Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door

by Ross Montgomery

  ‘Everything’s fine, sir,’ said Mike calmly.

  ‘Oh, right,’ said the man. ‘Thought I’d check. I could swear I heard a little girl crying down here a moment ago.’

  Mike stared at Duncan with fury. ‘We’ve seen nothing,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘We were just about to get on our way, actually – weren’t we, Mr Price?’

  He put a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and clenched threateningly. All three of them grinned at exactly the same time.

  ‘That’s right!’ said Matthew.

  ‘Right ho,’ said the man cheerily. ‘Well, just so you know, there’s been an announcement on TV. Apparently Davidus Kyte’s holding a big press conference at the Cusp tomorrow morning. Exciting stuff, eh?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mike darkly. ‘Very exciting.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said the man. ‘Thought that might be where your orchestra have gone to.’

  He took another bite of his pasty and chewed on it thoughtfully. The other three stared at him.

  ‘… Pardon?’ said Mike.

  The man swallowed. ‘Well, if it’s a really big announcement then they might need an orchestra. To perform for the ceremony and that. And of course, they’d have had to lie about where they were going, seeing as it’s the Cusp. To cover themselves up. So maybe that’s where they were really going all along.’

  The man rocked on his heels. Mike’s face broke into a smile.

  ‘Of course,’ he beamed. ‘For the ceremony the day after tomorrow … they’re at the Cusp!’

  The man popped the last piece of pasty in his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his hands, and turned away.

  ‘Well, glad I could help, officers,’ he said with a wave. ‘Good luck wi––’

  ‘We’re not really police officers!’ Duncan screamed, bursting into tears.

  The man stopped. ‘Come again?’

  Mike flipped round. ‘Shut up, Duncan!’

  ‘And we’re going to kidnap him!’ he wailed, pointing to Matthew. Matthew waved. Mike punched Duncan in the head.

  ‘Great!’ he bellowed. ‘Now we have to kidnap him as well!’

  ‘What?’ said the man.

  ‘Who?’ said Duncan.

  ‘The gorilla!’ said Mike.

  ‘I’m supposed to be a baboon,’ said the man.

  ‘I don’t want to kidnap anyone!’ sobbed Duncan.

  ‘You haven’t left us much choice!’ Mike roared.

  ‘Can’t we just let them go?’ cried Duncan.

  ‘No we can’t!’ Mike screamed.

  ‘I don’t want you to kidnap me,’ said the man in the suit.

  ‘Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?!’ Mike spluttered.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ wailed Duncan.

  ‘This is probably the tenth time you’ve done this!’

  ‘I said I’m sorry!’

  ‘You have to get some self-control!’

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘It’s just getting ridiculous now.’

  ‘I am trying.’

  ‘I know you’re trying, mate.’

  ‘I really am.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’m sorry I ruined it, Mike.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be down on you all the time.’

  ‘Thanks, Mike.’

  The two men gave each other a pat on the back and smiled.

  ‘Right, let’s just kidnap them and get it over with,’ said Mike, sighing with relief.

  ‘What, both of us?’ said the man in the baboon suit.

  The policemen nodded.

  ‘Good luck,’ said the man. ‘He ran off ages ago.’

  Mike and Duncan swung round. Matthew was gone. So was the police car. All that was left was a set of tyre marks speeding across the wet gravel and off down the road.

  ‘Ah,’ said Mike.

  They stood in the rain for some time.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ said Duncan.

  The man in the baboon suit shrugged.

  ‘You could call the police,’ he suggested.

  7

  By the time the bus had been waved through the last level of security, and all of Alex’s chances of escape were erased completely, night was falling. The children sat up frantically, exhausted and breathless with excitement.

  ‘Jeremy, we’re moving!’ Martha cried, bouncing on her seat. ‘We’re finally here!’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Alex.

  Everyone fought to be the first to press themselves up against the windows and see the Cusp with their own eyes. They gasped. The setting sun stretched across the endless concrete before them, bathing the base in a golden light. Cast against the reddening horizon were row upon row of enormous warehouses. Hundreds of men were running around, stopping and starting, clambering over piles of sandbags, screaming into walkie-talkies, herding lorries and cranes across the runways. The air was thick with shouting and drilling. It was chaos.

