C Fletcher - A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World

Don’t worry, shouted Brand. The dog must have smelled me.

There’s no reason for them to find out you know the dog already, he said very quietly, for my ears only. That’ll just raise more questions than we have comfortable answers for.

The gas mask just watched us. Jess seemed to calm down a bit, but kept trying to twist in the Con’s arms and find her way to me.

Although I hated the way Jess had been yanked off her feet by the rope, what Brand said made sense. And I could see the Con actually had kind hands and was trying to calm the dog and not hurt her.

They might have shot the dog if they thought it had touched us, said Brand, as if he had heard my thoughts.

So I had to satisfy myself by staring at Jess and just being pleased and amazed that after all these miles she was, as I had hoped against hope for, at the end of my journey.

The Con stood up and stared at me. I couldn’t tell whether it was a friendly or a hostile look. The mask made it impossible to read: the glass just reflected the gunmetal sky overhead and gave nothing away.

Jess whined and barked again, tugging at the rope. The Con reached down and calmed her with hands that were, again, kind and tuned to the way a dog likes to be touched. And then abruptly turned away.

It was in the turn that I made my decision. Looking back on it now, I know I made it for some of the right reasons, and all the wrong ones. The first was the way the Con had handled Jess after the initial violence of bringing her up short. They had not been the actions of someone who was cruel to animals. They were the opposite, and Jess had responded, as if she too trusted the Con in some way.

The second reason was that as the Con turned, a thick braided pigtail swung behind her head in a way that reminded me immediately of Bar.

I figured, wrongly, that a woman would be kinder and more understanding.

The third reason was that if there were wolves out there, as the Cons believed, then Jip and the horses would not have much of a chance against them, tied and hobbled as they were, even for one night.

All sorts of bad things flowed from that decision, but I still think it was the right one to make, given what I knew at the time.

Hey, I shouted. Hey you!

The Con stopped but didn’t turn.

I have a dog too, I shouted. And horses. They’re out there, tied up. Waiting for me to come and get them.

Griz, said Brand, his voice deepening to a warning growl.

If I tell you where to get them, can you fetch them? I said, shrugging off the hand that had gripped my arm. They’re not far. But they’re not safe alone.

Griz, hissed Brand. Don’t—

They’re tied, I said. They can’t run or fight if anything comes for them. And the dog will starve or die of thirst if it’s left.

If they find the map, said Brand.

They will, I said, turning to hide my mouth, as if the gas mask could read my lips even if I spoke low, which I did. But I can’t help that. I told you. What goes for Jess goes for Jip. They’re family. And even if they weren’t, what kind of person leaves an animal defenceless and without food?

A person who wants to stay alive, he said, his face grim. These Cons do not have a sense of humour. And the god they like seems to be the unforgiving kind.

The Con turned and cocked her head at me.

Please, I said.

That’s Tertia, said Brand.

Tertia, I said. I’m Griz. I can see you like dogs. I can see you have the way of them. Please save my dog, and you can have the horses.

Tertia stared at me some more.

You think she’s going to be all friendly just because she’s not a man, said Brand quietly. Again, irritatingly it was like he knew what I was thinking. Bad mistake.

Jess whined and tugged the rope, straining towards me.

The woman Tertia stood there like a statue. I couldn’t tell what she was deciding. She was so still that I couldn’t even be sure she was thinking about what I had said at all.

I once asked why she wasn’t kept with the breeders, said Brand. They said she was too hard. Like a cold and rocky cliff that life can’t cling to was what they actually said. She’s tough enough, that’s for sure, but she does have a thing about Saga. And now I guess she’s taken to the other dog as well.

And he turned away from the window and sat on the ledge, looking back into the room.

The one you stole, I said. Her name is Jess.

You’re going to get us killed, he said.

My dog, I said. My responsibility.

My neck though, he said. Fair warning. I like it as it is, uncut and unbroken. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.

All’s fair in love and war, I said.

What? he said.

Something I read, I said. Means you do what you must. I just did what I had to.

And then I turned back to Tertia, and told her where I had left Jip and the horses, describing the lonely pine and its fallen brothers and sisters.

I still didn’t know if she was going to do anything about it, but she listened and then abruptly turned away, pulling the two dogs behind her, and dropped out of sight over the edge of the low slope towards the settlement.

None of what you just did changes anything, said Brand. They’re still going to wait the quarantine out, and by then they’ll have figured you’re a girl, and then they’ll make you a breeder. You changed nothing and all you did was put us in danger.

I saved my dog, I said. And—

I cut myself off before I said John Dark’s horses. John Dark had been a good thing and I had no wish to share anything good with this thief. It would be like staining a clean memory the next time he talked about it.

And my horses, I said. I saved my horses.

You really think a dog’s life is worth a human’s? he said.

A life’s a life, I said. And those lives were in my care.

You’re crazy, he said.

I know what I am, I said. And I know what you are too.

And what’s that? he said.

Someone who doesn’t know what they are, I said. Someone who lies, even to themselves. A thief who thinks he’s not a bad man.

He looked at me then, eyes flaring flat and cold as iceblink.

You think you’re a hero because you did one good thing, because you saved your sisters? I said. Maybe you were then. But now? Thieving, lying, stealing people’s dogs?

I found I wanted to hit him too. Instead I spat on the floor.

Heroes aren’t for ever, I said. You shit on your past, you don’t stay shiny.

I think I preferred you when you were a boy, he said.

No, you didn’t, I said.

I looked back up at him, right in the eye.

See? You don’t know the first damn thing about yourself.

All the lies came home at first light. And they didn’t come home to roost like gentle doves, they came home like scavenging birds of prey, ripping and tearing and leaving nothing but the bones.

Brand and I had not spoken again as the night came on. I know he had watched me waiting at the window, straining my eyes trying to see if anyone had in fact gone to get Jip and the horses. When full black erased everything but the stars and a glimmer down in the settlement that might have been lamplight or a kitchen fire, I remained there, listening instead, ears reaching out into the dark for what I could no longer see.

But a punishing rain came on early and carried on through the night, and I heard and saw nothing other than the downpour. I used the old steel toilet in the end cell and tried not to feel self-conscious about the noises Brand must have heard, then I swilled a bucket of water down it to make it go away, went back to a cell Brand could not look into from his and slept, surprisingly deeply and dream-free.

It was the last good sleep I had. My nights nowadays are torn and uncomfortable things, and though I do doze off at some stage towards mornings, I wake feeling more tired than I was the day before, as if I have spent the dreamtime running and running, but always ending up awake back in these four walls, with a barred slit for a window.