Dogchild

by Kevin Brooks

  Therell be other dogs out there that know me---ones that were young when I was there.

  Didnt they all die in the raid?

  Dogs dont always stay with the pack they were born into. Some of the pups I grew up with split off into other packs when they were older. They might help me if theyre still around.

  And if theyre not, or they wont help you? What then?

  Ile take my chances on my own.

  Pilgrim let out a quiet snort of derision.

  I ignored him again.

  You realize theres a good chance youle never make it? Gun Sur said. Even if you take the long way round, youre still going to have to cross so much open ground that youre almost certain to be seen.

  This item you told me about, I said, looking him in the eye, the one in the red-roofed building---you said that if we dont get hold of it our chances of winning the final battle will be severely jeopardized.

  Thats right.

  So what have we got to lose?

  He thought about that for a moment, then simply nodded. All right, he said, lets say you can get to the camp without being seen, and that you can keep their dogs quiet, as you claim. How are you going to get past the guard and into the building?

  Ile kill him and take his key.

  Thats it?

  I shrugged. Unless youve got a better idea.

  Gun Sur just stared at me for a while, thinking hard again, then he looked up at Pilgrim.

  What do you think? he asked him.

  About the guard?

  About all of it. Do you think theres a chance it could work?

  Theres always a chance. But if you want my honest opinion, Ide say the chances of him pulling it off are somewhere between very slim and none at all.

  Gun Sur nodded. Whats the situation with our other options?

  Ime still working on them.

  Are any of them ready to go?

  Well, not yet, but —

  We need to do this tomorrow.

  I know.

  Can you guarantee youle have something else ready by then?

  Ime reasonably sure —

  Can you guarantee it?

  No, he admitted, a slight edge to his voice. I cant guarantee it.

  Gun Sur just sat there for a while then – staring at the table, wearily rubbing his temples – until eventually he took a breath and sat up straight.

  Show it to him, he said to Pilgrim.

  Are you sure? Pilgrim replied. Dont you think we —?

  Just do it.

  Pilgrim went over to a cupboard in the far corner of the office. He opened it up, reached in and took something out, then came back over and placed it on the table in front of me. It was a rectangular metal box – about 8 inches tall, 6 inches wide, and 4 inches deep – with 2 small screw attachments and a T-shaped handle on the top. It was obviously very old, the dull brown metal casing battered and scratched and discolored, but apart from a few patches of rust here and there, it wasnt in too bad a condition.

  Do you know what it is? Gun Sur asked me.

  No.

  Its a detonator, he explained, for setting off explosives from a distance. Cables are connected to these screws – he indicated the 2 screws on the top – and the other ends of the cables are attached to fuses which in turn are embedded in the explosive. You prime the detonator like this – he held the box down with his left hand, took hold of the T-shaped handle in his right hand, and pulled it straight up until it stopped – and then, when you push the plunger back down – he leaned over the box and shoved the handle down – a mechanism inside the detonator produces an electric current which passes along the cables and sets off the explosive.

  He looked at me.

  Do you understand?

  I gave it some thought for a moment, then nodded. I understood as much as I needed to.

  Now if this was in good working order, Gun Sur continued, tapping the top of the detonator, it could generate enough power to set off explosives up to a mile away.

  Right, I said, nodding again.

  But unfortunately its not in good working order. In fact, it doesnt work at all. Theres something wrong with the mechanism that generates the current, and despite our best efforts we havent been able to fix it. However---

  He stopped speaking, gazing at me with an expectant look, inviting me to finish his sentence for him.

  The Dau have a detonator that works? I said.

  He almost smiled. They actually have 3 detonators that work.

  And they keep them in the red-roofed building.

  Exactly. And as Ive already told you, its absolutely vital that we get hold of them.

  Why?

  I cant tell you that.

  Why not?

  If you know what we want them for, and youre captured by the Dau, theyle torture you until you tell them everything. We cant let that happen. Even if we dont have the detonators, its crucial that the Dau dont know what we want them for.

  I wouldnt tell them anything. Whatever they did to me, Ide never talk.

  You would. Believe me. The Daus cruelty to prisoners is beyond imagination. Everyone talks in the end---everyone. The only way we can guarantee you wont tell them anything is by making sure you dont know anything in the first place.

  There was no point in pushing it any further. However much I tried to convince him that I wasnt the same as everyone else – that Ide never break under torture, no matter what – the truth was, his argument made perfect sense. The less secrets I knew, the better.

  Do you know where the detonators are kept in the building? I asked him.

  We dont know the precise location, but weare fairly sure theyre in a green canvas bag and that the bag isnt locked away anywhere. Its probably just in a cupboard somewhere.

  I thought about asking him how he knew all this – and also why the detonators werent locked away, considering how important they were – but I guessed this was all information that I didnt need to know, so I kept my questions to myself---at least for now.

  Ide better get going, I heard Pilgrim say.

  I looked round and saw him standing in front of the open window looking across at Gun Sur. With the light of the lowering sun at his back, edging his figure in a pale red glow, there was something strangely dark about him – something I hadnt noticed before – and just for a moment I felt a shiver of coldness in my blood.

