Authors: Tim Willocks
It was Dedbone.
Furgul felt the urge to go for his throat. But he controlled it.
Dedbone grinned at Tattoo and beckoned him over. Furgul caught a flash of light from a piece of yellow metal. He looked. It was a brass thumb attached to a human hand. The owner of the brass thumb waved at Tattoo and joined Dedbone. It was the Gambler. They were both here.
Furgul kept cool and went with Spotty and Tattoo. He’d grown and changed so much since he’d been a pup, he was sure neither Dedbone nor the Gambler would recognize him. Then Furgul’s heart almost stopped as he saw someone who did. A gorgeous blue greyhound stood at the end of the leash in Dedbone’s hand. She wore an orange blanket with a number “1.” She was staring right at Furgul with tears in her eyes.
It was Keeva, his mother.
For a moment neither could speak. All the noise and chatter faded to a hum in Furgul’s ears. There was so much he had to tell her, and so much that he didn’t want to tell her, and so little time in which to do it. A racing muzzle was strapped around her snout. Furgul hated to see it. He couldn’t think of anything clever to say, so he said something simple instead.
“So you’re racing tonight, then, Mam.”
“I’m running on the rail,” said Keeva. “It’s not my favorite slot, but I’ve won from there before. Fifteen wins in twenty-two starts this season.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Come here, Furgul,” she said.
He stepped closer. Keeva tried to lick his face, but the
muzzle stopped her. Furgul licked her cheek instead. She crooned with emotion.
Tattoo gave the chain a brutal tug and cursed him. Furgul ignored it.
Keeva looked at the shotgun scars on Furgul’s body, and the scars on his face left by Tic, the bullmastiff. She trembled, trying not to cry.
“All this time,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”
“I escaped, just like you told me to,” said Furgul. “Just like you said Argal would do. Brid escaped too, but I don’t know where she is.”
“And Eena? And Nessa?”
Furgul swallowed. “Eena and Nessa have gone.”
For a moment Keeva turned away.
“I’m sorry, Mam,” said Furgul. “I tried my best.”
“I’m not blaming you, Furgul. I’m just so happy to see you alive.”
Keeva glanced up at Tattoo. She tried to hide her horror that such an obviously vile man was Furgul’s owner.
“Don’t worry about Tattoo, Mam,” he said. “He won’t hold me much longer. And when I get away from him, I’m going to come to Dedbone’s Hole and set you free. I’ve wanted to do it for a long time—ever since Nessa died in the crystal cavern.”
Keeva looked even more horrified. “No, no, Furgul. You must never come back to the Hole. There are even more Bulls—Tic and Tac had a litter. The Gambler lives there all the time now. And Dedbone is more vicious than ever.”
“All the more reason to get you out. Then I can show you the Doglands.”
“Oh, Furgul,” said Keeva. “The Doglands are just a fairy tale to make pups feel happy. They don’t really exist.”
“Yes, they do,” said Furgul. “I’m in the Doglands here, right now, because the Doglands are in my heart.”
He could see that Keeva almost pitied him for believing in such nonsense.
“It’s hard to understand,” said Furgul, “but Argal explained it to me.”
Keeva stared at him. “You’ve met Argal?”
“Yes. He told me to tell you that he always loved you.”
Keeva struggled to contain the powerful feelings tearing through her.
“We only spent a few hours together, in the Needles,” said Furgul. “But he’s still with me. He’ll always be with me. If I could show you the Doglands, he’d be with you too. He’s still out there—on the winds.”
“You’re talking as if he’s dead,” whispered Keeva.
“Only in this world, Mam.
A free dog never dies. He only moves on
. He gave his life so that other dogs could be free. Dogs like me and Brennus and Zinni.”
“Argal spun those tales for me too,” said Keeva. “The winds, the Doglands. No one could tell a story like Argal. That’s why I loved him.”
“They’re not just stories,” said Furgul. “If I could show you how to run with the winds, you’d know that.”
“I know about the winds,” said Keeva. “Racers talk about them all the time. If they blow in your face, they slow you down. If they blow from behind, you run faster. Just like a wet, muddy track makes you run slower than a hard, dry track. Weather conditions, that’s all. The winds are just strong air moving though the sky.”
