by Chris Coppel
Lucy used the extra seconds she had been afforded to run at full speed away from the police station and towards the street with the wonderful restaurant smells. After only a few yards, she noticed on her left, one of those cobblestone lanes that Angel had referred to as a mews. Something instinctual told her to make the turn even though she had no idea where the mews led. She managed a quick glance over her shoulder and was relieved to see that Fat Man and Champ had somehow got themselves tangled around a streetlamp, with the lead encircling the metal column at least five times, and Fat Man’s legs at least twice. The Boxer was straining to be released to give chase to Lucy, but Fat Man was far more interested in his release from the leather restraint.
Lucy dashed down the mews and found to her utter delight that it was in fact dissected about halfway down by another mews that led to, and opened onto, the back of the police station. Attached to it was a long single-story building with high set windows.
She edged round to the back of the structure and saw that it was made up of small, meshed-in enclosures; each one housing a canine. Some were out in their respective ‘pen’ areas. Others were lounging in the interior part of their cages.
It all seemed frightfully cosy. Lucy approached the first enclosure and caught the eye of its occupant, a large, fluffy old English sheep dog.
“Excuse Me,” Lucy said. “Would you have perhaps seen my friends? It’s a group of five dogs. A Yorkie, A Rottweiler . . . ”
“A what? “the old dog asked. “Porky and a bottle of wine?” I say old girl. I’m not certain that I can be of much help.”
Lucy stared back at the other animal utterly lost for words.
“Psst,” came a voice from an adjoining pen. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s deaf as a post.”
Lucy smiled at the animal and with a weak grin, slipped away from the old English’s confused glance and came face to face with the oddest-looking hound she had ever seen.
He was slightly smaller than herself, had short, brown hair and was made up, or so it appeared, of nothing but wrinkles. Not the thin narrow lines that appeared on the faces of bipeds when they laughed, cried, or simply got older, but huge furrows of flesh that Lucy couldn’t remember ever having seen before on any living thing.
The strange breed smiled broadly at her, sending a couple of facial folds in an entirely different location. Lucy tried not to stare at the fleshy migration and instead focused on the animal’s eyes, which she found to be quite beautiful.
“You’ll have to excuse Godfrey,” the wrinkled hound said in a surprisingly well-bred voice as he nodded towards the old English’s enclosure. “He’s quite deaf, poor chap. Did I hear you asking about a group of five?”
“Yes, you did,” Lucy responded, excitedly. “Have you seen them?”
“Not personally no, but I’ve had a lengthy bark chat with a couple of members of the group. They’re isolated inside the barracks, but that’s never stopped a canine from having a tongue wag has it?”
“No, I suppose not,” Lucy said, warming to the odd-looking dog.
“I spoke with a Yorkie and a Doberman. Fine fellows, both of them,” he said as he tried to recall something from the back of his mind.” Goldie! You must be Goldie!”
“Lucy actually, but they call me Goldie . . . yes, that’s me. So, they really are here, and they’re safe,” she cried, near to tears. “Oh please, tell me where they are. I must see them.”
“Not a chance. They’re shut up in the big holding cell inside the building. No windows to the outside and only a skylight on the roof. That’s how I’ve managed to talk with them. Bit of a strain on the old voice box, but you can do it if you really try. It’s simply a case of . . . ”
“No!” she interrupted.” I’ve come here to see my friends and I won’t settle for long distance barks. There must be some way to get inside the place. Please think. I need your help.
The other animal looked at Lucy with great pity, understanding her plight. He closed his eyes and repositioned a few more wrinkles as he gave the matter some deep thought.
“There’s one way,” he said proudly as a thought struck him. “I’ve only been here a couple of days, but throughout the day, bipeds show up to look for their lost animals. They’re always accompanied by policemen and usually don’t stay long, but while they’re here, the outer door is left open. You could, if you were truly daft enough, slip in after them and see your friends.”
“Really! Do you honestly think I could?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes, I’m certain you could . . . it’s whether you should.” His face took on a serious expression, requiring the gathering and resorting of a full battalion of wrinkles. “But! Once you’re inside, the humans will see you. There’s nowhere to hide. You’ll have to dash in, say hello then dash out and keep your paws crossed that someone doesn’t close the door.”
Lucy looked back at the other dog with an expression of concern mixed with excitement. “I’ll just have to be careful, won’t I!”
“That you will. Are you certain I can’t tempt you with a simple bark chat with them? I’m sure they’d be delighted with that.”
“No, but thank you for the suggestion. Those canines and I have been through quite a bit together. I don’t think any of them would do any less to see me.”
“Well, it’s your pelt,” he replied with an encouraging grin. “The door’s just down on the side wall. I wish you all the best.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much. Do you realise I don’t even know your name?”
“How rude of me,” he uttered, clearly embarrassed by his own bad manners. “My name is Rumple.”
Lucy had to use every ounce of will power in her soul to not laugh at the sheer perfection of the animal’s synonymic moniker. “Rumple . . . thank you.”