  ‘Come on Jeremy, you’re not going to see anything down there,’ Martha sighed, prodding him with her foot. ‘Just look out of the window.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Alex protested. ‘I’m feeling carsick! I told you …’

  ‘I don’t think hiding under your seat cures carsickness, Jeremy,’ she said sarcastically. She dragged him off the floor and plonked him back onto his seat.

  Alex hid himself from view and peeked carefully out the window. Everywhere he looked people were charging about, carrying big metal cages in and out of the warehouses. A speeding truck careered past them, missing the bus by inches and screeching to a stop at the nearest warehouse doorway. At once a dozen men ran up and threw open the back doors. Alex sat up in amazement. The inside of the truck was stacked up with cage after cage of barking dogs.

  ‘Look at that!’ he said, shaking Martha. ‘Dogs! Loads of them!’

  The dogs were all spinning around inside their cages and wagging their tails, barking and whining in fear and excitement. Their cages were carted off the back of the truck as quickly as they had arrived, and carried into the darkness of the warehouse behind them. The truck sped off and was immediately replaced by another. Alex turned to Martha, beaming.

  ‘They had beagles!’ he said. ‘At least ten of them. They’re my favourite dog. Actually probably more like third favourite. Definitely my favourite of the hound category anyway.’

  Martha gave him a bemused look.

  ‘I mean, dogs are for losers,’ Alex quickly corrected himself. ‘Yeah, I totally beat people up who like dogs.’

  ‘Really,’ she smirked. ‘Well, there’s plenty more where they came from.’

  She nodded out the back window. Alex looked up. The line of honking lorries stretched all the way out of the base. He turned back to her in disbelief.

  ‘What do they need so many dogs for?’ he said.

  The bus came to a sudden stop. Everyone jumped up, stretching their legs and pushing each other irritably. Steph leaped into action with her microphone and blocked them all from escaping.

  ‘Sit down everyone!’ she shouted, waving her arms. ‘I know we’re all very excited. I am too. A few words while we wait for our guide. We’ve got less than two days to prepare for the performance of our lives. Now, they still can’t tell us what we’re actually performing for – all I know is that we’ll be playing one song. So remember – while you’re here, you’re representing the orchestra. No running around! No breaking away from the group! Straight into rehearsal. Maximum energy, maximum focus!’

  Before anyone could protest the rubber doors hissed open and a man stepped onto the bus. Alex gasped. He was wearing a black tie and tails and had an enormous metal helmet on his head. Alex instantly flew back under his seat.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Martha said, punching him on the shoulder. ‘How can you be carsick when the bus isn’t even moving?’

  ‘Shh!’ Alex hissed desperately. ‘That man! He …’ He stopped himself. The man who had just stepped onto the bus was not Davidus Kyte. He was a rather gentle-looking man in t
he exact same clothes, with a clipboard not unlike Steph’s in his hands. Alex blushed and pulled himself back onto the seat.

  ‘Conduct Yourselves orchestra?’ the man said, flipping through his ream of papers. ‘We were expecting you twenty minutes ago.’

  Steph smiled apologetically. ‘Yes, we are late, sorry about that,’ she laughed. ‘If it’s fine by you, we’ll just get straight to the concert hall and …’

  ‘No chance,’ said the man, shaking his head sadly. ‘You’ve missed your slot. Concert hall’s booked.’

  Steph’s face fell. ‘What? But – but we’re playing the day after tomorrow, we have to rehearse and …’

  ‘You’ll have to book another slot for tomorrow morning,’ the man said, shaking his head. ‘Right now the hall’s being used to store dogs. Things run on a fairly tight schedule around here. They have to. That’s why we have the Rota.’

  He held up the clipboard, admiring it like a precious stone.

  ‘I suggest you get to your rooms for now,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring you over some dinner. Where are you booked?’

  ‘Er …’ Steph rifled through her clipboard in a panic. ‘… B Block.’

  ‘Not any more you’re not,’ said the man, scanning the Rota. ‘B Block’s being used to store dogs.’

