Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door

by Ross Montgomery

  The dog sat down and stared at him. Alex groaned.

  ‘Fine,’ he said, turning back. ‘Go on if you want. I’m going to sleep.’

  He sat down beside a tree, breathing a sigh of relief. He untied the jumper from his waist, balling it up behind his head and leaning back. Alex screwed his eyes shut against the glare of the sun. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since he’d left the boundary the day before, and yet he somehow wasn’t hungry or thirsty in the slightest. He wasn’t even sure how many hours it had been since he last slept. But then, Alex thought, he must have stopped somewhere in the forest and slept, because he’d had the dream again, the one where he was pressed up against a wall. And memories not of walking but of lying down, with the rustle of dead leaves running up his back, as if he was being dragged along the forest floor …

  ‘Sleep,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Just go to sleep, Alex.’

  ‘Just go to sleep, Alex.’

  Alex was allowed to stay up late, because it was the day that the Order were finally letting his father come home. Alex had even made a cake to celebrate. He’d wanted to make it in the shape of a dog, because his father liked dogs so much. Alex’s mum said sternly that she didn’t think that was the best idea. In the end the cake collapsed, and they had to scoop the middle out, and left a gaping hole in the centre. In a moment of inspiration Alex filled it with crisps.

  They waited until long after midnight, at which point Alex’s mum said he should probably go to bed. Of course, Alex was still wide awake when his father’s footsteps came slowly up the stairs and his face appeared at the crack in the door, trying not to wake him.

  ‘Dad!’ Alex cried, sitting up.

  ‘Shhh!’ hissed his father, glancing quickly over his shoulder.

  ‘You’re back,’ Alex said, a little more quietly.

  His father smiled and pushed open the door. Even in the dim light of the room Alex could see that he had become much older over the past year. His hair was greying, and there were lines on his face that Alex couldn’t remember being there before. He carefully crept over the bedroom floor and sat down on the edge of Alex’s bed.

  ‘Hello, Alex,’ he whispered.

  ‘Did you see my cake?’ said Alex.

  ‘I did,’ his father smiled. ‘It looks very nice.’

  ‘We should have some now,’ Alex suggested, nodding encouragingly.

  ‘Not now, Alex,’ he said. ‘It’s far too late. Your mother wouldn’t be very happy if she knew you were talking to me. Now, go to sleep.’

  He kissed Alex on the head and stood up. Alex started.

  ‘But … aren’t you going to finish the story?’ he said.

  Alex’s father looked at him blankly. ‘What story?’

  Alex bristled. ‘The one you started,’ he said. ‘On the night you left.’

  His father shifted uncomfortably and made to leave.

  ‘Alex, we’ve got lots of other nights for stories,’ he muttered. ‘You’ve got to go to sleep now. Good night.’

  In a flash, Alex grabbed him by the wrist.

  ‘That’s what you said last time!’ said Alex angrily. ‘And then you ran away!’

  His father looked shocked. ‘Alex –’

  ‘And I couldn’t ask Mum to finish it because you said I shouldn’t tell her about it!’ he snapped. ‘And now I’ve been waiting to hear about what happened to Malex M. Mennings for over a year, and I’ve waited up all night, and now you’re telling me to wait even longer!’

  Alex stopped and the room fell quiet. Alex’s father stood looking at him for some time. His breathing was louder, more difficult now than it once was.

  ‘You remembered all that?’ he said eventually.

  Alex nodded. His father paused.

  ‘Alex, do you know who Malex M. Mennings is?’

  Alex nodded. ‘He’s the explorer,’ he said. ‘The explorer in your story.’

  His father paused for another moment and looked behind him at the door. He sighed and sat back down on the bed. He crossed his arms and then, after a moment’s thought, and with apparent difficulty, crossed his legs too.

  ‘OK,’ said Alex’s father. ‘But I’m only telling you this because I owe you. Five minutes, max.’

  Alex nodded eagerly. He had no idea why his father was calling him Max.

  ‘So,’ said Alex’s father, ‘where had we …’

  ‘He’d gone through the forest,’ said Alex quickly, ‘and come out the other side. And he found something and it wasn’t the centre of the Forbidden Land.’

