You have to go back, said the voice.
Alex shook his head. ‘I’m not going back,’ he said calmly.
He turned round. He hadn’t stopped running since he left the Cusp that morning. Now the sun was beginning to lower in the sky, and the towering trees were slowly spreading their shadows onto the grassland behind him. He could still make out the base in the distance. It seemed like another world. Only the great brass statue could still be seen clearly, alone on the horizon of floating black zeppelins. From this far away, it was like a child stood in a row of black flowers.
‘I’m never going back,’ he muttered.
Then where are you going, Alex? said the voice.
Alex smiled. ‘Where do you think?’
Another pack of dogs suddenly burst out of the grass beside him and raced on into the darkness of the forest, their chains jangling along the ground behind them. Alex turned back round, watching them disappear into the black.
‘To the centre,’ he said.
Because … said the voice.
‘Because that’s where he’s going,’ said Alex. ‘Where he’s always been trying to get to. And I’m going to find him.’
And once you’ve found him, said the voice … then what?
‘Then I’ll find out what he keeps going back for,’ said Alex.
And then what, Alex? said the voice.
Alex didn’t answer. He stepped up to the line where the grassland became the trees. Alex stared into it, his eyes searching.
‘Then we’ll talk,’ he said quietly. ‘Just him and me. And he’ll tell me why he left, and how he had to do it and didn’t have a choice. And how happy he is that I followed him.’
Alex’s eyes kept scanning the forest. The darkness was unbroken. He couldn’t even see the dogs any more. All he could hear was the rattling of their chains echoing through the trees ahead of him.
And then … said the voice.
‘We’ll live on the grassland,’ said Alex. ‘With the dogs. And we’ll walk them every day.’
And then …
The darkness met him face on. Alex gulped.
‘And then we’ll finally be safe,’ he said. ‘Just him and me, where no one else can reach us. No one.’
And then …
Alex kept staring into the darkness. He saw nothing.
‘And then,’ said Alex emptily, ‘everything will be OK again.’
And all at once, a light appeared.
Alex froze. It was a piercing beam of green light, and it came from far behind him. He spun round.
Back at the base, the helmet of the great statue had been switched on. The shadows of the grassland were immediately lit up with a vivid green that stretched in every direction, over the treetops and far, far beyond.
Alex turned slowly back to the forest. Down through the high branches, a gentle glowing path was now cast onto the forest floor ahead of him. The darkness was slowly coming into view. All around him hundreds of dogs charged onwards, weaving through the trees like channels of water.
Alex looked down and started.
Cast in the green glow directly ahead of him, its hair flickering in the breeze, was a small dog. It was staring at him. It was almost as if it was more surprised to see Alex than Alex was to see it. It was the terrier, with a black patch over one of its eyes, from the night in the barracks. Alex smiled.
‘Hello, friend!’ he said. ‘Remember me?’
Alex stepped carefully over the line where the grassland became the forest and walked over to the dog. He gently held out his hand for him. The dog gaped at him for a moment more, and then slowly sniffed it. Alex looked it over and placed a hand under its chin.
‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘You’re male, maybe … eleven or twelve years old. A cross-breed. Part Border terrier, I’ll bet, on account of your otter-shaped head and even temperament. And part … Alsatian?’
The dog looked at him blankly. Alex couldn’t shake the feeling that it was eyeing him with suspicion.
‘Nice doggy,’ he said nervously, giving it a pat.
All at once the dog leaped up, barking, and ran onwards into the trees. Then it suddenly stopped and turned back. Alex waited for it to do something.
‘What?’ he said.
The dog took a step forward and turned back round. It was staring at him. Alex shifted uncomfortably.
‘You want something?’ he asked.
The dog’s eyes widened.
‘Walkies?’ Alex suggested.
The dog gave him what looked like a withering glare.
‘Er …’ Alex mumbled. ‘Do you want me to follow you?’
The dog’s tail almost started wagging, but then it quickly made it stop. Alex smiled.
