Walker

by Shoo Rayner

  ‘Hide!’ said Thor. ‘Arlington’s coming.’

  Arlington was in a terrible mood. ‘What the hell is going on?’ he roared into the fading light. ‘Come on, you two!’ he snarled, as he opened the kennel door. ‘Come with me. I’m not having anyone trespassing on my land!’

  ‘I managed to tell Thor and Loki what’s happening,’ said Stella, when Walker caught up with her. ‘But Arlington has taken them with him.’

  In the distance, Arlington swore and shouted something, then two loud blasts echoed through the trees.

  ‘Flippin’ heck!’ Walker swore.

  Far, far in the distance, Stella heard police sirens, ‘They’re coming,’ she said. As they came closer, Walker soon heard them too.

  ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘We’ll take the long way round to the rendezvous point.’

  Soon the woods were alive with the intense flash of blue lights. Crazy, momentary shadows flickered across the tree trunks, making confusing, abstract patterns on the leaves. Sirens wailed. Dog owners called their pet’s names. Everywhere, dogs were barking. The police sirens were the signal they’d been waiting for. Khan had told them Walker’s plan: that they make for the puppy farm at Keeper’s Cottage and to bark, bark, bark, drawing the police in that direction.

  The breeze was blowing towards them. That unmistakable smell of fear filled Stella’s nostrils, making her more determined than ever to see the end of Arlington Wherewithal’s evil handiwork.

  The salty smell of gunpowder stung Walker’s nose.

  Walker and Stella peered around the side of the shed. Osmo and Arlington were arguing, silhouetted by the porch light at the side of Keeper’s Cottage. Thor and Loki paced up and down beside them, agitated, raising their heads to the fast-dimming sky, joining in the chorus of barks and howls.

  ‘Yes!’ Walker hissed. ‘They’re joining in.’

  Torches flashed. Bold voices shouted orders. ‘This is the police – everyone stop where you are!’

  Osmo and Arlington ignored the command. They took off into the shadows, hoping to slip away through the hidden paths at the back of the estate.

  Osmo collided with Loki, tripped and fell. ‘Boom!’ His shotgun went off as it landed on the path. Walker felt a rush of wind above his head. The shot from the blast scattered into the trees above him. Scraps of leaves and twigs fluttered down to the ground.

  Walker’s heart missed several beats. This was really dangerous!

  ‘You’re nicked!’ the police shouted, as they jumped on top of Osmo, slamming handcuffs on his wrist.

  Arlington crashed through the undergrowth, where Walker and Stella were taking cover. Arlington froze as he came face to face with them. ‘YOU!’ he growled. ‘This is all your fault, you meddling little…’ The shotgun trembled in his hands as anger overwhelmed him.

  A shape lunged out of the darkness. Thor hit Arlington hard, grabbing his arm firmly in his teeth.

  ‘Get down!’ Arlington ordered.

  Loki grabbed a leg. Arlington had never been a kind master. Thor and Loki ignored the orders they would once have obeyed without question.

  Arlington swung the butt of the gun at Loki, hitting him hard on the head. Loki yelped with the pain. Shocked, Thor let go his grip. It was enough. Dropping his gun, Arlington sprang away, into the gathering darkness.

  ‘Loki! Are you alright?’ Walker held the dog’s head in his lap. A deep gash on Loki’s head was weeping dark, sticky blood. Walker pulled his sleeve up over his hand and pressed it firmly on the wound.

  ‘You get help for Loki,’ said Stella. ‘We’re faster.’

  ‘Yes,’ Walker had to agree. He looked into Stella’s eyes, overcome by how serious this had all become. ‘Don’t let him get away.’

  Stella obeyed. ‘Come on, Thor.’ Both dogs ran into the dark.

  No one knew his master’s scent like Thor did. Arlington was scared and leaving a particularly easy trail to follow.

  ‘Quick, he’s trying to get to the car. We’ve got to head him off!’

  Stella and Thor raced ahead of him, taking up their position between Arlington and the big, sleek SUV parked in the courtyard.

  Arlington’s face was scratched and bleeding, leaves and twigs were caught up in his long, wild hair.

  Stella and Thor growled and bared their teeth. There was no way they were letting him get near the car.

