. Daddy blamed me for Silla's death — blamed me for letting her go into the woods with Caspian. I know he did, because he told me so.
You killed her,
he said.
You and that dog.
And for my part, I was still looking for Caspian every day, hoping to find him before some friend of my father's with a shotgun did.

So I moved into Vernon's little cottage. Each day, though it was scarcely noticeable, the woods and brush grew a little closer toward my home. I went out every day, looking for Caspian. Calling for him. For the first few months I thought I caught sight of him every now and then, a long way off. I'd find a paw print, or a tuft of his fur on the ground. Many nights I felt he was watching me
in the cottage. I'd open the door and call his name, but he wouldn't come forward from the shadows. Still, I knew he was out there, watching over me. He was silent but the force of his presence was unmistakable, as real and miraculous as the northern lights themselves.

I never saw Caspian again. After a year or so, I stopped believing I was catching glimpses of him. That second year, I no longer sensed him outside at night. I was truly alone. I suppose I could have packed up and moved into town then, found a little place. But I'd been out on my own so long, I wasn't sure I knew how to live among people anymore. At least here, even as the woods crept steadily toward my front door, I had Caspian and Silla. I was as close to either of them as I was ever going to get, ever again.

“I told you to stay home!” I shouted, as Henry got to his feet and wagged his tail wildly in welcome. Of course — he was a scent hound. He'd known all along it was Jack coming through the brush.

“You can't tell me what to do!” Jack yelled back. “Only Dad and Mom can!”

My mouth dropped open. All the guilt I had been feeling about leaving him behind instantly evaporated.

“Are you serious? Who watches you all day? Who helps you with your homework? Who makes sure you brush your teeth? Who plays your stupid DS games with you? I do! Me! I do all of it by myself, so guess what — I
do
get to tell you what to do!”

“My games aren't stupid!” Jack shot back.

“You are
not
supposed to be here,” I cried. “This is the
one
thing I wanted to do alone with my friend, and you're ruining it!”

“Both of you cut it out,” Quin said sharply. “Shadow is never going to come back while you guys are standing here hollering at each other.”

“Quin's right,” I said. “Jack, go home.”

“No,” he said, folding his arms and staring at me defiantly. “You can't make me.”

It was true. Short of carrying him back, I couldn't force Jack to go anywhere.

“Fine,” I said. “Do whatever you want. I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, you're not here, Jack. As far as I'm concerned, you do not exist.”

Jack flinched as if he'd been hit, and I instantly regretted my words. But before I could take it back, Quin grabbed my arm.

“Tee — it's snowing.”

Jack and I looked up at the same time. Sure enough, fat snowflakes were falling from the sky.

“Snow!” Jack exclaimed. “Awesome!”

“Not awesome,” Quin said firmly. “We need to head home right now.”

“It's just a couple flakes,” I said.

“Listen to me,” Quin said, “because I'm being dead serious. We need to go
this instant
.”

All of the determination I'd felt to find Shadow again suddenly left me. Between my father forgetting his promise, Jack showing up, and the reality of sitting in the woods in below-freezing temperatures, I just couldn't do it anymore.

“All right,” I said. “Let's go, then.”

“I don't want to go — I want to see the dog!” Jack argued.

Really, my little brother might be the most irritating person on the planet. What an idiot he was to follow us — he wasn't even wearing his stupid hat!

“Stay here, then, I don't care,” I snapped. I shoved my camera in my pack, zipped it up, and slung it over one shoulder. Without waiting for Quin, I scooped Henry up in my arms and pushed back through the cluster of bushes. So many of the branches had now been broken off, I got through much faster and soon was on the other side. I set Henry down and we started up the hill, and after a moment I heard Quin's and Jack's voices, so I knew they were close behind me. I was working up to my angry quick pace again when I reached the top of the hill. What I saw brought me to a sudden stop.

In the direction of home, the sky was a deep, greenish black. What moments ago had been just a few flakes was now a swirling cloud, as if we were in a giant snow globe. My face was hit with a gust of wind so strong it forced me off balance several steps. Henry's ears blew straight back, like he was at a fashion shoot standing in front of one of those enormous fan things. Quin was suddenly at my elbow. When I turned to look at her, I could see her expression was grim.

“Is this bad?” I asked her.

“It's not good,” she said.

“That's so cool,” Jack exclaimed, pointing at the sky.

“So we'll walk really fast,” I suggested.

