Black Tide (4 page)

“Did you hear that?” Toby exclaimed, shaking Tash by the arm. “Wake up! We need to go and see if the dogs are here!”

Tash lifted her tousled head from the table and yawned.

“We’re safe here. No dogs can get into Fort George. It’s impossible, don’t worry.”

“You don’t know these dogs like I do. They can do loads of stuff normal mutts wouldn’t even think about. Please, Tash, we must go and see. Listen: you won’t be able to stay here if the dogs take over Fort George. They’re not like the raiders that you can duck and dive from,” Toby babbled. “Dogs can smell you and they will hunt you down. Even if they didn’t get in here, you’d never be able to leave again. Do you want to live the rest of your life in this cave?”

Toby was going to add something about Tash rescuing her family – didn’t she think she should at least make some effort to find out where they had been taken? – but then he thought that was probably going too far. As far as Tash was concerned she was just obeying her father’s orders, and she saw nothing wrong in that. Toby, on the other hand, was determined to find out where his dad and Sylvie were and mount a rescue mission.
But first he had to find out what was happening outside. If the dogs were here, that might change all of their plans.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said in an authoritative voice, pulling on his jacket. Tash glanced at him and he saw in her eyes she’d realised there was no persuading him otherwise.

“Ok.” She pulled on the wolf skin.

“Where’s the best place to watch the land side of the fort?”

“The ravelin,” said Tash. “It’s a high area outside the main wall, but it’s dangerous to get to. We must go through the main door and cross the main bridge. It won’t be easy – the raiders will be looking for you.”

“We’ll manage. How about we go right round the outside of the fort instead?”

“Ok, I’ll show you how. Come on.”

Tash picked up a torch in the living room, and led Toby into a cave at the back. Hidden in this cave was another trapdoor, this time in the ceiling, which opened into a set of rough-hewn steps carved out of the rock. These took them up and up until they came to another hatchway. Climbing through, Toby found himself standing on the shore at the very end of the headland that poked out into the sea. The fort walls towered up behind him.

Did I really hear a dog? Was it just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me?

All he could hear now was the constant noise of the waves breaking and crackling on the shingle. He could see that they had been asleep for most of the day
and the sun was now low in the sky. The light had a magical quality: it was bright and brittle and bounced off the hard surfaces of the fort like spears in battle.

“When does it get dark up here?” he asked Tash. Toby knew that as you moved north the hours of daylight grew less in winter, and more in summer. He remembered his dad telling him that up north on Orkney you could read a book outside at midnight in summer. Tash checked her watch.

“Soon.”

Toby felt a strange dread coming over him. If the dogs were going to attack Fort George, the best time would be at night when they’d be hard to see – their black coats would merge into the dark.

“Ok, which is the shortest route to the ravelin?” he asked Tash. She hesitated, so he decided to go left, which would take him past the little harbour in which,
hopefully
, the
Lucky Lady
still sat. This way he could check whether she was ready to go; they might need her soon.

Toby and Tash made their way swiftly along the outside wall of the fort, keeping in its shadows. They passed the harbour where the
Lucky Lady
still bobbed along the quayside. Toby breathed a sigh of relief, but this soon turned to dismay when he saw that moored nearby was a silver, streamlined motor boat.

“You ever seen that before?” he pointed at the sleek vessel.

“No, but sometimes other men come to swap people for food. The raiders always seem to have lots of food. These men that come are really bad – more like pirates.”

“I don’t think I want to hear any more.”

This is hopeless. I’m really up against it, what with pirates
and
raiders! All I need now is for the dogs to appear…

As if on cue, a spine-chilling howl echoed across the spit of sand and shingle. Toby felt every hair on the back of his neck stand up with fear and dread.

“Oh no!” he gasped. There could be no mistaking that sound.

“I heard it this time,” Tash whispered hastily.

“I wonder where it’s coming from? Come on, let’s get to the ravelin.”