  Gun Sur was looking back at him, and as they silently held each others gaze, it was clear there was something passing between them that they didnt want me to know about. Neither of them said anything or made a gesture of any kind, and after a few seconds Pilgrim just turned away and left the room.

  Gun Sur waited for him to shut the door, then turned back to me.

  Ile arrange for one of the Captains to meet you at the tunnel entrance at sundown tomorrow night, he said. Wele also have a Fighter posted on the outside by the exit. If theres anything you need —

  I can go tonight, I told him. I dont need to wait til tomorrow. I can go right now.

  Youle go tomorrow, he said simply.

  I very nearly told him about Chola Se then. I couldnt bear the thought of her having to spend another night and day in that underground hell, and I was so desperate to get her out as soon as possible that I wanted to plead with Gun Sur to let me go now. But despite the desire in my heart, I forced myself to say nothing. If I told Gun Sur about Chola Se, hede know – or at least suspect – that Ide try to rescue her, and hede never sanction that because it might compromise my chances of getting the detonators. He might even decide that I couldnt be trusted with the mission at all. And I couldnt let that happen. Even if rescuing Chola Se did jeopardize my chances – and there was no doubt it would make the task of getting the detonators a lot more difficult – I had to get her out of there.

  Whats on your mind, Jeet? Gun Sur said, leaning forward and looking me in the eye.

  Nothing---

  Have you got a problem with going tomorrow? Because if you have —

  No, I
said quickly, its no problem at all. I just meant that I could go right now if you wanted me to, thats all.

  He carried on staring at me for a while, and then – seemingly satisfied that I was telling the truth – he leaned back and rubbed his eyes.

  Whatever you need, he said wearily, guns, clothing, equipment---come and see me or Deputy Pilgrim tomorrow. At least one of us should be here most of the time, but if for any reason weare both unavailable, just sit tight and wait. You must not, under any circumstances, discuss this with anyone else. Is that perfectly clear?

  Yes.

  Good.

  He got to his feet, and I took that to mean the meeting was over, so I stood up too. I thought he was going to say something – perhaps wish me luck – or maybe shake my hand, but instead he just nodded at me, a gesture so vague that it was impossible to tell if it was an expression of gratitude or a sign of dismissal. I waited a moment, not sure what to do, and as I stood there looking at him I gradually realized that although his eyes were still fixed on mine, he was actually gazing right through me, his mind somewhere else. And when I turned round and walked out, glancing back at him as I closed the door, he was still just standing there, his glazed eyes staring at nothing, totally unaware that Ide gone.

  Ime back home now, back in front of the fire. Its not too late, only a few hours after sunset, but Ime tired and I need to get some sleep. I need to be rested and fresh for tomorrow. But at the moment my heads too busy to sleep. There are so many things to think about.

  The first thing I did after leaving the Quarterhouse was head over towards the westside cliffs. I didnt go anywhere near the tunnel, I just walked around the streets where the 2 Fighters that Gun Sur had told me about were posted, the ones who kept an eye on the tunnel entrance. I knew where theyd be. Ide seen them countless times before, every time Ide ever been in this part of town, and Ide also noticed them looking over towards the earthbanks and thornbushes where the tunnel came out, but Ide always assumed they were just watching the cliffs as a whole rather than one particular part of them. When I walked past the Fighters on guard duty this evening though – taking care to make sure they didnt know I was watching them – it was perfectly obvious that their regular glances towards the cliffs were specifically directed at the area where the tunnel was. I couldnt actually see the entrance, but I could see the dense thicket of thornbushes that still hid it from view, and I could also see that Gun Sur was right – no one could get to the tunnel without being seen by the guards.

  The sun was dipping down over the horizon by then, and I wanted to take a look around Chola Ses house before it got too dark to see anything, so I picked up my pace and headed back across town to the street where she lives.

  I didnt know why I still wasnt convinced that Yael was guilty, and I didnt know what it was about Pilgrims story that kept nagging away at the back of my mind, all I knew was that there was something – possibly several things – that just didnt feel right about it. And as I walked through the darkening twilight towards Chola Ses house, I realized what one of those possible things might be.

  Although it would have been fully dark when Yael abducted Chola Se and the babies and carried or dragged them to the watchtower – and at 2 or 3 in the morning the streets would have been empty, with most people asleep in their beds with their shutters closed and bolted – I still found it hard to believe that no one had seen him. Why hadnt any of the other guards spotted him? They couldnt all have been looking the other way. And even if they had been, why hadnt they heard anything?

  It didnt make sense.

  And neither did the hood. Pilgrim had told me theyd found a bloodstained shirt and a hood hidden away in the cellar of Yaels house. But why would he wear a hood? If someone had seen a hooded man abducting Chola Se and 2 babies, they wouldnt have ignored him just because they couldnt see his face. If anything, wearing a hood would have drawn more attention to him than not wearing one.

  It made no sense at all.