She gave him a brief nose touch through the wire mesh then moved off to locate the fabled door. It was exactly where Rumple had said it would be, and to Lucy’s relief, directly across from a row of bins that made an excellent hiding place.
As it turned out, she didn’t have long to wait. She heard the bipeds before seeing them, as was often the case with her fine hearing. She could tell that there was a young boy and his mother, who was attempting to console the child. They were being led by a female policeman, who was trying to act official, but was having trouble remaining cold and professional when faced with a small, distressed child.
They reached the door, and as Rumple had promised, once they entered they did indeed leave the door open. Lucy took a hard swallow then dashed across the yard and through the door. The bipeds had only progressed a few paws into the building and were astonished at the sight of the speeding mass of golden hair that streaked by them.
Lucy didn’t even look at the humans as she sped by. She tore down the narrow corridor, passing one cell after another as each occupant began barking encouragements for her brave manoeuvre. At the far end of the building was a large holding pen with a huge cloth that had been hung to ward off prying eyes. Lucy covered the distance in milliseconds, and without even so much as a thought, grabbed the cloth in her teeth and pulled it down.
Inside the enclosure, a startled looking Labrador looked up at Lucy from her recumbent position as a group of hungry little pups nursed themselves hungrily on her exposed teats.
‘Oh my!” Lucy exclaimed, “I’m so sorry I thought . . . ”
“Nice one, Goldie!” Rodney said.
She spun around and saw the entire gang locked up in an identical cell next to the one with the new mother and her pups.
“I can’t stay. I just wanted you to know that I’m here and I’ll think of some way to get you out,” she said as fast as she could, for even as her words poured out, she could hear the sound of biped feet running towards her. She turned and saw the female policeman coming right for her.
“I’ll stay close,” she cried. “I love you a
ll, but I have to go!”
She charged right at the oncoming human, which was clearly not what the startled female expected.
As she ran off Rex called after her. “Be careful Goldie. Fat Man and the Boxer were just here.”
“I know!” she shouted back, just as she dived under the legs of the female policeman. The young boy and his mother stared in open-mouthed amusement as Lucy dashed by them for a second time.
Just as she was about to reach the door, Lucy clearly heard the young boy scream with delight and yell, “Rumple! You’re here. Mummy - look we’ve found him! Rumple! Oh, Rumple!”
Lucy couldn’t help but smile, knowing that the strange looking animal’s recent good deed was being almost immediately rewarded.
CHAPTER 21
Lucy made her escape cleanly. As she crept along the mews, she was relieved to see no trace of Fat Man and Champ. She kept in the shadows as much as possible until she reached the intersection with Walton Street.
She’d seen the others, if only for a fleeting moment. Lucy knew they were safe, yet something was troubling her. Some seed of discontent was trying to take root within her thoughts, but she just couldn’t seem to grasp what it was. She did however realise that she was starting to feel quite peckish.
She wandered down Walton Street until it curved sharply to the right then came upon an astonishing vision. A restaurant was taking delivery of their fresh provisions. It must have been their big delivery time, as three vans were parked up on the pavement. One carried the fruits and vegetables, another fish and poultry, and the last and by far the most interesting one, meat!
What was truly astounding was that the biped drivers of the vehicles were all gathered in the restaurant doorway, laughing with exaggerated gusto seemingly for the benefit of a female biped. She seemed quite pretty for a human but something unforeseen had happened to her clothing. The damaged garment that she was wearing on top seemed to be so loose fitting, the mounds that female bipeds were so careful to keep concealed appeared to be about to break free of their protective covering. Lucy couldn’t help but think how sweet those young male bipeds were to feel enough charity in their hearts to keep company with the female.
As Lucy began to creep towards the meat van, the thought that had eluded her earlier suddenly came into clear focus.
Fat Man and the Boxer! What were they doing at that police station?
Lucy gave the question some deep thought, but as she couldn’t even come close to finding a suitable answer, she allowed it to drift away as she turned her attention back to the meat. She glanced over at the drivers and saw that they were still being kind to the female, who seemed to be almost enjoying their charitable attention.
“Poor thing,” Lucy thought to herself as she watched her toss her lengthy red hair from one side to the other, as she laughed toothily at the three males.
Lucy reached the meat van unseen, and carefully stepped up into its open storage area. Lucy had never seen anything like it. There was so much food! If only she could take it all, she could feed herself and the others forever! She even had a moment’s fantasy about how, if she could only drive the vehicle like she had seen her Man do, she really could abscond with the whole lot! She could not drive however and had to therefore settle on a choice leg of lamb, which though heavy, she was able to half drag, half carry onto the street.
“Hey, you little thief!” the driver of the van screamed from the restaurant entrance.
Lucy froze in her tracks and turned her trembling head to face him. The man was about to step towards her when the deformed female, who was laughing joyously at Lucy’s antics, grabbed his arm and gently calmed him down.
Lucy heard the words. “Oh, let the poor animal have it, Bert. Look how hungry she looks.”
Whatever the words meant the male seemed to almost melt under her touch and voice.