‘All right then,’ he shrugged. ‘I guess I’m going that way too.’
The dog jumped up and down with excitement and ran back to Alex. Alex took a deep breath and looked into the forest. The trees around him hummed with the calm glow of the lantern. The barking of dogs carried long into the distance, beyond where the green light lay brightest. Alex gulped. He turned back to the dog.
‘You don’t know how far a dog can run in the woods, do you?’ he said.
The dog stared at him. Alex rubbed his head and nodded.
‘Me neither,’ he sighed. ‘Shall we?’
They both set out along the glowing path in the trees, running alongside the dogs.
14
Watching the esteemed members of the Order of the Sword and Torch lose every shred of their dignity in the chaos of the base was quite something. It had been hours since the Expedition had fallen apart at the seams, but the hysterical crowd showed no signs of stopping. They cried, they fainted, they tripped over their own helmets. Some quite literally ran around in circles. They weren’t the only ones panicking. After only a few hours of riots most of the guards had disappeared. Reporters and cameramen who had stayed behind to film the devastation were now clambering up the sides of buildings to escape the packs of dogs gnawing their ankles. The dogs were at least having fun, but then, being dogs, they hadn’t much to lose in the first place.
Perhaps the only person who remained calm was Davidus Kyte.
He stood on the edge of the bandstand, his eyes darting across the base with an expression that few could read. He wasn’t really looking at the crowds. He was looking over the top of them, to the figure on the grassland slowly disappearing from view as the sun set over the rioting base. He had been looking at it all day. He stood and stared, barely blinking.
‘Squiggles,’ he muttered quietly.
Someone came and tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Sir,’ came Greg’s voice. ‘We’ve run into some problems.’
Kyte made no effort to turn round.
‘Really? Problems?’ he said, apparently surprised. ‘What would those be, then?’
Greg paused. ‘Er … it’s the Grand High Pooh-Bah, sir. He wants to see you.’
‘You don’t say,’ Kyte muttered.
There was an awkward silence. Kyte turned his head ever so slightly, to the great zeppelins that still lined the horizon.
‘Have all the dogs escaped, then?’ he asked. ‘Every one?’
Greg gulped. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘I see,’ said Kyte. He took a moment’s pause. ‘And … the others?’
Greg shifted. ‘… The others, sir?’
Kyte suddenly eyed him darkly. ‘The others, Greg,’ he repeated.
Realisation dawned on Greg’s face. ‘Oh! Er … no, sir. They’re – still there.’
‘All of them?’
‘All of them, sir.’
Kyte turned back to the figure on the grassland. It had disappeared. Kyte’s lips thinned, curling slowly into a smile.
‘Excellent,’ he said.
‘KYTE!’ a voice suddenly roared behind them.
Kyte stayed facing the way he was for a few moments more, before slowly turning around. On the bandstand behind him stood a small crowd of esteemed members of the Order
, gazing slack-jawed in disbelief at the carnage raging across the base. They had so far managed to avoid the worst of the violence by using their deckchairs as clubs, but their ripped tailcoats and dented helmets suggested that it had been a long and difficult day.
In front of them stood another man, his helmet’s plume nearly twice the size of the others and a colourful sash stained with spilt champagne slung over his shoulder. His head was very large and very red, and the expression on his face was very much like that of a man holding in his breath in case he started screaming. Kyte nodded in recognition.
‘Ah, Grand High Pooh-Bah,’ he said. ‘I see you finally made it …’
We might say that the man ‘exploded’ at this point. But he didn’t actually explode, he just shouted a lot.
‘What on earth do you call this?’ he roared, waving his arms at the rioting crowds. ‘Kyte, this is … a disaster! You assured me last night – assured me – that everything was going to go off without a hitch! And now you give me … this?!’
The esteemed members of the Order beside him stepped forward in sympathy.
‘An outrage!’ yelled the Major, shaking his fist.
‘An insult!’ blustered Charles.
