Road Rovers characters, names, situations, etc. are the property of Warner Bros. (Or is it Cartoon Network as they are now showing it?) Either way they are in not my property and Neither myself nor this writing are connected with WB or Cartoon Network in any way, form, or fashion. This writing is in no way intended to infringe on any copyrights. It is strictly for fan enjoyment. Characters DJ and Keith Stephens are my creations, if any other fan authors would like to use these characters in a story of their own making, please feel free to do so. McDevit's truck stop, and R. Daniels Transportation Services are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places or companies is purely coincidental. Kenworth W-900 and Peterbilt 377 are trademarks of Kenworth and Peterbilt trucks. I am in no way advertising or endorsing these products, these names are used solely as "props" in this work of fiction.


Trial by Fire


It was late on a cold April night. An 18 wheeler made its way along a deserted stretch of highway in the mountains of northern California. The lights on the dash cast an eerie glow on the young features of driver Keith Stephens. A tall, brown haired young man, Keith loved the road, loved driving trucks. He was thoroughly enjoying himself on this trip, being a short haul driver he didn't make a whole lot of night runs. But tonight he was called to take a load of electrical supplies from the railroad yard to a storage facility a couple hundred miles away.

He glanced at the clock on the dash, it read "12:09" He had been on the road about two hours. Keith briefly added the sound of his voice to the steady growl of the heavy duty diesel engine. "DJ how you doin' back there bud?" a dog's head appeared from the sleeper, directly behind the driver's cab. Keith glanced down at his pet who gazed back with loving eyes. Turning his attention back to the road Keith spoke as if to another human. "We're a little ahead of schedule, what say we pull of and stretch our legs for a few minutes?" DJ stepped out of the sleeper and sat down between the driver and passenger seats, he wagged his tail. Keith smiled and scratched DJ's ears. "Ok buddy, we'll do that in just a few minutes."

DJ was a handsome looking dog, a German Shepard mix whom Keith had found abandoned as a puppy. He was medium brown, about the same color as a pure bred Shepard. A black stripe ran down the middle of his face, from the top of his head to his nose. He had a large black patch on his back that formed a saddle shape. His tail had a black tip and all his paws with the exception of his left forepaw were black as well. A feature that Keith loved about him, while his right ear pricked up like a pure Shepard, the tip of his left tended to flop over except when he was very alert and listening intently.

About fifteen minutes later the truck eased off the highway and into the parking lot of a rest area. Keith left the engine idling and pulled on his coat. He opened the door and a gust of icy wind entered the cab. Keith shivered, "It's a cold one out there tonight." He climbed down from the cab and stepped aside, allowing DJ to jump to the ground. Before shutting the door Keith reached under the driver's seat and pulled out a tennis ball. "You've got too much energy tonight, let's see if we can't wear you down a little." DJ barked and wagged his tail, and together they headed across the parking lot.

Keith knew this place well. He often stopped here when he was in the area. There was a concrete building with restrooms inside, and vending machines, pay phones, and large maps on the walls outside. The central building was surrounded by a large lawn with picnic tables and shade trees. The place was well lit and Keith always felt comfortable relaxing for a few minutes, even at night. He held up the tennis ball for DJ to see. "Let's both get some exercise." he said cheerfully, and threw the tennis ball across the grass.

A black car puled into the parking lot and eased to a stop behind Keith's rig, the rumble of the big diesel engine hid the sound of the car's approach. Three large masked men emerged from the car and began to inspect the truck. These men were brothers Barry and Allen Sandavald and their partner Ray Crampton. The trio was working for a mysterious employer known only as General Parvo. Ray tried the door, it didn't budge. "Dang! He's not careless like the last guy, the door's locked." Barry spoke up, "Well then we'll just have to persuade him to open it, won't we?" "Shhhhhh!" Allen warned, "He's right over there." Keeping to the shadows they silently made their way towards the grass.

DJ came trotting up to Keith and dropped the tennis ball at his feet. "Goooood boy" Keith praised. "Go get it!" he hurled the ball to the other end of the lawn, DJ was there in seconds, snatched up the ball and hurried back to his master. "Geeze, you're just full of it tonight aren't you boy?" Keith said with a laugh. "Just a couple more then we've gotta hit the road again." Keith threw the ball, and again DJ retrieved it, but this time he stopped short of Keith and dropped it. This puzzled Keith, but then he saw DJ's left ear was pricked straight up and the dog's eyes were shifting around, looking. Keith knelt by his pet, "What's the matter boy? What do you hear?" Just then the dog's eyes locked on something directly behind Keith. "Oh boy" he thought, "I bet this is trouble." Then he heard it, the clicking sound of a gun being cocked, Keith froze, his blood ran cold, a shiver went down his spine. "Stand up. Nice and slow." commanded a voice from behind him, he obeyed.

