Dogchild

by Kevin Brooks

  Yeh, you do, I said, glancing down at the grubby bandage that was still wrapped round his recently wounded finger.

  He smiled. At least I didnt get stabbed in the leg.

  We all gazed around at each other then – a ragtag collection of damaged misfits, battered and bruised, tired and confused, none of us really knowing what we were doing---

  And we started laughing.

  It was a sound that filled me with a wonderful sense of warmth and belonging, and – for the moment, at least – it made everything seem all right.

  Later that night, as we lay together in Starrys bed – while he stayed up and kept guard – Chola Se asked me how it had felt being with my dogmother again. The room was dark and quiet, just a faint crackling of embers in the fireplace, and as I gazed up at the ceiling, recalling the moment in the woodland when Ide turned round and seen my mother, the feelings came flooding back to me.

  Do you remember how you used to feel when you were in the den and your mother and the rest of the pack came back from a hunt? I said.

  Yeh, she muttered.

  Thats how it felt when I first met my mother again. I was so excited that when I went running up to her I fell over my feet and crashed right into her.

  I sensed Chola smiling.

  It was all so---I hesitated, trying to think of the right word. It was all so natural. And so immediate too. The moment I was back with my mother, all the human stuff in my head instantly disappeared and everything was just how it used to be – instinct, feeling---the sense of simply being there. It felt---I dont know. It just felt right.

  What about the other dogs? Did you know them?

  No, Ide never met any of them before. It was a bit unsettling meeting them at first, especially the leader, the big male, but even that was a familiar kind of uneasiness, you know, the way it always was meeting new dogs. And once theyd accepted me, and wede set off into the Deathlands---

  As I stared up into the silent blackness, I remembered how it had felt that night – the hypnotic rhythm of our movement as we loped across the glassrock desert, the closeness of the other dogs, the cold night air on my naked skin, the darkness of the ground and the sky merging together into a vast black nothingness---

  I felt at one with everything, I said.

  We lay there in silence for a while then, not saying anything, just breathing softly in the darkness, alone with our thoughts but together in our solitude.

  It felt right.

  Just being there.

  They saved our lives, didnt they? Chola Se said quietly. The 3 dogs who killed the Fighters at the Dau camp---they saved our lives.

  Yeh, they did.

  Even though theyd only just met you, and they didnt know me at all, and weare both humans —

  They did it for my mother.

  She must mean a lot to them.

  Shese a special dog.

  Just like you.

  I turned and saw Chola smiling.

  It lifted my heart.

  What about your dogmother? I asked her. Do you know if shese still alive?

  She shook her head. She died soon after she took me. Ive only got a very vague memory of what happened – I was just a baby at the time – but I think there must have been a fight with a rival pack. All I can really remember is the noise – ripping and snarling, cracking bones, howls of pain---and the smell of blood. There was so much blood---it was everywhere. My mothers fur was soaked, all sticky and wet---and I remember her whimpering quietly for a while---and then nothing, just a dead silence. And her coldness---

  Chola went quiet.

  What happened to your human parents? I asked her.

  My mentor told me they were both very sick when the dogs took me, and they died soon afterwards. She looked at me. What about yours?

  The dogs got them.

  She nodded. The dogs didnt touch mine. Didnt even wake them. They didnt find out I was gone til they woke up in the morning and I wasnt in the wagon.

  Where did it happen?

  About 30 miles north of the Black Mountains. My packs territory was way out in the heart of the Deathlands.

  Thats a hard place to live.

  I liked it out there.

  Why?

  I dont know---theres just something about all that emptiness, the endless nothingness of the glassrock desert---the way it makes you feel.

  How does it make you feel?

  Like youre the smallest thing in the world and as big as the world itself, both at the same time.

  Like youre everything and nothing?

  Yeh---

  We carried on talking about our dog lives long into the night, both how wede lived them and how wede lost them.

