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Hero: Rescue Mission
Hero: Rescue Mission
Hero: Rescue Mission
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Hero: Rescue Mission

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The adventure continues in the third installment of the #1 New York Times bestselling Hero series by Jennifer Li Shotz.

Ben and Hero, the incredible search-and-rescue dog, have saved the day before—but never like this. Ben’s town is in trouble when two convicts escape from a nearby prison. His dad, a police officer, sets off to find the men and bring them to justice, but then Ben’s dad disappears and the trail goes cold.

Ben knows that it’s up to him and Hero to solve the case. As they embark on their most dangerous mission yet, the two best friends must stock up on their bravery and courage in order to outwit the fugitives and bring Ben’s dad home. Are the two heroes up to the challenge?

Get ready for another canine adventure full of danger, loyalty, and the unbreakable bond between a boy and his best friend.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 31, 2017
ISBN9780062560483
Hero: Rescue Mission
Author

Jennifer Li Shotz

Jennifer Li Shotz is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller Max: Best Friend. Hero. Marine., about the coolest war dog ever. Among other things, Jen has written about sugar addiction, stinky shoes, and sports-related concussions. A Los Angeles native, she graduated from Vassar and has an MFA in nonfiction from Columbia. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, where she is campaigning hard to get a rescued pup. For the occasional tweet, follow her @jenshotz.

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    Book preview

    Hero - Jennifer Li Shotz

    9780062560483_Cover.jpg

    DEDICATION

    For our sweet pup, Vida, and for all the beautiful

    rescue dogs out there waiting for a home.

    Your family is coming!

    CONTENTS

    Dedication

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Acknowledgments

    Back Ad

    About the Author

    Credits

    Copyright

    About the Publisher

    1

    HERO PACED BACK AND FORTH IN the stands. His tail was up at attention, and his eyes were locked on Ben.

    Ben stole a look at his dog from the infield and shook his head in astonishment. He could swear that somehow the black Labrador seemed to understand that this game really mattered—and that Ben’s team was losing.

    It was the game leading up to the playoffs—the most important game of the season so far—and Ben’s team, the Tigers, was down by three runs. It was now the top of the ninth inning, and the other team was up.

    Ben was nervous. If they lost this game, their season was over.

    The tension was thick at the baseball field. Hundreds of parents and brothers and sisters filled the bleachers and shivered in the light fall breeze, anxious looks on their faces. The crowd waited for the next batter to step up to the plate. It felt like everyone was collectively holding their breath.

    From his position at shortstop, Ben surveyed the diamond, squinting into the setting afternoon sun. The other team had two guys on base, but they also already had two outs. They just needed to get the next batter out fast so Ben’s team could get up to bat.

    Then, if Ben’s team could score, maybe they could tie up the game and go into extra innings.

    But that was a big if.

    Ben looked into the stands. His mom stood with her hand shading her eyes, scanning the other team’s dugout—probably sizing up the other players. She looked like she wanted to march right in there and tell them off. Ben’s little sister, Erin, stood next to their mom, her face scrunched up in frustration. She wanted Ben’s team to win pretty badly.

    Ben’s dad was the assistant coach. He stood by their dugout, calm and still, his lips pressed together in a half smile. A couple of feet away, Scout, the mutt puppy, sat patiently, watching Ben’s dad’s every move with big, observant eyes.

    Scout was Ben’s dad’s shadow these days. Where one went, the other followed. Training Scout was a round-the-clock activity that they both lived and breathed.

    Ben’s dad—Sergeant Dave Landry of the Gulfport, Mississippi, police force—was training Scout for K-9 duty. One day, Scout was going to be a rescue dog just like Hero, and Ben couldn’t have been prouder.

    Hero and Ben had found Scout when he was a tiny puppy who had escaped from a dogfighting ring. Ben’s friend Jack had raised Scout. Then everyone realized that Scout had the potential to be an amazing search-and-rescue dog—just like Hero. Scout just needed some training, and Sergeant Landry was the man for the job.

    Jack had been sad to give up Scout, but he also wanted Scout to be happy—and Scout was happiest when he was working.

    Ben’s dad gave Scout the signal to lie down, and the pup put his head between his paws, wagging his spotted tail. His big, pointed ears perked up, ready for his next command.

    Ben shook out his arms and hopped up and down on his toes a few times. He looked at his best friend, Noah Mazer, who stood on the pitcher’s mound. Noah turned and nodded at him. Then Ben looked over to his left at Jack, who played first base. Jack tipped the brim of his cap toward Ben in salute.

