Underdog (18 page)

Mick grabbed Taser’s chain from Northern and took his place in the pit, tightening his grip when Taser leapt forward in an attempt to get at his opponent.

‘Let ’em have a look at each other,’ he instructed loudly over the noise of the crowd around them. ‘Get ’em acquainted.’

The two men took a step towards one another, letting the dogs almost come together in the centre. Taser was up at once, snarling and thrashing his head, desperately pawing at the floor to dig some extra purchase with his claws and propel himself further forward. His lips were curled back in a deep snarl, jaws snapping wildly as he barked. The crowd let out a gasp of delight as they watched Mick skilfully hold him back, just far enough that Taser’s lunges and bites were kept from making contact with Jeffo’s muzzle.

Jeffo was trapped, Cal’s legs behind him making sure there was no retreat. The tight leash forcing him to be still made him seem unintimidated as he kept a keen focus on the dog in front of him. To Cal’s added relief, he made no sound; it was a good show, a good start.

‘Like the attitude,’ said Mick. ‘Ain’t worried, is it? Should be shitting itself.’ Mick eyed Cal up and down as he spoke, as if to say, ‘so should you’.

Everything Jeffo did from now was going to be a reflection on Cal and Frank, their set-up and whether they had it in them to make the deal work. Everyone around the pit began to jostle for the best view as the dogs were dragged back to their corners.

‘Make sure the kids can see,’ called Mick. ‘I don’t want them to miss a second of this.’

The anticipation had grown so quickly, no-one paid any attention to the other men as they entered the barn and Frank locked the door behind them. The group found the last available spaces around the pit as the loud hum of excitement turned to shouts.

Jeffo began to pant, shivering slightly, the drugs starting to have an effect. The sickly sensation washing through him exaggerated his fear and heightened his feeling of being cornered. He looked up over the edge of the pit for a gap in the crowd, but there was no escape. The only place to run was through the wild dog waiting for him in the other corner. The noise filling the barn grew ever louder.

‘Fucking kill him, Taser!’ shouted one of the boys. ‘Tear him to pieces! Rip his fucking lungs out!’ Each scream was louder than the last, and greeted with cheers and laughter.

Cal looked over at Mick, who was bending over Taser, his huge hand tight on the back of the animal’s neck as it struggled to get free of him. He whispered something in the stump of its ear, then looked up and fixed Cal with a stare, the look on his face as feral as his dog; his eyes burnt with the same madness.

‘You call it,’ he shouted over the baying crowd.

Cal took a deep breath, getting ready for the release. He grabbed Jeffo by the scruff, making sure he had a good hold as he used his other hand to draw the chain over his head.

‘Ready!’ he shouted over the noise around him.

‘Ready!’

Cal held onto Jeffo for another couple of seconds.

‘Let ’em go.’

Cal released his grip, fully expecting Jeffo to run and meet Taser in the middle of the pit, but the dog stood motionless, not knowing what to do. Taser came hurtling out of his corner and lunged at Jeffo, their heads smashing together with a sickening crunch, the force of the impact tumbling both dogs back into Cal’s legs, knocking him off his feet. The crowd laughed as he scrambled up out of the pit, not wanting to get any part of himself within range of Taser’s jaws.

A roar erupted as Jeffo was turned over in the dirt and forced onto his back. Standing over him, Taser bit down savagely into his exposed chest, taking a large chunk of flesh between his teeth and tugging at it wildly, trying to tear it from Jeffo’s body.

‘Do him, Taser! Take advantage!’ screamed Mick, punching the air feverishly. ‘Throat him! Get his fucking neck!’ He threw up his arms in disgust as if an easy open goal had just been missed.

Jeffo spun around on his back, aware he was in a fight for his life, his flesh rupturing as he pulled himself away from Taser’s stabbing teeth. Back on his feet, he was instantly dropped again as Taser crashed into him, leaving him no time to react as the larger dog’s fangs pierced the muscle in his shoulder. Rolling over each other, locked in a deadly, brawling embrace, they scratched wildly, jaws wide as their heads clashed, thrashing from side to side, teeth flashing red as they bit down on skin and bone.

‘Good boy, Taser! That’s it!’ screamed Mick, the rest of the crowd shouting encouragement as Taser tore into Jeffo’s cheek. ‘You’ve got him. Rip his face off!’

