The Fox & Hounds — Barking Green
It was still dark when Grandma Bella roused the boys for an early breakfast. It was the best one yet — a full cooked breakfast: bacon, eggs, hash browns, sausage, beans, mushrooms, and tomato. There was also a huge stack of toast, just in case anyone was still a bit hungry.
Grandpa Jake had just come into the dining room and was having an urgent, hushed conversation with Grandma Bella.
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After lunch, all of the boys started yawning, and once one started, they all started non-stop. Even though it was still early afternoon, Grandma Bella dispatched all the boys upstairs for a nap.
Again, they could hardly believe their luck — beds, real beds with sheets and pillows, and one bed for each of them!
To Grandma Bella’s amusement, the pups who would normally object strenuously to taking an afternoon nap all insisted that they wanted to take a nap too. Hamish snuggled in with Seb, Fergus with Charlie, and Angus with Raven. Lewis, of course, had Dogger. Soon all the boys and Hunde puppies were fast asleep, the boys feeling completely safe for the first time in a very, very long time.
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Charlie: I can see them! — they’re coming back, and there’s some… some… um…
Charlie, who had never seen a Hunde before, couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing.
…some people with them, well I think they’re people — um — they look like, wow!
They look like dogs — but they are walking like people!
The closer Raven, Lewis, and their companions got, it was beyond any doubt; coming towards them were walking, talking, real-life barking dog people.
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After several hours of undisturbed sleep, Raven stirred, waking with a start. Pitch black surrounded him, and it took a few moments to remember where and why he was there. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stretched out his stiff back. Despite the blankets and sleeping bags, the platform had still been hard and cold to sleep on.
Raven could see the luminous hands of Samson’s watch — 6 am. He gently began to rouse the others. Samson, now awake, helped Raven wake the rest. Slowly, the little camp on the East Houndsford subway platform came to life, with only just a little bit of grumbling and one or two mumbles of “just another five minutes.”
Bed rolls were soon re-rolled, and backpacks were zipped. Some of the uneaten snacks from the previous night were re-interrogated for a makeshift breakfast.
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Two at a time, the clan swelled to almost their full size at the end of the station platform next to the underground tunnel portal.
Raven: Just Seb and Red to come now, guys. Those with torches, make sure you conserve the batteries — we’re gonna need them.
Samson: I’ve got a spare one if that helps.
Red looked around at the group of faces — the same faces that had trusted him to keep them all safe for so long. The crushing weight of responsibility sat heavily on his heart.
Now was not the time to dwell on feelings.
Rather, it was time to engage the head and the street smarts that had served him well over the last few years.
As he looked, each face told a different story, yet each carried the same fear, concern, and determination etched behind the grimy smears, along with one or two tears.
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As soon as they returned to the basement, Red wasted no time.
Red: Everyone, listen up.
The Marauders are getting too damn close. It’s only a matter of time before they find us, and we can’t take that risk.
The basement is no longer safe — we need to move, and we need to move tonight. Pack what you need, whatever food we have left, a bottle of water, and be ready to move as soon as we can. Help each other.
Note: If you haven’t read Short Story 4.0: The Arctic Incident —it’s recommended you start there—this story follows directly on.
A pale, skinny youth of around thirteen was picking through the piles of debris, looking for anything that might be useful, either to keep or trade. The pickings were slim, as these piles had already been picked over several times by others. A bottle or two here, a battered bicycle helmet, and some plastic bags there.
This was the world now.
Screw Pile Developments 