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“Please! Come on, we need to—”
Harold jumped to his feet and bolted. The leather burned the fresh abrasions on Josh’s hands, and he automatically let go.
In the blink of an eye, Harold disappeared into the trees at the other end of the park. Soon all Josh could hear was the barking fading into the distance.
Fear twisted Josh’s stomach into a giant knot. What if there were kids playing back there? What if Harold attacked them? Or what if he ran away for good?
Josh took off after the dog.
At the edge of the wood he hesitated. Everyone at school knew about the stuff that went on back there—beer parties and drug deals and teenagers fooling around—but the sound of Harold’s barking drove him on. “Harold! Here, boy!”
Spruce needles scratched at his face. Spiderwebs stuck to his skin. Clinging wild raspberry vines grabbed at his jeans.
When he finally broke free of the underbrush, he ran until his ragged breathing tore at his lungs and he had to stop.
Something thrashed through the bushes up ahead. Josh froze with fear. There were black bears out in the more isolated areas, but now and then there were sightings close to town—
Harold burst into sight, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth as if he, too, was tired after such a long run.
“Good boy! Come here, boy—that’s a good dog!”
But his tail wagging furiously, the dog bounded away again, and the sound of him crashing through the brittle weeds and branches made Josh’s heart sink as he started after him again. Stupid dog! Stupid, stupid dog!
Suddenly all sounds stopped except for Harold’s soft whines.
His heart in his throat, Josh slowed and tried to move quietly forward. What if there were really bad people back here—hiding stolen stuff or something? He parted some low maple branches...
...and found Harold sitting next to a fallen tree. Someone was there with him.
Josh stared, his stomach quivering and his knees turning to jelly. “H-here, boy,” he whispered. “Please.”
The dog didn’t move so much as a hair.
Watching the ground for twigs that might snap and leaves that might rustle, Josh took a small step closer, then another, his heart battering against his ribs and his mouth dry as dust.
“C-come on, H-Harold!”
It took another few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the deep shadows. When he got a better look at the guy’s floppy fishing hat loaded with lures, relief flooded through him.
He’d seen that hat in town. Maybe the owner was a little weird, but the guy had always been nice to him.
Grinning now, Josh moved forward and skirted the end of the log. “Hey, there! Sorry about the dog, mister. I hope he didn’t scare you or anything.”
He rounded a tangle of raspberry vines and reached for Harold’s collar. “I’m sorry if Harold bothered y—”
Horror flooded through him as he looked at the guy to apologize.
And then all he could do was scream.