  I was still thinking about these things when I arrived at Chola Ses house. Aliaj and Berch lived on the same street, just a few doors down, and I was planning to take a look around their house after Ide checked out Chola Ses, but as soon as I got there I realized I wasnt going to find anything useful. Thered been so many people trampling around the house all day – trackers, search parties, Fighters – that any tracks the abductor might have left behind had now been obliterated. The ground was completely unreadable.

  The house itself was all locked up, and a Fighter was standing guard outside the front door. I could easily have got in round the back, but the Fighter had already seen me – and was keeping a close eye on me – so I decided to leave it for now.

  I headed off in the direction of the West Tower, scouring the ground for tracks as I went, but it was almost as trodden down and scuffed up as the ground around the house. There was actually a visible pathway leading to the tower where the ground had been worn down by trackers walking to and from the house, and as I followed the pathway I recognized some of the partial prints in the dirt. The bare footprints of Mose, the other male dogchild, were unmistakable – he never wears anything on his feet – and there was no mistaking the prints of Pilgrims heeled Cowboy boots either. I wasnt familiar with Yaels tracks, but what I was looking for were any prints that were deeper than usual – indicating the extra weight of a man carrying someone – or any continuous trails in the dirt that would have been made if the abductor had dragged Chola Se, not carried her.

  I didnt find any trails, and the only print I found with any unusual depth to it was a partial impression of Pilgrims left boot heel. It was about 20 yards from the tower, right at the point where the ground changes from hardpacked dirt to glassrock, and it looked to me as if Pilgrim had probably missed his step and slipped off the edge of the glassrock, his left foot taking all his weight.

  The 20-yard band of glassrock extends all the way along the wall, and there was no point looking for any tracks in it because glassrock is so hard you can hit it with a pickaxe and barely leave a mark.

  So I turned round and headed home.

  And now here I am, struggling to keep my eyes open as I write these words. I know I should be thinking about the practicalities of tomorrow – what weapons to take, what to wear – but I cant seem to concentrate on practical matters, and I keep finding myself thinking about my mother. How am I going to feel if I see her? Or if I dont see her? Hows she going to feel about me? And I also keep asking myself why Ime actually doing this. Am I doing it for the good of our people, or simply for Chola Se? And if Ime doing it for Chola Se---?

  What does that mean?

  I dont have any answers.

  I dont know---

  Ime too tired.

  Ive been asleep but now Ime awake again, woken by a mostly forgotten dream. All I can remember of it is an image of Chola Se in a ragged pink dress, her lips drawn back in a vicious snarl, her bared teeth red with blood.

  I spent most of the next day getting hold of the things I needed for my journey to the Dau encampment. It was all fairly straightforward, and the only thing that needed much thought was whether or not to take a gun. It was highly unlikely that Ide get there and back without having to use a weapon, and it was tempting to take up Gun Surs offer and arm myself with a handgun or a rifle, perhaps even both, but in the end I chose to limit myself to the weapons I carry every day – my knife and my sling. I know them so well theyre part of me, and Ime very good at using them. Thats not to say that I cant use a gun – everyones taught how to shoot during Fighter training, and Ime as good, if not better, than most – its just that I feel more natural using a knife or sling.

  And guns arent silent either.

  If I was going to get into the Dau camp without being seen, and safely get Chola Se and the detonators out, I had to do it without making a sound.

  By midafternoon Ide got everything I needed and done everything I had to do, and now all I had to do was wait.

  I lay down on the floor, clos
ed my eyes, and let myself become a dog again.

  The dying red glow of the setting sun was still shimmering over the sea when I arrived at the patch of thornbushes that hides the tunnel entrance from view. I couldnt see anyone waiting for me at first, but as I squeezed my way through the bushes, I saw the familiar figure of Captain Glorian standing beside the earthbank at the edge of the cliffs where Ide come out of the tunnel with the rest of the pack all those years ago.

  Glorian is the oldest of the Captains, and by far the biggest too. Hese a beast of a man. Not that tall, but massively solid and strong. He must weigh at least 280 pounds, and there isnt an ounce of fat on him. Just raw muscle.

  Hede obviously heard me coming, and was just standing there, waiting patiently, his rifle cradled casually in his arms. The moment he saw me emerging from the bushes though, his attitude suddenly changed, and before I could take another step hede raised his rifle and was aiming it directly at my head.

  Dont move! he barked at me. Hands in the air! Now!

  Its me, Captain, I said quickly, holding up my hands to show him I was unarmed. Its me, Jeet---

  He didnt move, but just stood there, still holding the rifle on me, staring hard, squinting and frowning, until eventually I saw the recognition dawn in his eyes, and he let out a sigh and slowly lowered the gun.

  What the hell are you doing, Jeet? he said angrily. I didnt know who you were.

  Sorry---

  He cursed, shaking his head. You could have got your head shot off looking like that.

  It was my fault he didnt recognize me. As part of my preparations, Ide changed my appearance to help me blend in with the dogs, and Ide forgotten to warn the Captain in advance. As well as hacking off all my long straggly hair – which made a surprisingly big difference to the look of my face – Ide also changed the way I was dressed. Instead of my usual clothing – hooded tunic and moccasin boots – I was wearing a long black heavy coat, buttoned up to the neck, and my feet were bare.

  Beneath the coat I was naked.