Dogchild

by Kevin Brooks

  Its too good a weapon to be wasted on me, hede said.

  Youre better than most with a sling.

  I used to be before I lost my leg, but I dont have the balance for it anymore. And besides, I want you to have it, Jeet. You deserve it.

  I laid down the sling now and pulled my knife from the cloth wrapping. The one disadvantage of the knife was its shiny reflective surface – if it caught even the faintest of lights, the resulting glint in the darkness could easily give away my position – so before leaving town that night Ide stained the blade with the black ink of several walnut husks, and now, while I still had the chance, I wanted to make sure that none of the blackness had rubbed off. It didnt take long to give the blade a good looking over, angling it this way and that, and when I was satisfied that the walnut ink was still doing its job, I slipped the knife back into the cloth wrapping, leaving the handle uncovered, and re-tied the strips of cloth, tightening them enough to hold the knife firmly in place against my thigh while at the same time allowing me to quickly unsheathe it.

  I was almost ready now.

  Just 2 more things to do.

  The first was to find the right ammunition for my sling. Ide already noticed a number of goodsized rocks dotted around the basin, so all I had to do now was gather up a handful of the most likely looking ones and weigh them up against each other to decide which was best. The one I finally settled on was almost perfectly spherical, about 2 and a half inches in diameter, with a smooth pebblelike surface. Good and solid, hard and heavy, just the right size. I fitted it into the cradle of my sling, then turned my attention to the dogs in the Dau camp.

  As Ide told Gun Sur, I dont know how I quiet dogs. I just do something, and something comes out of me, something that somehow brings us together, and when weare together we feel this sense, this feeling that we want to be quiet---

  I dont know what it is or how I do it.

  But as I got to my knees and cautiously looked out through the tangle of roots, I could already feel the dogs promised silence. Ide done what I had to do. Whatever happened when I entered the camp, whatever the towndogs saw or heard or smelled, they wouldnt raise the alarm.

  The only thing I had to worry about now was making sure no one else did.

  The perimeter guard was going through the motions of doing his job now – peering out into the darkness and scanning the surroundings – but it was obvious his heart wasnt in it. He was looking around so quickly and carelessly that I probably could have got to my feet and fired off my sling at him before he even noticed me. But I didnt need to take any risks. So I just kept still and waited, watching him all the time, and after a minute or 2 hede clearly had enough of gazing out into the darkness. He yawned, stretched, spat on the ground, then turned around and turned his attention back to the camp festivities.

  I got to my feet.

  Crouching down behind the roots, I shuffled across to the edge of the basin, watching the guard all the time, and then – as another distant cheer broke out from somewhere inside the camp, capturing his attention even more – I straightened up, stepped out of the basin, swung the sling in a lightning-fast arc and released the rock, all in one rapid but measured movement. The rock shot through the air like a bullet and caught the guard in the side of the head, just above his ear. The dull crack of rock on bone was barely audible, and because he crumpled instantly to the ground rather than toppling over, the sound of the impact was minimal. I was reasonably sure the other guard was too far away to hear anything, but I didnt want to wait and find out, so I was already off and running before the falling body hit the ground – sprinting across the open ground, leaping over the perimeter bank, and landing in a crouch beside the lifeless Fighter. The rock had cracked his skull – bone was showing beneath the blood. His eyes were open, but there was no life in them. He was probably dead before he hit the ground.

  He was a young man – around 13 or 14, I guessed. He was wearing a thick coat with a high collar – the coat buttoned all the way up – with a fur hat and kneelength boots. A bayonet was tucked into the top of his right boot.

  I wound my sling round my waist and tied it off to secure it, then I shuffled round behind the dead guard, took hold of his collar, and dragged him over to the tree. I reached over and got hold of the front of his coat, steadied myself for a second, then heaved his body into a sitting position and leaned it against the tree.

  Anyone within a few yards of him would realize straightaway he was dead, but from a distance – and in the dark – he might just look as if he was resting.

  I squatted down on the other side of the tree and gazed around the compound to get my bearings. The red-roofed building was clearly visible – about 20 yards ahead of me, just off to my right. It was facing away from me, so I couldnt actually see the Fighter guarding the door, but I could see the glow of a burning torchlight somewhere near the front of the building, so I knew the guard had to be there.

  Apart from the fort, the camp was mostly quiet and still. I could see a few Fighters standing guard here and there, and the odd lone dog skulking in the shadows, but for the most part the compound was as lifeless as youd expect in the dead of night.

  The fort was far from lifeless though.

  The walls were ablaze with dozens of flaming torches, and from inside the fort a great fiery light was rising up into the darkness, filling the air with crackling sparks and plumes of orangey black smoke. Music was playing, people were singing---there was shouting and chanting and drunken laughter. Whatever was going on in there was hidden from view behind the high walls, but from the smell of burning wood in the air, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat, it was clear that some kind of celebratory feast was taking place.

  I closed my eyes and pictured the scene Ide witnessed at the hatchway the day before – recalling the position of the hatchway in relation to the red-roofed building and the fort – and then, after a few moments thought, I opened my eyes again. The hatchway was about 150 yards east of here, and there were 2 different ways of getting there. I could either go via the red-roofed building and head directly towards the fort, or I could start from here and follow the perimeter around to the right then turn left and cut through a maze of small buildings, approaching the hatchway from the south.

