It was an ordinary day in the neighborhood, one of those days when everything seems too quiet to suspect that something is coming. The sun shone boldly, the birds chirped as if they were being paid for a well-tuned note, and in a mustard-colored house, a 16-year-old boy named Alex was engaged in his favorite activity: doing absolutely nothing productive.
— Max! Where did you leave the TV remote? — he shouted while rummaging through the cushions of the sofa as if he were digging in an archaeological site.
From the kitchen, his mother responded without even peeking: — Maybe if you cleaned your room once in a while, you wouldn't lose so many things.
But Alex was no longer listening. His mind was more focused on finding Max, his medium-sized dog, with curly hair and a celebrity attitude. Max was part pet, part best friend, and part... well, occasional sock thief.
— Max! Here, puppy! Cookies! — he sang in a melodramatic voice, pulling a dog biscuit from his back pocket.
Nothing. Silence.
A slight tremor took hold of his left eyebrow. Something was off. Max never ignored food.
— It can't be... — Alex jumped to his feet —. MAX?!
The boy began to run through the house as if his life depended on it. He checked the bathroom (just in case), the terrace, under the table, even inside the laundry basket (which smelled as bad as it sounded).
Nothing.
He opened the front door and shouted to the neighborhood: — HAS ANYONE SEEN MAX?! HE'S A SMALL, BROWN DOG, WITH MORE PERSONALITY THAN I DO!
An elderly woman watering her plants looked up and replied: — The one that barks at the ducks in the fountain?! He ran off about twenty minutes ago towards the park!
Alex didn't wait any longer. He dashed down the street, barely tied his shoelaces, and almost knocked over a delivery cyclist.
— "SORRY! DOG IN DANGER!" — he shouted as he passed.
Max wasn't just any dog. He had been his companion since he was nine years old, when he found him in a cardboard box in front of the supermarket with a sign that said "Give me away." Since then, they had shared everything: afternoons of video games, races in the yard, ridiculous secrets like "I'm afraid of balloons," and a non-verbal pact of absolute loyalty.
So losing him was not an option.
He arrived at the park panting, with his heart about to leap out of his mouth. He looked around like a spy in training. Parents with children, grandmothers walking, teenagers on skates... but no sign of Max.
Then he saw it: a tuft of brown fur disappearing behind some bushes near the swings.
— "MAX!" — he ran with all his might.
But when he arrived... there was nothing.
— "Are you kidding me?" — he gasped.
He sat on a bench, frustrated, with his shirt soaked in sweat. Then, he heard a familiar voice.
— "Are you looking for your dog?"
It was Marta, one of his neighbors and classmates. She was wearing a green cap, headphones around her neck, and a smile that seemed to know too much.
— "Yes, he ran away. Have you seen him?"
— "I think so," — she said, thoughtful — "He was running like he was being chased. Or like he was chasing someone. Over there," — she pointed to the east of the park — "I followed him for a while, but he disappeared behind an ice cream truck. Very dramatic."
Alex huffed.
— "Great. Max is starring in an action movie and I don't even have the script."
— "You could use Carlos's invention," — she said casually.
— Carlos? Your cousin? The one who thinks drones will dominate the world?— The same. He just finished building a pet locator. He says it works with GPS, ultrasound, artificial intelligence, and a bit of luck.
Alex looked at her with a mix of hope and skepticism.— Really?— Well, maybe not so much with the AI... but at least it beeps.
And so, Alex and Marta set off towards Carlos's garage, which looked more like a secret base than a functional part of a house. Cables hanging, flickering screens, a fan that only spun when it wanted to... and in the middle of the chaos, a boy with thick glasses and a t-shirt that read "Trust in science (even if it sometimes explodes)."
— Alex! Just the volunteer I needed! — said Carlos upon seeing him.— Volunteer?— Yes, to test prototype number seven of the PetFinder 9000.— What happened to one through six?
Carlos made a vague gesture.— One turned into a toaster, the other ran away... long story.
After several minutes of technical explanations that Alex pretended to understand, they placed a small collar with a transmitter chip on a stuffed figure, threw it into the garden, and activated the receiver.— Beep... beep... biiiiip — emitted the device in the shape of a remote control.— It works — said Carlos with a satisfied smile —. And if Max still has his collar on, we could triangulate his position.— Let's go! — Alex didn't waste any time.
Marta got on her bike, Alex took his skateboard (which he hadn't used in months), and Carlos... well, Carlos got on a motorized skateboard shaped like a turtle.— The important thing is to arrive — he justified.
Thus began the true Great Search.
They roamed streets, alleys, interrogated a suspicious cat (which did not cooperate), jumped over puddles, and almost crashed a wedding by confusing the place with a location on the tracker.
— This marks right here... — Carlos pointed to a corner.
— A pet store? — asked Marta.
— Or a trap — said Alex, dramatically.
They entered and... nothing. Just rabbits, fish, and a cockatoo with an Argentine accent.
— That dog moves more than the prices of bread! — complained Carlos, checking the map.
— Or someone took him... — whispered Marta.
That phrase froze the air. What if it was not just a simple prank by Max? What if... someone else had him?
Alex clenched his fists.
— Then we are not going to stop until we find him.
The Great Search had just begun. And Alex, Marta, and Carlos were about to get into an adventure bigger than they imagined.
Because Max was not just a dog.
He was the beginning of something much stranger.
And dangerous...