They broke into a run and raced across a disused car park where a couple of old cars lay rusting in the salty air. They weren’t bothering to keep to the walls anymore; getting back inside the fort was the priority. Toby felt his bruises and sprains begin to complain, but then the adrenalin kicked in. He grabbed Tash’s hand and together they sprinted over the grass and towards an angled corner of the wall that stuck out into the sea.

“Here!” panted Tash. “Here’s the sluice gate!” Toby slowed to a halt and ran his hands frantically over the cold wet stones of the outer wall. Panic took hold of him, and it was as if he could feel the very claws of Cerberus scratching his back.

“Hush,” said Tash quietly. She calmly ran her hand over the lower base of the wall, then gave a tug on a metal lever. A small wooden door in the bottom of a larger, metal-banded sluice gate swung open. “In here.”

It was like going into another world. Inside, the walls seemed even higher; they were stood in a vast dry moat between the inner and the outer parapets of the fort. Underfoot was deep, lush green grass.

Tash ran to the right of the moat with Toby following close behind. In the growing dusk they could just make out a gleaming white wooden bridge above them. It spanned the moat from the fort to a high piece of ground that was the ravelin. Tash swung right, and started to climb up a steep path, gripping onto tall, spiky grass for handholds.

When they reached the top, where two metal gates flanked the bridge, they were both out of breath. They stopped and took in their surroundings as the chill winter air bit through their clothes. Toby tried not to let Tash see him shiver.

“Wait,” he said, “let’s take a look and see if we can spot any dogs. There’s a great view from here.” He sprinted to a far wall, legged up it and onto the top. Even in the dusky gloom of the late winter’s afternoon, he could see for miles across the vast green bank that lay to the landward side in front of the fort. Before the bank reached the fort, there was a series of deep ditches lined with sharp-pointed stakes.

“Who built this place and what for?” he asked Tash. “It’s amazing. Look at how deep those ditches are, and look how well fortified the entrance is…” Just then, something moved in the corner of his vision. He dropped to the ground like a stone.

“What is it? Toby?” asked Tash anxiously.

Toby put his finger to his lips, and pointed out across the huge bank into the distance. “I saw something moving out there.”

“You sure? Not flying haggis perhaps?” she smiled,
making it obvious she thought he was a bit deranged and needed humouring.

“No, I saw something that looked like a dog. I’m sure of it,” he replied crossly, turning to face her. She smiled again, but then her face changed as she looked over his shoulder out towards the grassy area.

“Toby, you did see a dog,” she said slowly, her eyes widening in fright. “Oh, Toby! There are hundreds of them!”

Toby swung around and followed her gaze. There were hundreds of dark shadows slinking over the vast greenness of the bank: dogs trotting calmly and purposefully in pairs, side by side. They were all big and black or brown. And they were coming towards the fort.

“We need to get away from here NO W!” Toby shrieked at Tash. He grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the wooden bridge over the moat.

“Toby, it’s safe here.” But Toby felt a thread of panic winding itself around his innards. He knew what these dogs were capable of: they could work out gates and catches, open doors and jump great heights to get where they wanted. Nowhere was safe.

He took one last look across the grass and the undulating sea of dogs. Then he spotted him. There, out in front, was one that looked bigger and blacker than the rest. Toby could see the stumpy tail: it was Cerberus. The dog stopped, and the others came to a halt behind him. Cerberus lifted his head, sniffed the evening air, and let out an almighty howl that made Toby’s stomach curl up into a cold hard knot.

Oh no! This is my worst nightmare come true.

Toby’s feet felt like they were nailed to the ground. The cold fear from seeing Cerberus had numbed his mind. It was like being in one of Sylvie’s nightmares where Cerberus was about to attack her with his large slavering jaws drooling and she had screamed out to his dad in her sleep and —

“Toby!” screamed Tash. “Run!” She rushed back to where he stood rooted to the spot and slapped him hard across his face.