Taser chewed ferociously on Jeffo’s muzzle, forcing him back onto his hind legs before dipping down to sink his teeth back into his gaping chest wound, pinning him against the wall of the pit. The crowd erupted as Jeffo’s blood spurted across the pit, staining the white of his legs red. His chest looked as if it had been hit with a shotgun blast, the area peppered with dark puncture wounds and scarlet slashes. With his throat exposed, he was at Taser’s mercy and he dropped and rolled to his side, dragging the larger dog with him. Taser’s teeth were ripped free, opening a long, jagged gash below Jeffo’s neck.

‘He’s yours now, Taser! Kill him!’

‘Fuck him up!’

‘Finish him!’

Urged on by their frenzied screaming, Taser took hold of Jeffo’s foreleg, just above the knee. He twisted his body, using his superior size and weight to keep Jeffo off balance, all the while tearing at the leg, shredding the muscle fibres to the bone. Blood coated his face crimson, dripping down his throat, the taste of it making him even more eager for the kill.

Mick leaned over to shout into his youngest boy’s ear. ‘Look at that, son! See how he’s punishing him? That’s a fighter. You’d need a bullet to get him off that leg. Bleed ’em dead. That’s how you do it.’

Jeffo stared up through his agony, catching sight of the hysterical crowd, deafening him with their screaming. As he was spun around, their whirling faces became distorted, blending into one another until they began to melt away, the noise around him and his pain fading into nothingness. All he could do was try to stay on his feet, the loss of blood from his wounds rapidly weakening him. He heard one of the boys laughing at the side of the pit, and for a moment he was alert again, the pain flooding back as he tried to turn, tried to see, thinking it might be Tom, come to take him home.

‘Shall we break them?’ shouted Cal, worried that there wasn’t enough action.

‘No breaks,’ boomed Mick back at him, a look of grim satisfaction on his face as he stared into the pit. ‘I like seeing ’em like this.’

Cal shrugged; as long as Mick seemed content, nothing else mattered. It was a miracle the little white had survived as long as he had. He allowed himself to relax; with the match in full swing, he might as well enjoy it. For the first time in days, he began to feel confident that things were going to work out, and he started to scream as loudly as the others, longing for more blood, anticipating the kill.

Mick’s stare had turned glassy. ‘Reminds me of myself when they’re on each other like that. Like they mean it.’ He flashed Cal a faraway smile. ‘It’s doing alright, your mutt. Leave ’em to it. Let ’em dance.’

Once past the village, Keith began to slow down, parking the car on the verge, some way from the break in the hedgerow that Tom had pointed out. He reached over and grabbed the truncheon from the back seat, then pulled out his mobile phone.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Tom.

‘You know I’ve got to do it, Tom. It’s the right thing. This has to be stopped. If it comes to it, we’ll tell them Jeffo was ours, that he was stolen from us. That he always had a home.’

Tom seemed unsure.

‘No-one’ll be able to take him away, then,’ Keith continued. ‘He’ll be a hero; you’ll see.’

Tom looked at his father. No smile between them, no gesture. But a new understanding; something strong. Unbreakable. Like it used to be.

‘Now, stay here. I don’t want you to move until I get back. Okay?’

‘Can’t I at least come to the gate?’ pleaded Tom. ‘Walk up the track with you?’

‘No, Tom. I don’t want you going up there; it might be dangerous.’

‘Alright,’ nodded Tom, aware that, the more he argued, the more time was being wasted. ‘I’ll stay.’

Tom returned the hopeful look as his dad got out of the car and shut the door. He listened from the inside as the phone call was made, then watched him head off towards the gap in the hedgerow, wondering what was happening when he saw him stop in front of the gate. His dad was talking to someone, then shouting. This was no time to be held up. Opening the car door, Tom jumped out into the rain. He sprinted forward, struggling to keep his footing on the slick, uneven verge. As he drew near, Keith caught sight of him out the corner of his eye.

‘Tom, I thought I told you to stay in the car.’

Behind the gate stood Andy, looking just as creepy as Tom remembered him. Up close he was skinnier, more weakly, his eyes wide and darting behind his glasses.

‘Look, you better fuck off out of it before there’s trouble,’ he stammered. ‘I don’t care what you want.’

Tom wasn’t prepared to wait a second longer: he reached for the latch. Andy grabbed hold of his arm. ‘Oh no, you don’t.’