  I thought about the red-roofed building again. Getting the detonators was the easy part. Which was why, although my heart was telling me to find Chola Se first, and I was desperate to go along with it, my head was telling me otherwise. There was so much I didnt know about how and where Chola Se was being held – and I still didnt actually know if she was being held in the camp at all – but the one thing I did know, without any doubt, was that getting her out was going to be a lot more difficult than getting hold of the detonators, and if I was going to have any chance of achieving both, I had to take care of the easier option first.

  The reasoning was simple. There was far less chance of the easier option jeopardizing the more difficult option than the other way round, and if the easier option was as vital to our survival as Gun Sur claimed, Ide be putting Chola Ses life at risk – together with mine and 154 others – if I failed to secure the detonators.

  I had to get them first.

  I wished I didnt. I hated having to put my head before my heart. But it had to be done.

  I scanned the camp and the perimeter again to make sure it was safe to get moving, then I got to my feet and began jogging towards the red-roofed building.

  As I approached the red-roofed building I gradually increased my pace, and by the time I was within a couple of yards of it I was running so fast that all I had to do was take a flying leap at the back wall, and with a single bound I was up on the roof. There was no reaction from the guard at the front – I hadnt made a sound – but there was no harm in making sure, so for a minute or 2 I just crouched there on the roof, keeping perfectly still, and listened.

  I heard the guard sniff a couple of times, and cough, and mutter something under his breath, but that was it. He di
dnt know I was there.

  I crept silently across the roof, stopped at the front edge, and looked down. Just to the left of the building a small torch was fixed on top of a wooden stake in the ground, and in the light of the flames I could see the guard perfectly clearly. He was almost directly beneath me – standing still, in front of the door, with his rifle strapped over his shoulder and both hands deep in his pockets, trying to keep them warm. He was dressed very similarly to the other guard – heavy coat, fur hat, boots.

  I glanced around the camp, checking that no one was watching, then I did what I had to do.

  I untied the sling from my waist, took one end in each hand, and held it out lengthwise in front of me – not stretched out tightly, but loosely, so it sagged down slightly in the middle. I then got to my feet, steadied myself for a second, and stepped off the roof. I dropped straight down, landing behind the guard and looping the sling over his head as I hit the ground. Before he had a chance to react, I twisted the sling round his throat and yanked it tight, cutting off his voice so he couldnt cry out, and then I wrapped the ends of the cords round my hands and began twisting and pulling as hard as I could, at the same time kicking his legs away and throwing myself backwards, pulling him down on top of me. He instinctively grabbed at the sling, trying desperately to get his fingers beneath it, but he didnt stand a chance. The sling was coiled so tightly round his throat now that it was cutting into his skin, and all the time I was twisting it harder and harder, slowly strangling the life out of him. After a while he realized that he was never going to get the cord off his neck, and he began trying to get me off him instead – kicking out at me, trying to butt me with the back of his head, jabbing his elbows at me, bucking up and down and rolling over in an effort to throw me off. But I just wrapped my legs round him and held on as hard as I could. As long as I kept him on his back, and stayed behind him, I knew he couldnt really hurt me, and it was only a matter of time before he ran out of strength. He was already beginning to weaken now, and it wasnt long before his frantic attempts to save himself grew more and more feeble, until eventually, after a final few twitches, his body went limp.

  I kept a tight grip on the sling for another full minute, just to make sure, then I unwound it from his throat, rolled him off me, and began searching his body for the key to the building. I found it almost immediately – hanging from a loop on his belt – and after Ide unhooked it and got to my feet, I stepped over to the building, unlocked the bolt, and opened the door. I paused for a few seconds – retying the sling around my waist as I took a quick look around to make sure I hadnt been seen – then I went back to the guard, leaned down and took hold of him under the arms, and dragged his body into the building.

  It was pitchblack inside – the shutters all locked – and I knew Ide never find the detonators in the dark, so I went back out again and fetched the torch from the stake in the ground. When I went back in, shutting the door behind me and holding up the burning torch, I could see that the building was packed to the roof with all kinds of bits and pieces. Most of it was the same sort of scrap that Starry collects – broken tools, chains and ropes, cartwheels, crates, big metal drums – but it wasnt all quite so familiar. At the far end of the building, a metal table was piled high with hundreds of dried-out roots of a kind Ive never seen before – scaly black tubers, 2 inches thick and up to a yard long, some of them glistening with tiny red droplets oozing from splits in their skin – and on one of the shelves that lined the walls there were countless rows of jars and bottles filled with all manner of strange-looking concoctions – powders, liquids, dead insects and grubs, leaves, moss, tiny white bones---

  I stood there for a moment, gazing around in the shimmering flamelight, wondering what it was all about---and then, with a quiet curse, I shut it all out of my mind.

  It was all about the detonators and Chola Se, that was all.

  The detonators.

  And Chola Se.

  That was all.

