Underdog (11 page)

Tom shrank back into the undergrowth, his shoe making contact with something solid. Instinctively he drew his foot away and looked behind him, letting out a gasp when he saw the dog’s head gurning back at him, its eye ripe with maggots. He darted forward, scrambling away from the carcass and the shallow grave, flattening himself deeper in the bracken, hoping he hadn’t been heard. He watched the men, making ready to run.

The cat’s sudden screeching shifted his focus. He fixed his eyes on the animal as it writhed around helplessly, unsure he wanted to see what was going to happen.

‘Hold them as long as you can, mate. Don’t let them go until I say.’

The man held the cat aloft as he moved backwards, away from the dogs, making sure they kept it in their sights. Both tried harder to slip their chains as their prey was taken from them.

The man holding the cat somehow seemed familiar, not in the way he looked, but how he held himself, his swagger. Suddenly it clicked: this had to be Stevo’s stepdad. Tom kept his eyes fixed on him as he moved further from the dogs, still cruelly shaking the cat.

‘Now!’

The dogs were released. Mugger and Tess lunged forward, breaking into a run. At the same moment, the cat was thrown to the ground, giving it just enough time to get its balance and attempt to turn, but no opportunity to flee. Tom was mesmerised, gripped with a kind of primal fear as the dogs fell upon it. Within seconds, the cat was ripped to pieces.

The men moved in as a fight for the carcass broke out and the dogs turned on one another.

‘Break them. That’s enough!’ shouted Stevo’s dad as both men stepped forward to pull the dogs apart. ‘Leave her,’ he screamed at Mugger, punching the dog in the head to try to loosen his grip on Tess’s foreleg.

Taking what looked like a large wooden peg from his back pocket, he manoeuvred it sideways into Mugger’s mouth and between the teeth, rolling it to the back of his jaws. Both men continued to yank on the chains until eventually the two dogs were separated and pulled away from the dead cat.

Once apart, the dogs fell quiet, behaving as if nothing had happened. Both were breathing heavily, but their tails wagged as they looked up to their handlers obediently, seeking approval for their efforts. Tom looked at the cat lying between them, crushed and torn to shreds like road-kill. The horror of what he had seen made him even more fearful of what these men might do to him if they caught him. They were the dangerous ones, the callous look on their faces showing just how much they were into what they were doing; the dogs had no choice. The men were happy with the kill and began to pat the dogs and praise them.

‘That’s the best I’ve seen them go on that Jenny,’ said Stevo’s dad. ‘Thought they were going to break it.’

‘They were mad for that cat, for sure.’

‘Well, they fucking got it in the end, didn’t they?’ he said, looking down at the bloody carcass at his feet.

Andy laughed and turned around with Tess, adjusting his glasses as he led her back to the last of the barns, taking her in whilst Stevo’s dad let Mugger play with the dead cat, his prize for having got the better of Tess in the roll.

Tom watched as Mugger, the corpse between his jaws, shook what was left of it like a rag doll. Stevo’s dad let him have his fun a few moments longer, then placed a heavy lead onto the chain collar, wrenching the cat free with his gloved hand. There was a sickening crack and a sucking sound as a back leg was torn from the body and hung from the corner of Mugger’s mouth. Stevo’s dad walked over to the trees, casually tossing away the cat’s remains like a piece of rubbish.

‘You going to let him have that, Cal?’ asked Andy as he came back from the barn.

‘No. Thought I’d let you get it off him for me. He’s all yours.’

Mugger snarled menacingly when Andy approached.

‘I ain’t going near him,’ he said fearfully, standing back and watching from a respectful distance while the dog chomped its way through the leg.

Cal finally led Mugger back into the barn. He came out just a few moments later, locking the door behind him. Both men were laughing as they got into the car.

Tom pressed himself flatter into the undergrowth, pulling the rucksack into his side. He held his breath when the engine started, remaining perfectly still, lungs ready to burst as the car passed by, its wheels just feet away. Frozen to the spot, he listened. A full minute after the sound of the engine had faded into the distance, he finally raised his head.

When he felt certain the men weren’t coming back, he got to his feet. Moving cautiously into the empty car parking area, he trod as lightly as possible over the gravel towards the last of the barns.