“Ouch! That hurt!” Toby cried, but the stinging pain brought him back to his senses. He sprinted after her, heading back towards the white wooden bridge. Too late. The raiders were already there. Four of them were standing on the bridge, guns braced to their shoulders, poised to fire.

“Look out!” shouted Toby, ducking down out of sight, but the raiders had seen him.

“It’s the kid!” one of them yelled. “He’s with a dog! Or is it a wolf?”

“He must have brought the dogs with him!” another yelled back. “He must have led them here to attack us! Shoot him!”

“No!” cried out another, “the General doesn’t want a dead kid! Orders are to bring him back alive,
remember? Just shoot at the dogs to frighten them off, but don’t waste any ammo!”

Toby recognised the voice of the Captain giving the orders. He and Tash were now trapped on the ravelin, an isolated island sticking up in the outer defences of the fort. In one direction the raiders stood on the bridge, and in the other direction a sea of dogs was running towards him. The dogs would have to cross the line of sharpened fir trees, leap over deep ditches
and
scale the enormous stone wall. Toby didn’t think even Cerberus was big and brave enough for that, especially if the raiders started shooting.

He hid behind a guardhouse, and tried to think what to do next. Would the raiders come and grab him now? Or would they defend the fort from the dogs first?

Think! Quickly – there must be another way off here and back into the moat. Perhaps I can get there before the dogs do. And where is Tash?

Tash seemed to have vanished into thin air. Toby couldn’t see any sign of the grey wolf-girl anywhere. He felt a stab of anger at her for leaving him on his own as soon as trouble kicked off.

Can’t blame her I suppose – it’s about survival of the fittest. That’s why she’s survived so long here on her own against the raiders: she’s brilliant at merging in, disappearing, becoming part of the fort… Great idea! That’s what I need to do. Thanks, Tash.

Toby looked around him. There was a large greasy puddle to his right. He grimaced and stuck his hands into it. It was cold and slimy and smelt of putrefying pig muck. Holding his nose with one hand, he scooped
up a handful and smeared it over his face and neck, feeling the yucky gunge oozing down his chest. Then he rubbed it over his faded green boiler suit. Now he looked like something that had crawled out of a toxic lagoon in a horror film.

There must be another way off here. I’ll try to the left – we haven’t been to that side of the ravelin.

Lying low and poking his head out slowly, Toby noticed a worn path that led from the main bridge round past the guardhouse where it disappeared to the left through a tunnel.

That looks likely. Now how to get there without the raiders seeing me? How about a bit of a distraction?

Toby scurried round behind the guardhouse and found a pile of mossy stones lying there. He stuffed some of them down into his pockets, and stumbled round the edge of the building. Here he had a view of the bridge and the edge of the vast dry moat. He stood up just out of sight of the raiders, and with all the strength he could muster, threw the stones as far as he could into the moat. The first one fell short of his target but the second, third and fourth flew through the air and landed in the moat. He could hear them rattling against the stone walls as they bounced and thudded down onto the grass below.

“What was that?” an angry voice boomed out.

“Must be the dogs!” another shouted. Then there was a loud CRACK! as one of them fired his gun into the darkness of the moat. Toby didn’t wait. He sped round the back of the guardhouse and sprinted for all he was worth down the path towards the tunnel.

“There goes the kid!” someone bellowed behind him.

“Don’t worry about him now. Keep your eyes peeled for those dogs!” Toby heard the Captain shout.

Toby reached the black inside of the tunnel and stopped to catch his breath, panting heavily. The walls bounced the gasps back to him in an eerie echo and as he tried to still his breathing, he sensed someone else was in the tunnel. But who? Was it one of the dogs? Out of the damp and darkness a small brown hand appeared and touched his arm. Toby jumped.

“What? Tash?” he hissed hoarsely. “You gave me a fright! Where have you been?”

“Watching over you,” she replied as she stepped out of the shadows. She had been standing next to him all the time he had been in the tunnel. He couldn’t see her eyes or mouth as she had pulled the wolf’s head down low over her face.

