Dog Gone

by Carole Poustie

  Next, I tried sitting on the ground and shoving with my feet. The lid jerked back a few centimetres. Yes!

  The sun had come out from behind a cloud, which helped me peer into the dirty greyness. But all I could vaguely make out was a lumpy shape near the bottom. Was it the top of Brody’s head? It was on an awkward angle. He’d fallen a long way. Then the sun went in and the well went black.

  ‘Brody!’

  No answer – I’d have to go for help.

  Just as I got to my feet, I heard the faintest of sounds from down the well. I kneeled back down and yelled out to Brody again.

  A soft moan floated up the walls like a bubble in a bottle.

  ‘Brody, can you hear me?’

  Another moan, louder this time, came from the bottom of the well.

  ‘Are you hurt, Brody?’ I plunged my head into the blackness.

  ‘Ish?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Ish. Are you all right?’

  ‘No.’ He began to cry.

  ‘Where do you hurt?’ I yelled again.

  ‘Everywhere,’ wailed Brody, ‘everything hurts – especially my leg.’

  ‘Try not to move,’ I called down, ‘I’m going to get help for you, Brody.’

  ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘Brody, you’ll be okay for a moment. I have to get help.’

  ‘No!’ shrieked Brody, ‘Don’t leave – it’s so dark!’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see if I can move the lid off to let more light in.’

  ‘Owwww – my leg hurts. It really hurts.’

  I didn’t know how I was going to move the lid. I wished I had some of Brody’s strength. I thought about running next door to see if Mr Ironclad was home. It wouldn’t hurt Brody to be by himself for a while in the dark, especially after all the horrible things he’d done to me. Especially if he was scared.

  I turned away from the well.

  Brody yelled up at me again. ‘Ish! Are you still there?’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I called down, ‘I’ll yell for help while I try to move the lid off the well.’

  I turned to face the direction of Mr Ironclad’s house, and yelled at the top of my voice, ‘Mr Ironclad! Help! Someone’s fallen down the well! Help!’

  I doubted he’d be home. He was always out playing lawn bowls. Even if he was home, he often didn’t hear his doorbell because he had the radio blaring. But it was still worth a try. The house on the other side was no use – it had been empty for months.

  ‘Mr Ironclad! Help! Anyone! Help!’

  If only Lucky was here. He’d find Mr Ironclad in a flash.

  I sat on the edge of the well, my knees under my chin and my feet resting on the lid, ready to have another try.

  ‘Be careful,’ Brody called out to me again, ‘the bricks on top of the well are loose. Ohhh – my leg.’

  I gave the brick nearest me a kick with the side of my foot. It came away from the brick below it and shifted to the side. The well had been built a long time ago. In some places the mortar between the bricks around the top had shrunk, leaving gaps where the bricks weren’t joined anymore.

  I turned my attention back to pushing the heavy metal lid with my feet. I rested my hands on the ground on each side of me for support. Then I pushed and shoved with all my might. I strained so much it felt like I would explode. One of my arms had pins and needles from all the effort.

  The lid barely moved.

  I stopped pushing and gave my arm a shake.

  That’s when everything went wrong.

  When I’d kicked the brick, I must have disturbed a spider’s nest, because when I looked down at my arm, I discovered it wasn’t pins and needles that I’d felt, but a huge black spider and billions of its babies climbing up my arm!

  I screamed and jumped to my feet, trying to brush them off. I could feel some of them crawling down the back of my neck. The big black one had jumped onto the front of my shirt and was heading for the gap between it and my jacket. I tried to brush it off before it disappeared between the layers of my clothing.

  Then I screamed again – for a different reason.

  Chapter 17

  I should be dead. That’s what you’d expect from a fall of about seven metres. Especially if you landed on something lumpy. And if that lumpy thing was another person, then you’d expect them to be dead, too.

  But I didn’t die.

  When my eyes popped open, I realised I’d landed next to Brody. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. And did what I think just happened, really happen? Or was my memory playing tricks after a bump on the head? Because the moment I overbalanced, I think I saw the ghost hold out its arms and catch me. Even though it seemed ridiculous, I remembered falling down the well as if I was falling through honey – down, down, down – into a sea of sleep.