  Alex’s father raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Quite a memory you have there, Alex,’ he said. ‘Looks like you’re ready to hear about how Malex M. Mennings crossed the desert.’

  ‘A desert!’ said Alex in amazement. ‘So that was what was in the centre …’

  ‘Well, yes and no, Alex,’ said his father. ‘The forest had no centre to it, really – it was like a giant ring, one so big that you couldn’t see the other side of it. Just like how the Cusp is a ring around the Forbidden Land. And in fact, Malex M. Mennings realised the desert was just another giant ring inside that one. So there had to be something else inside that, too, right in the middle of it. Do you see? He just had to keep going until he found the centre. The true centre.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Alex, clearly disappointed.

  ‘But Malex M. Mennings couldn’t travel in the burning heat of the desert sun to find it,’ said Alex’s father. ‘Not in his special suit. It would kill him, and his dogs, before they even got a mile.’

  ‘So what did he do?’ asked Alex.

  ‘What do you think he did?’ said his father. ‘He looked at his dogs. And he saw how they just sat and waited in the shade. Most people would try and get over the desert as quickly as possible, but the dogs knew they could only go when it was cool. So he waited too, until the sun had set and the desert had become as cold as a grave. And only then did he travel, by the light of the moon and stars. And when the sun began to rise again the next morning, he and his dogs took cover in the shade of a dune and went to sleep, and waited for the night to fall once more.’

  ‘But that would have taken ages!’ Alex groaned.

  ‘Some things you have to wait for, Alex,’ his father said. When he spoke again, his voice somehow sounded different in the darkness. ‘Some things need time.’

  ‘So did he do it?’ asked Alex. ‘Did he find the centre of the desert?’

  Alex’s father nodded. ‘In a way. Well, he found something.’

  He patted Alex on the leg.

  ‘But that’s a story for another time.’

  ‘But that was hardly any story …!’ cried Alex.

  Alex’s father shook his head and stood up. ‘You remember the deal. Time to sleep.’

  ‘You promise you’ll tell me the rest?’ said Alex.

  ‘Promise,’ said Alex’s father, walking to the door. His steps were pained. Alex sat up.

  ‘Dad,’ he said. Alex’s father turned around.

  ‘Yes, Alex?’

  ‘I’m glad you came back.’

  Alex’s father smiled.

  ‘Me too, Alex,’ he said. ‘I’m glad I came back too.’

  With that he walked out of the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  When Alex woke up the next morning, his mother was crying downstairs. Alex’s father’s bags were still unopened on the kitchen floor. He had run away again.

  When Alex woke up, it was night once more, and all was silent. The sky above the desert was thick with stars, more than Alex had ever been able to see his whole life.

  Alex sat up and looked around him. All the dogs had long disappeared, and he was alone at the edge of the trees. The desert stretched out ahead of him, calm, rolling, empty, like a blanket settled on a bed. In the distance, a light was glowing. Alex gazed at it, wide-eyed. It was not the green beam of the base. The light was coming from inside the desert. Alex sat up, his heart racing.

  ‘The centre,’ Alex gasped. ‘Th
e centre of the Forbidden Land.’

  Alex made to stand, and stopped. There was something weighing on his legs. Alex looked down. Lying alongside him, its head resting on his knees, was the dog with the black patch, its little chest rising and falling with exhausted sleep.

  16

  The walkway of the zeppelin reeled itself in like a curling tongue, and the doors snapped shut with a hiss.

  ‘All aboard,’ said Kyte quietly.

  He stood in a dark corridor lined with wood panelling. At the end of the corridor was a set of double doors, and in front of them stood Greg. He was clutching his clipboard, his hands shaking.

  ‘Everything ready?’ Kyte barked.

  Greg snapped himself back up. ‘Yes, sir. We’re finally ready to go.’

  ‘Those two idiots I sent for,’ Kyte said, striding towards the doors. ‘Are they on board?’

  Greg nodded. ‘In your quarters, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ said Kyte. He stopped and looked back at him. ‘And … Number 51?’

  Greg’s eyes darkened. ‘In the kennels, sir.’

  Kyte smiled. ‘Good,’ he said, turning to the doors. ‘Set us off to the boundary.’