“We must get over that bridge,” she said solemnly.

“Not much chance of that now; the raiders are shooting at anything that moves. Wait, what’s that noise?” Toby crept to the other end of the tunnel where the path came out onto another, smaller bridge, protected at each end by high spiked gates. The gates looked like they would keep any animal out but, as Toby watched, a pack of black dogs approached on the other side. Two of the biggest sniffed the first gate, turned, lolloped a few strides back, then took a run at it. Floating through the air together they easily cleared it, as if they were in a pairs jumping competition at a local dog show.

“NO!” exclaimed Toby, and ran back towards Tash. “We’re stuck! The dogs are coming in this way… Tash?” Tash had disappeared once again.

Toby returned to the end of the tunnel, keeping in the dark, out of sight of the dogs, though he knew it wouldn’t be long before they smelt him.

Maybe this muck I’m covered in will put them off the scent.

The first two jumping dogs had now been joined by two others and the four of them were prowling the bridge, caught between the two gates. They weren’t trapped for long. Toby watched in horror as they took a run at the gate nearest to him. He held his breath as they cleared it and, with an extra effort, landed on top of the tunnel. They were now in the ravelin.

What do I do now? They are right on top of the tunnel – they only need to run along the wall and jump down and they’ll be here!

Toby wished Tash hadn’t abandoned him. She seemed to be much calmer and braver than him in a crisis. Where was she now when he needed her?

I need to get out of this alive or who else is going to rescue Sylvie and Dad? Hang on – the Captain just said they had to take me alive. I’ll be better off with the raiders than being eaten by the dogs. I’ll surrender.

Toby pulled a grubby grey hankie out of his pocket and, clutching it in his hand, ran down the tunnel towards the main bridge where the raiders were.

“I surrender!” he shouted at them as he ran, waving his hankie, feeling rather stupid. “Let me in!”

As he got nearer, he could see that the raiders had closed the heavy gates at the ravelin end of the bridge and were retreating.

“NO!” he shouted, as two of the men pulled up the drawbridge over the moat. The wooden section began to hinge up away from the ground, leaving a widening gap between the bridge and the edge of the moat.

Toby raced up to the first gate. He turned his head and was just able to make out four black dogs jumping easily down from the tall wall of the tunnel, as if it was no more than a few feet high. They loped towards him. They were in no hurry; they knew they had him trapped. He scrambled over the gate, tearing his boiler suit on the spikes as he panicked. He was now standing between the gate and the slippery edge of the moat.

“Let me in!” Toby screamed, feeling wobbly at being so close to the huge drop into the moat. “Please!” He heard the raiders laughing cruelly at his plight.

“HA!” yelled the Captain. “You want to be our friend now, eh?”

“Leave him there!” shouted another. “Let him stew in his own juice!”

“Aye!” yelled another. “Let’s see what those dogs will do with him!”

“Please!” pleaded Toby, half an eye on the dogs trotting through the gloaming. Now he could see their long black muzzles grinning open to show fleshy pink gums and sharp white fangs. Pools of drool fell from their jaws in large splatters. He knew they’d make short work of leaping the gate.

“Please!”

The Captain motioned to the two men pulling on the chains. They stopped and let the bridge descend on its own weight. It did so slowly – so slowly that Toby didn’t think it would make it in time…

“Jump!” commanded the Captain, pointing at the descending bridge. Toby glanced down into the darkness of the moat below him, and hesitated. If he missed he would fall to his death.

Jump!
he told himself.

Taking a couple of steps back, he braced himself against the gate. Behind him he could hear a low growling from the four dogs. There was no time. He ran towards the bridge and pushed off with all his might when his right foot struck the slippery moat edge. He flung his arms forward while his legs flailed in mid air, cycling round and round as if he was riding an imaginary bike. Time stood still as Toby reached out to grab the edge of the bridge, which was suspended about five feet in mid air.