Tom realised he had never before felt so fearful, convinced the two men would somehow reappear and find him. He needed to be quick; the dogs inside the barn were already barking. Opening his rucksack, he took out the small lump hammer.

His first attempt at hitting the padlock had little impact, other than making the dogs bark louder. He struck it again, but the lock held fast. Changing tack, he noticed that the metal bracket itself was loose, carelessly screwed into the old wood. He thought about using his penknife, but there wasn’t enough time, and he began bashing away at it. Each strike worked the screws a little looser, until the bracket at last gave way and the door swung open.

Tom entered the barn, leaving the door slightly ajar to let in some light. Mugger and Tess snarled as he made his way past, their bloodied muzzles dripping.

Jeffo was standing at the front of his cage, as if he’d been expecting him. His tail wagged feverishly and he pawed at the floor. Rearing up onto his hind legs, the cage rattled loudly as he scratched at it, yelping enthusiastically as Tom approached.

‘There, Jeffo. It’s going to be alright. I told you I wouldn’t let them hurt you.’ Tom was almost as excited himself, his hands shaking as he knelt in front of the cage. ‘You’re coming with me, now,’ he said quietly as they looked at each other. ‘I’m going to get you out of here. Everything’s going to be okay.’

Tom studied the small inset door of the cage with its little padlock, then checked the thickness of the metallic mesh, trying to determine the best way to get Jeffo out. The cage door was old and rusted, the metal brittle to the touch. He looked at the latch and examined the bolts and screws.

Taking the penknife from his pocket, he pulled open the screwdriver. Scraping out the rust, he wedged the tool into the indent in the head of the first screw, which turned easily. The rest were harder work, and he had to take care not to apply too much pressure, worried he might strip them. With the last one finally out, he pulled away the latch.

When he opened the door, Jeffo instantly jumped up. The sight of the dog coming at him at such speed made Tom fall back onto the dirty floor. It suddenly occurred to him to be careful, take his time.

‘It’s alright, Jeffo,’ he said, rocking back onto his knees and shuffling slowly forward. Reaching into the cage, he offered Jeffo the open palm of his hand.

Jeffo came as close as his chain allowed, close enough that Tom was able to touch his head and gently stroke it. When he squeezed himself into the cage, Jeffo nuzzled his head in Tom’s palm and jumped up playfully to lick at his face.

Tom pushed him back, laughing at his friendliness. Jeffo’s delight raised his spirits; it felt good that he had been right about him, that they hadn’t yet turned him mean. There wouldn’t be any more pain; he was going to make sure that all Jeffo knew from now on was love and kindness.

‘Back, Jeffo. Down, now,’ he said, trying to calm him. ‘We haven’t got time for playing. Let’s get that collar off.’

Tom took the heavy chain in his hand. Just as he was about to remove it, it occurred to him that Jeffo might run off. In a sense, it didn’t matter; if Jeffo ran, it was still better than leaving him to fight for his life. At least he would have some kind of a chance.

Tom lifted the collar up over Jeffo’s head, taking care not to hurt him as he dragged the links over his ears and freed him.

Jeffo remained where he was, too interested in Tom to make any attempt to run. His brown eyes looked up into Tom’s as if he was waiting to be instructed, a look of complete trust in them. Tom began to edge his way backwards out of the cage, an eye constantly on Jeffo, prepared to try to stop him should he make a sudden move.

‘Stay there,’ he said calmingly. ‘Wait a sec’.’

Tom pushed the door shut behind him as he clambered out of the cage, holding it in place whilst he reached for his rucksack and took out the stretch cords. The soreness in his hand made tying off the loop in the smaller cord take more time than he would have liked, but eventually he managed it, coupling this to the larger cord to create a leash and collar. He pulled hard at the knots, making sure they would hold.

‘Here, boy,’ he said as he reopened the cage door and patted his knees, encouraging Jeffo to come forward. ‘Come on, it’s okay.’

Jeffo stepped out of the cage, then jumped up and pawed at Tom’s legs, as if he was aware of the urgency of their situation and wanted Tom to hurry up and get them away. Tom pushed him back down onto his feet.

‘Sit, Jeffo.’

He was surprised when Jeffo immediately responded to his request and sat down, wagging tail puffing up a cloud of dust as it brushed over the dirty floor. Kneeling back down, Tom put his arms around him, not minding the strong smell and enjoying the fresh set of licks to his face as he slipped the makeshift collar over Jeffo’s head.