  What Brody and I were now sitting on was soft, like an old mattress. I could feel something like a chair underneath it, as well as other junk. It smelt like we were in a giant rubbish bin.

  ‘Far out!’ yelped Brody. ‘Wha– what was that?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I answered him. ‘But whatever it was, it just saved our lives.’

  ‘Are you for real? I mean – you got some crazy stuff happening around you.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ I moved my arms and legs to check I was okay.

  ‘Ouch, my leg!’

  ‘Sorry.’ I could feel Brody’s breath on my face. It felt as if we’d been squeezed into the neck of a bottle together, except we couldn’t see out. I shuddered. ‘How bad’s your leg?’

  ‘I think it’s broke,’ moaned Brody. ‘Owwww.’

  ‘If it’s broken you shouldn’t try to move it.’ A wave of panic shot through me as the black walls started to close in. This wasn’t a dream.

  ‘Owwww,’ moaned Brody again.

  ‘You saw the ghost, too?’ I asked, trying to calm myself down.

  ‘You’re kiddin’ me – right?’ said Brody. ‘A ghost?’

  ‘I think a ghost just saved our lives,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Brody tried to move away from me, but there was nowhere to go.

  ‘I’m serious. How else would we both be alive now?’

  I could just see Brody’s eyes in the darkness, but I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or not.

  His voice sounded wobbly. ‘This is all your fault. You and your stupid fishing rod.’

  ‘My fault? If you and your thug mates hadn’t ganged up on me at the river –’ I suddenly remembered the spiders and started to brush myself off, trying to stand up, but not being able to.

  ‘Hey! What are you doing now? Oww! Careful of my leg.’ Brody gave me a shove, and I banged up against the side of the well.

  ‘I disturbed a spider’s nest at the top of the well and they crawled all over me. That’s how I fell – trying to get them off,’ I said, trying to pull my arm out of my jacket sleeve, remembering where I last saw the big black one.

  ‘What sort of spiders?’ Brody started brushing himself down as well.

  ‘Baby ones and a big black one, which was on me when I fell. The spider could be anywhere on me down here in the dark, and I wouldn’t know.’ I gave my jacket a shake and slapped myself all over, hoping I was squashing any spiders I hadn’t managed to brush off.

  ‘Jeez, I was almost starting to feel at home down here, until you decided to drop in with all your mates,’ Brody said. ‘Now it’s feeling a bit crowded.’

  So Brody could be funny. If I was going to be stuck with a thug down a well, at least he had a sense of humour.

  ‘What did you see when I fell?’ I asked Brody, giving my jacket a final shake before struggling to put it back on.

  ‘Nothing.’

  I stared up at the small circle of light above us, at the top of the well. ‘You saw it that day at the river – didn’t you? When I was looking for my rod.’

  Brody went quiet.

  ‘You know about the ghost,’ I said.

  ‘What are you talkin’ about? You�
��re nuts.’

  ‘You were looking at something behind me on the track – you were freaked out.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s freaked out, city boy. You’re freaky – full stop.’

  ‘Come on. Admit it. You saw it just now and the other day.’ I needed to know whether Brody had seen the ghost. It was going to save me a lot of worrying about myself, if he had. ‘Maybe you were scared of it.’

  ‘I wasn’t scared of it! I mean –’ the words were out of Brody’s mouth before he could stop them.

  ‘So you did see the ghost!’

  ‘Owww!’ Brody tried to move away from me but hurt his leg instead. There was no getting away from each other down here.

  ‘And my Grandpa’s fishing rod gave you a hard time.’

  ‘That fishing rod – it’s like it’s alive – magic. It stuck to my hand. I couldn’t get the dumb thing off me all night.’ I had Brody going now. ‘I had a hard time trying to explain to my Dad why I wouldn’t put it down to eat my dinner and why I wanted to take it to bed with me. That’s why I chucked it down the well. This morning it unattached itself so I thought I’d get rid of it for good. I didn’t want you using it on me to cast a spell or something.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’ I replied. ‘And why are you out to get me, anyway? What have I ever done to you?’

