Doglands (18 page)

“Does the dogbait want to scare
me
?” said the fourth dog.

Furgul looked at him. The fourth dog wasn’t as big or as monstrous as Freak, but he looked to be the most dangerous of the four. His eyes were cold, and his spirit was dead, extinguished by countless beatings. All that was left inside him was the need to hurt other dogs, the same way that his masters had hurt him.

“Well,
do
you want to scare me? Dogbait?” said the fourth dog.

“Take it easy, Chopper,” said Lunk. “The masters will want the dogbait fit for work. Nothing worse than flesh wounds, remember? Just enough blood to make him tempting to the guard dogs. He’s got to be able to run fast.”

“I know the routine,” growled Chopper. “By the time I’ve finished, the dogbait will be running faster than a rat on fire.”

Furgul had no idea what they were talking about. He didn’t bother to ask. He was still staring at Chopper’s eyes without blinking. Any second now Chopper would make his move. Furgul decided to provoke him.

“Tell me, Chopper,” said Furgul. “Why do dogs who can’t fight always have such tough names?”

Chopper hurtled toward him with a growl of rage, his teeth bared and gnashing. Furgul stepped aside and circled behind him. The wind of Chopper’s snapping jaws blew through Furgul’s whiskers. Chopper tried to halt his furious charge but skidded on the slippery ground. He smashed into Freak, and Freak, without thinking, bit a piece out of Chopper’s ear. Chopper snapped back.

“Not me, you yellow oaf!” said Chopper. “I’m fighting the dogbait, not you.”

Freak lumbered backward into the fence. “Dogbait,” he drooled.

Chopper charged again. Furgul took off across the pen, Chopper’s fangs snapping at his tail. The metal trough loomed
in front of him. Just before he got there, Furgul coiled his hind legs and powered up into the air. As he landed on the roof of the kennel, he heard Chopper crash into the trough. He glanced down. Perfect position.

“Where is he?” roared Chopper.

Chopper’s head was right over the trough, his throat above the hard metal rim. Furgul dropped down from the roof, curling his legs underneath him. He landed full force on the back of Chopper’s neck. His weight smashed Chopper’s throat down onto the hard metal rim of the trough with a loud crack. Furgul landed on his feet and backed away.

Chopper twitched in jerky spasms. Pink foam spilled from his mouth.

His cold, dead eyes would be cold and dead forever.

Furgul had never killed a dog before, but he felt no remorse. He hadn’t started this fight. He was muzzled and outnumbered. And Chopper wouldn’t bully greyhounds anymore. Chopper had gotten what he deserved.

“Dogbait!” roared Freak.

Furgul turned as Freak pounded toward him. What Freak lacked in speed he made up for in strength and fury. Furgul glanced ahead at the kennel. For an instant—with a shock—he saw the gleam of deep, dark eyes inside the door. But then they vanished. He glanced back at Freak and waited for the monster dog to come.

“Dogbait!” roared Freak.

At the last moment Furgul ducked sideways, and Freak
lurched after him, trampling on Chopper’s corpse. Furgul spun around and stuck his hind leg out, right between Freak’s front paws. Freak tripped, tumbled onto his face and went head over heels. His back slammed into the kennel, and a sharp rusty edge of corrugated iron sliced him open to the bone. Freak howled with pain and rage and scrambled to his feet. He wanted to get his teeth into Furgul. Freak charged again.

Furgul ran across the yard but slowed until the brute was right on his heels. Furgul looked up ahead. There it was. He ran straight toward the fence post. An inch away, he braked and skipped to the left, the wire mesh scraping along his flanks. He heard a great clunk, and the whole pen shook and rattled like a giant tambourine.

Furgul turned.

Freak had run headfirst into the fence post, just as Furgul had intended. He stood there panting and growling as if nothing had happened. But when he tried to move he couldn’t do it. He shook his head from side to side, and the pen rattled even louder. Freak couldn’t turn around. Furgul took a closer look. The nail sticking out of the fence post had driven straight through Freak’s forehead. The nail must have missed his brain because Freak seemed as strong as ever. He seemed just as stupid too.

“Dogbait! Dogbait! Dogbait!” howled Freak.

Furgul left Freak to rattle the cage and turned to Lunk and Gremlin.

“Two down, two to go.”