"Now turn around" the voice ordered, "Keep your hands where I can see them." Again Keith obeyed. He now faced two masked men, one armed with a revolver. These were Allen and Barry. "We don't want to hurt anybody." Said the gunman in a firm even tone, "Just give us the keys to your truck and we'll be on our way." Seeing no alternative, Keith did as he was told. He slowly reached down to his belt and unclipped his key ring, then threw it at the gunman's feet. The unarmed assailant picked up the keys.

DJ growled and barked fiercely, Allen aimed the gun at him, "SHUT UP!" " Don't hurt him" pleaded Keith, "he's just being protective." "I don't care!" snapped the gunman, "Shut him up!" Keith tried to calm DJ. "Easy boy, shhhhhh.... shhhhhh.... It's gonna be ok, everything's gonna be ok." He knelt and petted DJ, trying to reassure him. Keith looked at his attackers with a defeated expression. "You have what you want. I fueled before leaving Sacramento, you have enough diesel to get almost a thousand miles before you'll need to stop. If you're questioned at a weigh station the work orders and papers for the load are in the glove compartment, now will you please leave us in peace?"

Allen started to withdraw, but Barry stopped him. "What about the dog?" Allen shrugged. "What about him?" "The boss said he wanted dogs, don't you remember?" "Oh yeah" Allen said smugly. "We'll be needing your mutt too." This was more than Keith could stand. "Aw please, he's all I've got." The response was unsympathetic. "So go to the pound and get another one." He handed the gun to his partner. "Keep him covered Barry, I'll grab the mutt." As he approached, Keith seized the opportunity, in one motion he planted a hard kick on Allen's left shin, knocking him down, then threw DJ's tennis ball at Barry's face with all his might. Barry screamed in pain and dropped the revolver. Using every ounce of strength he had, Keith dove across the grass, grabbed the gun and forced himself up on one knee. Meanwhile DJ was standing over Allen, snarling and baring his teeth.

Keith aimed the gun at Barry, "Hands up, NOW!!" he commanded. Now it was Barry's turn to plead. "Please man, call off your dog, he's gonna eat my brother alive." "He's gonna do exactly what I tell him to." Keith snapped back. "Atta boy DJ." He then gestured at Allen. "You! Dirt bucket! On your feet!" Allen nervously stood. "Now go stand by your buddy. DJ, watch him." With the two thugs standing side by side, Keith couldn't help but smugly say "You boys stepped too far. You can take my money, you can take my property, but if you start messing with my dog you're asking for trouble. Now start walking, towards the phones, nice and easy. We're gonna have a nice friendly chat with the sheriff."

As they walked towards the phones Keith noticed DJ's ear again, he had heard something. Keith glanced around but saw nothing, nervously he kept walking. As they passed the vending machines Barry and Allen suddenly dove to one side, DJ let out a loud bark but it was too late, there was no time to react, the third thug who Keith and DJ had not seen stepped out from behind a machine and hit Keith across the head with a wooden club. He collapsed, unconscious.

The three of them then dove on DJ who managed to place a bite on Allen's arm, but fighting was no use. An eighty pound dog is no match for three two hundred pound men. Two of them held him while Barry tied a handkerchief securely around his muzzle, then the three men carried the struggling dog to the black car and placed him in the trunk. As Barry was closing the lid Ray tossed a small metal ball inside. The ball started making a hissing noise and DJ began to feel very sleepy.

Allen congratulated his partners. "Good job boys, he was a real fighter, he and the dog both, but we got him." With that Allen climbed into the cab of Keith's truck, Barry and Ray got in the car and followed the truck out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. Keith Stephens lay unconscious on the cement where he had fallen.

When the gas wore off and DJ awoke he found himself locked in a small cage in a large, brightly lit room. The place reminded him of the warehouses where Keith often loaded and unloaded. He nervously surveyed his surroundings. It was quite spartan, all he saw were stacks of cardboard boxes, all of which bore a label strikingly similar to those he'd seen loaded onto his masters' truck. Being caged didn't agree with him very well and he gnawed at the stiff wire, and vainly tried to work the latch with his nose. This wasn't working. DJ was confused. Where was he? Why was he here? He didn't know whether to be frightened or angry, he was helpless, all he could do was wait.