The others muttered in furious agreement.
‘I paid you for an Expedition, Kyte!’ the Grand High Pooh-Bah bellowed, his jowls slapping wildly against his neck. ‘Not for you to bring it forward by six months at a moment’s notice and turn us all into a laughing stock!’
Kyte sighed. ‘Your Lordship, I assure you that the Expedition will still be going ahead …’
The Pooh-Bah’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. ‘Oh no it will not, Kyte! You are done! Finished! No more luncheons, no more research grants, no more so-called “experiments” …!’
Kyte sighed, and turned to Greg.
‘Turn the beam on,’ he said. ‘And clear the runway. We’ll go ahead with Plan B.’
Greg nodded and shot off the bandstand, barking orders into his walkie-talkie. Kyte turned back round to the esteemed members of the Order and gave a nod.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I’m very sorry, but I’m afraid I must be going now. I have an Expedition to prepare.’
With that he marched straight past them to the conductor’s podium at the back of the bandstand. It was carved from solid pine into the shape of a knight. In one movement Kyte ripped open a hidden switch under the helmet. The Grand High Pooh-Bah pushed his way through the confused crowd to face him.
‘Oh no you don’t, Kyte!’ he demanded. ‘You’re not going anywhere! You’ve got a lot of explaining to do –’
‘All in good time, Your Lordship,’ Kyte said curtly. ‘In the meantime I suggest you hold onto something.’
Kyte flicked the switch and threw himself to the ground. The esteemed members of the Order stared at him in confusion. Then suddenly, with a great snap and shudder, the floor started shaking, and at once the entire bandstand plummeted down into the ground like a lead weight, throwing them to the floor in darkness.
Kyte picked himself up as quickly as he had fallen and stepped carefully over the tangle of deckchairs and groaning bodies. Ahead of him now lay a huge underground corridor, leading to a single lit doorway in the far distance. He marched towards it without looking back. By the time he had reached the doorway the Grand High Pooh-Bah could be heard charging after him, his breathing heavy and furious.
‘Kyte!’ he roared. ‘Stop right now before I kill you!’
‘Calm down, Your Lordship,’ Kyte called behind him, opening a panel of numbered buttons beside the door and keying in a code. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’
‘No, Kyte, you imbecile!’ the Pooh-Bah bellowed, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him round. ‘Nothing is going to be fine!’
Kyte didn’t blink. ‘Your Lordship, if you’ll just listen for a moment …’
‘No, you listen!’ the Pooh-Bah wailed. ‘We’ve got a riot on the runway that’s been raging all day! It’s being filmed by news stations all over the world! And it’s threatening to take over this base unless something’s done about it! You, Kyte, are going to stay here and sort it out – not me! You are not going to leap onto some half-baked “Plan B” you devised while taking a break from throwing away every penny the Order has on … on dogs!’
Kyte paused, and glanced up at him.
‘Every penny?’ he muttered innocently. ‘Really?’
‘Every single one!’ the Grand High Pooh-Bah sobbed miserably, grabbing his hair in his hands. ‘Because I was stupid enough to believe in you, Kyte! You’ve … you’ve ruined us!’
‘Mmm,’ Kyte nodded. ‘Well then, I suppose, on the plus side, Your Lordship, you really have nothing left to lose, do you?’
With that he threw open the door and marched out into the glare of beaming floodlights. Ahead of them lay the runway that ran alongside the warehouses, far away from the chaos of the crowds at the boundary. Inside the first warehouse, one of the great black zeppelins was being winched down to earth. Work was going on at a manic pace inside. Packs of workmen were lugging hundreds of boxes off and throwing them under the shadow of the lowering zeppelin. Kyte stood and watched as the monstrous balloon crept slowly down towards him, filling his vision with a growing blackness.
He turned around. The esteemed members of the Order stood behind him, open-mouthed. A single Catherine wheel shot down the tarmac beside them in a stream of yellow sparks.
