‘He was a good man, and you’re … you’re a monster!’
The figure was silent for a moment, and then suddenly burst out laughing.
‘You defend him!’ it cried in disbelief. ‘The great explorer! The man who abandoned you for … for a dead dog! Who spent your whole life running away from you …!’
‘He did not run away,’ said a voice behind them.
Kyte swung round, its body now moving in ways that Alex could not understand. A figure was walking towards them in the fog.
‘Who’s there?’ Kyte hissed.
The figure emerged from the grey. It was the dog Arnauld. He was standing on his hind legs.
‘He never ran away from you, Alex,’ said Arnauld.
‘Leave us!’ Kyte growled, his back coiling with fury, his two voices seething.
Arnauld walked towards the bodies lying on the ground before them.
‘He was trying to undo what he had done,’ he said. ‘He spent his entire life trying to come back here and fix what had happened. To put them both back together, and to become human again. To live long enough to see you grow up …’
‘Leave!’ Kyte suddenly shrieked, throwing himself at the dog. Arnauld flung himself backwards just in time.
‘Alex, your father – he never wanted to get back to the centre,’ he cried. ‘The thing that he lost was you. All he wanted was to get back to you, before it was too late. Please – do not make the same mistake he spent his whole life trying to fix.’
Alex looked at the bodies on the floor, at the broken man and dog, and put his head in his hands. In the fog, the monstrous body of Kyte wrapped itself around him. Alex felt the wet heat of its breath on his neck.
‘Don’t listen to the dog, Alex,’ Kyte hissed. ‘You don’t need him, or your father. We don’t need anyone. Not where we’re going.’
‘You do not need to go, Alex,’ said Arnauld. ‘You can turn away. Look at what happened to them.’
Alex gazed down at the floor, his eyes flooding with tears. A hand of dead skin and broken claws came to stroke his face, slowly twisting his head from the bodies.
‘You can’t turn away from it now, Alex,’ Kyte hissed. ‘The centre … it’s right in front of you.’
‘Alex, please,’ Arnauld begged.
‘If you turn away now,’ said Kyte, ‘then everything your father died for was pointless.’
‘No!’
Alex tore the last shreds of the jumper from his neck and flung himself headlong into the sea of greyness around them, his eyes streaming.
‘Alex, don’t!’ cried Arnauld. ‘Come back!’
‘No,’ Alex sobbed. ‘I won’t let him die for nothing.’
The greyness once again enveloped him, and before he knew it Alex was running again, running towards the centre of the endless fog.
30
The grey became darker, with every step darker, harder to see, harder to feel. Even the ground felt like it wasn’t there any more. He was alone.
‘Where is it?’ Alex cried. ‘Where is it?’
He ran, thrashing in the darkness.
‘Alex?’
Someone was walking towards the door. Alex said nothing. The footsteps got louder.
‘Alex …?’
The door slowly opened. A tired hand fumbled for a light switch, and it came on with a snap.
Alex looked up. He was hunched on the floor of his bedroom, still in his school uniform. His eyes were red from crying.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he said.
A woman stood in the doorway. She was wearing the bathrobe Alex had bought her for Christmas. It was white when Alex bought it. It was stained lots of different colours now, because Alex’s mother always wore a bathrobe when she cooked. She rubbed her eyes and smiled.
‘Hi, pudding,’ she said.
‘I ran away from school,’ said Alex.
‘You don’t say,’ said his mum.
Alex looked down at the carpet. In front of him lay a pile of torn-up photographs and posters. On the top lay the photo of his father in the kennels, ripped into tiny pieces. Alex looked up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
Alex’s mum walked over and put an arm around his shoulder.
‘I think you need a sandwich,’ she said.
They went downstairs. Alex’s mum put on the radio while she made him a sandwich. Alex sat at the table. The kitchen hadn’t changed since he’d left for Cloisters. The only difference was the new fridge, which was much smaller than the old one. It had a photo of Alex on it.
His mum walked over to the table with the sandwich and sat opposite him. She picked up a knife and started cutting it. Alex glanced up.
‘I went to the hospital,’ he said. ‘To see Dad.’
Alex’s mother dropped the knife. She glanced up.
‘I asked you not to go there,’ she said.
‘Well I went anyway,’ said Alex.
He looked away. His mother didn’t speak for a while.
‘He’s sick, Alex,’ she eventually said. She was almost angry. ‘He’s very, very sick. I didn’t want you to …’
‘I never want to see him again,’ said Alex. ‘I hate him.’
He stared down at the table. Alex’s mother paused for a moment, and picked up the knife.
‘That’s no way to talk about your father,’ she said quietly.
Alex glared up at her. ‘Why not? Why shouldn’t I hate him after everything he’s done?’
‘Because’, she said, ‘I know what it feels like to love you as much as he does.’
They looked at each other over the table.
‘When you love someone like that, Alex, you have to make hard decisions. Very, very hard ones. Ones that you don’t want to make, sometimes ones that you would rather die than make, but you have to anyway. Because they’re for someone you love. Because they might be the only right thing to do, even if it means they hate you for it.’