Without the big bullies to protect them, Lunk and Gremlin huddled together like the nasty little cowards they were. Furgul panted to cool down. He’d never felt more alive. He breathed deep through his nostrils. Beyond the foul stench of dying dogs, grease and carnival filth, he thought he detected a scent from long ago.

Lunk and Gremlin barked in panic at whoever was inside the kennel.

“The dogbait’s killing us! Help!” pleaded Lunk. “We need you!”

“We’re sorry we wouldn’t let you join the gang!” wailed Gremlin.

Furgul turned toward the kennel. So there was another dog in there.

Just at that moment he heard a “plop!” Freak was sitting back on his haunches, staring at the wet nail in the fence.

“Freak, hurry!” barked Gremlin. “Let’s rush him! He can’t take us all at once!”

Furgul watched Gremlin and Lunk dart toward him, their sharp teeth bared to nip at his tail while Freak and the mystery dog attacked him. Freak had turned around from the fence post. The leaking hole between his eyes didn’t seem to bother him at all. He shambled toward Furgul, smacking his lips. But what bothered Furgul most was the mystery dog. He glanced over his shoulder at the kennel. He felt a ferocious power in there, lurking inside the dark doorway.

Freak, Lunk and Gremlin closed in on him.

“Here she comes!” cried Lunk. “Lend her a claw, boys!”

A thunderbolt, black as midnight, exploded from the gloom of the kennel.

She was fast.

Much faster than Chopper. And almost as fast as Furgul. Furgul’s plan was to dodge behind Lunk and Gremlin and tangle them up. As the devil dog closed in behind him, Furgul sprang forward, jumping over Lunk’s head. He landed and turned, ready to run, but what he saw stopped him right in his tracks.

The devil dog was a stunning German shepherd, but instead of coming at Furgul, she went straight for Freak’s throat and sunk her teeth in. With one savage twist of her head she left Freak panting his last in the blood-slaked dirt. She whirled and sprang at Lunk, who was too shocked with horror to move. A second later Lunk lay dying too. The shepherd turned on Gremlin with the gore of both victims dripping from her fangs.

Gremlin squealed with terror and ran to the wire. He scrabbled at the dirt like a mole deranged, trying to dig a hole beneath the fence, though he must have known he would never make it. The shepherd walked over. As Gremlin whimpered for mercy, she crunched her jaws through the back of his neck, and it was over.

She turned to look at Furgul. She’d changed a lot since last they’d met. Cruelty and abuse, and the company of evil, had changed her. What was most amazing was this: While
killing the three cur dogs, she hadn’t made a single sound.

Not a bark, not a growl, not a whisper.

She didn’t play at fighting anymore.

She was silent death.

“Hello, Dervla,” said Furgul.

Dervla didn’t answer. She held his gaze.

There was a darkness in her eyes that came from somewhere painful deep inside. Dervla had learned how to hate. She’d become a ruthless killer. Furgul’s heart went out to her. Yet despite all she’d been through, despite the many scars on her hide and the scars on her soul, she still seemed lovely to him. She walked past him and poked at Freak’s body with her paw. Furgul wondered if she still knew how to smile.

“I don’t think he’s going to get up,” said Furgul.

“You’d better believe it.”

She wasn’t smiling, but at least she knew how to talk. Furgul had the feeling that she hadn’t done even that in a long, long time. She looked at him.

“That was a neat trick, with the nail,” she said.

“Something my dad told me. There are teeth everywhere.”

Dervla licked the blood from her whiskers. “Hope I didn’t spoil your fun.”

Furgul laughed, but Dervla wasn’t joking. He could see she’d enjoyed the killing. And why not? Dervla was a born huntress. And she’d saved his life.

“Dervla,” said Furgul, “I’m very happy to see you.”

Dervla said, “I’m happy to see you too.”

• • •

Dervla chewed through the strap of Furgul’s muzzle. What a relief it was to get it off. Then she made herself comfortable by using Freak’s corpse as a bed.

“It’s the biggest spot in the yard that isn’t covered with slime,” she explained.

Furgul thought this was a very good idea. He went over to where Chopper lay and quickly checked his coat for evidence of fleas. To his surprise he didn’t find any and grabbed Chopper by the scruff of his broken neck. He dragged him into a sunny spot near Dervla and settled down on top of him. Chopper was a bit bony, but his body was a big improvement over lying in the blood and the ooze.

“They won’t start stinking too badly before tonight,” said Dervla. “By that time you’ll be gone. And I’ll never see you again.”

“What do you mean?”

