The Night Children Page 11

  If only he could find him!

  “Puppy?”

  When Tick comes back and finds out Doakie’s gone, he will give Nance and Jiggy holy heck. Serves them right for hurting his brand-new baby dog.

  “Puppy? Come on, Puppy.” When nobody answers, Doakie squinches his face up and calls the name Tick said was on his collar. “MacTavish?”

  Tick says Puppy is a Scotch terrier so we can’t just call him Puppy. He has a Scottish name. Tick calls him MacTavish, but he never comes. He only comes to Doakie so Doakie knows Puppy is his dog, and no matter what Tick says, Puppy is his real and only name.

  “Puppy?”

  He hears Puppy crying. It’s coming from somewhere far away. Doakie holds his nose like he does when Daddy puts him in the swimming pool? Or like he used to before Doakie got lost and Tick found him and he started living here. Then he hops down off the ledge and lands on his knees. He gets up and starts running along beside the track calling his dog. He’s about to give up when he hears that hrr hrrr again and oh my gosh here’s Puppy, jumping up and down and wagging to beat the band.

  “Puppy! Why didn’t you come?”

  Puppy jerks at his leash and starts going, Hrr hrrr. His leash got caught on one of the spokes in the track.

  “Oh Puppy, Puppy!” Doakie kneels in the gravel and hugs Puppy and Puppy wriggles and squeaks, he is so happy to see Doakie again, and then he jumps up and licks Doakie’s face.

  The leash is pretty much stuck under the railroad track, Puppy’s been pulling so hard trying to get away, and Doakie and the baby Scottie are both so excited that Doakie keeps tugging instead of doing like a smart boy would, which is take off Puppy’s collar and pick him up and run home before anybody comes along. There is the sound of a tram coming down the track from a long way off and by the time Doakie finally undoes the collar and grabs Puppy in his arms, it sounds really really close.

  It is close, too close, and Doakie shrinks back into the cement wall of the tunnel hoping nobody’s looking and whoever’s riding on the tram will just go on by without noticing, but he can’t hold his breath forever and the tram isn’t just zooming by, it’s going really slowly and it’s practically on top of him.

  Doakie scrunches down and tries not to be here. He wants to see who’s riding on it but he thinks maybe if he closes his eyes real tight they won’t see him.

  There are voices rising over the sound of the iron wheels, grownups talking.

  Don’t move, Doakie. Don’t look.

  Scrunched down with his eyes shut tight, Doakie starts holding his breath. Maybe they’ll just roll on by. He’s holding it so hard that his fingers twitch and Puppy starts wiggling.

  Then Doakie’s eyelids go all pink inside. The tram is so close that he can see the headlight right through the skin. If only they don’t see him!

  Puppy won’t stop wiggling! What if he barks? He has to get Puppy by the nose and hold his mouth shut so he doesn’t bark or start crying or yip-yipping.

  Hrrm hrrm, Puppy says through Doakie’s fingers. He is squirming even harder because Doakie is holding so tight that it hurts.

  “Shh,” Doakie begs. “Be quiet.”

  Puppy doesn’t like Doakie holding his nose. Puppy starts wiggling, he’s as slippery as a fish.

  “Oh please, Puppy. Please shh.”

  The tram is really close now. It’s moving really slowly, too. It’s still rolling, but not fast enough to go away before Puppy starts making noise.

  One more minute, Puppy, please!

  Then Puppy makes one last wild twist of his little body and escapes! The baby Scottie goes running right straight out onto the track, right into the circle of the tram headlight, bouncing and arf-arf-arfing because he’s so happy to be free.

  “Oh,” Doakie yells, running after him. “Ooooh nooooo!”

  The bright light shines right straight in Doakie’s eyes, filling them up so he can’t see. The car grinds to a stop.

  “Puppy,” he calls, rubbing his eyes. “Puppy!” Did the train hit him? He doesn’t know. Doakie looks around for Puppy but Puppy isn’t anywhere. He keeps calling in spite of the men in suits hopping down off the tram and heading his way. “Puppy, are you OK?”

  “Grab him,” one of the grownups says.

  Before Doakie knows what’s happened to him he’s tied to the back rail of the tram. It is carrying a whole bunch of important people someplace important and oh my gosh, they have great big scary Burt Arno tied down on a seat way up there in the front row. He’s tied up between two big important people with lots of stripes. They are arguing like Burt isn’t even there. They have Doakie too, but they’re so busy talking business that it’s like he doesn’t exist.

  Poor Puppy’s back there somewhere, Doakie knows it. Is he OK or did he get mooshed? Puppy ran out on the tracks right in front of the tram and Doakie doesn’t know. He doesn’t know! Poor Puppy! Puppy is back there in the tunnel and the tram is rolling faster, faster, going away. Even though they tied him down with their belts, he squirms like Puppy until he’s turned himself around so he can see out the back.