She carefully cut the sandwich into two halves and gave him one of them. Alex held it.
‘That’s why you sent me away, then,’ he said angrily.
Alex’s mother nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was. Because I didn’t want you to see this any more. Because I did everything I could to try and make this a happy place for you, and I failed.’
His eyes reddened. ‘It’s not your fault,’ he said quietly.
‘Maybe not,’ said his mother. ‘But I had to give you somewhere else. Somewhere you could run away to.’
Alex sat in silence. She reached out and rubbed his hand.
‘And whenever you want to come back here,’ she said, ‘whenever you’re ready, you come back. Any way you have to. And I’ll be here.’
She stood up and switched off the radio. Alex sat holding the sandwich, his eyes fixed on the table. His mother walked up beside him and gently turned his head to face her. She looked straight into his eyes.
‘I love you, Alex,’ she said. ‘Don’t ever forget that I love you.’
With that she gave him a hug and walked out the kitchen.
When she came downstairs the next morning Alex was gone, along with all his school things. On the table was the uneaten half of the sandwich. Next to it lay the photograph of his father in the kennels, covered in thumbprints from where he had spent the night piecing it back together with pieces of Sellotape.
‘Mum,’ he said.
He came to a stop in the darkness.
On every side of him was grey. There was no break in it, no way of seeing through it, no way of removing it. Alex stood, panting for breath. Then he stopped.
Something was breathing behind him.
He turned around. In the fog behind him stood the figure. It was hunched over, heaving for breath, staring at Alex.
‘I’m not going any further,’ said Alex.
The figure arched in the haze. Some part of it was dying, or all of it.
‘Alex,’ it gasped. ‘Not now. We’re almost there. We’re so close.’
Alex gazed at the f
igure. It was almost as if it was falling apart in the fog, away from itself, lost in the gulf.
‘No,’ said Alex. ‘No. I’m going home.’
Alex stepped towards the figure, and its shape emerged from the grey. It was different now, decrepit and broken. It was the sorriest thing that Alex had ever seen in his life.
‘You would go back instead,’ it mocked from its sunken eyes, ‘and live in ignorance.’
‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘I would.’
He turned once again and looked into the thickness of unending grey that surrounded them.
‘I just don’t think there’s anything out there,’ he said quietly.
He turned back. In the fog before him, the figure rippled and swayed, its two chests heaving with painful breath.
‘You understand’, said the voice, ‘what it is that you’re giving up.’
Alex nodded. ‘I do.’
‘I see,’ it said.
The figure turned from him and slowly began to sink away in the fog.
‘Then enjoy your life of never knowing, Alex Jennings. Live in the shadows out of choice. But I won’t.’
Its steps were more pained now, its shape less and less like two distinct shapes and more like an unrecognisable whole.
‘Because there must be an answer out there,’ said the voice hollowly. ‘There must be.’
Alex stood and watched as the shape disappeared into the fog of the centre. In a moment it was gone utterly, enveloped by the greyness.
31
Alex walked back through the grey. Slowly, step by step, the mist began to lift.
Soon new shapes began to emerge before him. From out of the haze Arnauld appeared, standing beside the two bodies that lay together on the ground. Alex smiled.
‘Arnauld,’ he said.
The dog glanced up. ‘Alex!’ he cried. ‘You came back!’
He ran over and threw his front legs around Alex.
‘I was knocked out by a rock when the tower shook! And when I woke up I could not find you, and the door was open, and …’
‘You can stand on your hind legs, too?’ said Alex.
Arnauld nodded sheepishly. ‘Er, yes. I can.’
They both fell silent. Alex’s gaze fell down to the dog that lay on the ground beside them.
‘He was your father, wasn’t he?’ he said quietly.
Arnauld nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘He met my mother at the kennels on the base. Just before the Expedition. She said he had gone to find the centre, and that he just … never came back.’
Alex smiled. ‘So that’s why you can talk,’ he said. ‘You’re part dog, and part …’
The two looked at each other and froze. They each knew what the other was thinking, but in a second it was gone. It was something that couldn’t be said, or wouldn’t. They both gazed back at the bodies.
‘So what do we do?’ said Alex.
‘We bury them,’ said Arnauld. ‘Together.’
It was many hours before they had made a hole big enough for the two bodies. When it was done they were covered in grey dust, darkened by the sweat of their faces. They stood for a while beside the hole, gasping for breath, and wordlessly began to lower the two bodies inside.
Alex held his father in his arms. The body was lighter than he could have ever imagined. He gazed down at his calm, sad face, and had no idea what to feel looking at it. In a way, it was as if his father had died a long, long time ago, and only now was Alex able to see him again. It was the closest that he could remember being to him. His heart was heavy with many things.
Alex kissed his father, and closed his eyes, and with a final squeeze of his hand he crawled out of the hole.
Arnauld stood waiting for him.
Alex got to his feet. ‘Do you want to say anything?’ he said.
Arnauld thought for a while. In the fog, it was difficult to tell what his face was doing. He looked down at the body of the dog.