“Oh, what the ‘eck,” he said, in a gruff, but resigned tone. “Get off with ya and enjoy it.”
Lucy suddenly realised that for some unknown reason, she was being allowed to make off with the pilfered meat. She slowly edged her way back around the corner of Walton Street, eying the humans every inch of the way, expecting them to change their minds at any instant.
They did not, and she made it around the corner and out of sight. Still terrified, but also somehow elated, Lucy hoisted the leg of lamb into a better carrying position between her teeth and ran off in search of a secure environment in which to partake of her booty.
She located the perfect spot at the bottom of a flight of basement stairs belonging to a residence that appeared to have been vacant for a long time. Lucy slid herself and her feast into a small nook under the stone steps, and though the hiding place was a bit damp and smelly, she was able to relax and enjoy her meal.
As she ate, she listened intently to the sounds of the city as they reached her ears, amplified slightly by the stone steps that surrounded her. The sound never let up for even a second. It was as if layer upon layer upon layer of noise coexisted to ensure that, should one level of sound stop for a rest, another would instantly fill its place to guarantee a constant and seamless aural level.
Lucy found one thing very puzzling. She knew that the city was built by humans for humans, and that the place was teeming with bipeds, yet she could hear hundreds of different varieties of sounds as they cascaded down towards her alert ears, but not one of them was the sound of a human. Vehicles, tools, machines, but not even a trace of laughter or conversation from the very people who had created the environment. It was almost as if they didn’t want to hear themselves.
Lucy felt her eyes slowly shut as the recent feeding worked to soothe her nerves and warm her belly. She knew that she needed to stay close to the police station and the others, but she had to nap for just a few moments.
Lucy slept soundly.
CHAPTER 22
Even in her sleep she heard the sound. Even over the cacophony of city sounds, she couldn’t miss it. Even tucked at the bottom of a basement stairwell with her head buried under her paws, she could hear her friends.
They were calling for help.
Lucy’s head shot up and she listened. She at first thought that it must have been a dream, but then her senses again separated the ambient decibels into appropriate groupings, and she clearly heard them. Something was wrong at the police station.
She roused her sleep-filled limbs and climbed the stone steps up to street level. She had a clear view down Walton Street to the station entrance but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Carried along on the molecules of air however, she heard the pleading cries from her imprisoned friends. Lucy broke into a run and passed in front of the station then rounded the corner and turned down the mews. She reached the intersection of the two lanes and heard an engine. A familiar engine. Then she saw the vehicle to which the sound belonged. The grey van was leaving the kennel area and Lucy could hear the metallic, echoing, cries from within. The afternoon sun was reflecting off the vehicle’s windscreen, making it impossible for Lucy to see who was inside operating it, but she had a pretty good idea.
What she didn’t have was the slightest clue how to stop the van. It was heading straight for her and she was all that stood, all be it trembling, between her friend’s freedom and the villainous hands of Squat Lady and the others.
Lucy felt herself go calm. A coldness ran through her body and she knew that she had to stop the vehicle. She eyed the approaching van then sat herself defiantly in its path. As it closed in on her, the sun passed behind a cloud and she could see clearly through the windscreen. Fat Man was at the wheel. Next to him, tightly wedged together, were Skull Face and Squat Lady. Lucy heard the engine grow louder and suddenly higher in pitch. They had speeded up.
Lucy then realised that a dead retriever was not going to be of much help to anyone. She dived off to the side of the mews as the van sped by. She turned just in time to see Squat
Lady as her pudgy features glared out through the side window. For the briefest second, Lucy’s eyes locked with the monstrous female’s, and Lucy suddenly understood that she wasn’t looking into the eyes of a normal human at all. Those eyes were dark and lifeless, almost like those of a fish that she had seen Cook de-head just prior to preparing it for her human’s supper.
The van reached the end of the mews and turned off towards Walton Street. Lucy broke into a run and chased after it. She could hear her friends calling for her from behind the grey metal panels of the van.
Lucy reached the street and saw that the vehicle had picked up speed and was already crossing the intersection of Walton Street, and the funny road with all the restaurants. She continued running after it, but she already knew that her speed was no match for the power of a human-built engine.
Lucy watched as the van rounded a series of bends, then as the road straightened out, the vehicle began to accelerate pulling even further away from her. As she used every last ounce of strength in her system and ran faster than she had ever thought possible, she saw something very odd happen. First there was a loud squealing of rubber, then Lucy saw the van swerve violently off to one side. To her utter astonishment, the grey vehicle then brushed against a lamp post, bounced off it, and flipped onto its side. With a deafening sound of grinding metal, it skidded along the pavement until it finally came to rest against another lamp post belonging to an adjoining street.
Lucy couldn’t fathom what had caused the vehicle to act is such an odd manner until she looked back to where the incident began. There, standing on a biped crosswalk, was Pru and her mistress. The Afghan had somehow managed to pull her female onto the crossing in the path of the speeding van, forcing it to avoid hitting the human by whatever means possible.