Time wore on, perhaps hours, DJ was sure he was hearing the sound of large truck engines nearby. Now he was hearing something else, the sound of approaching human footsteps and voices. Somebody was coming, but were they friend or foe? The door opened and two people entered, one was a large, muscular man clad in blue jeans and a black T-shirt, DJ recognized his voice as Ray, the one who had clubbed Keith. He growled menacingly. The other newcomer was a thin, black haired woman in a red jump suit. Unbeknownst to DJ, this was the Groomer, second in command to the sinister General Parvo. She spoke with a slight Scottish accent "Ahh good, General Parvo will be pleased." She then directed her attention towards DJ "And what have we here?" Ray spoke up "We brought him in with that last truck, keep an eye on him, he's a feisty one." The woman smiled, "So much the better, he'll make an excellent addition to our little family. You've done well mister Crampton, you and your associates can expect to be well paid. Now start unloading, we'll return for the dog later." "Yes mamm." Ray replied, and set about his work.

Under Ray's direction, men with handcarts began bringing more boxes into the room, DJ clearly heard the throb of a big diesel engine. All DJ could do was watch from his cage, all he wanted was to go home. He didn't know what was going on, but a gut feeling told him he'd better find a way out, and fast.

The job was quickly finished, once again DJ was left alone and helpless. The dog dozed off and awoke when a man in a white lab coat entered the room. "Well well, look at you." he said in a friendly voice, "You're going to make a nasty cano-mutant." DJ sensed danger, this individual was not as harmless as he appeared. He approached DJ's cage with a leash in his hand, "Ok there boy, we're gonna make a better dog out of you." DJ whined and shrank toward the back of the cage as the man in the lab coat unlocked the door. "Come on out, I won't hurt you." he said as he reached in for DJ's collar. Seeing his opportunity DJ sank his teeth into the man's hand. He screamed and jerked his hand back, DJ sprang forward, out of the cage and bolted across the room. "Hey! Come back here!" the man screamed, but DJ was already out the door.

Out in the hallway DJ spotted an open door and ran for it with all he had. He was now outside on a loading dock with a semi truck backed up to it, he had been on many docks like this before with Keith and knew he could jump to the ground. He jumped to the asphalt and barreled across the large paved yard, dodging through a group of small service trucks parked in the lot. Pouring on all the speed his four legs could muster, DJ zipped along the fence that surrounded the yard and out through an open gate. He heard the sound of running footsteps behind him and headed for the nearby woods. After weaving through the trees he wormed under a fallen log and froze. He could hear the voices of Ray and the man in the lab coat approach, then pass by, they had missed him.

DJ remained still until he was sure his pursuers had gone, then set off through the woods. He had no idea where he was or which way he was headed, but he wasn't about to go back the way he had come, he'd be caught for sure. DJ instinctively walked in one direction as he headed through the mountain wilderness. This was in many ways like Yosemite National Park, but without the well beaten trails and evident signs and scents of humans. How could this have happened to him? What had he done to deserve this, and what the heck was "cano-mutant"? After walking for the better part of a day DJ came to a stream and drank. He looked near the water for something to eat but found nothing. The air grew cold and damp as night fell, and the tired dog sought out a protected place to sleep. He finally lied down under a low overhanging rock that jutted from the hillside. He wished he was home, on his rug by the fireplace or in his basket beside Keith's bed, he whined a little, and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning was cold and misty, DJ felt a twinge of hunger but there was nothing edible around so he continued his trek down the mountain. This place would be enjoyable if he was with his human companion. The air was fresh and clean, there were birds and signs of wildlife everywhere, no paper trash to be seen on the ground, too bad he had to experience it like this. He was proceeding at a leisurely pace when without warning a sharp pain stabbed into his left forepaw. Now what? DJ inspected his paw and discovered a large splinter of pine bark sticking out from one of his toe pads. Great, this was all he needed. As if it wasn't enough to have seen his master bludgeoned, been drugged, imprisoned, and forced to hike who knows how far through the mountains. Now he'd managed to impale himself on a stupid little wood chip. He gently pulled it out with his teeth and licked at his sore paw. It was getting late, perhaps this was as good a place as any to spend the night.

By the dawn of the third day DJ was very hungry, thirsty, and tired. He had not been sleeping well at all. As he walked he looked for something, anything that showed a human presence nearby. Nothing, just more of the same. Trees, trees, and more trees. He was beginning to despair when he thought he heard the sound of a car. There it came again, he was hearing cars, there must be a road near by. He headed in the direction of the sounds and a short time later came to a two-lane road. He saw a house across a field on the other side of the road, if he could just get to it maybe he could get help. He cautiously began to cross, then heard the sound of a car in the distance and retreated back to the shoulder to wait for it to pass.