‘Get off him!’ shouted Keith, pulling Andy back, the scuffle giving Tom the opportunity to break free, scramble over the gate and start running.

Keith wrapped his arm around Andy’s neck, dragging him to the edge of the gate and managing with his free hand to unlatch it. Forcing it open with his hip, he shoved Andy aside and squeezed through the gap; Tom was almost out of sight. Then he felt the first punch.

Tom slowed down near the top of the track. He was breathing hard and stopped to look back, but there was no sign of his dad. At that moment a shriek from the pit barn echoed across the clearing, the bloodcurdling sound followed by a rumble of cheers and shouts. It had already started.

There was no-one in the parking area; Tom crept across the gravel, testing his weight against the barn door, finding it was locked. An icy terror shocked through him as, over the stamping and clapping, he heard Jeffo howling in pain. His heart froze. He had to get inside.

Stepping over to the window, he peered between the boards, just making out the crowd surrounding the pit, shaking their fists and shouting enthusiastically, wild with excitement. Tom looked over his shoulder towards the track, but there was still no sign of his dad. Gathering himself, he hurried round to the back of the building, where Stevo had broken in through the window. To his relief, it hadn’t been re-boarded.

Teasing the loose plank to one side, Tom’s heart nearly stopped when the piece of rotten wood creaked loudly and came away in his hand, providing a gap just large enough for him to squeeze through. No-one inside had heard; the noise they were making was ear-splitting, reminding him of kids circling a fight in the playground.

As he scanned the barn, Tom suddenly realised he recognised one of the men, his wiry grey hair and fat belly unmistakeable. He could hardly believe his eyes: it was Sam Fenton, seemingly enjoying himself as much as any of the other people around him. Kev right beside him. Their bloodlust filled Tom with hatred, and any fear he still had, faded as he dropped down into the barn behind the crowd; all he cared about now was Jeffo and stopping them hurting him.

Taking a few steps forward, he heard growling coming from the pit and moved slightly to one side, trying to get a clear view. What he saw drained the blood from his face: the pit walls were streaked red and Jeffo was lying on the floor, his head obscured by a larger dog crouching over him and tearing into his blood-soaked scruff. For a horrid moment, Tom thought he might be dead until another gut-wrenching howl reverberated around the barn, the terrible sound met with cruel cheers. Jeffo started moving, uselessly trying to shake off the other dog and get to his feet.

Without a thought for himself, Tom shot forward. In an instant, he had pushed his way through the men and jumped into the pit, a well-judged kick sending the other dog reeling onto its back.

‘Jeffo,’ Tom cried, dropping down onto his knees next to him, shielding him from any further punishment.

On seeing him, Jeffo tried to rise up off the floor, but slumped back down again. Blood covered his face, bubbling from his nose as he crawled into Tom’s arms, his eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion.

Tom could hardly believe the pitiful sight in front of him; Jeffo had been so terribly savaged, he was almost unrecognisable. His first thought was to try to get him up off the floor but before he could do anything, he felt a burning pressure in his arm as the other dog bit into it. He tried to pull away, but the dog only bit down harder, refusing to let go.

Seeing Tom being attacked, Jeffo struggled to his feet, every ounce of his physical being determined to protect him. With the last of his strength, he lunged forward, fearless as he snapped at the larger dog’s throat. Clamping down hard, he thrashed his head furiously, rolling it onto its back away from Tom and pinning it, legs flailing, to the floor.

Only a matter of seconds had passed, and in that short time the crowd had been stunned into silence. ‘What the fuck’s this?’ someone shouted, breaking through the hush and starting a barrage of cries.

‘What the fuck is going on?’ Mick boomed at Cal in wide-eyed disbelief. ‘He’s killing my fucking dog. Someone get that kid out of it.’

Tom got to his feet, tears streaming down his face as he gazed into Jeffo’s eyes and silently begged to be forgiven. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed him from behind and started hauling him to the side of the pit.

‘Jeffo,’ he screamed helplessly as he was lifted out. ‘You bastards! Look what you’ve done. Look what you’ve done to my dog!’

Even in the midst of his rage and distress, Tom made sure he took a good look at each of their faces. The biggest amongst them came forward and towered above him.

‘What d’you mean,
your
dog?’

‘He stole him off me,’ Tom shouted, jabbing his finger at a stunned-looking Cal. He tried to slip the hold on his shoulders, wildly kicking out. ‘I’ll kill you!’