Dogchild

by Kevin Brooks

  An hour later we heard the now familiar sound of the Quarterhouse door opening again, and this time – finally – we saw Pilgrim coming out. Diedle and Sweet were immediately on the alert – rifles at the ready, eyes on the lookout – and as Pilgrim came down to the foot of the steps they fell in beside him, one on either side, and the 3 of them moved off together, heading for the west side of the Square.

  There was no point in following them – at this time of night, with no one else around, they would have spotted us straightaway – but it didnt matter because following them was never our intention anyway.

  As our second-in-command, Pilgrim had certain privileges – although hede call them requirements – one of which was having more than one home. He had 3. One just off Main Street, another on the Beach Road, and a third on Long Avenue. And all we needed to know – all wede been waiting to find out – was which of these homes he was using that night. And as we watched him leaving the Square and heading off down a broad street of large and virtually undamaged houses, we finally had our answer.

  The street hede just entered was Long Avenue.

  Diedle and Sweet were still with him, and there was little doubt theyd be staying with him for the rest of the night. It was highly unlikely theyd be staying in the same room as him while he slept though, and there was a good chance they wouldnt be inside the house at all, but would spend the night standing guard outside. And if they were outside, that meant that Pilgrim would be alone in the house – unprotected, probably asleep, as vulnerable as he was ever going to be.

  This was the moment wede been waiting for – waiting for hours in the freezing cold, hiding away in ruins and alleys, patiently biding our time – but now that it had finally arrived, I suddenly found myself beset with questions and doubts.

  Why were we doing this? Why were we risking so much to end the life of this man? And why were we even still here? We could have been far away from all this by now – out in the Deathlands, where we belonged, running with the dogs through that vast black nothingness---but instead we were here, crouched in an alleyway, cold and tired, our hearts weighed down with murder.

  It didnt make sense.

  But as I turned to Chola Se to voice my thoughts, and I saw the desperation in her eyes, everything came back to me. I remembered her words – he haunts me, Jeet---hese in my head all the time---every moment of every day, every time I try to sleep---hese always there – and I remembered seeing her in the dungeon – splayed out on the ground in a bloodstained dress, chained to a stake, battered and bruised, beaten, abused – and I remembered Starry too, or what was left of him – his severed hand on the beach, the deadwhite skin crawling with flies, the sand beneath it soaked black with blood---

  I remembered now. I remembered why Pilgrim had to be killed.

  It made perfect sense.

  Are you ready? I said to Chola Se.

  She nodded.

  Okay, lets go.

  Pilgrims house was a large detached building set back from the street behind a 6-foot-high stone wall. Heavy wooden gates led through to a large open courtyard in front of the house, and when we took a quick look through a gap in the gates we saw Diedle standing guard in a pillared porchway at the front door. There was no cover in the courtyard, and the moonlight was bright enough to give Diedle a reasonably clear view, so even if we could have climbed over the wall without being spotted – which was unlikely – wede never have made it across the courtyard unnoticed.

  Lets try round the back, Chola Se whispered.

  We moved away from the front gates, carried on down to the end of the road, then doubled back along a series of narrow backstreets and pathways that eventually brought us round to the rear of Pilgrims house. There was a wall here as well, and at first sight it seemed just as solid and impenetrable as the wall at the front – with the added security of having no gates or doors – but after searching every inch of it, we found a section near one end where the stonework was beginning to crumble away, and once wede got to work on it – silently clawing out the stones – wede soon made a big enough gap to squeeze through. Chola Se went first, sniffing the air as she cautiously edged through the hole, and I followed immediately after her.

  The yard at the back of the house was at least as big as the courtyard at the front, if not bigger, but it wasnt so wide open. There was scrap and clutter all over the place – discarded furniture, rusted machinery, piles of timber and stone – and both sides of the yard were lined with the remains of tumbledown outhouses. Parts of the yard were overgrown with thornbushes and weeds, and dotted around here and there were dozens of ancient stone statues – carved figures of strange-looking men and women, some almost intact, others with heads or limbs missing. In the icy moonlight the statues resembled ghostly sentinels, frozen in time, forever watching and waiting---their sightless eyes never seeing, their senseless minds never knowing.

  We took cover behind a tangled thicket of brambles and gazed through the frosted branches at the back of the house.

  A short flight of stone steps led up to the back door, and we could see Sweet sitting wearily on the top step. He clearly wasnt happy with the job hede been given – hunched over, his head in his hands, his rifle in his lap – but he was doing his best to stay alert, and every few minutes hede straighten up, stretch his back, rub his eyes, and gaze around the yard.

  There were no lights showing in the house, and we couldnt see inside because all the shutters were closed, but we knew Pilgrim was in there. Diedle and Sweet wouldnt be guarding the house if he wasnt.

  He had to be in there.

  Can you see any sign of him? I whispered to Chola Se.

  She shook her head.

  Do you want to wait? I asked her.

  What for?

  Its a big house. He could be anywhere in there. If we stay here and keep watching, we might see something that tells us where he is.

  She looked at me. Weve been waiting all night, Jeet.

  I held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and reached for my sling.