‘Come on, then,’ he said, securing the end of the lead with his knee as he buckled the rucksack and swung it over his shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’

Jeffo followed as Tom led him to the barn door. When they reached it, Tom stopped to look at Mugger and Tess, both of whom were pacing in their own cages, still snarling. For a moment, he wondered about letting them out too, but the feral look in their eyes and the blood on their teeth made him quickly dismiss the idea. They would only attack him, and Jeffo, and probably each other. It was all they had been taught to know, everything else long since stripped away. Tom led Jeffo out of the barn, unable to look back as he closed the door.

Jeffo was keen on the lead as they walked hurriedly down the track. He kept his head low to the ground, nose floating just above the dirt, sniffing away at anything and everything that came across his path.

Tom tried to keep him under control, doing his best not to choke him on the lead, but keeping him near should they need to slip into the cover of the bushes. They were so close now. A matter of minutes and they would be gone.

‘Easy now, Jeffo,’ he said, hearing the tension in his own hushed voice as they approached the gate. ‘We’ve got to be careful here. Don’t want to get seen.’

Tom stepped into the undergrowth where he had dumped his bike. With his injured hand, the weight of the rucksack and Jeffo pulling on the leash, neither riding nor pushing it seemed an option, so he made a snap decision to leave it where it lay. They would be quicker without it anyway, able to cover more ground and keep off the roads. He made a half-hearted attempt to push it deeper into the bushes, satisfied in the dimming light that it was hidden well enough. Besides, it didn’t really matter: Stevo was the only one who could link the bike to him, and to do that he’d have to incriminate himself.

He looked and listened for any cars coming before daring to open the gate: all was quiet, the only sound a small flock of crows cawing as they flew overhead. They set off, walking briskly, the gate left ajar behind them.

‘Come on, Jeffo.’

The openness of the road immediately made Tom feel vulnerable. He broke into a jog, heading away from the village with Jeffo trotting beside him. It was a relief to find another gate further up, and he took Jeffo through it, leading him into a cropped hay field. Staying close to the hedgerow, Tom began to run in earnest, breathing harder as the long field sloped upwards. Ahead of them, a fence cut a corner at the top of the field, enclosing a space dense with trees. It was the only place with any cover.

By the time they reached the fence, and the small apple orchard behind it, Tom’s lungs were burning. As he gasped for breath, he turned to look back down the length of the field, the elevated position allowing him a good view of the barns in the distance. Beyond these, on the horizon stood a small farmhouse situated next to two industrial-sized cattle sheds. Lights were coming on.

The gate into the orchard was held in place by a loop of orange baling twine. Tom lifted it from the fencepost and made for the cover of the trees. He knelt down with Jeffo at his side.

‘We’ve done it, boy,’ he said breathlessly, pulling Jeffo close and cupping his head in his hands. ‘We made it.’

Pulling the rucksack from his back, Tom sat facing the field to keep an eye on the barns and farmhouse, looking out for any cars or people coming or going. After a while, he let himself relax.

‘We can stay here until it gets darker,’ he said, smiling down at Jeffo. ‘Get moving again when no-one’ll see us.’

Stretching out his legs, he opened the rucksack and brought out the little pan and a tin of dog food. He held it up for Jeffo to see as he read the label:

‘Beef and Lamb. Looks good. Bet you haven’t had anything like this in a while.’

Grabbing the ring-pull, he opened the tin and spooned half of its contents into the pan, holding the food out for Jeffo, who seemed hesitant to take it.

‘Go on, Jeffo,’ he said, encouraging him. ‘This’ll be the best grub you’ve had in ages. Promise.’ He held the pan closer to Jeffo’s nose. ‘Go on, boy. Take it.’

Jeffo tentatively licked at the lumps of meat and gravy. He looked up at Tom as if asking his permission to continue.

‘It’s for you.’ Tom flattened a patch of grass next to them and placed the pan on it. Jeffo started to wolf the food down, hardly chewing before he swallowed it.

‘Knew you’d like it,’ laughed Tom as the pan was licked clean. ‘There’s more,’ he added, scraping out the rest of the tin. ‘Bet you’re thirsty, too.’

He watched as Jeffo finished his meal. Taking the flask from his bag, he poured some water into the pan, then took a sip himself.