Quin shook her head.

“We can't take the chance. It's a half hour back to your place, minimum. That storm is coming fast.”

It didn't look like it was coming all that fast to me. But I wasn't going to argue with Quin. If she was worried, that was all I needed to know.

“What should we do?”

“We need to take shelter,” she said. “And there's no place nearby except for that old cabin.”

“But half the roof is gone,” I said. “It's not exactly shelter.”

“It's better than sitting out in the open,” Quin said.

We were hit with another gust of wind, but this time it did not fall away. The snow was falling more heavily now, and it blew sideways into our faces. For a moment, I couldn't distinguish between the trail and the sky — everything was painted over by a sheet of white.

Quin turned to double back through the brush, and I followed her, one hand firmly placed on Jack's back. Henry didn't need to be carried now — we'd forced a good path through. Jack grumbled loudly as I pushed him along, but that only made me push harder. His hair was already drenched.

“Whoa, we're going in there? Is that where the ghost dog is? Does the witch live there too? That place is wicked awesome!”

I kept my eyes on Quin's back, purposely not looking at the bleak cabin, and its doorway darkly standing open.

We'd just hang out there for a bit, long enough for the storm to pass over, and then we'd head home. At least, that's what I told myself as we walked into the dim interior.

“This corner still has roof over it, and our backs will be to the wind,” Quin said, pointing.

“Yeah, okay,” I agreed.

Quin pulled a nylon poncho from her pack and spread it out. It didn't seem to do much good — the old wooden floor was freezing.

“What happened to this place?” Jack asked, crossing to the pile of rubble where the roof had collapsed. “Did the people die? This is like the episode of
Galaxy Outlaws
when they got trapped in a cave and the land squids were hunting them only they didn't know it!”

“No land squids out here, kiddo,” Quin assured him.

I could feel Jack looking at me, but I pretended I didn't notice.

“There's always something waiting to hunt you on
Galaxy Outlaws
. Even in the snowy places. Maybe it's the Abdominal Snowman!”

Quin laughed.

“That's
Abominable
Snowman, genius,” she said. “And we don't have those in Alaska. We do have Sasquatch, though. He's the one that looks kind of like Chewbacca.”

“Does he eat people?” Jack asked, racing to the front of the cabin to look out the ruined window.

“Only boys,” Quin said. Then she laughed again as Jack turned around and gave her an alarmed look. “Look at your face! Relax, I'm kidding!”

“There's a little pile of rocks over there,” Jack said. “Maybe somebody left them for a secret message.”

I could feel Jack's eyes on me again. I pretended to be focusing on arranging my pack as a pillow. Jack dashed
over to the pile of rocks, reached in, and picked something up.

“Tee, look,” Jack said. “Tee. Tee!”

I knew I was being childish and petty, but I couldn't seem to help myself. The more Jack tried to get my attention, the more I deliberately ignored him.

“Look at this — it's a golden button! It looks really old — is it from a treasure? Tee! Look at it!”

Something whizzed through the air and whacked my leg. Henry, curled up next to me, looked around wildly, hoping Jack had tossed a dog biscuit.

“Ow! Jack, that hurt! God, what did I do to deserve you?”

“I didn't mean for it to hit you,” Jack muttered. I picked up the little gold thing Jack had thrown and almost whipped it back at him, but I stopped myself.

“You never mean it, what difference does it make?” I yelled. “It could have hit me in the face — but did you think of that? No! You always ruin everything! You do nothing but ruin my whole life!”

“Tee, geez, lighten up,” Quin snapped. “Jack, come on. She didn't mean it.”

Jack's face was scrunched up, his lips working uselessly to say something. I knew he was trying his hardest not to cry. Great — not content with feeling miserable
myself, I'd now succeeded in making my little brother feel lousy too.

“Jack, I didn't mean that.
Jack
.”

Now he was the one ignoring me. I slipped the button into my pocket and got up, leaving Henry where he lay, and walked over to Jack. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

“I did not mean that.”

“Nuh-uh. No backsies, no keepsies,” he said grimly, but his posture had relaxed somewhat.

“Sorry, that doesn't work on me,” I told him. “Listen, I was really mad at Dad for forgetting something he promised me, and I was taking it out on you. It is
not
your fault and you didn't do anything wrong. And I actually really like that DS game with the hedgehog.”

“Sonic?” Jack asked, rubbing at his eyes with two balled-up fists.

