The Rescue at Dead Dog Beach by Stephen McGarva Page B

difference is to do something .”
    â€œWill you please come back to the plant and help me get that mother dog and her pups?”
    Clearly she had her own cause. I appreciated her faith in me, but I couldn’t take on another cause. I had to pick my battles.
    â€œIt won’t be easy to do. A scared mother isn’t going to want to be caught. And I don’t know if you noticed, but the security guard wasn’t too receptive when I arrived to pick you up. What makes you think they’re going to let me help some stray dogs?”
    â€œCan we please try?”
    â€œWhat are you planning to do with the mother and the pups if we get them? Have you thought about that?”
    She glanced at my pack nervously. “Can’t we bring them down here?”
    â€œMartha! You realize the locals call this place Dead Dog Beach, don’t you?”
    â€œI know, I know! But they’ll kill her if she stays at the plant.”
    â€œThey’re probably going to kill her if she comes here. I lose dogs every day.”
    â€œDon’t you think they have a better shot with you and your dogs?”
    â€œMartha, my wife and I are already shelling out nearly a grand every month to feed these dogs. We’re stretched pretty thin financially.”
    She smiled and nodded like she was listening to me, but I knew she wasn’t.
    â€œI’d like to get the dogs to a vet,” she said in a singsong voice. I imagine she thought it would somehow sway me.
    â€œEven if we were able to catch these dogs, there’s no vet I know of who will take them. Do you know of someone who will? Maybe I missed one?”
    Nope, nothing. She was full of hope and not much else.
    As much as I was trying to resist Martha, I couldn’t say no. I knew it from the moment I received her e-mail. These were innocent lives, and if I didn’t do something about it, they faced certain death. I took Martha back to the plant to see what I could do.
    Martha went in the gate herself and made her way to a rotting wooden foundation shielded by thick undergrowth where she thought the mother had made her den. She was only forty or fifty feet from where I stood on the outside of the fence. Watching her crawl through thick brush in her orange jumpsuit was a sight to see. She thrust her head into a narrow space between the foundation and the ground, then pulled out and yelled back at me, “I saw her for a second!”
    â€œForget it, Martha. It’s not gonna happen now. You’ve scared her. She’s going to move her pups all the way under the building. She has to want your help or you’ll never get her. She’ll just run, and I don’t want her to abandon her pups.”
    Martha came back out, crying, her hands clenched. “She’s all alone in there.”
    I asked Martha to stay by the truck for a few minutes. I walked over to the guards and asked if there was any way possible that they might let me in for a few minutes to get the dog and her pups. They wouldn’t budge and insisted it was time for me to get in my truck and drive away
    â€œI’m sorry it didn’t turn out better, Martha. Sadly, I deal with this stuff daily, and there’s nothing we can do right now.”
    â€œI feel so helpless, like I failed her,” she said.
    â€œI’ll keep an eye out for her, okay? If she does relocate her pups outside the plant, I’ll do everything in my power to get them to a safer place. It’s the best I can do for now. The guards have pretty much tied my hands.” I knew this wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for.
    I left Martha standing at the gate, tears still flowing down her cheeks. As I drove away, I felt bad. Not for Martha, but for the dogs.

CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
    I was driving down the road to the beach one day in the spring when I turned the first corner after the long straightaway to find a car coming straight at me in my lane. The crazed driver had his head out