A third time Bones saved her was when she began heading into the museum along her usual route, climbing the helicopter tail toward the smashed-in corner. Rags was reaching for her solar flashlight when Bones came running up the slanting tail, pushed past her, and stood at the edge of the hole, staring into the shadows. Once more the hairs stood up on his back and he bared his teeth, and once more he did not bark. He didn’t growl this time either. He just stood there.
“What is it, boy?” she asked, kneeling beside him and pulling out her knife.
The dog stared and stared.
And then he began backing away.
“Hey,” Rags said, “we have to go in. All our stuff’s in there.”
Bones stopped and glared at her. Not in a threatening way, but as if he was trying to tell her something.
“You can stay right here, scaredy-pants,” Rags said, “but I need to get our stuff. We have a whole thing of food in there. My backpack’s in there.”
She straightened and took a step toward the hole.
Bones darted forward and blocked her way.
“If you’re that freaked out, then come with me. We’ll be quick,” insisted Rags. “In and out.”
The backpack was hidden beneath an empty display case, and it was crammed with twenty-six cans of food and all the rest of her supplies. All she had with her at the moment was the flashlight, the knife, and the first aid kit. She had to get it.
The dog stood there, blocking the entrance with his massive size.
“Hey, your food’s in there too, Einstein,” she said, trying to push past him.
Bones did something he had never done once before. Not to her.
He bared his teeth.
Nearly two hundred pounds of dog, with fangs that could tear her apart. And all of that—muscle and teeth—right up in her face.
Rags was instantly and completely terrified. She stumbled backward.
Bones held his ground. He did not advance. Did not attack.
He stood there between her and the hole into darkness.
Slowly, slowly his lips settled back and he stopped snarling at her. Rags kept backing away. Not from the hole. From him.
Then Bones wagged his tail.
Two quick switches back and forth.
He cast one lingering look over his shoulder, and then he followed Rags down the tail of the helicopter and onto the cracked asphalt of N Street. When they were both down there, Bones stared up at her and made a soft whining sound. His tail flicked again.
Which was when Rags got it.
This wasn’t about her. It was only about the museum. It was about the dog knowing something she didn’t. Smelling, sensing, guessing. Whatever.
It was about the hard truth that the museum wasn’t their home anymore.
It never would be again.
Whatever was in there, it wanted that place even more than Bones did. That was really scary.
Bones nudged her with his muzzle and kept nuzzling and whining until she broke down and touched him. Just a touch at first, then as he felt her hand on his fur, Bones pushed against her. Rags knelt down very slowly and wrapped her arms around the big dog. He licked her face as if in apology.
“Thanks,” she said.