“That one, yeah,” I said.

“You're so terrible at it,” he told me. “Quin, she can't even remember the difference between the A button and the B button.”

I laughed.

“It's true,” I admitted. “I need you to help me.”

“Maybe I could help you when we get home,” Jack offered.

“That'd be great,” I said. Jack looked happier now, but I also noticed he was shivering. Streaks of frost covered his hair where the snow had melted on it. I put an arm around him to try to warm him up, but I was shivering too. Snow was blowing into the cabin, and the wind was rattling the loose boards of the wall behind us.

“Um, Quin … so when do you think that might be?” I asked. “You know, that we can head for home?”

Quin got up and walked a little stiffly to the door. Keeping one hand on the doorjamb, she leaned outside and looked around.

“Looks like it's turning into a real storm,” she said. She dropped her voice even lower. “A blizzard, even.”

“But it's April!” I said.

“And we're less than two hundred miles from Siberia. Your New York weather rules just don't apply here.”

“No, I know that,” I said. “It's just, it's getting even colder, and …”

I gestured toward Jack, who had sat down on the poncho, shaking with cold, one arm around Henry.

“I know,” Quin said. “But ask anyone who lives here, and they'll tell you the same thing. If it's snowing hard, dig in and stay put. When it's blowing like this you can't tell the ground from the sky, and that's when you're likely to wander
off in the wrong direction and get lost. And that is the last thing you want to happen.”

Jack had started to sing, which is something he did sometimes at night when he woke up after a nightmare. I sat down and slid closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

For a while, Quin and I joined my little brother in singing, making our voices sound ridiculously high or flat or loud on purpose, to show Jack how totally cheerful we were, how funny the whole situation really was.

But we weren't cheerful, and it wasn't funny. We all sat close together, Quin and I on the outside, and Jack and Henry on the inside. Quin stopped singing first, then me. Finally Jack stopped too. The wind was now howling outside. I would have needed to shout to be heard. My hands, feet, and face were totally numb. Scarier than that was the deep sense of exhaustion I felt. I just wanted to go to sleep. And I didn't need Quin to tell me that if you fell asleep in the middle of a blizzard, you might well never wake up again.

Still, I was so tired. I felt as if hours had passed. How long could we do this? Even if my father made it back home and discovered us missing — even if he could figure out the
direction we'd gone — there was no way he could come after us while the storm was going on. We were certainly stuck for the night. I had never been so cold in my life — how was I going to feel in eight hours when the sun was down and the temperatures dropped below zero?

Do not think about that
, I told myself. I needed to just focus on getting through one minute. Then another. Then another.
Do it for Jack.

Twice I caught myself nodding off and forced myself to wake up. Sleeping meant freezing to death. But it got to the point that it was hard to tell if I was sleeping or not. Everything took on a dreamlike quality. At one point Jack did seem to nod off, and when I woke him he was crying.

“Don't cry, Jackster,” I said to him.

“I saw the witch,” he whimpered. “She was outside in the snow. She was going to take us!”

“There's no witch, buddy,” I told him.

“I'm hungry,” he murmured.

There was nothing I could say to that. We were all hungry. Something about the bitter cold made an empty stomach feel much, much worse. It was going to be the longest night of our lives. It was just going to get harder and harder as each hour passed.

My face was so cold it was hard to form the words — I couldn't get my lips to move. Jack leaned his frozen-haired little head on my shoulder, and I felt tears spring into my eyes. This was my fault. If Quin and I hadn't snuck out, Jack would never have felt the need to follow us. He wouldn't be in a blizzard without a hat on. The tears on my eyelashes froze, and I had to rub my eyelids to keep them from sticking together.

Maybe it would be okay if I just closed my eyes for five seconds. I would be very disciplined about it — I would count, and make sure I opened my eyes before I got to the number six. This trick seemed to work a few times, but ultimately it just made me feel number and sleepier. My eyeballs themselves hurt, and I was having trouble seeing clearly.

When a shape seemed to darken the swirl of snow that the doorway framed, I thought I'd fallen asleep again and was dreaming. I closed my eyes tightly, with the reasoning that maybe I could wake myself up by opening them in the dream.

And it couldn't have worked, because when I did open my eyes, I saw a shape standing over me. A pair of pale blue, intelligent eyes was staring into mine. I knew those eyes. I
knew that face. And what I saw meant I was probably dead. It was Shadow.