  Steph threw up her arms.

  ‘So what are we supposed to do?’ she snapped. ‘Sleep outside? Or is that being used to store dogs too?’

  The man looked at her without blinking. ‘Ha ha,’ he said blithely. He turned round. ‘Come with me, I’ll take you down to T Block. You can sleep there for tonight. Better bring all your luggage now, it’s quite a walk.’

  Steph furrowed her brow. ‘Walk?’ she called after him. ‘Can’t we just drive? The children all have instruments, some of which are very heavy and …’

  ‘Miss,’ the man interrupted. ‘You don’t understand. We’ll be walking right along the boundary. Engines don’t work around it.’

  Steph pressed on her temples and turned back to the bus.

  ‘Change of plan!’ she shrieked. ‘No rehearsal! Get your instruments and wait outside the bus!’

  The children fought tooth and nail to be the first outside. Soon they were all standing out on the runway, chattering excitedly and staring at the chaos that surrounded them. Despite Alex’s best efforts to stay hidden under his seat he was dragged off by Martha and thrust out onto the concrete. She stepped down after him, shaking her legs, and suddenly started hopping up and down.

  ‘Ow!’ she said. ‘Aaargh! Can you feel that?’

  Alex looked blank. ‘Feel what?’

  ‘In your feet!’ she said, hopping away. Alex looked around. The others were all doing it too. He shrugged.

  ‘Not really,’ he said, looking down at his feet. He couldn’t feel anything.

  ‘Like pins and needles?’ Martha said, shuffling uncomfortably. ‘It’s agony! Ooh! That’s the last time I sit on a stupid bus for eight hours.’

  The man with the clipboard stepped forward.

  ‘Right, hello everyone!’ he called. ‘My name’s Greg. I’m going to show you how things work around here.’

  ‘Why are you dressed like a knob?’ someone shouted.

  ‘Oliver!’ Steph screamed.

  ‘Rehearsal costume, Oliver,’ Greg replied politely, not missing a beat. ‘Now listen up! As you can see we’re going to be walking across a very busy base. It’s very easy to get lost here. If in doubt, always head for the statue.’

  He pointed behind them, and they all turned round. Jutting above the chaos of the base was an enormous brass statue. It was of a man in a metal diving suit, his helmet topped by a great plume of feathers. In one great hand he held up a flaming torch. In the other he held out a pointed sword. Before they had a chance to admire it for too long Greg had already shot off down the runway. The children didn’t need any more reminding. They charged after him, their instruments clattering on the ground and bashing against each other. Alex tried to subtly sidestep away, but Martha grabbed him by the arm.

  ‘Come on!’ she shouted, dragging him along. ‘Why do you keep doing that?’

  ‘First things first,’ Greg called out behind him. ‘We are no longer in the Outskirts: we are in the Cusp, closer to the Forbidden Land than most people get to be in their entire lifetimes. First rule of the Cusp: things act differently here. No one really knows why. It’s just one of the many mysteries of the Cusp. As you’ve already heard me say, engines stop working once you get near it. That’s why they can’t send planes or cars over the boundary, and why we can’t have lorries going any farther than F Block.’

  He indicated the enormous set of barracks beside him. Alex peered through the windows as they raced past. It was filled with barking dogs.

  ‘You’re probably exhausted already,’ said Greg sympathetically. ‘And quite homesick. Am I right?’

  Everyone muttered in agreement.

  ‘Yes, being near the Forbidden Land does that too. Anyone have an itching in their feet yet?’

  Everyone around Alex nodded in amazement. He looked down at his feet again. He still felt nothing.

  ‘That’s the Forbidden Land again,’ Greg smiled. ‘Just something it does to us humans. For now it’s nothing extra socks won’t cure, but it gets even worse when you cross the boundary apparently. And speaking of which …’

  Greg stopped sharply, forcing the children to slam to a halt. One by one they looked up. Somebody dropped a glockenspiel.

  ‘Whoa,’ said Steph.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Martha.

  ‘Oh crikey,’ said Alex.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Greg with a grin, holding up his arm, ‘… the Forbidden Land.’