    Ben turned to see who was coming up to bat and groaned. The kid had to be close to six feet tall, and he was sturdy, with muscular arms and a thick neck. He smirked, like he knew he was bumming out his opponents just by showing up.

    Noah calmly wound up for the pitch. Things started to move in slow motion. The ball left Noah’s hand and sailed in a smooth line toward the batter. The batter’s expression shifted from cocky to confused as the ball arced slightly upward and then—almost invisibly—changed its path.

    The big guy at home plate screwed up his face, flexed his muscles, and swung hard. Ben waited for the crack of bat and ball. He bent his knees, poised to jump and run the second he spotted the ball coming his way . . . but nothing happened.

    The batter’s swing propelled him in a full circle. He spun around awkwardly.

    Strike one! cried the umpire.

    Ben held his breath. Noah threw two more curveballs, and the umpire called two more strikes.

    The batter stood at home plate for a second, failing to understand how he had missed the third curveball. But he had—and Ben’s team was up.

    Woooohoo! Jack howled as he ran toward Noah.

    Noah! Ben screamed as he jumped on his friend. That was insane!

    Ben, Noah, and Jack jogged to the dugout. The rest of their team pounced on Noah, cheering and calling his name.

    MAZER, MAZER! They punched Noah on the shoulder and rubbed his hair to congratulate him.

    Noah grinned but tried to wave away his unruly teammates. Come on, guys—we still have to score! We’re still, you know, losing and all.

    Noah’s right, team, Ben’s dad said. Let’s focus.

    The team quieted down. They gathered around him in a half circle.

    Coach Lee hunched in the corner, studying his clipboard and furiously scratching at a piece of paper with a pencil before the next inning.

    Noah, that was some great pitching, Ben’s dad said. You dug deep and it worked.

    Ben gave Noah a high five.

    You guys just got a break—let’s take advantage of it, Ben’s dad went on.

    We’re still three runs down, said a kid in the back.

    You’re down, Ben’s dad said matter-of-factly, that’s true. But you wouldn’t be the first team to come up from behind and win the game. So let’s get out there and show ’em what we can do, okay?

    Okay, the boys responded.

    Come on, Ben’s dad said, clapping loudly. You can do better than that. Let me hear you.

    Okay! the boys shouted, grins breaking out on their faces. They started to get pumped up again, chattering and cheering loudly.

    Ben’s dad leaned in to Ben. You know what you have to do, right, kid?

    I do, Ben said. Breathe. Focus. Stay in the moment.

    That’s right.

    His dad clapped him on the shoulder, and Ben stood a little taller in his uniform. He had been batting fourth the whole game, but batting fourth in the ninth inning was a lot of responsibility. If the three batters ahead of him got on base, Ben could be the person to win the game.

    Okay, team, Coach Lee called from across the dugout. He walked over. Jack, Noah, Marwan, you guys are up first. Coach Lee added, Ben, I’m counting on you to bring it home.

    Ben nodded even as his stomach churned with nerves.

    You got this, Ben, his dad reassured him. It’s just you and the pitch, okay? Keep your eye on the ball and breathe.

    Okay. Ben took a slow, deep breath. Thanks, Dad. He exhaled.

    Ben was up.

    He couldn’t believe it: Jack, Noah, and Marwan had all gotten on base. The only hitch had come when a foul ball had barreled toward Noah and hit him in the arm—hard. Noah had yelped in pain, and Coach Lee had called a time-out and jogged over.

    Noah and the coach had conferred for a moment, and from his spot in the dugout, Ben saw Noah shake his head. He was trying to convince the coach he was fine, but Ben could tell even from across the diamond that his friend was in a ton of pain.

    With a grim look on his face, Coach Lee had trotted back toward the dugout and the game had resumed.

    Now the families in the bleachers were going wild with excitement—hooting and hollering like they were at the World Series.

    Ben’s heart pounded hard in his chest. His palms were sweaty as he gripped the bat and stepped toward home plate. The roaring of the crowd faded into the background, and all he heard were the sounds of his own breathing, his mom shouting GO, BEN! and Hero barking excitedly.

    It’s just you and the pitch, he heard his dad’s voice in his head say. Breathe.

    Ben eyed the pitcher carefully, taking in his posture, his expression, and his fingers curled around the ball. The pitcher wound up, drew his arm back, and twisted his body around. The ball flew out of his hand, and Ben watched it move toward him.

    He swung as hard as he could. He felt the power in his arms and wrists, and he focused on the follow-through, like his dad always reminded him. He felt the connection between bat and ball before he heard it—a vibration that shot up his arm and into his shoulders. He watched in amazement as the ball sailed up, up, up, and out. All the outfielders

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