  Arlington saw the hatred on the dogs’ faces and made a quick decision. Changing direction, he was off again, through the side gate and across the lawn towards the lake and the path that followed along behind the houses on the High Street.

  If he could just get away from the police. He was rich. He had friends in high places. If he could just get away, he’d be able to sort this all out!

  ‘Khan! Where are you?’ Geoff Sowerby was alarmed by the shouts and sirens and gunfire. He’d gone to the edge of the field to peer into the woods to see what was happening. When he turned round, Khan had gone! ‘How!?’ Khan was so slow, he couldn’t have gone far, but which direction?

  Khan was running – actually running! He would pay for it tomorrow. His old bones would ache like nothing he had known before, but there was a job to be done and he wasn’t going to fail in his duty. He had to get down to the path behind the High Street to make sure that particular escape route had been covered.

  And here he was! That man who had manhandled and belittled him at all the dog shows over the years. That man who could look at you as if he was choosing which joint of meat to have for Sunday lunch. That man, Arlington, was running towards him on the path.

  Khan stood his ground. He bared his teeth and, with all the rage and hatred he had for a man who could cause such distress to mothers and puppies, he snarled, letting his teeth flash in the cold light of the full moon that was just now rising over Foxley Fields.

  ‘Khan!’ Arlington froze. Fear blazed all over his face. Thor and Stella skidded to a halt behind him, snarling their hatred too.

  The fence. Get over the fence. It was the one thought left in Arlington’s head. The fence was only chest high. Arlington began to raise himself up.

  ‘GRRRRRR.’ Google did not like this man. Google ran up the garden path and crashed into the French windows, barking to let her owners know that they were being invaded. Then he turned and raced back down to the bottom of the garden, hurling himself at the fence!

  Arlington was so surprised, he lost his balance and fell back into the brambles.

  Google was so surprised at his bravery, he ran and hid under the barbecue cover.

  Arlington picked himself up, ripping his jacket on the thorns. He backed away from the dogs. Another fence. Next door. He could climb it. He would be safe on the other side.

  There was rusty barbed wire on top. He took his jacket off, threw it over the barbs and scrambled over the fence. He could nip through the garden, out into the high street, down to the pub and away to safety.

  But there was no garden on the other side of the fence. Only a concrete-covered yard. The yard behind the shop, where, as it happened, Boss was waiting for him.

  This was it. This was the moment Boss had lived for. A Bad Man was climbing into his yard. He was climbing over the fence backwards and there was his big, bad, burgling bottom, just waiting for Boss to sink his teeth into it.

  Boss curled his lip and bared his enormous fangs. A growl began, deep in his belly, growing louder and fiercer, as his whole body shook with anticipation. With a terrifying howl, he launched himself toward the fence and the bad, bad man…

  Jenny had the Sunday paper spread out on the kitchen table.

  ‘Top Dog in puppy farm scandal’ blared the headline.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ she muttered as she read the report. It had been all over the TV too. Journalists had been busy and had uncovered many of Arlington’s dirty secrets. His get-rich-quick schemes involved tricking people out of their money and his charitable work, supporting dog rescue homes, was a cover to find pedigree dogs to fill his puppy farms.
He had three more farms in other parts of the country.

  He was selling sick puppies for enormous prices, not caring about their health, and allowing the mothers to live in cruel, cramped conditions. The photographs were distressing. Jenny had tears in her eyes as she read on.

  Walker’s mum had been working hard at the council. They had found that Foxley Fields had been given to the village in 1862 by the lord of the manor at that time, and there was no way that anyone could claim to own it or the land that Jenny’s house was built on.

  Arlington was a chancer and a bully. He had learned that lies and fear would often make people give in to you, and his lawyer, Crispin Lightfoot, could make complicated lies look like the simple truth.

  The newspaper thought Arlington would be going to prison for a long time.

  ‘And good riddance too!’ Jenny tapped the table and smiled. In the time that Walker had got to know her, it was the first time he had seen her really smile. She looked quite different. All the cares of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. Arlington had been ruining her life and now she was free of him. Walker was also happy to know that Thor and Loki were well and all the dogs at the puppy farm had been found new homes.

  Walker stood up and put his cup and plate in the sink. Jenny had made a particularly chocolatey sponge cake and Walker had eaten a particularly large slice of it. ‘Time for a walk,’ he said. ‘But first I need to get Stella a new ball. Her old one is torn to shreds. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ‘Ah, Walker!’ said Mr Bonus. ‘Good to see you!’