  There were plenty of rocks and stones around, and it didnt take long to find one that was just right. I fitted it into the cradle of the sling, checked the balance, then squatted down again and peered through the brambles at Sweet. He was only about 40 yards away – an easy enough target – but there was a walnut tree directly in front of the brambles, its branches blocking my line of fire. I crawled over to the edge of the thicket, away from the tree, then took another look. There was nothing in my way now. I had a clear shot.

  As I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself, I wondered briefly if I should hold back a little when I fired the rock at Sweet. He didnt mean anything to me, and I knew he wouldnt think twice about killing me if he had to, but he wasnt my enemy. I didnt want to kill him unless it was necessary. But at the same time, I knew I couldnt afford to think like that. He was a big strong man, and if I held back even slightly – trying to incapacitate him without actually killing him – I might not hit him hard enough to knock him out. And if I didnt take him out with the first shot, I probably wouldnt get a second chance.

  It was him or us.

  I opened my eyes, took a final deep breath, then stood up, stepped out from behind the brambles, and whipped the rock from the sling. It was a low flat shot – fast and hard – and the rock cracked into Sweets head with barely a sound. It caught him square in the forehead, right between the eyes, and the effect was instantaneous. His head lurched back with the impact, he wobbled for a moment, then his body crumpled and slumped to the ground. There was a dull thump as his massive bulk hit solid stone, and although it wasnt as loud as it would have been if hede fallen from a standing position, it was still a fairly heavy thud. And if we could hear it, there was a possibility that Diedle had heard it. I stepped back behind the thicket, squatted down beside Chola Se, and for the next minute or so we just waited – not moving, not making a sound – until we were as sure as we could be that no one else had heard anything. Only then did we creep
out from behind the brambles and cautiously make our way across the yard to the steps.

  Sweet wasnt dead. He was unconscious, and badly injured – his head almost split open – but he was still breathing. There wasnt much chance of him waking up any time soon, and even if he did, I doubted hede be capable of doing anything. But just to be sure, I took the blueglass vial from my bag, knelt down beside him, opened his mouth, and poured a few drops of the liquid into the back of his throat. While I was doing that, Chola Se quietly tried the door.

  Its locked, she whispered. But I dont think its bolted.

  I started looking through Sweets pockets, hoping that Pilgrim had given him a key so he could open the door in a hurry if he needed to. I found a 9mm Beretta automatic in one of his coat pockets, and a pearlhandled switchblade in another – both of which I transferred to my pockets – but I didnt find any keys.

  Whats that? Chola Se said, pointing at Sweets neck.

  I looked closer and saw what she meant. A length of string was looped round his neck, most of it tucked out of sight beneath his shirt. I reached across and pulled it out, then lifted the string over his head and held it up for Chola Se to see. She smiled at the sight of the heavy iron key dangling from my hand.

  I got to my feet and passed her the key. She carefully inserted it in the keyhole, and turned it slowly. After a few moments there was a muffled clank, and Chola Se turned to me and nodded.

  I drew my knife.

  She took hold of her shotgun.

  I thought about taking Sweets Beretta from my pocket, but quickly decided against it. We were heading into an unknown darkness, with no idea where we were going or what we might find. The last thing I needed was an unfamiliar weapon in my hand. It was there if I needed it, but I felt more comfortable with my knife.

  I turned to Chola Se. She had the shotgun in one hand, the door handle in the other, and her ear pressed up to the door.

  Can you hear anything? I whispered.

  She shook her head. Maybe hese not in there.

  Hese in there.

  How are we going to find him?

  I dont know, I admitted.

  She looked at me. Weare just going to have to go in and see what happens, arent we?

  Unless youve got a better idea.

  She lowered her eyes for a second, thinking things through, then she looked up again and shrugged.

  Ime okay with seeing what happens if you are.

  I smiled.

  Ready? she said.

  I nodded.

  She took a breath, ran her hand through her hair, and slowly opened the door.

  The darkness inside the house was close to absolute, and if it wasnt for a few chinks of moonlight creeping in through gaps in the shutters – and our more-dog-than-human nightvision – we wouldnt have been able to see our hands in front of our eyes. As it was though, after wede stood in the sheer blackness for a few minutes with our eyes closed – allowing them to adjust to the darkness – we could see just enough to give us a vague idea of our immediate surroundings.

  We were in a large corridor. It had a stone floor, a high ceiling, and it looked as if it led off towards the front of the house. To our right was a flight of stairs – broad stone steps, metal railings, paintings on the wall. As Ide said to Chola Se, it was a big house, and Pilgrim could be anywhere – upstairs or down – but we had to start somewhere, and the most likely place hede be at this time of night was upstairs.

  As we cautiously made our way up the stone stairs – taking them one at a time, and pausing every few steps to listen – we were both instinctively sniffing the air as we went. It didnt smell good. Damp, mold, unwashed clothes, sweat, excrement, urine---the sickly stink of foul things.

  The smell grew stronger as we reached the top of the stairs, and I could see Chola Se wrinkling her nose and covering her mouth to stifle a retch. A corridor stretched out ahead of us. There were 2 doors on the left, and 2 on the right. All of them closed. We stood still and listened again, hoping to hear something that would tell us where Pilgrim was – breathing, snoring, dreaming---anything.

