by Amy Cross
The only trace of the city is a few whiffs on clothes and fabric in the car.
“There it is,” Michael says, slowing the car. “I told you it looks better in real life, didn't I? Those photos really didn't do the place justice.”
“Oh my God,” Maisie replies, her voice filled with a hint of concern, “is that where we're living?”
“It's a -”
“It's falling apart!”
“It's not falling apart,” Michael replies. “It's a fixer-upper. It needs some work. But the foundations are strong and the structure is fine, it just all needs a fresh coat of paint and some TLC. Which we're more than ready to provide. All of us. Isn't that right, honey?”
It's still hard to see the building as the car comes to a halt. There are trees in the way, plus I can't really see around the back of Linda's seat, no matter how I try one side and then the next and then the next. At the same time, one particular smell is starting to dominate all the others.
Something like grass, but not grass.
Wet.
Damp.
Alive.
“That's right,” Linda says with a sigh, un-clicking her seat-belt. “Well, I guess we'd better take a look around.”
“Let's go!” Maisie yells, opening the door on her side and almost slipping as she rushes out of the car. “Hugo, let's go look around!”
I don't need telling twice.
I scamper across the back seat and leap out onto the dry soil. Maisie's already getting far ahead, and I always worry when she's on her own. I know Michael and Linda will be just fine, so I race around the side of the car and then I run across the open yard until I catch up to Maisie, who's stopped ahead and is now staring up at the large, tall house that towers above us. Although this is a bright and sunny day, the shadow of the house falls across us and the air feels a little cool.
Following her gaze, I look up and see that this building is covered in some kind of moldy green growth that has left visible just a few patches of gray stone. The whole house looks and smells like it's made of wood, although when I look down I see a concrete base with very low windows that seem to lead into a basement. The front of the house has a set of wooden steps leading up to a small porch and then the front door, but after a moment I stop looking and instead I focus on the overwhelming smell of old, rotten and wet wood that seems to be emanating from the heart of the house and blowing out through the windows. This place is really, really old, and damp too. I don't think the doors and windows have been open for quite a long time.
“It's creepy,” Maisie says, still standing next to me.
I look up at her face and see that she, in turn, is staring up at the house. Her mouth is hanging open.
“I don't like it,” she continues. “It's too dark.”
“What do you think?” Linda asks, coming over to join us. “Do you think we can make this place work, Maisie?”
“What's all the green stuff?”
“That's moss,” Linda says with a smile. “There's a lot of it, isn't there? It's just something that grows on certain old houses.”
“It looks dirty.”
“It's part of the house's character.”
“I don't like it.”
“Maybe you will after a while,” Linda says. “I might cut some of it back, especially at the windows, but I think it gives the place a real sense of charm. And maybe we should think about renaming the place Moss House. Anything's better than Caldgrave, right?”
“Is that really what it's called?” Maisie asks.
“We'll change it, honey. I promise.”
“It sounds like cold grave.”
“No, it doesn't.”
“I think it does. Are we going to live here forever?” Maisie pauses, sounding a little said. “Like... forever forever?”
“It's going to be great, honey.” Linda puts a hand on her shoulder. “We need this change. And trust me, a lick of paint inside'll make all the difference. I know the house looks freaky right now, but soon it'll look like a proper home. I promise. Even with all the moss.”
She reaches down and pats me on the side.
“And Hugo likes it, doesn't he? He has so much space to play now.”
I wag my tail slightly at the mention of my name, but in truth I'm more worried about Maisie. She doesn't look very happy as she continues to stare up at the house, and I can't say that I blame her. I know her sense of smell isn't as strong as mine, but I think maybe she's noticed how old and rundown the place seems. In that case, I don't quite understand why Michael and Linda are being so enthusiastic. It's almost as if they want us to be here.
And that green stuff stinks.
I sniff the air, picking up a very damp, organic scent. The whole house is covered in this huge, living mold.
“It's not as bad as it looks, kiddo,” Linda says with a sigh, patting Maisie's shoulder before turning and heading over to join Michael as he heads to the front door. “Why don't you and Hugo go take a look out back while we air the house out? Go show Hugo his amazing new garden.”
“Come on, Hugo,” Maisie says, clicking her fingers as she starts walking around the side of the house. “Let's see what we've got here.”
I scamper after her, darting through the overgrown grass that clearly hasn't been cut for a long time. And I have to admit that apart from the house itself, I suppose it's not too bad here. There are so many new smells all around, it's going to take me forever to track them all down and figure out what they are. In fact, the further we get from the house, the more I start to speed up, and I can't help running past Maisie as I spot sunlight ahead. Finally, emerging from the house's shadow, I stop and look out across a vast, overgrown garden that stretches toward trees in the distance. A butterfly skitters past, and when I sniff the air I immediately pick up hundreds and hundreds of smell threads are all around us.