  Gun Sur had told me that the detonators were probably in a green canvas bag and that the bag was probably in a cupboard somewhere. It was a fairly vague description, but as I raised the torch and began looking around, it soon became clear that there was only one piece of furniture in the building that could be described as a cupboard – a rusted metal cabinet, the paint flaking off, squeezed inbetween 2 sets of shelves in the far corner.

  I went over and crouched down in front of it.

  It wasnt locked – again as Gun Sur had said – and it didnt even have a handle. The door was just half hanging open. And when I pushed it back and peered inside the cabinet, I was relieved to see that all it contained was a large green canvas bag.

  I pulled it out and opened it up. The 3 detonators inside werent exactly the same as the one Gun Sur had shown me – they were much newer-looking, for one thing, not a spot of rust on them, and they were slightly smaller too – but there was no doubt they were the detonators I was after. And now that I had them, I could get on with the job of finding Chola Se and getting her out of here.

  The thought of that suddenly filled me with a feeling Ide never felt before, a feeling that overcame me, invading every cell of my body. It was neither a good feeling nor a bad feeling, neither right nor wrong.

  It was simply what it was – a feeling beyond description.

  I closed the canvas bag, looped the carrying strap over my head – adjusting the bag so it hung safely but unobtrusively against my back – then I left the building and locked the door behind me. I stopped and waited for a few seconds, looking and listening. The camp seemed the same as ever – the revelries still going on at the fort, the rest of the compound still deathly quiet, the dogs still keeping their promise---

  I replaced the torch on the stake and set off towards the courtyard.

  The Dau encampment doesnt have streets like the ones in town, but instead there are trails and pathways of hardpacked earth that have evolved naturally over the years as people have followed the same routes around the compound over and over again. One of these trails led directly – though not in a perfectly straight line – towards the center of the camp, and at first I thought it was the best route to take, but after Ide been following it for about 30 seconds I realized that although it was the quickest way to get to the hatchway, it was so open and visible that it was also the quickest way to get caught. So I moved off the path, heading down a narrow track to my right, then I turned left and started following a more indirect route – zigzagging through mazes of little alleyways inbetween buildings, sometimes even doubling back to find a safer way forward, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

  There werent that many Fighters about – I guessed most of them were positioned around the perimeter – but it wasnt just Fighters I had to avoid, I had to make sure that I wasnt seen by anyone at all, and although it was the middle of the night and most of the civilians were asleep, they werent all at home in bed. I saw an old man attending to a sow in a small pen, the sow either ill or giving birth, and at one point I almost bumped into a barefooted young man who seemed to be in some kind of daze. I just turned a corner and there he was – pacing around in the darkness, muttering madly to himself. I was sure hede seen me – he was staring right at me – but as I drew my knife and prepared to silence him, he just walked straight past me, as if I wasnt there. For a moment I thought about taking him out anyway, but from the weird emptiness Ide seen in his eyes – the look of a broken soul – I was fairly sure I didnt need to worry about him. He would have been more trouble dead than alive. So I just left him to his own mindless world and continued my journey.

  Eventually, after perhaps 15 minutes or so, I crept out from behind an empty building on the south side of the courtyard and scurried over to the pile of logs that was no more than 40 feet from the hatchway. A Fighter was standing guard by the closed hatch, and although his presence was going to cause me problems, I was relieved to see that he was there. It meant that Chola Se was probably still there too.

  T
here were plenty of small gaps between the logs, which made it an ideal place for watching the guard without him being able to see me. There were no torches in the immediate vicinity of the hatchway, but the flames from the fort were still burning brightly, the orange light spreading across the courtyard with enough glowing radiance to cast a dim shadow behind the guard. He wasnt the same Fighter Ide seen from the watchtower, who no doubt had been relieved of his duties – and more than likely punished as well – for disobeying orders. The new guard was older, around 21 or 22, and he looked more experienced and capable than his predecessor, and because the hatchway was in a much more open and central location than the red-roofed building, easily within sight of the fort, I knew that the task of getting in – and safely getting Chola Se out – wasnt going to be as straightforward as stealing the detonators.

  I could see that the watchtower inside the fort was manned, and there was no question that if the Fighter in the tower was looking this way he had a clear view of his colleague at the hatchway. The only upside was that the guard in the tower seemed as incompetent as the perimeter guard, and just like him he was more interested in what was going on in the fort than anywhere else. Almost every time I glanced up at him he was looking down, sometimes even shouting out to the revelers below, smiling and laughing along with them. The noise they were making – the music and singing and cheering – was louder now that I was nearer the fort, and hopefully that would work to my advantage too, covering up any sounds I might make that would otherwise have given me away.

  Not that I planned on making any noise.

  I untied the sling from my waist and began searching around for a suitable missile. To my surprise and annoyance there didnt seem to be any suitable rocks on the ground closeby, and even when I widened my search – crawling around on my hands and knees in the dark, running my hands over the ground – all I could find were a few small stones, not much bigger than pebbles. I cursed myself for discarding the handful of perfect rocks Ide found earlier in the shallow basin. If only Ide had the presence of mind to bring some of them with me, I thought. If only Ide---