“My grandfather says you can drink from all the streams up here. The water comes off the Cheviots and it’s the cleanest in the country,” said Hal. “If you go on ahead I’ll just go down and fill my water bottle.”
“All right, but don’t be long,” said Pippa.
She went on with the other dogs, while Fleck and Hal scrambled down the steep sides of the little valley. It was a beautiful place. The bracken fronds were uncurling, bluebells flowered between the birches… they were magical, these sheltered dells.
Fleck had been running ahead, but now he came back to Hal and stopped in front of him, holding up a front paw.
“What’s the matter, Fleck?”
Fleck whimpered, and Hal saw a piece of rusty wire caught between his toes. Hal took it out, and it was then he noticed the smell.
It was a smell that seemed completely unreal in this lovely place. A vile sick-making stench of decay and rottenness.
Then he saw it: a pile of rubbish spilling down to the edge of the water. There was a torn mattress; half open tins of oil oozed on to the grass. A heap of rotting food burst out of a plastic bag, and an old sofa lay on its side, its rusty springs sticking up from the stained upholstery. Some of the refuse had been tipped into the stream itself; foetid bubbles of gas broke the surface of the water. A twisted electric fire was wedged against a boulder. A young birch sapling had fallen across the stream, broken by the weight of an iron bath.
And over everything, this unspeakable smell…
Hal hardly remembered how he got back up the bank. He was in a state of shock. Who could do this; who could turn this wonderful place into a hellhole? He was still getting his breath, tying up his shoelace at the edge of the road, when a pick-up drove past him, braked, and backed towards him.
Kevin had just finished dumping his load by the stream before Hal came, and had had a rest, dozing in his lorry, as people do when they have done a good morning’s work. He was setting off again, bound for his lock-up on the moor, when he saw a boy sitting on the side of the road. The boy had fair hair and was wearing a blue anorak – and for some reason he seemed familiar.
The hair began to rise on the back of Kevin’s neck. He braked and reached for the newspaper.
Yes, it was what he’d thought. He’d seen the advert when he was having his breakfast and now he peered at it again. This was the boy for whom they were offering twenty thousand pounds’ reward! He peered again but there was no mistaking it. Hardly able to believe his luck, he leant out of the window of the cab, and in his oiliest voice, he said:
“Want a lift?”
Hal shook his head.
“Thanks, but I’m with a friend. I’m just going to catch her up.”
Kevin grinned. The boy was obviously lying. There’d been no mention of a friend in the advert, but he’d go along with it.
“Well, I’m going that way. I’ll pick her up and give both of you a lift to the village. It’s not far. My name’s Kevin, by the way.”
Hal hesitated. But it was true he’d been longer than he intended. He’d trusted Mick and it had been all right. People in the north were known to be friendly.
“All right,” he said. “Thanks.”
He climbed into the cab and pulled Fleck in after him, but Fleck was behaving badly. As the engine revved up again he began to growl and show his teeth.
“Quiet, Fleck,” said Hal.
But Fleck, usually so obedient, took no notice. Hal was looking down, trying to soothe him, and at first he did not notice that the van had swerved sharply to the left, up a rutted track.
“Stop,” he said. “That’s not the way. We should be going straight on,” and as Kevin took no notice, he said loudly, “Where are you going?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” said Kevin. His voice was quite different now, harsh and ugly.
They drove uphill towards an isolated shed. But Fleck was going crazy. He jumped off Hal’s lap and tried to clamber on the steering wheel, all the time barking at the top of his voice.
“Shut up, you little tyke,” said Kevin. And he seized the dog by the scruff of his neck and threw him out of the window.
Hal screamed and tried to get out too, but Kevin put out one arm and held him in a grip of steel. He wasn’t going to let twenty thousand pounds get away.
While Fleck yowled in anguish on the path, the pick-up drove up to a stone hut with a corrugated iron roof, standing by itself on the edge of the moor. Pulling the struggling Hal out, Kevin dragged him to the door and pushed him in.
“Fleck!” screamed Hal.
Then the door was slammed shut, the bolts pushed across, and it was padlocked.
Kevin walked away, thoroughly pleased with himself. Now for a phone call to the number in the advertisement and then – twenty thousand pounds!
The wretched dog was still yowling and whining, trying to get to Hal in the shed. Kevin picked up a stone and threw it hard, and it hit the cur on the side. Then he took his mobile out of his pocket and went a little way up the hill to get a signal.
Fleck was absolutely beside himself, trying to reach Hal. The stone hadn’t drawn blood but it had bruised his shoulder. He could hear Hal’s voice inside, frantically shouting his name.
For a few minutes Fleck ran uselessly round and round the hut, trying to find a way in. Then quite suddenly, he took off and raced like the wind down the hill and along the road.
Pippa was getting annoyed. What on earth was Hal doing? It shouldn’t take so long to fill a water bottle. The dogs had been sitting round her obediently, waiting, but now they got to their feet and stared at the road, their noses twitching. Something was coming towards them – a white streak which, as they watched, turned into Fleck. But this was Fleck as no one had seen him. Not a wistful mongrel but a messenger bringing unspeakable news.
He raced up to the dogs, panting terribly, but he wouldn’t rest. He jumped up at them, he shoved his nose into their sides, all the time talking in frantic barks.
“Where’s Hal?” asked Pippa, her heart beginning to pound. “Where is he, Fleck?”
Fleck ran up to her, then back to the dogs. He started off up the road looking back over his shoulder but at first they did not follow. Then quite suddenly they understood, and a change came over these gentle domesticated pets. As one, they tore off up the track, with Fleck in the lead, and Pippa saw something which she was to remember all her life – the hunting pack, its blood up, closing in for the kill. Even Li-Chee, bouncing over the heather in the wake of the others, felt the blood of the grey wolf pounding in his veins. For wolves these dogs had been in the distant past, and wolves they had become again.
Kevin had made his phone call and, feeling very pleased with himself, he stretched out on the grass. The boy was still hammering on the door but he’d get tired of it soon enough. There was nothing to do now except wait till he could hand him over.
And then, all the things he had promised himself – a new lorry, the deposit on a little bungalow, a trip to Las Vegas. That snooty girl in the checkout would go out with him fast enough when he was loaded, thought Kevin, going off into a doze.
He woke to find two huge paws on his chest and an enormous pair of jaws, with a row of terrifying teeth, salivating into his face.
Then he felt both his legs being worried and bitten, his trousers ripped, as Francine took one leg and Honey the other.
“Stop!” screamed Kevin in agony. “Let go. Let go!”
And now Li-Chee, who had not been able to keep up with the others, came panting up, leaped on to Kevin’s stomach, disappeared under Otto’s chest and fastened his needle-sharp teeth on Kevin’s nose.