‘An Expedition is still going ahead,’ said Kyte. ‘Of course, it’s just the single zeppelin now instead of sixty. Such a terrible shame. From now on, we’re going with Plan B. We’ll have to repack the entire zeppelin and prepare it for the journey. It’ll take all night – maybe even until tomorrow. I suggest you fine ladies and gentlemen leave us to it. They’re going to be chaining the pack to the front any moment now.’
The Grand High Pooh-Bah snorted bitterly.
‘The pack?’ he said. ‘Tell me, Kyte – how many dogs are left to pull that great floating bag of yours?’
Kyte looked back at him blankly.
‘None, Your Lordship,’ he said.
There was a roar of an engine behind them, and they all swung round. From the back of the warehouse, a great black truck was slowly creeping out into the light. It was flanked by security guards, waving the vehicle forwards with trembling hands. The back of the truck was piled up with giant cages that seemed to shudder in the floodlights. The members of the Order glanced at each other nervously.
‘I see!’ shouted the Grand High Pooh-Bah. ‘Then what else do you have up your sleeve to pull it to the centre?’
Kyte strolled up to the black truck, and the security guards parted in front of him like grass, grateful for the distance from the cages. Kyte stood behind the lorry and gazed up into the back. A smile crept across his face. He glanced up again, and waved the truck forwards.
‘Plan B, Your Lordship.’
The truck slowly turned round to face them. The collected members of the Order leaped back with horror. Each cage was lined with metal bars as thick as gateposts, and padlocked shut with ten iron locks.
‘No,’ gasped the Major. ‘It … it can’t be.’
Before them stood row upon row of caged wolves, all black hair and heaving shoulders and spit-flecked jaws. They paced their tiny cages, glaring at the men standing trembling before them, their eyes flashing hungrily as they bared their teeth against the thick steel bars and rolled their furious eyes. The Grand High Pooh-Bah shook his head in disbelief.
‘Kyte …’ he gasped. ‘Kyte, what on earth are you doing?’
At that moment, the lights in the brass statue were slammed on, and they all spun round. Its green glare was fixed on the distant forest like a searchlight. Kyte turned to the Grand High Pooh-Bah in mock surprise.
‘What do you think we’re doing?’ he murmured. ‘We’re going after the boy.’
15
Alex stood in the shade of the trees, gazing out. In front of him the forest ended, a
nd in its place a desert stretched out, on and on in great white waves to the horizon. A burning midday sun hung in the sky, drawing heat from the sand like petrol fumes.
‘Oh crikey,’ he said.
All around him lay hundreds of dogs, panting furiously along the farthest edge of the shadow where the trees became the desert. They sat, waiting patiently, their fur caked in dust.
‘The desert,’ Alex murmured. ‘Just like he said.’
He rubbed his eyes. He had walked all night in the forest, and there had been no sign of his father. Alex sighed and stared over the burning sand. He was probably already halfway across the desert by now.
There was a sudden tug on his leg. Alex looked down. The dog with the black patch was biting at the cuff of his trousers, yanking insistently.
‘What?’ said Alex.
The dog sat back down anxiously and turned towards the desert. Alex shook his head.
‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘We can’t follow him now. We have to wait.’
The dog stood up and barked. Alex frowned.
‘I just told you,’ he said irritably. He waved his hands at the other dogs around him, lying lazily in the shade. ‘We can’t go now. It’s too hot. See?’
Alex looked back at the dog with the black patch beside him. He couldn’t shake the fact that there was something strange about it. The other dogs had completely ignored it, and it in turn had made no effort to run with them in the forest. Instead, it just spent the entire journey clamped beside Alex’s leg, pulling him on whenever he tried to stop.
‘Come on,’ said Alex. ‘Don’t you want to rest, or eat, or something …?’
The dog leaped onto the desert. It took a few steps forward and turned back expectantly.
‘No,’ said Alex. ‘Bad dog. Some things you have to wait for. Bad dog.’
Alex, the Dog and the Unopenable Door Page 11