  ‘Er … sir …’

  Kyte stopped and slowly turned around. Greg shifted nervously on his feet.

  ‘We have a bit of a problem, sir,’ he said quietly. ‘With the Pooh-Bah.’

  Kyte barely blinked. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He’s – well, he’s on board, sir,’ said Greg. ‘With the other esteemed members of the Order. He says you’re not to take off without his permission. He says he needs to talk to you.’

  Kyte stood still for a moment. Then his eyes slowly began to glint.

  ‘He’s on board?’ he said calmly. ‘Really?’

  Greg nodded. Kyte smiled. ‘Set us off, Greg,’ he said darkly. ‘Immediately.’

  Greg’s eyes widened. ‘Sir, I …’

  Kyte gave him a look that told him not to argue.

  ‘Of course, sir,’ said Greg, his face turning pale. ‘Right away.’

  Kyte gave him another nod, and with that Greg shot off down the corridor. Kyte pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

  A set of lush carpeted steps ran down from the doorway to a large polished wooden desk and a leather swivel chair. Behind them the entire wall was given up to a grand set of windows, revealing the empty runway outside scattered with wreckage. The crowds had finally been broken up, and the base was quiet once more.

  In the middle of the room, two men were strangling each other.

  ‘Mike,’ said Kyte, nodding to them. ‘Duncan. So glad you could rejoin us.’

  The two men spun around. Kyte walked briskly down the carpeted steps and threw himself down on the leather chair. He calmly wheeled himself over to the desk and swivelled menacingly in front of them, smiling like a carnivorous fish. Behind him, the pack of wolves emerged into view, barking and snarling, slowly heaving the zeppelin down the runway, their legs powering, their chains taut almost to breaking.

  ‘So,’ said Kyte gently. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard that the boy’s now making his way across the Forbidden Land. No doubt following his father to the centre.’

  The two men nodded sheepishly.

  ‘And I hope you both realise’, Kyte said carefully, ‘how much of a problem it would be if either of them reached it before we did.’

  The two men coughed and shifted uneasily on their feet. Kyte drummed his fingertips on the desk before him. The surface was inlaid with a large leather panel and had small recesses for buttons on either side. One of the recesses contained a hefty metal paperweight, a set of razor-sharp wolf’s teeth that glinted in the lamplight. The other contained a metal egg whisk. Duncan stared at it, deeply puzzled, and had already opened his mouth to ask about it before Mike quickly elbowed him in the ribs.

  ‘Don’t you worry, boss,’ Mike croaked, a light sweat forming on his brow. ‘He’s just a little kid. We’ll catch him. And if we ever get our hands on that Headteacher …’

  He was cut off by a sharp knock at the door. A troop of guards strode in, saluting.

  ‘Sir!’ the guard at the front announced. ‘We’ve found a stowaway on board, sir!’

  Kyte looked back at him with interest. ‘A stowaway?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said the guard. ‘We found him clinging to the bottom of the sewage tank. Shall I bring him in?’

  Kyte nodded. The doors swung open, revealing another pair of guards either side of a beaten and weary-looking prisoner. Mike and Duncan’s jaws fell. The prisoner was led down the stairs and thrust forwards onto the desk. He was thin, grubby and unshaven, and smelt faintly of sewage. Kyte smiled at the familiar face.

  ‘Ah, Mr Price,’ said Kyte. ‘I seem to remember that was your name, although at the time I didn’t think it was worth remembering.’ Matthew the Headmaster nodded grimly.

  ‘And you’re Davidus Kyte,’ he said. ‘Shamed ex-Head of Expeditions, last time I heard.’

  Kyte laughed and swivelled back into position on his chair.

  ‘Not quite, Mr Price,’ said Kyte. ‘I have some unfinished business to attend to before I give up my position. Unfortunately, it’s not something you can join us for.’ He waved his hands at the guards. ‘Throw him out of the window.’

  Matthew’s eyes widened with shock. The guards grabbed hold of him and started dragging him back up the stairs.

  ‘What?’ cried Matthew. ‘But – we’re already in the air!’