  I told Chola Se the story of how my pack had been trapped and slaughtered, and she told me how hers had been wiped out by disease when she was 6 years old, leaving her to wander the Deathlands alone for days on end, almost dying from the sickness herself, until eventually shede been spotted in the foothills by one of our watchtower guards and a team of Fighters had been sent out to rescue her.

  But eventually our tiredness got the better of us and we gradually stopped talking and just lay there together in the pitchblack silence, our weary breaths misting in the cold night air.

  I thought Chola Se had fallen asleep – and I was just dozing off myself – when I heard her say, Why dont we just leave, Jeet?

  What?

  Leave here. Go back to the Deathlands, back to the dogs.

  I was too taken aback to say anything at first. It wasnt the question itself that surprised me but simply the sheer suddenness of it, the way it had come out of nowhere. The idea of leaving here and going back to live with the dogs didnt shock me at all. Ide been thinking the same thing myself from the moment Ide seen my mother.

  We dont belong here, do we? Chola Se went on. We never have. And no one would miss us if we left, would they?

  Starry would.

  Yeh, but hese the only one. The rest of them wouldnt care if they never saw us again. They probably wouldnt even realize wede gone.

  Its not that bad —

  Yeh, it is. You know it is.

  She rolled over on her side, her face inches from mine.

  Do you really want to be here when everyone starts killing each other? she said. Its going to be a bloodbath, Jeet. Whichever way the battle goes, its going to be a massacre. And what do you thinks going to happen when its over?

  I dont know. It depends who wins, I suppose.

  It doesnt matter who wins. You know that as well as I do. Whatever the outcome is, wele either be dead or living the same dead life weare living now.

  I considered pointing out that our life wouldnt be exactly the same if we won – wede have all the drinking water we needed, more food, no enemies, no need to wall ourselves in – but I knew that wasnt what she meant. She meant wede still be outsiders, still not accepted, still nothing more than curs and bitches.

  And she was right.

  She was right about everything.

  And I wanted to leave as much as she did. Ide wanted it from that moment in the woodland when Ide smiled at my mother, and shede blinked, and Ide remembered how she used to curl up around me to keep me warm as I slept---and it had suddenly struck me that there was nothing to stop me from being with her for the rest of her life, that I could leave with her right there and then, just lope off into the Deathlands with her and the rest of the pack---just go, like Chola was saying now---just go, forget about everything else---Gun Sur, Pilgrim, the Dau---just go.

  So what was it that was holding me back?

  If youre worried about Starry, Chola Se said, Ime sure he wont —

  No, its not that, I said, although I think I knew, deep down, that Starry was at least part of the reason for my hesitancy. I just need a bit more time to think about it, thats all. Is that okay?

  Yeh, of course. She smiled. Weve been here half our lives. Another day or 2 isnt going to make much difference.

  She shuffled up closer to me
then, and as we curled up together to keep warm – and almost immediately began drifting off to sleep – I couldnt help feeling that we didnt have as much time as she thought, and that maybe I was making a big mistake---maybe we should just get up and go right now, before it was too late---

  But even as the thought came to me, and I began to think about telling Chola Se, I felt myself sinking down into the mindless comfort of sleep.

  Its Thursday now, 5 days since Ive written anything, and so many things have happened I barely know where to start.

  I suppose it all began at midday on Sunday, when the assembly bell started ringing and Chola Se and I made our way across town to the Quarterhouse Square. Captain Kite must have been waiting for us – together with a Senior Fighter called Muqatil – because as soon as we got there, the 2 of them took us aside and escorted us into the Quarterhouse and up to Gun Surs office. Captain Kite wouldnt tell us what was going on – just that our presence was required – but when we were shown into the Marshals office, Gun Sur himself was nowhere to be seen. In his place, sitting alone at the big oak table, was Deputy Pilgrim.