“Furgul,” she said, “I’m glad to see you’re still in one piece. And they haven’t broken you inside yet, which is even better. But don’t expect me to get close to you. When you leave I don’t want to have to care. I don’t want to care at all. And you will leave. The masters will make sure of that, just like they did the last time we met. And believe me, this time, we’ll never see each other again.”

With a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, Furgul realized that Dervla was saying that she had been broken inside. For a moment he couldn’t believe it. Then he saw the expression
in her eyes. A terrible sadness came over him. He didn’t want to think about the horrible things they had done to her. He didn’t want to argue with her either.

“Do you know why they called you dogbait?” asked Dervla.

Furgul shook his head.

“Because that’s what you are,” said Dervla. “You’re bait for the guard dogs.”

“What guard dogs?”

“Tattoo and Spotty are thieves. Burglars. They break into the houses of rich people, when the rich people are away. Then they steal loot.”

“You mean money?”

“Money and things they can sell for money. Jewelry, gold watches, music machines, TVs, even clothes. Anything they can carry. But some of the rich have guard dogs. Like me.”

“You’re a guard dog?”

Dervla pointed to the strange machines and giant trucks outside the wire.

“Every night they leave me out there to frighten off people who might try to steal from them. Thieves are always thinking about thieving, so they’re afraid they’ll get robbed themselves. They also expect me to let them know if the cops show up.”

“Why don’t you run away?” asked Furgul.

“You see that?”

Dervla pointed with her snout. Furgul looked. Just outside
the wire mesh lay five coils of steel chain. Each chain was very long.

Dervla said, “They chain us to the trucks and the machines.”

Furgul looked at the bodies of the dead dogs. “They were guard dogs too?”

Dervla nodded. “Tonight we’ll be short of staff. But Spotty and Tattoo will just steal some more. Like they stole me.”

“How?”

“My mistress left me outside a supermarket while she went shopping. We dogs aren’t allowed in shops. They’re frightened we might carry germs on our paws.” She scoffed. “There are more germs on a single human shoe than on the footpads of a thousand dogs. But humans are frightened of so many things, I think they must enjoy it.”

“What happened next?” asked Furgul.

“Tattoo hit me on the head with his steel baton. Then they threw me in their truck in a sack and drove away.”

Furgul rubbed the lump on the back of his skull with his hind paw.

“So they want me to help them rob a house,” he said.

“You won’t have a choice,” said Dervla. “The really rich houses—the ones they most like to rob—have fences and gates all around them, and huge gardens or lots of land. They’ll throw you over the fence so that the guard dogs will chase after
you
, not them. Then they’ll sneak into the house and do their thieving. Most guard dogs are pretty
stupid. They’d rather chase a dog than a human. That’s why Spotty and Tattoo use greyhounds and lurchers—you can keep the guards running around until they’ve done their thieving.”

“And then?”

“Then they drive away with their loot and leave you behind.”

Furgul brightened up. Once he was off the leash, he could escape.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Dervla. “But if the guards don’t rip you apart, the cops will take you to the pound as a dangerous dog and you’ll get the needle.”

“I’ll take my chances with the guard dogs,” said Furgul. “And I’m not going back to any dog pound. Never again.”

“Good luck to you,” said Dervla. “I mean it.”

“But you don’t believe I’ll get away.”

Dervla said, “I don’t believe in anything anymore. Except killing.”

They lay in the sun on their bony beds, and Furgul told Dervla his adventures. He tried to make them sound funny, but he still couldn’t make her laugh. Or even smile. Her ears pricked up the most when he told her the story of Argal and what Argal had said about living and dying and the winds. Her tail even started wagging. But when he told her how Argal had been killed, the hate flared back in her eyes. Furgul realized that the only place where Dervla would heal the wounds to
her soul was at Appletree Dog Sanctuary. But Dervla would never get there.

Loud music started pumping from every direction. Furgul felt his chest vibrate and his ears hurt. The carnival filled up with people. They seemed happy and excited to be there. They crowded round the little stripy shacks, where they threw their money away. They ate hot dogs and sticky red apples on thin wooden sticks. They sat in the little colored buckets on the big wheel, and in the coaches of the giant metal spider, and in the carriages of the up-and-down railway. Then the strange machines began to move. The big wheel turned and the spider wheel whirled and the carriages climbed up the steeply sloped tracks of the railway. Then the people started screaming at the top of their lungs.