A dark blue sports car, it's engine racing, came screaming around a curve. It was going too fast to make the turn and the tires on the right side left the road. DJ tried to dodge back, but he wasn't fast enough, the car caught his right hind leg as it sped by. DJ yelped in pain, but the driver didn't hear. He quickly corrected his course and guided the car back onto the road, completely oblivious to having hit anything. He sped away, leaving an injured DJ on the roadside.

For several minutes DJ just lay there, stunned, then he tried his leg, it worked. Nothing but a nasty flesh wound. Slowly he picked himself up and began to limp across the road. This time he made it without mishap, squeezed under a rail fence on the other side and drug himself into the field. He was hurting, never in his life had he felt pain of this magnitude, but he focused on the house and forced himself onward. These past three days had been about the worst in his life since he was suddenly taken from his mother as a pup. Maybe worse than that even. About halfway across the field a sharp pain flooded his right hindquarter, he collapsed. He was just too tired, too weak, and in too much pain to go any farther. He lay there in the tall grass and licked at his wound, then too tired even for that, he put his head down and closed his eyes.

Hunter was in a good mood, the Road Rovers had just successfully thwarted General Parvo's scheme to cut off water and power to several small Canadian towns, and were taking the scenic route back to RRMC. He was at the controls of the Air Rover with Colleen in the co-pilot's seat. Hunter chuckled, "Man oh man, I hadn't seen cano-mutants run that fast in a long time." Colleen smiled and glanced back at Muzzle. "When you turn ‘im loose it's so easy I'm ashamed." Blitz had a note pad and was busily tallying something up. "There!" He exclaimed "127 tushies bitten this month alone, I'm on a role." Exile rolled his eyes. "Don't be weird boy."

"Those mountains sure are beautiful down there." Colleen said to nobody in particular. "So natural, almost untouched by civilization." "Yeah" Hunter agreed "and you couldn't ask for a nicer day." "I do not see what is so beautiful about endless wilderness inhabited by who knows what kinds of little furry things." said Blitz in his usual belligerent tone. Exile sighed, "Sit down weird boy." he said, "Try not to ruin view for rest of us." "As if anybody could enjoy a view with mop boy snoring back there." Blitz retorted. Colleen shot him an annoyed look. "Ye know Blinkey, I'm tempted to knock you into next Tuesday, but I have to ask myself ‘Is he really worth the trouble?'" Blitz couldn't think of a come back just that second so that ended the conversation.

About that time they flew over an open field, Hunter gazed out the window "That kinda makes me homesick." he said in a soft voice, remembering the farm in Wyoming where he was born. Exile who had been glued to his window shattered Hunter's reflective moment. "Comrade Hunter, I see something in field below." Hunter became slightly concerned, Exile's tone told him that there might be trouble, "What do you see bro?" "I could not tell" the husky answered, "but was not natural." "Let's take a closer look" said Hunter, and he put the plane into a steep bank and circled around. Despite the possible seriousness of the situation he couldn't help but find humor in the fact that the tight maneuver did not wake Shag who was still sleeping soundly in his seat.

As the Air Rover made a second pass at the field Exile concentrated his vision on the irregularity he had seen below. The Russians' face became grave, Colleen noticed this. "What is it? What's wrong down there?" "I must be sure." Exile responded, more to himself than Colleen. "Make circle one last time if you would please Hunter." Again Hunter brought the plane around, dropping altitude as he did. "Aye babushka!" exclaimed Exile "It is injured dog comrade!" This woke Shag from his nap. He heard what Exile had said, and now he, Hunter, Colleen, and even Blitz became very concerned. How long had that dog been laying there? Would they be in time to help him? Was he even still alive? All these questions weighed heavy in their minds as Hunter brought the Air Rover in for a landing. "Buckle up Rovers, we're setting her down."

Hunter landed in the field. Well, sort of. No sooner had he killed the engines then the Rovers hurried to the side of the unfortunate canine. Colleen knelt and looked the dog over, she didn't like what she saw. "His breathing is shallow and his pulse is very weak, I need the first aid kit now!" Shag reached into his fur and pulled out a medical kit and passed it to Exile who opened it and laid it on the ground next to Colleen. The collie selected a bottle of peroxide and some sterile pads and set about cleaning DJ's wound. The unconscious dog offered no sounds of pain, no response at all for that matter. Colleen finished cleaning, and bandaged DJ's leg. "We've got to get him back to Mission Control A.S.A.P." She said, worry creeping into her voice. Blitz for the first time all day was speechless, the sight of this poor dog laying in the grass touched even his self centered heart. "You heard her," Hunter spoke up, "let's roll."