  Despite all the clamor and commotion of the assembly, and the unmistakable sense of anxiety in the air, Pilgrim was as calm and composed as ever – leaning back in his seat, his legs crossed loosely, his MP40 looped over the back of the chair. The only thing about him that didnt look comfortable was the bite wound on the side of his face. But although his cheek was still heavily bandaged, and still badly swollen and bruised, even that didnt seem to bother him too much. Or if it did, he didnt show it. He looked perfectly content, as if this was where he belonged---here, in the Marshals office. This was where he should be.

  Sit, he said to us, giving a cursory wave at the 2 chairs across the table from him.

  The shutters on the window behind him were open – it was a searingly hot day – and as we crossed over and sat down, I could hear the anxious murmurings of the gathering crowd in the Square down below as they waited for Gun Sur to come out and address them. Pilgrim paid no attention to it, instead focusing on us, watching our every movement with the cold-eyed curiosity of a snake.

  His voice, when he spoke, was blunt and indifferent.

  The date of the battle has been brought forward, he said. Thats not what Gun Sur will be telling everyone out there, but thats why weare all here.

  Pilgrim leaned his head back, adjusted his hat, and carried on.

  The decision was made this morning. Instead of taking place a month from now, as originally planned, the battle will be fought a week from today.

  Next Sunday? I said.

  He nodded. An hour after sundown.

  Why?

  2 reasons, he said. Firstly, at sunrise this morning, when Van Hesse went to the spring to collect the days water rations, he found it completely dried up. And not just on the surface either. He tried digging down, hoping it was somehow just blocked or something, but the ground was bone-dry as far down as he could dig.

  Maybe he didnt dig far enough, I suggested.

  Pilgrim shook his head. We put a team of Fighters onto it as soon as we found out. They dug all the way down to bare rock, about 8 feet below ground, and they didnt find a hint of moisture anywhere.

  So whats happened? I said. We were told the water wouldnt run out for weeks yet.

  Pilgrim shrugged. Everything was fine last night. The water level was a bit lower than normal, but its been hotter than normal over the last few days, so that was only to be expected. As I said, everything seemed fine. But then---He clicked his fingers. This morning its all gone.

  Why?

  We dont know.

  Could the Dau have done something to it?

  Possibly.

  Or maybe its got something to do with the tunnel and the cavern. I mean, if youve had people drilling into the rock —

  Did I ask for your opinion? he said suddenly, cutting me off.

  I was just saying —

  Well dont. He leaned forward, giving me a cold hard stare. I didnt bring you here for a discussion, Jeet. Ime just telling you what the situation is. And Ime only doing that because Gun Sur seems to think you need to be kept informed. If it was up to me---

  He hesitated, realizing that maybe hede said too much.

  Just keep quiet and listen to me, all right? he said. If I want your opinion, Ile ask for it. Is that understood?

  I nodded.

  Good. He sat back, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself, then he carried on. Now, as you know, weve already been rationing our water to make it last as long as possible, but now that the springs completely dried up weare going to have to make drastic changes. Van Hesse has got a certain amount of water put back for emergencies, and Gun Surs going to announce a series of measures that should give us a bit more time, but even on survival rations weare only going to last a week at the most, especially if this heat continues. So we dont really have a choice. We have to bring the battle forward. If we dont, weare all going to die of thirst.

  At that point, Gun Sur began speaking to the crowd outside, and as Pilgrim looked over his shoulder and listened for a few moments, I turned to Chola Se. She hadnt said a word since wede come in, and Pilgrim hadnt looked at her once the entire time hede been talking, not even the slightest glance. It was impossible to tell how she felt about anything though because her face was as blank as stone.

  Is she all right? I heard Pilgrim say.