Furgul almost wanted to bark with frustration. He’d never convince her here—in the paddock, at the track, in the very bowels of the racing system. Her brain as well as her body was ruled by this system. She’d been born and trained to be its slave. She’d never known anything else. More than anything else she was Dedbone’s slave. Argal had been right about Keeva. She wasn’t free inside. She didn’t carry the Doglands in her heart. She didn’t know how to. It made Furgul want to cry.
He also sensed it around him in the other racers. Even though greyhounds could run like no other dog, they couldn’t run with the winds. It wasn’t their fault. It was the fault of the masters who’d taught them that their only value lay in winning.
Furgul didn’t push the subject any further. He didn’t know how he’d spring Keeva from Dedbone’s Hole. He didn’t know when he’d do it. But he’d wait for his moment—for his moment would come.
“I can’t wait to see you run—like a cheetah.” He smiled. “I hope you win.”
Keeva’s eyes bored into him, as if something had awoken
in her and she wanted to hear more about Argal and the Doglands. Then Spotty took the leashes of both Furgul and Keeva and held them tight while Tattoo, Dedbone and the Gambler walked away toward the other side of the paddock.
“I will win,” said Keeva. “But not the way I want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen Tattoo work with Dedbone before,” said Keeva. “They’re going to pull a scam—a sting. They’re going to cheat.”
“How?”
“You see that big red?”
Keeva nodded to a superb red greyhound. Dedbone and Tattoo were walking right toward the big red and his master.
“That’s Crimson Tide,” said Keeva. “Great dog. I raced him once before, and he beat me by his whiskers. He’s what they call the favorite in this race. That means the masters think that Tide is most likely to win. So most of the gamblers are betting their money on him.”
Tattoo, the Gambler and Dedbone met Crimson Tide’s master. As Tattoo shook hands with him, Furgul saw him slip Tide’s master a roll of money. They all chatted and laughed. Then Tattoo crouched down to give Tide a pat on the head. As he did so—and as slyly as he’d passed on the money—he pushed what looked like a dog treat into Crimson Tide’s mouth. Tide didn’t like it and tried to spit it out. But Tattoo clamped Tide’s long snout shut so the dog had to swallow the treat down. Tattoo stood up again. He winked at Dedbone.
“Did you see that?” asked Keeva. “They just doped him. There’s a drug in that treat that will slow Tide down.”
“Crimson Tide’s master doesn’t mind losing the race?”
“Tide will lose—and so will most of the bettors out there in the stadium. But his master and Tattoo and Dedbone will all win big. They’ll bet all their cash on me and make a fortune. It’s what they call a sting.”
“So they’ve done this before?”
“Of course. Sometimes Dedbone dopes me. You see, they don’t care about winning the race. They only care about winning the money.”
Once again Furgul marveled at the craftiness and corruption of the masters.
“They’re cheating to be certain you win tonight,” he said. “But what if you didn’t? What if you lose?”
“Then they would lose a fortune,” said Keeva. “And Dedbone would probably drive me away in one of his cardboard boxes.”
Dedbone and Tattoo came back and grabbed the leashes. The distorted voice started squawking. Here in the paddock it was even louder. This time Furgul understood some of the words: “Sapphire Breeze.”
“I’m on,” said Keeva. “When I come back, you won’t be here. Tattoo will take you to the bookies window to make the bet with all their money.”
Furgul wanted to talk, but Tattoo jerked on his leash while Dedbone jerked on Keeva’s. Keeva put her neck on
Furgul’s shoulder to hug him. She whispered.
“When you meet Argal again, on the winds, tell him I always loved him too.”
Then Dedbone dragged Keeva away into the crowd.
“I love you, Mam!” barked Furgul.
But Keeva was gone.
Tattoo and Spotty dragged Furgul to the bookies windows. “Sapphire Breeze,” said Tattoo.
Furgul saw him exchange a big wad of cash for a paper ticket. By watching other gamblers, Furgul worked out that if they won, then they gave the ticket back and got even more cash in return. The two cheating thieves took Furgul to the edge of the track to watch the race.
“Squawk! Squawk! Squawk! Squawk! Squawk!” droned the disembodied voice.
The crowd got all excited. Tattoo grinned at Spotty and rubbed his hands.