‘I am sorry that I never met you,’ said Arnauld. ‘I wish that I had been able to talk to someone about what it feels like. To not understand dogs, and yet to not understand people either. To not be either one.’
He picked up a small handful of dust in his paw, and scattered it inside. He turned to Alex.
‘Do you want to say anything?’
Alex shook his head. ‘No,’ he smiled. ‘That was perfect.’
Together they filled the hole, until it was just ground again.
They wound themselves back along the thread of Alex’s jumper, their steps heavy in the grey of the fog. Soon they were back at the entrance to the tunnel, creeping towards the light of a new day.
They came outside. Alex closed the door behind them.
‘So how did you do it?’ asked Arnauld. ‘How did you open the door?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I just opened it,’ he said. ‘I thought you said it was called the Unopenable Door.’
‘I did!’ Arnauld snapped. ‘I mean … it is. Well, I guess I am the one who called it that.’ He blushed. ‘So … how does it open?’
Alex pointed to the door handle.
‘Circular door knob,’ he said. ‘Dogs can’t open them. They don’t have the thumbs.’
He waggled his thumbs. Arnauld looked down at his own paws despondently.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, that is quite something.’
They walked back through the slimy rock pathways until they came to Arnauld’s hut. It had been trampled into firewood by the wolves. They both stood and stared at it. The plank of wood Arnauld had used to lock the door still jutted up out of the rocks uselessly. He sighed and picked it up.
‘I suppose I will not be needing this any more,’ he said gruffly. ‘Is it possible you could help me to, how you say, do a little rebuilding? It took me many years to learn how to use a screwdriver …’
He looked back to the boy. Alex was gazing over the surface of the tumbling water, the remains of his unravelled jumper rolled into a ball in his hands.
‘You are going home,’ said Arnauld.
Alex nodded. There was another thread running from him now, from his heart across the water, through the forest, an invisible line back to the people who loved him. Alex turned to the dog.
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘If you want to.’
Arnauld shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I cannot.’
Alex’s face fell. ‘Why not?’
Arnauld drew a breath.
‘When I met you at the base,’ he said, ‘I was not there for research. I had just … given up. I could not take it here any more. I thought that maybe I could go back – to try being a dog again. But it did not work. It could not. There is no place for me there – not for something like me.’
They fell silent, staring across the water.
‘You could stay with me, you know,’ said Alex, stepping forward.
Arnauld looked up. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Stay with me,’ Alex repeated. He shrugged. ‘I mean, you’d probably have to cut out the walking-on-your-hind-legs thing, but otherwise it’d be fine. Oh, and probably the talking, too.’
They looked at each other.
‘So where are you going to go?’ said Arnauld.
‘Back to my mum’s,’ said Alex.
‘Oh,’ said Arnauld. ‘And … she would not mind?’
Alex shook his head. ‘You’d like her. She’s nice.’
Arnauld thought about it for a moment. He shrugged. ‘OK.’
Alex grinned. The two of them walked towards the line where black rock became water. Alex took in a deep breath and stood at the edge, his eyes fixing across the water.
‘Oh, and by the way!’ said Arnauld. ‘The answer to your question – it is “halfway”.’
Alex looked gormless. Arnauld rolled his eyes.
‘Halfway,’ he repeated. ‘How far can a dog run into the woods, remember? “Halfway.”’
Alex frowned. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ said Arnauld, steadying himself on the
edge. ‘After that it is just running back out again, no?’
He threw himself into the water and was carried away by the tide.
‘Dad.’
‘No, Alex, bedtime.’
‘One last question!’
‘There’s never just one last question with you, Alex.’
‘No, I’m serious. Just one more, then I’ll sleep.’
‘If I promise to answer it, will you promise to sleep?’
‘Most certainly.’
‘Fine, one more. Go on.’
‘What’s the most frightened you’ve ever been?’
‘That’s a tough one.’
‘… Was it when you went into the Forbidden Land?’
‘Oh no, Alex, we’re not talking about this …’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, we’re just not. Your mother and I have talked about this and we decided that you’re four years old, and you’re not old enough to hear about those kinds of things.’
‘But you promised you’d answer my question!’
‘That’s cheating, Alex. I’m not allowed to tell you about when I went into the Forbidden Land.’
‘What about when you were coming out of it? Are you allowed to tell me about that?’
‘Very clever, Alex.’
‘Oh, come on. What was scary?’
‘Well, all of it was scary, Alex. But if I’m honest, coming back out was a lot scarier than going in.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, because I knew what I had to go back to, that’s why. When I was going in, I was more excited than anything. I had no idea what was at the centre. The whole world lay before me. But coming back out again, I knew I had to face everything that I had left behind. And that was really scary.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yeah. Remember, back then, Alex, I hadn’t met your mother yet. You hadn’t been born yet. I didn’t really have anything – I was very alone. Maybe that’s why I had gone out looking in the first place.’
‘But then you met Mum, and everything was fine.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Exactly. It was.’
‘Hooray!’
‘And then you were born, Alex, and it was even more fine!’
Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door Page 20