  I turned to look at him. He was doing a reasonably good job of appearing genuinely concerned, but he knew he wasnt fooling us, and from the glint of amusement in his eyes it was perfectly clear that he wasnt trying to. He still didnt look at Chola Se, just kept his eyes fixed on mine, waiting to see how Ide react. But I didnt rise to his bait. I just sat there in silence, holding his gaze, showing him nothing. He wasnt fazed by my lack of reaction though, and as he sat there staring back at me, there was something in his eyes, some measure of inner strength, that made me realize that whatever he was – monster, traitor, or just a man – he wasnt to be taken lightly.

  You said there were 2 reasons for the battle being brought forward, I said to him. Whats the second?

  You.

  What do you mean?

  He was smirking now – his coldness gone – and the change in character had been virtually instantaneous. It was as if he was 2 different people – the grinning carefree warrior who was looking at me now, and the more sinister creature hede been a few moments ago. They were both him, and he was both of them – the devilish and the devil.

  The Dau you killed when you rescued her, he said – and for the first time he flicked a glance at Chola Se. The one whose throat you ripped out with your bare teeth, he went on, looking back at me. Remember him?

  What about him?

  His name was Skender. He was Henschs son. You killed the Dau Marshals only child.

  So what?

  Pilgrim laughed. Actually, thats probably what most of the Dau thought when they heard about it, including his father. The Dau arent renowned for their pleasantness – its not a quality they value that much – but even the worst of them would admit that Skender was an aberration. No one liked him, not even his own family, and if hede been anyone else he would have been murdered years ago. But he wasnt anyone else – he was the Marshals son. And the Dau Marshal is allpowerful. So no matter how much his son was reviled, no one dared say a word against him. If you valued your life – and the life of your loved ones – you pretended to like and admire Skender. You welcomed his presence, you laughed at his terrible jokes, and you put up with his depraved desires. Whatever he did to your daughter – or son, come to that – you just had to accept it. He was the Marshals son – he could do whatever he wanted.

  So why should anyone care that I killed him? I said. If everyone hated him so much – and it sounds like they all thought he deserved to die, which he did – whats the problem?

  The problem is exactly what Ive just been telling you. He was Henschs son. It makes no difference that the Marsh
al despised him as much as everyone else – and was relieved to finally be rid of him – he still has to avenge the death of his son. If Hensch were to let an enemy dogchild get away with the brutal murder of his only child, his reputation would be ruined. No one would fear or respect him anymore, not even those who had most reason to abhor his son. Unless he publicly vowed to hunt down and execute Skenders killer, his leadership would be over.

  I still dont see what thats got to do with the date of the battle, I said.

  Pilgrim sighed, as if tired of having to explain so much.

  Ide already given Hensch all the details of the battle before you killed his son, he told me, and hede already told his people about it. Thats what they were celebrating that night, remember? So when you killed his son, and he realized that he couldnt let you get away with it, he decided that the easiest way to appease his people was by making use of the battle. He wouldnt just avenge his sons death by killing his sons killer, he promised them, hede kill every one of us. The only problem with that though was that it meant waiting another month, and it seems that his people arent happy with that.

  Why not? I asked.

  Theyre Dau. Pilgrim shrugged. They want strength and action from their leader, not patience and caution. They want him to make you pay for what you did, and they want him to do it now, not in a months time. So Hensch is under a lot of pressure to bring the battle forward. And if he doesnt do something about it, its quite possible he might be overthrown, and we cant take that risk. The only way we can beat the Dau is if the battle goes to plan and they fall into our trap. If Hensch is overthrown and the new Marshal just launches an all-out attack, we wont stand a chance. Theyle lose a lot of people – which is why Hensch hasnt gone ahead with an all-out attack himself – but theres no question theyle overwhelm us in the end. So even if the spring hadnt dried up, wede still have to bring the battle forward.

  Pilgrim gave me a long hard look.

  Do you get it now? he said wearily.

  Yeh, I told him. I get it.

  Good.

  But thats not what Gun Surs telling everyone about, is it?

  Pilgrim grinned. You know what the Marshal thinks about sharing information. The less people know, the less they can talk.