  The concrete walkway ahead of them suddenly ended. Immediately beyond it was grassland, the lushest and greenest grassland one could possibly imagine. It was the green of a grass that has never been set foot on. It stretched out ahead of them as flat and perfect and round as a lake in the morning. At its very centre – like some distant continent – stood a vast forest, each tree a hundred metres tall. The children stood in silence, awestruck. They were looking at the Forbidden Land.

  ‘The Cusp runs, as you can see, in a perfect circle,’ said Greg, indicating the faultless line. ‘It’s mathematically perfect. As is the boundary; as is the Forbidden Land; as is the forest in the centre, which stops us from seeing what might actually lie within the centre. It’s one of the reasons for the statue.’

  Greg turned round to face the enormous brass diver again.

  ‘The statue is like a lighthouse,’ he said, his face glowing. ‘Built for the Jennings Expedition. There’s a bulb inside the helmet to guide anyone back here who gets lost. You can see the light from the Order’s second base, right across the other side of the Outskirts.’

  There was a dark mutter across the group. Everyone had heard stories about the other base. Greg looked nervously around and quickly regained himself.

  ‘And speaking of the boundary,’ he warned, ‘here’s the second rule of the Cusp: whatever you do, don’t step across it. Don’t even pretend to as a joke. I mean it! No matter how much you might want to try and walk into the Forbidden Land, stay right away. Does anyone here know what happens once you step over the boundary?’

  The group was silent. A girl put her hand up.

  ‘You … you run away,’ she said quietly.

  Greg snapped his fingers. ‘Precisely. Something takes over your body, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll find yourself running all the way home, and you won’t stop till you get there. Not for sleep, food … nothing. And when I say straight home, I mean straight home! And that’s even if you make it past the barbed-wire fences, which most don’t. Not a pretty sight. And even if you do make it we have to run alongside you with a drip so you don’t pass out. Don’t even ask what happens if you live overseas. Come on!’

  Greg suddenly turned and marched swiftly along the runway, skirting the great curve of th
e line where concrete met grass. The children followed with their eyes fixed on the Forbidden Land, hypnotised.

  ‘What’s with the diving suit?’ said Martha, nodding back at the statue.

  Alex tried to appear nonchalant.

  ‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘The Head of Expeditions wore it on the last Expedition. Jennings, I think his name was.’

  ‘Why?’ said Martha.

  Alex shrugged. ‘Well, even if you’re not stepping directly on the grass, once you cross the boundary the Forbidden Land tries to push you out. To try and make sure you can’t get to the centre. It even gets harder to breathe, apparently. So they hooked him up to a pipeline for air. It’s how they reeled him back in.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Martha in amazement. ‘How do you know all that?’

  Alex’s face flushed, and he fell silent.

  ‘And here’, said Greg, coming to another stop, ‘is where your group sleeps tonight. T Block.’

  Everyone gasped with relief and threw down their instruments. Greg ticked away at his Rota with a flourish.

  ‘I’m booking you into the concert hall for seven o’clock tomorrow morning,’ he said, turning to Steph. ‘It’s the same time as the press conference, so nobody else will be using it. Don’t be late.’

  ‘We won’t,’ said Steph breathlessly. ‘Any chance you can tell us what it is we’re performing for now …?’

  ‘No,’ said Greg, snapping his Rota shut. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’m needed at dress rehearsal.’

  He dashed off and was gone. Steph muttered darkly and turned to the group.

  ‘Well, you heard him, guys!’ she said. ‘We’ve got one practice before the big performance. Everyone ready to give it everything they’ve got?’

  Everyone cheered weakly.

  ‘And maybe, if there’s time at the end of rehearsal,’ Steph said, suddenly turning to Alex, ‘our new stand-in Jeremy can entertain us with a solo performance.’

  Alex gulped. ‘Er … pardon?’

  Steph turned to the group. ‘What Jeremy here has been too modest to mention is that he’s considered the best French horn player his age in the country. He’s proof that children with behavioural issues can overcome their violent urges and show people their sensitive side. And I’m sure everyone will agree, we’re all extremely grateful that he’s chosen to bless our group with his extraordinary talent.’