  Walker looked at Anje, who was sitting behind the counter. Anje raised her eyebrows. What was her dad up to?

  ‘You know about dogs,’ said Mr Bonus. ‘What is matter with my Boss? He’s not eating his food. He look sad.’

  ‘Can I see him?’ Walker asked.

  ‘Sure! Anje, take him out the back to see Boss, will you?’

  Anje slipped off her chair and nodded for Walker to follow. The back of the shop was piled high with boxes full of everything you could imagine. They squeezed through a narrow passage made of kitchen towels and washing-up liquid boxes.

  Anje folded her arms and leaned against the doorway as Walker approached Boss, holding out a hand for the dog to sniff.

  ‘Hello!’ Walker said quietly. He turned his back to Anje so she couldn’t see them talking to each other. ‘You were a bit of a hero the other night!’ Walker said.

  ‘Hmmf,’ Boss grunted. ‘You wouldn’t think so. I’m still stuck here all day long. What’s the point? I’m so bored!’

  Walker nodded and stroked Boss’s long, black ears.

  Anje led him back into the shop.

  ‘He’s bored and depressed,’ said Walker. ‘He was a hero the other night and nobody cares. You can’t keep a dog locked up all day. He’ll get so depressed that when a real burglar tries to break in, he won’t be bothered to protect you.’

  Mr Bonus sighed and threw his hands in the air. ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘He needs to get out and run about and get some exercise,’ said Walker.

  ‘Ha!’ Mr Bonus laughed. ‘You very good businessman. You want me to pay you to take Boss for a walk every day.’

  Walker frowned. ‘That’s not what I meant at all. Anje can take him for a walk,’ he said. ‘It’s good for your business to have a healthy guard dog.’

  ‘Anje?’ Mr Bonus looked surprised. ‘Anje is tiny little thing. Boss is a big dog!’

  ‘But Boss loves Anje,’ Walker explained. ‘He’d do anything for her. And I can teach her how to walk him on the lead and help him to behave himself when she takes him out.’

  ‘But Anje is so young.’ Mr Bonus put his arm around his little girl. ‘She can’t go out all on her own.’

  ‘She won’t be on her own!’ Walker laughed. ‘She’ll have a famous, deadly guard dog to protect her.’

  Mr Bonus was silenced. He could think of no more reasons to keep Anje in the shop forever, or Boss locked up all day. In fact, he was beginning to understand that there might be benefits to keeping Boss fighting fit!

  ‘I still can’t believe it!’ Anje laughed. My dad has never let me go out on my own before. It’s unreal!’

  Boss thought it was unreal too, racing across Foxley Fields, feeling the wind in his ears and the freedom of a wide open space for the first time.

  Mr Bonus had given them a new ball thrower. They weren’t selling as fast as he’d hoped and he needed the space for a new brand of hot chocolate he was promoting.

  Stella and Boss raced each other to catch the ball. Boss was a bit clumsy and had one or two bad manners, but what can you expect of a dog that has been locked up all his life?

  Stella liked having a friend to play with, and so did Walker. Stella dropped the ball at Walker’s feet and winked.

  ‘We should do this again,’ said Walker, hurling the ball high into the air.

  Anje nodded, thoughtfully. ‘Yeah,’ she smiled. ‘That would be good!’

  About the Author

  Shoo began his career as an illustrator in a garden shed near Machynlleth. He drew for Michael Morpurgo and Rose Impey, but people kept encouraging him to write. Many years and more than 200 books later, Shoo has built a worldwide following for his award-winning how-to-draw videos on YouTube. http://www.shoorayner.com/

  Shoo lives in the Forest of Dean with his wife and two cats.

  Copyright

  First published in 2019

  by Firefly Press

  25 Gabalfa Road, Llandaff North, Cardiff, CF14 2JJ

  www.fireflypress.co.uk

  Text and illustration copyright © Shoo Rayner

  The author and illustrator asserts his moral right to be identified as author and illustrator in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form, binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781910080900

  ebook ISBN 9781910080917

  This book has been published with the support of the Welsh Books Council.

  Typeset by Elaine Sharples

  Printed and bound by Pulsio, SARL