  Brody went quiet again, moaning softly to himself. I looked around me, then up. The circle of light at the top of the well seemed dimmer. I knew that as the sun got lower in the sky, we would soon be sitting in total darkness. The thought sent shivers down my spine. How would we ever get out of the well?

  We tried yelling, even though I knew our voices wouldn’t carry far from the bottom of the well. I was hoping someone had heard me shouting out just after Brody fell in. Or maybe when Gran came home, she would notice the lid disturbed and come to investigate. Although Gran hardly ever spent time in this overgrown back end of her garden, especially in winter.

  ‘What sort of a name’s Ish?’ asked Brody suddenly. ‘Short for something, is it? Can’t be your real name.’

  ‘My real name’s Michael – after my Grandpa. Apparently just after I was born, Mum asked Dad if my name suited me and he said I looked Michael-ish. Then he asked Mum if she thought I looked like a Michael and she said something like, “Mmm – ish.” At that very moment, a nurse came in, misheard Mum, and said, “Oh, what a lovely name – Ish – how unusual.” And it stuck.’

  I was about to suggest to Brody we try calling out again, just in case someone happened to be nearby, when he mumbled something.

  ‘What?’ I said, not catching his words.

  ‘Sorry,’ he repeated, a bit louder.

  ‘What for?’ I asked.

  ‘For calling you names and giving you a hard time ’n’ stuff.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said, a little surprised.

  ‘I was pee’d off when you came to stay with your gran. My mum died last year and your gran used to bring me and Dad some meals around every week. Well, I got to know her a bit ’cause she asked me to do odd jobs round at her place. I mowed the grass and that. That’s how I discovered this well. She paid me for the jobs and gave me cake and cordial. She sewed buttons on and stuff like that. Your gran – she’s kind of good to talk to. Then you came and spoiled everything.’

  ‘How did I spoil everything?’ I asked.

  ‘With you hanging around, I’d just be in the way.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said, ‘Gran’s house is always full of people. She’s used to it. No one’s ever in the way.’

  Brody didn’t reply.

  I wasn’t sure what else to say. It was true – Gran’s house was always buzzing with people. There was always someone dropping in. Gran seemed to be the one who people came to if they needed some advice or cheering up. She was good at that sort of thing. Though I’d noticed from time to time these holidays, she’d suddenly go quiet, as if her mind was off somewhere else. Thinking about Grandpa, I suppose. Poor Gran.

  ‘I like spending time at your Gran’s,’ said Brody suddenly. ‘It gives me a break from Dad. Since Mum died, he’s always in a bad mood and always going off at me for stuff. Like, just before she died, Mum got me a puppy. Well, after about three weeks, Dad got Uncle Vinny to come and take it away to his farm, because it kept piddling on the carpet. He said I could go and visit, but he never took me. Then I heard that Uncle Vinny’d shot it, because it killed some of his chooks. Uncle Vinny’s real mean, especially when he gets sick.’

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’

  ‘He imagines things. Hears voices and stuff. He thinks people are out to get him. He shot his cat because it jumped up on a shelf, once, and knocked over a china Elvis Presley. Reckoned it was a burglar, but he didn’t know what he was doing. I said he probably thought it was a cat burglar, but Dad didn’t even laugh. He told me it was bad enough having a brother who everybody thought was crazy. Didn’t need me making fun of him as well. Dad’s drop-dead boring these days.’ Brody stopped talking and did some more quiet moaning.

  I looked up. Not much daylight left.

  ‘I’ve seen posters up in the milk bar. That’s your dog, isn’t it?’ Brody was trying to get comfortable, but couldn’t.

  ‘Yeah, his name’s Lucky.’

  ‘How’d he go missing? Did you leave the gate open or somethin’?’

  ‘Nah. It’s a long story, but Lucky took off with a fish I caught – an enormous one – and didn’t come back.’