  The house was deathly silent.

  It didnt feel right.

  You can tell when a house is empty – it has an unmistakable lifelessness to it, a tangible lack of presence – and this house didnt feel empty. But it didnt feel like a house with a man sleeping alone in it either. We should have heard something by now. This silence was too silent.

  I looked at Chola Se, and I could see she felt the same. She could sense the wrongness too.

  This isnt right, is it? I said quietly.

  She shook her head.

  Do you want to go back?

  Do you?

  I think its too late for going back.

  She nodded. Lets get it done then.

  We tried the nearest door on the right first. It wasnt locked, but when we inched it open and cautiously looked inside, it was clear straightaway that Pilgrim wasnt in there. One of the shutters had a number of broken slats, and in the faint light of the moon we could see that the room was packed from top to bottom with all sorts of unbelievable things – paintings, sculptures, ornaments, books, furniture, clothing, jewelry, weapons---there was even a boxful of writing books and pencils---a whole boxful. There must have been at least a dozen writing books in there, all of them as good as new.

  The room was a treasure trove – Pilgrim had clearly been plundering for years – and it was tempting to arm ourselves with as many weapons as we could carry, but apart from a collection of swords and lances leaning against the wall to our right, all the weapons were stored on the far side of the room, and we would have had to clamber over everything else to get to them.

  There wasnt time for that.

  The boxful of writing books was right in front of us though, and I couldnt resist helping myself to 6 or 7 books and a handful of pencils. I wasnt sure why I was taking them – I had no idea what I might use them for, or even if Ide ever get the chance to use them at all – but just as I was putting them in my knapsack, the memory of the timeless vision came back to me – the image Ide seen of myself in the mountains – and this time, when I saw myself sitting in the shade of the old blackwood tree, I could see that I had a writing book open in my lap---

  I was writing.

  And I could see something else too---I could see my mother, my dogmother, stretched out asleep on a patch of sandy ground in front of a cave---and in the background I could hear the faint sound of playful laughter---

  I blinked, dismissing the vision from my mind.

  Whatever it was, and whatever it meant – if anything – it didnt matter right now. The only thing that mattered now was finding Deputy Pilgrim. And he definitely wasnt in here.

  We left the room, closed the door, and quietly padded along the corridor to the next door. Again, it wasnt locked. But this time, the moment we quietly eased it open, we knew wede finally found him.

  We could smell his scent in the air – strong, fresh---right here. We could smell his breath, his sweat, his being. And as Chola Se opened the door a little wider – slowly, warily, inch by inch – and we leaned in carefully and peered into the room, we saw him.

  He was asleep – lying motionless in a massive bed, the sheets drawn up over his head. His submachine gun and hat lay on the bed beside him, and one of his Cowboy boots was clearly visible poking out from beneath the sheets at the foot of the bed.

  The reason we could see all this was that the shutters in the window over the bed were half open – letting in the moonlight – which struck me as being a bit strange. Why would he leave the shutters open at night? No one ever leaves their shutters open at night – its always too cold, too dangerous. It also seemed strange that hede sleep with his boots on---

  And I should have given these things more thought. I should have realized what they meant the moment I saw them. But before Ide had a chance to think about anything, Chola Se had stepped through the doorway and begun crossing the room towards the bed. Shede become
something else now, something savage, like a hunter closing on the kill – measured steps, silent, determined---the shotgun at her hip---her eyes fixed intently on the figure beneath the sheets. I dont know what my intentions were as I set off after her, moving as fast as I could without making any noise. I dont know if I planned to stop her, join her in the kill, or just be with her. But whatever it was, Ide left it too late.

  I was a couple of steps behind her when she stopped beside the bed. I knew what she was about to do. I could see it coming. She wanted to see Pilgrims face before she killed him, and she wanted him to see her. She wanted him to know he was about to die. I saw her left hand letting go of the shotgun, and I saw her beginning to lean over the bed and reach out for the sheet---but that was as far as she got before the room suddenly erupted in a burst of light and a crash of shouting voices.

  DONT MOVE!

  DROP YOUR WEAPONS!

  PUT THE GUN DOWN!

  Everything seemed to happen all at once then. In the same moment that I spun round at the sound of the voices and saw 4 armed figures emerging from the darkness at the back of the room – one with a blazing torch in his hand – there was a sudden deafening boom from Chola Ses shotgun and the room was instantly filled with a billowing cloud of smoke and feathers and straw. I just had time to see the figure with the torch waving it to clear the air, then stepping back and covering his face as the swirling cloud caught fire, and the next thing I knew there was another blast from Chola Ses shotgun – the second barrel – followed immediately by a crash of splintering wood and a sudden gust of icy air that whipped up the burning cloud of feathers and straw into a swirling frenzy of smoke and flame, then Chola Se grabbed hold of my arm and started pulling me across the room.

  This way, Jeet! she yelled. The window!

  The window on the far side of the room was wide open now, the shutters blown apart by Chola Ses shotgun, and as we ran towards it – side by side, crouched down low – I could hear the panicked shouts of the figures behind us.