Page 10 of Summer Storm
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, let’s go. We set off at a steady pace. Roughly a half a mile up the main trail we reach the small clearing where the trail splits off into three more, although one of them looks little used as underbrush and new grown seem to be taking it over. The group of teenagers keep pace with us. They have no supplies with them and I’m reluctant to let them follow us much further.
Despite the urgency of two missing boys, the aroma of pine and earth is soothing to my senses. I let Rudy off his lead and open the vinyl bag I’ve been carrying.
“Rudy, scent.” Rudy sticks his muzzle into the bag of clothing and begins sniffing. This part always makes me smile. I call it the vacuum he makes so much nose sniffing up all that information.
“What’s that going to do?” One of the teens asks.
“Dogs have about three hundred million olfactory receptors in their noses. Part of Rudy’s brain is devoted to analyzing smells. He’s gathering information through his nose that’s at least forty times greater than any human ever could and he loves doing it. It’s like a puzzle for him. He’ll lock onto the scent he’s been commanded to find and then he’ll follow it.”
We watch as he pulls his head out of the bag and then begins casting around the area. As he nears the group, one of the boys reaches out to pet him.
“Hey, man. Stop. Read the vest, he’s working,” Aaron orders before I can.
“Whatever,” the kid argues. “Looks like your dog is defective. He’s going in the wrong eff’ing direction.”
“Let’s go man, this is stupid. One old dog ain’t gonna find shit.” Another announces, sullenly. The others grumble their assent, turning back toward the campground. I disagree but I keep my mouth closed.
Aaron and I watch the boys disappear down the trail. “What do you think?”
“I think Rudy has been all over the world and found people buried beneath the rubble of earthquakes and stuck in mudslides caused by monsoons. I trust his instincts and nose a hell of a lot more than those teenage turds; he hasn’t let me down yet.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. Get the lead out pretty lady.” He points to a lesser-used path where Rudy is waiting for his next command. It doesn’t escape my notice that the trail the Rudy has chosen, isn’t heading in the one they pointed everyone else to.
Catching up with my dog, I hold the vinyl bag out to him again and give him the go ahead.
“Rudy, search.”
Chapter 9
Summer Storm
Aaron
Ducking beneath a branch, there isn’t much to see as we set off into the woods perpendicular to the main trail. It isn’t until we’re about fifty yards into the forest that Brielle and I see the remains of a trail and a fist size hole in the ground where it looks like a rock has been pried away. It’s curious. Maybe the boys setout on a treasure hunt and instead of turning back, they got lost instead?
After a few yards more we find the rock. The pattern repeats itself a few times the further we go, but then those findings diminish and then disappear altogether. Rudy is undeterred.
I enjoy watching woman and dog work in tandem like a well-oiled machine. I’m surprised their process isn’t like the movies. I guess I pictured a more harried dash through the woods like a pack of hounds baying on the heels of their prey.
Instead their pace is steady but meandering, at least Rudy’s is as he ranges from side-to-side, letting his nose guide him. Sometimes he stops and gleans information from a particular spot but then starts moving again.
Brielle follows ten to fifteen feet behind Rudy, offering praise and recording observations of Rudy’s progress. She also snaps a few pictures too. Every hour or so, she marks our whereabouts with the GPS tracking device each team is equipped with. Five green dots show on the screen. Each time a team marks a location, the device puts a pin on the map, so each search area is recorded. Whichever team finds the boys will turn their light to red and rescue personnel will be dispatched to the location and the other teams will know to stop searching and return to home base.
Me? I’m bringing up the rear of our little expedition, keeping my eyes open for any trouble in the form of wild animals or any other pitfalls that may slow us down. We call out the boy’s namesevery few minutes, I hold my breath and listen, hoping for a response.
The deeper we go, the thicker the forest becomes with the trees getting larger and the rougher and more overgrown the trail Rudy is following becomes as he wends his way along the top side of a gorge that stretches along the terrain. There are drop-offs and sheer cliff faces visible on the other side and I’m thankful the scent Rudy’s following doesn’t lead us over the edge. Any other time I would find the view fantastic. I wonder if the boys are trying to make their way around the gorge to cut back toward the campground.
“Jesus, careful sweetheart.” I’m able to catch Brielle as she snags her foot on a branch broken away from some deadfall. “Let’s stop here and take a break.”
“Good idea. Rudy, heel.” The dog stops and looks back, as if to say, ‘what’s the holdup’, but then with his tongue lolling he comes back to sit at Brielle’s feet. Brielle removes her rucksack and pulls a collapsible bowl and a bottle of water from her pack. After Rudy has a chance to drink, Brielle pulls out a sealed container.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, this is one of Rudy’s snacks. Even though it may not seem like it, he’s expending a lot of energy. It’s freeze-dried pieces of beef and chicken. It smells like the devil’s armpit,” Brielle grins, holding the container out to me. Laughing I take a step back.“but he loves it all the same and it’s chock full of protein. Wanna try it?”
“Yeah, no thanks.” I laugh. “Keep being sassy and I might refuse to share my trail mix with you.”