Now that I can't smell the rotten old house, the garden smells amazing. But then, slowly, I realize that not all the new smells back here are fresh. Most of them are, but I can just about pick up something faint and foul that's drifting through the air. Something that I can't see, but that I definitely, definitely know is close. After a moment, I look down at the ground beneath my paws. All I see is cracked soil with a few patches of mud, but those cracks are letting a faint but clear smell drift up from deep down below.
I think there's something buried here.
Chapter Two
“Look at all this junk,” Maisie mutters as she makes her way through the tall grass, before stopping to touch some kind of old, rusty metal frame that's jutting up from the ground. “I don't even know what this used to be.”
Pushing through the grass until I reach her, I sniff the frame and then I immediately take a step back. The frame is old, but I don't think anyone has actually touched it in years. It must have been out here for a long time, though, because it has that smell that old metal gets when it's been left to endure rain and wind and heat. It smells like old metal fences and parts of playground equipment, which is pretty nasty but not exactly dangerous. In other words, something I can safely ignore.
“Maybe it was part of a bed,” Maisie says, “or a car. It could have been anything.”
Suddenly she shakes the frame, causing it to creak. I instinctively pull away, and it takes a half-second before I realize that there's no reason to be scared. I watch the frame for a moment, though, just in case.
“Sorry, Hugo,” Maisie continues, letting go of the frame and heading off further into the grass. “I didn't mean to scare you. You're very jumpy, you know.”
She said my name, but apart from that all those words made no sense at all.
Humans talk a lot.
I'm fairly sure the frame is safe, but I still give it a low growl just to make sure it knows to keep away. Then I hurry after Maisie, preferring to stick close to her as we reach the edge of the grass and step out together onto a bare, slightly muddier patch of land. This yard is certainly more unpredictable than the gravel parks I visit
ed in the city.
Sunlight is glistening in pools of water as Maisie squelches out toward the distant trees, although she's taking care not to get her feet stuck. She's still limping slightly on her bad foot, but it's good to see her up and about. She spent so long in bed back in the city, and there were months on end when we didn't get to go out together. Now she can explore again, like the old days, and I'm happy. I'm so happy, in fact, that I even edge around the mud and then step out along a dryish path, braving the puddles of water so I can keep up with her.
I'll just have to give myself a good wash later. Not that I mind, of course. It can be quite nice to spend a few lazy minutes grooming oneself and -
Suddenly I see a little girl over by the oak tree.
I stop immediately, staring at the girl as she – in turn – stares at Maisie. Maisie herself doesn't seem to have noticed the girl yet, and I've got to admit that I didn't notice we had company either. Usually I'd be able to smell a new arrival long before he or she arrived, and the breeze is blowing past the new girl and right this way, but as I sniff the air I realize I'm not picking up any kind of odor of a person at all. I can see the girl, but it's almost as if she's not really there.
And still she's staring at Maisie. Not saying anything, not doing anything, just staring. There's something about her eyes that I don't like, a kind of hollow darkness forming rings beneath each eye. She's quite pale, too, and her clothes are pretty ragged and old. I lick my nose in an attempt to get a better fix on the girl's smell, but still there's nothing. Sure, the girl looks to be about the same age as Maisie, and I know that children aren't usually dangerous. I don't like not being able to smell this new girl, though; I don't like not being able to figure out whether or not she's healthy.
“Are you coming?” Maisie calls back to me, and I turn to see that she's quite a way off now, over near one of the other trees.
Turning to me, Maisie uses one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
“Come on, Hugo!” she shouts, before using her other hand to pat her leg. “What's wrong? It's okay, come with me!”
I look over at the other girl, who's about ten paces from Maisie and staring at her intently. I don't understand why Maisie hasn't reacted to the other girl yet, because usually Maisie's really friendly whenever she bumps into someone. As she pats her legs again, however, it's almost as if Maisie hasn't seen the other girl at all.
“Come on, Hugo!” she says again. “Why are you looking so sad? We've got all this garden to explore, and I'd rather be out here than in that horrible house. Let's go, yeah?”
Spotting movement nearby, I turn and see that the pale girl has started walking slowly toward Maisie. I can already feel the hairs starting to stand up on the back of my neck, and as the breeze picks up a little I lick my nose again, still trying to detect even the faintest whiff of the girl's odor. Everyone has a smell, even in the city when there are so many people around that it's hard to pick them apart, but this girl's smell is blank.
Non-existent.
And she's stepping closer and closer to Maisie, who still hasn't acknowledged her in any way.
Suddenly Maisie crouches down and holds her hands out toward me.
“Hugo!” she shouts. “Come on, boy!”
Realizing that she's not going to come to me, I start making my way carefully across the mud. I keep my eyes fixed on the pale girl, watching as she goes closer to Maisie, and I know that I'm going to have to be brave. All that matters to me is keeping Maisie safe, and finally – as the pale girl gets close enough to reach out and touch her – I hurry forward and jump across several of the puddles until I reach Maisie and turn my back to her so that I can look up at the pale girl's face.
Towering above me, the pale girl stares straight at Maisie. Now that I'm closer, I realize that there was no mistake earlier. This girl has absolutely no smell about her at all.
Instinctively, I let out a slow, curling growl to warn her off.