Little over an hour later they were back at Mission Control, Exile and Shag busied themselves with post flight maintenance on the Air Rover while Hunter, Blitz, Muzzle and the Master stood watch over Colleen as she stabilized DJ. "Just incredible." Hunter said in disgust "Who could just drive off and leave him after running him over like that?" Blitz shared in Hunter's disbelief. "If ever I lay eyes on this person the biting of the squishy parts will begin." The Master sighed sadly. "Unfortunately this kind of thing happens every day, but the victims are rarely so fortunate." Colleen stepped back and removed her sterile gloves. "I've done all I can gents," she said in a tired voice "let's hope it's enough." "What is his condition?" asked the Master. Colleen looked at her patient. "Miraculously there's nothing broken, he has lost quite a bit of blood, but I think it's mostly shock. We'll just have to keep an eye on him and see how he makes out."

That evening Shag prepared a hearty dinner, but nobody felt very hungry, Colleen took only a couple biscuits and returned to sick bay to keep an eye on DJ. Exile cleaned up and dropped by to check on DJ's progress, he found Colleen holding his collar and examining the tag. "Well" he asked "any change?" "None at all, but now we know who he is." She handed the collar to Exile, he read the tag aloud. "My name is DJ. If found please call Keith Stephens." The husky laid the collar down. "Well, what are we waiting for? I'll go make call right nowski." Colleen stopped him. "Wait a minute there guv, feast your eyes on this." She held up a copy of the newspaper. Exile saw the headline "Truck driver still in hospital after being beaten in hijacking" Exile took the paper and read the first few lines. "Keith Stephens, 25, of Sacramento remains hospitalized after being beaten by hijackers Wednesday night. He is listed in good condition and is expected to make a full recovery from his injuries and a mild case of pneumonia contracted while he lay unconscious in 20 degree weather." Colleen shook her head. "It won't do him any good to hear about his dog, it will make him feel worse." She looked at DJ. "Poor lad, he was over a hundred and fifty miles from where his owner was found, how could this have happened?"

Exile stayed for a time, then unable to stay awake, he bid Colleen goodnight and headed for his quarters. Colleen remained in a chair at DJ's side, sleep finally overcame her and she dozed off. She was startled awake a short time later by the sound of DJ stirring. Instantly she was alert and ready. DJ raised his head and regarded her and his new surroundings with curious, yet cautious interest. For some reason he felt safe here, not like the last place he'd awakened in. The sights and smells reminded him of the vet, but this was the strangest looking doctor he'd ever seen. Colleen extended her hand and allowed DJ to sniff it, she petted him on the head. "Easy lad, you've had a rough time of it." she said in a friendly, reassuring tone. "I bet you're famished, let's get some nourishment into you."

DJ gratefully accepted the dog food and water Colleen placed before him, getting something into his empty stomach made him feel a whole lot better. He finished and looked up at Colleen with a thankful whine and a tail wag. Colleen shook her head slowly. "Oh DJ, you obviously mean a good deal to this Stephens fellow, what happened to you? How did you get so far apart?" DJ was feeling better by the minute and tried to stand, but his leg collapsed under him. Colleen helped him to his feet. "Just take it slow now, one step at a time." DJ tried again, this time putting the weight on his good leg, and hobbled around the sick bay. Colleen smiled. "I think you're going to be just fine."

That morning after breakfast the Rovers gathered in sick bay. Shag pulled up a chair and sat beside DJ, and the two began to converse in an incomprehensible language of dog noises. The Rovers all listened intently, but the Master stood by, confused with the whole thing. Hunter, seeing this, proceeded to translate.

"He says he and his master were attacked when they stopped at a highway rest area." Hunter began. "Their attackers demanded the keys to their truck, and then him...." Over the next few minutes DJ's story began to unfold, his capture, escape, 2 days of wandering, and finally being struck by the car and limping into the field where Exile spotted him. "And all he really wants is to be returned to his master." The Master shook his head, "What an ordeal, and what a brave young dog, definitely the stuff Road Rovers are made of. In fact....." The Master didn't finish his sentence, he took DJ's collar and headed for his quarters where he entered the license number into his computer, and began pouring over the files.



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