  ‘That’s pretty weird. Dogs are meant to be good at finding their way back, aren’t they?’

  ‘We were chasing him, trying to get the fish back, and after he rounded the corner at the bottom of Gran’s street, he disappeared.’

  ‘That is weird.’

  ‘I reckon. A lot of weird things happened that day.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like I saw the ghost, for starters. At the cemetery.’

  ‘No kiddin’. Unreal.’ Brody was rocking back and forth in pain. ‘Ow, my leg feels like it’s got a fire inside it.’

  I changed the subject. ‘I wish the ghost would come and get us out of here.’ Going over how Lucky had gone missing was starting to make the well walls close in. I closed my eyes and wished as hard as I could for Grandpa – the ghost – whoever – to come and rescue us.

  ‘If we ever get out of here,’ Brody said, ‘I’ll help you look for Lucky. I know how it feels to lose a dog.’

  ‘Thanks, Brody.’

  ‘Any marks or colourings on Lucky that make him stand out?’

  ‘His tail has a white tip on it, like a ring-tailed possum, and he has one brown ear and one white one.’

  ‘I’ll help you get your dog back. He’s probably living with some lonely old lady who never goes out and hasn’t seen your posters. I bet she’s spoilin’ him rotten. He’s got too good a deal to think of you.’ Brody twisted to get more comfortable. ‘He’ll come home when she carks it.’

  ‘Thanks – that’s really encouraging,’ I said, rolling my eyes. But maybe there was some truth in Brody’s words. What if Lucky really had been kidnapped by old Nelly Arnott?

  I bet she wouldn’t be feeding him biscuits.

  Chapter 18

  I wished my watch had luminous dials. I was hungry, my back was aching and it was freezing. I was so tired that my eye sockets felt like they were lined with straw. I was frightened – it was so dark you couldn’t even count your fingers in front of your nose. And I was wet – peed my pants because there was no room to manoeuvre anything in such a cramped space.

  Brody had fallen asleep. He was breathing loudly, practically snoring. I didn’t know how he could sleep – half sitting – in such a squishy place. The old mattress, wedged end-up in the well, was impossible to get comfortable on. It also stank of tomcat piddle. The smell was so awful I wanted to throw up.

  It had started to rain around dusk and hadn’t stopped. I’d been sitting, listening to trickles down the walls of the well, like little waterfalls.


  I was too afraid to sleep. And I couldn’t stop wondering if Lucky was chained up at Nelly Arnott’s house, although I’d never heard any barking from over that way. Some of the poems I’d been writing about Lucky kept whirring around in my head. I kept picturing the way he listened to me when I told him something; watching me as if he understood everything I was saying.

  I remembered I’d stuffed my journal inside my jacket before I’d climbed the peppercorn tree. Miraculously, it was still there. I managed to fish my pen out of my pants pocket and open the journal to what I hoped was a fresh page. Then I wrote. It’s weird writing when you can’t see what you’re doing. You can’t check to see what you’re up to or read over your work. I felt sorry for people who are blind.

  Still Day 10 - Together

  In the hammock with Lucky

  swinging

  I tell him funny stories

  he’s looking at me

  twisting his head

  from side to side

  one ear up

  and one down

  my dog’s funnier than

  my best joke

  I’d also been thinking about Mum. Here I was, stranded at the bottom of a well, and she was stranded in a hospital somewhere in Mongolia, recovering from an accident. I didn’t even know how badly she’d been hurt. I felt close to her. It was as if she knew I was in trouble. I could hear her voice in my head, telling me not to worry, that we’d both be all right.

  While Brody slept, I had a lot of time to think, in between listening to his breathing and the water coming down the sides of the well. To pass the time, I decided to make a list of all the things I wanted to do if I got out of here alive:

  1. Go to Nelly Arnott’s house to see if Lucky is there.

  2. Ring Dad to ask if I can live with him for a while (I miss him like crazy and need a break from my bossy sister).

  3. Go on the internet and Mr Ironclad’s house to find out more about Mongolia.