“YES!” he screamed. His hands found a hold on the greasy wooden edge, and he threw his elbows and upper arms onto the bridge. He was now dangling high over the moat, his legs scrabbling uselessly in mid air. He didn’t dare look down but concentrated on trying to fling one leg up and over. Just then, the Captain strode forward, grasped the back of Toby’s muddy boiler suit, picked him up and flung him to safety in the middle of the bridge.

“Let that be a lesson to you, kid. Don’t ever run away from us, eh? You may think you’re like a cat
with nine lives but you’re fast running out of them!… Yuk! What’ve you been rolling in, you wee toad? You stink!” The Captain wiped his muddy hands down his trousers and marched off. Toby lay in shock, trying to get his breath back. That had been a near thing. Too near for his liking. He sat up and watched the dogs slink off into the shadows. They’d lost interest now that their prey was out of reach.

The other men followed their leader into the fort, one of them grabbing Toby by his collar and dragging him back inside, too. Behind them it took three men to close the enormous wooden door and slam the thick metal bolts across it.

What’s going to happen to me now?

Inside the fort the Captain was busy shouting orders at the rest of the raiders. They were congregated in the square in front of the prison. It was dark, and the men near the Captain held lanterns. The flickering light threw scary shadows across the grass. The raiders were a motley bunch of various sizes and ages, dressed in old army gear, dirty and unkempt. Toby tried not to stare as he was pulled and pushed through the crowd.

As the wind tossed the light from the lanterns across their scarred and battered faces, the men looked rough. Most had lurid tattoos decorating their hands, necks and arms, but none seemed to have the red and black NC emblazoned on their wrists. They were all holding some weapon or other: shot guns, rifles, even sabres. They were anxious and jittery, shouting out questions to the Captain, who was trying to reassure them that the dogs couldn’t get into the fort.

Some of them looked surprisingly young. One was probably about the same age as Toby, though the boy was trying to look older by posturing and showing off his gun.

Where have they all come from?

When he and his family had lived in the lighthouse at Collieston, before the dogs drove them out, they hardly saw anybody after the red fever. The only good people they had met had been the crew of a peace ship, Jamie and his mum, and Magnus, who had rescued them and let them stay on his minesweeper.

Toby was dragged across the whole fort, through the two large courtyards, past the lines of Georgian houses with their dark windows staring at him like black eyes. There were more men down in the bottom square where the barracks were resounding with shouted commands. As they ran in and out of buildings, collecting arms and throwing belts of ammo over their shoulders, Toby could see that these were different men from the others. They looked better equipped and even in the shadowy light thrown from the barracks, he could make out that they were fitter, cleaner and were wearing smart navy-blue uniforms.

Are these the chosen ones? Do they have the same tattoo as the Captain
?
he wondered, as he dragged his feet slowly over the pebbled courtyard, trying hard to get a better look.

“Hurry up, kid!” his captor snarled, shoving Toby with his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m hurrying,” replied Toby. They seemed to be headed for the far courtyard where the church stood.

For the first time that day, Toby felt his heart lift a little. If he was put in the church, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

“You’re not going to lock me in the church are you?” Toby asked the man, feigning fright.

“Yeah, serve you right if the ghosties get you, you smelly brat!” the man snapped back, pushing Toby hard into the church porch and through the door, which he then locked. “And don’t get any ideas about escaping or else this time I’ll personally feed you to the dogs!”

Toby stood in the quietness of the church aisle and waited. It wouldn’t be wise to go straight to the trapdoor in case the man came back.

After a few minutes had passed, he groped his way in the dark down the aisle of pews to the back of the church, and pulled across the curtain to reveal the vestry door.

I hope that Tash got back ok. I’m starving – wonder what she’s got in her store for dinner?

He felt good and warm with the expectation of something hot to eat, in a safe place where he could relax, at least for a short while. His brain felt like it was spinning out of control. He needed some time to sort out what had happened and to formulate a plan.