  ‘I have no choice, Mr Price,’ said Kyte sadly. ‘You see, once you cross the boundary, something still tries to push you out – even if your feet aren’t touching the ground. If there are too many passengers on board then it’s far too much strain for the wolves. I really can’t risk losing valuable time on an Expedition because of extra weight. So long, Mr Price …’

  ‘UNHAND THAT MAN AT ONCE!’

  Everyone spun round. The Grand High Pooh-Bah was at the doorway. He did not look pleased. Behind him stood the esteemed members of the Order, nervously peeking over his shoulders. Kyte’s face broke into a smile.

  ‘Your Lordship!’ he cried. ‘Fellow Order members! What perfect timing. Come in! Take a seat. We’ll be crossing the boundary any moment.’

  Kyte swivelled the chair round to face the window. The line where the tarmac became the grassland inched ever closer. The wolves leaped and heaved down the runway, their black fur foaming with sweat. The Grand High Pooh-Bah stormed down the steps.

  ‘What on earth is going on here?!’ he cried, waving his arms at the men holding Matthew. ‘Why are we moving? I never gave you permission to set off on this Expedition! Stop this at once! And what are all these guards doing on board …?’

  Kyte smiled. ‘I thought some protection would only be fitting, Your Lordship, given that we now have so many esteemed members of the Order travelling with us …’

  The Grand High Pooh-Bah leaned over the desk to better shout at Kyte.

  ‘We’re going nowhere, Kyte!’ the Pooh-Bah roared. ‘I will not let you lead a – a manhunt for a young child in the name of the Order. And now I find you throwing people out of the balloon, to fall a hundred feet to the ground – have you gone insane?’ He drew himself up to his full height. ‘I’m calling an end to all this right now!’ he bellowed. ‘Guards – unhand that man! We’re heading back. This Expedition is over!’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Your Lordship,’ said Kyte calmly.

  The Grand High Pooh-Bah snorted in disbelief.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Kyte?’ he laughed. ‘I am your superior …!’

  ‘We are in the air now, Your Lordship,’ said Kyte, cutting him off. ‘We are now officially on an Expedition. And I am the Official Head of Expeditions. That means that you and all the other Order members are my guests. Not my superiors. And these fine men –’ he indicated the guards surrounding the room – ‘answer to me. Not to you.’

  The Grand High Pooh-Bah’s face fell in disbelief. Kyte smiled.


  ‘So, for the meantime, at least,’ he said, ‘I’m in charge, Your Lordship.’

  There was a sudden tremendous thump at the front of the zeppelin, as if the entire balloon had been hit with a solid wall of air. The esteemed members of the Order gasped in horror. They were passing over the boundary. The force of it bucked the room almost completely upright, and sent everyone to the floor. The walls and floor began to shudder, a terrible tremble that started at the front and slowly ran along the entire length of the balloon, rattling their teeth in their heads and sending the blood to the back of their eyes. Whole shelves of books came crashing down.

  The zeppelin stopped shuddering as quickly as it had started. All was still. Everyone glanced at each other with fear. Through the window, the grassland stretched out ahead of them. And then slowly, like a dark cloud, it sank over them: the nervousness, the homesickness; the terrible itching in their feet. The Forbidden Land wanted them out.

  Kyte was the only one who didn’t seem to be concerned. He had no shortness of breath, no anxiety, no frantic pacing. And yet there was something about him that suddenly seemed different.

  Through the window behind him, the shadows of the wolves could be seen ripping through the grass below like a black tide. He leaned over his desk and pressed a button.

  ‘What speed are we going at, Greg?’ said Kyte into a vase of flowers beside him.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Thirty knots, sir,’ came a crackly voice from inside the vase.

  Kyte gave this some thought.

  ‘We’re supposed to be doing fifty,’ he said testily. ‘Alex is going to get to the centre in less than five days. We need to be faster if the wolves are going to have any chance of catching him …’

  There was a sudden commotion at the doorway. With a great heave Matthew had struggled free of the guards and was now clinging onto the doorframe beside him.

  ‘No, Kyte!’ Matthew cried. ‘I won’t let you get him!’

  Kyte raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Him?’ he said. ‘… You mean, the boy?’

  ‘That’s right!’ Matthew yelled as the guards tried to prise his fingers from the doorframe. ‘I know what you’re up to, you monster, and I’m not letting you do it! You’ll have to go through me first!’