The greyhounds were loaded into their boxes, Keeva in box number one, nearest the rail. Furgul didn’t want to see Keeva win a cheated race any more than Keeva wanted to run it. But he’d never seen her fly and he wanted to. As he waited to see her hurtle down the track, the winds blew in from the evening redness in the west. The winds were warm and gentle yet full of mysterious power. Furgul tingled inside. Because they were so gentle, it took a moment for Furgul to understand. The mysterious power on the winds was love.
It was Argal.
Argal, too, had come to watch Keeva run.
The gates shot up into the air, and the greyhounds thundered out.
But this time only five dogs appeared.
And none of them was Keeva.
Foul curses spewed from Tattoo’s mouth.
Then Keeva came out of her box. But instead of galloping—she danced. She danced and pranced and spun and cavorted with the winds that wrapped themselves around her. She was dancing once more with Argal, as they’d once danced long ago.
Furgul had never seen her filled with such joy. She was enraptured. The joy filled him too. Keeva had done it. She’d broken the system’s invisible chains, right here, on the track—where it should have been impossible—surrounded by a thousand screaming gamblers.
Keeva had found the Doglands at last.
And then something even more astounding happened. As the five dogs reached the first turn of the oval, Crimson Tide looked back and saw Keeva. The big red dog stopped racing.
And he began cavorting too.
It was incredible. It was magnificent. But the spectators did not agree. Great sections of the crowd joined Tattoo in swearing and cursing and screaming.
Then a third hound dropped out and joined the ball.
And a fourth.
And a fifth.
Until only one dog—number six—was left to run down the final straight.
Uproar exploded through the crowd. Even the squawker began to sound hoarse. A small handful of the gamblers were happy—the ones who had bet their money on number six. They whistled and cheered for Six to keep going so that they would win their bets. Six loped toward the finish line.
But Keeva bounded toward Six from the opposite direction—still enchanted by the winds, still entwined with the spirit of Argal. Inches short of the finish line, Six stopped running too. He romped away toward the other dogs and never crossed it.
Pandemonium erupted across the stadium.
Glasses of beer, hot dogs and cigars rained down onto the track. None of the gamblers had won. Not a single one. They’d all lost their money to the bookies. As a crowd of them surged toward the gambling holes, in the hope of claiming a refund, metal shutters crashed down over all the windows. The bookies intended to keep every penny.
Furgul saw a sweaty giant stumble out of the paddock. It was Dedbone. Behind him came a furious mob of trainers, shaking leashes in their fists as if they’d like to string him up. Then a much bigger mob of angry bettors charged the trainers, and Dedbone and the trainers turned around. They sprinted back inside the paddock and locked the gate, with the mob at their heels. The rage of a thousand losers was deafening. It was music to Furgul’s ears.
Tonight only the dogs had won. But the dogs didn’t care.
They were too busy running with the winds.
Furgul didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It was the most beautiful greyhound race of all time.
Somewhere in the angry crowd, Furgul heard more laughter. Human laughter. A single voice. He scanned the sea of waving fists and flying garbage with his super-sharp eyes. He saw the laughing face. It was Jodi. Of all the people in that seething mob, only Jodi was delighted by the greyhounds and their victory. Furgul remembered: Tattoo had dropped a newspaper at Appletree. Of course. Jodi had planned to come to the track to find out who was the owner of Sapphire Breeze.
“Jodi!” he barked. “Jodi!”
But Jodi couldn’t hear him. And Tattoo had had enough. He dragged Furgul out to the parking lot and chained him up in the truck. Tattoo was too enraged to drive, so Spotty took the wheel. Then they drove away from the track to do some thieving.
T
he thieves had stopped the truck outside two tall iron gates. Tattoo and Spotty were doing something sneaky to the lock. Furgul was still chained in the bed of the truck. He listened to a frenzied chorus of barking. They certainly had the lungs of guard dogs. Even a human could hear them from half a mile. But the nearest house was much farther away than that, so the thieves didn’t care. Furgul poked his head around the cab to see what kind of trouble he was in for.
Two giant schnauzers stood inside the gate and barked for all they were worth, which—in view of their sleek, wiry coats and their pure pedigree lines—was probably quite a lot. The breed was called “giant” to distinguish them from their relatives, the “minis”—like Mandy, the mini schnauzer at the mall. In fact neither of them was quite as tall as Furgul,
though if it came to tooth and claw, he’d have the scrap of his life. Schnauzers were born to fight.