“What are you grumbling at?” Maisie asks, and I feel her pat my shoulder. “Hugo, don't be weird. Come on.”
With that, I hear her turn and start limping away across the mud, although I stand my ground and continue to stare up at the pale girl. The girl, in turn, tilts her head slightly as she continues to watch Maisie, and then she steps past me and starts going after her.
I immediately hurry around and stop in front of her, and without thinking I let out a single, loud bark to let her know that she has to stay where she is.
She ignores me, however, and keeps walking over toward Maisie.
“What is wrong with you?” Maisie asks with a sigh. “Hugo, stop barking at a bunch of nothings and come this way.”
She turns and starts walking toward the far end of the garden, while patting her thigh again.
“Come!” she shouts, followed by a brief, high-pitched whistle. “Hugo! Come!”
The pale girl continues to walk after her. Filled with panic, I rush past the girl and stop once more in front of her, and this time I can't help barking several times. The girl ignores me, however, and doesn't even look at me as she continues on her way.
I run along side her, barking some more, but then I see that Maisie is getting quite far ahead. For a moment I'm not sure what to do, but then finally I turn and run after Maisie, hoping that we can simply stay away from the pale girl and lose her.
Just as I reach Maisie, I see that she's leaning down and climbing through the remains of a broken old fence. I try to follow, but there's some barbed wire hanging down and I'm not sure how to get through. And then, suddenly, Maisie reaches down and picks me up, lifting me high above the fence and then setting me back down on the ground on the other side, next to her.
“Silly dog,” she says, ruffling the top of my head for a moment before turning and setting out across the meadow. “Come on, Hugo. Let's go and take a look around. Anything to avoid having to go into that stinky old house.”
I look back the way we've just come, and I see the pale girl still following us. For a moment I snarl as I see the girl's dark, empty eyes, and I can't help feeling that something about her is really wrong. Still, Maisie must have decided to ignore her, and I can't say that that's a bad idea so I hurry on after Maisie, determined to keep up with her and make sure that she's safe. If we ignore the pale girl, maybe she'll just go away. I hope so, anyway.
I've never met a human before who didn't have at least some kind of scent.
Chapter Three
“Wow, that's actually pretty cool,” Maisie says, stopping at the edge of the sun-dappled stream and staring down into the water. “Do you fancy a swim, Hugo?”
I gingerly step closer and peer over the edge, before taking a step back. I'm not a big fan of water, especially when it's running quite fast.
“I didn't think so,” Maisie laughs, before picking up a rock and throwing it into the stream. There's a loud plopping sound, which makes her giggle, and then she sits down and starts taking off her shoes and socks.
I sit next to her, and at the same time I look back and see that the pale girl is still coming. She's quite slow and she's still a couple of minutes behind us, but she hasn't given up. And I still can't smell her.
A moment later, however, I get a strong whiff of Maisie's feet, and I turn just as she slips them down into the water. I don't know why she's doing that, but then again I rarely know why humans do anything. For a few seconds, however, I can't help looking at the deep scar on Maisie's left foot. I don't know why she always limps, but she's been that way since I first met her. She seems to be okay, and I don't think she's in pain. She just limps.
“That tickles,” she says with a smile. “It's not too cold, though.”
She pauses, staring into the water, and I watch as her smile begins to fade.
“I think we're staying here, Hugo,” she continues finally. “I was hoping Mum and Dad would change their minds and decide to move us back home, but I think they really want to try to make this stupid thing work, even though the house
is covered in that horrible green stuff. I heard Mum saying to Dad that maybe they won't argue so much out here. That doesn't really make much sense, but I suppose I don't really know much about it.” She shrugs. “There's no-one else here, though. There aren't any houses for miles around. Who am I supposed to play with?”
Looking past her again, I see that the pale girl is closer now.
I let out a brief, involuntary grumble.
“Oh, I know I've got you,” Maisie says, patting me on the back, “and you're more than enough dog for anyone. We'll have fun, I promise, but you've got to admit it'd be fun to have some people around.” She sighs. “I suppose there must be some neighbors around somewhere. I mean, I think I saw a house about half an hour before we arrived, so that's something. I suppose we might bump into someone else eventually.”
As she continues to talk, however, I look past her and watch as the pale girl reaches the side of the stream. She's only about fifteen, maybe twenty paces away now, and sure enough she starts making her way toward us along the path.
Grumbling, I hurry around Maisie and put myself in the pale girl's path, and then I start snarling to let her know that she has to keep well away.
“Hugo, what's wrong with you?” Maisie asks, sounding tired, as she pats me on the side. “You're being really weird, you know that?”
The pale girl takes another step toward us, so I growl louder. I can feel the hackles standing up on the back of my neck, and I start baring my teeth so that the girl will see that she really, really needs to keep away. So far, however, she's shown no sign of paying any attention to my warnings. I'd usually be able to smell fear on someone by now, but as this girl comes closer I'm feeling more and more troubled by the fact that she doesn't smell of anything at all.
I can see her, but otherwise she's not here.