  The grownups tied Doakie up tight so they wouldn’t have to think about him, but he is leaning out the back, trying to see as far behind him as he can. He wants to see all the way back down the track to where Puppy was, but it’s too far. Doakie doesn’t care, he has to keep trying, which is why he and he alone sees something else in the tunnel: Lance the Loner in his leafy spotted pants and his big black mask. Lance on a handcar with great big rubber wheels, silently following behind.

  EIGHTEEN

  DOAKIE IS NOWHERE NEAR as scared as Burt Arno.

  They picked up that guy Tick’s favorite little kid about two minutes ago, whereas Burt’s been racketing through these dark tunnels for hours. He has no idea where they are right now, the MegaMall’s so big and the tunnels are so gnarly, but he does know where they’re going.

  They are heading for the Dark Hall.

  The suits have Burt handcuffed in the front row of a carload of Zozzco executives, all in black except for the gold stripes on the sleeves. After they trapped him at the big meeting the execs swarmed down a hole in the floor and shoveled him into the company tram. Somebody slapped a band of duct tape over his mouth and they started out. They’ve been riding ever since.

  He is flattened between two Zozzco vice presidents who keep leaning over Burt to confer, talking like he’s a lump of dough or a bag of dirty laundry or something, not the proud leader of the Dingo tribe, which is what he is.

  On a good day, Burt would rage at them: You can’t do this to me!

  Right now he’s just scared. Plus, they’re talking about him.

  In the tram behind him, ten black suits with white, white faces are muttering, buddabuddabudda, nonstop. Burt can only pick up a few words at a time. Buddabudda “. . . do,” he hears, buddabuddabudda, “. . . what are we supposed to do?”

  “Wait for orders,” someone says.

  They all talk at once. The buddabuddabudda is scary. “. . . something with the prisoners . . .” buddabuddabudda, “This prisoner . . .” “. . . do what with the prisoners?”

  “Get rid of them!” The Zozzpeople haven’t stopped muttering since they grabbed Burt and grappled him into the tram. This isn’t as scary as the fact that they all sound scared. Buddabuddabudda turns into, “. . . fitness reports.”

  “Do it or we lose our stripes!”

  “What about these kids?”

  Kids! Writhing, Burt closes his teeth on a fold of duct tape and grinds down so hard that it shreds. I am the proud leader of the Dingos, I am not a kid!

  The vice president on his right says, “No big problem, there are only two.”

  “But . . .”

  The vice president on his left commands her partner, “Wait for orders!” It’s scary, seeing the woman bare her teeth that way. At that exact minute, her phone rings. She flips it open and everything changes. “It’s Amos.”

  “Amos!” Everybody moans, “Oooooh noooooo .
. .”

  “It’s an All Points Bulletin from Amos. I’m putting him on speakerphone.”

  The rich and powerful owner’s big, deep voice fills the tunnel. “Zozzpeople!”

  Around Burt, strong adults crumble.

  The old man’s voice blasts a hole in the night. “There are feral children loose in my beautiful MegaMall.”

  “Oooooh noooooo . . .”

  “Running through the place in packs,” he spits. “Like rats.”

  Rats! Furious, Burt is working his tongue through the tiny hole he’s torn in the duct tape; if he could talk, what would he be yelling? He’s so angry that you don’t want to know.

  “Sir.” She glances at Burt, then back at Doakie. “What do you want us to do with them?”

  “Round them up,” Amos thunders, and everybody jumps. This is particularly scary as they have Burt and Doakie right there in the tram. Amos says coldly, “I have something in mind.”

  Then the big woman with all the stripes surprises Burt. Instead of saluting or whatever these people do she says, “Sir, they’re just children!”

  This makes Burt fume. I’m not children.

  “DO AS I SAY!” Amos shrieks, shaking Burt all the way down to the knuckles in his toes. Then the boss hits a level tone that is even more threatening. “If you fail,” he says, “you all get F on your fitness reports. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.”

  The Zozzpeople don’t, exactly, but the threat sends them all into a fit of anxious buddabuddabudda-ing, “Catch them,” “Have to catch them,” “What if we can’t catch them.” “What if.”

  Amos’s voice rises high enough to overflow the tunnel and sweep away everything and everybody in it. “UNDERSTOOD?”

  Twelve people snap to attention, shouting, “Understood!”

  The VP on Burt’s left taps her phone. “He’s gone.”

  The VP on Burt’s right looks puzzled. “Catch them and . . .” For a long moment, all the buddabuddabudda stops. There is nothing but the whish of the tram zipping along the rails.

  Out of the hush that follows comes, “And what?”

  This is the big question. “What’s he going to do with them?”

  The people on the tram don’t know what he’ll do, exactly, but they all know what it means. Burt shrivels up and dies as they chorus, “Anything he wants.”

  For a long time it is silent in the tram. They are all riding along worrying. Finally someone says what they are all thinking. “What if we can’t catch them and bring them in?”

  The vice president on the left side of Burt turns and says sharply, “We have to catch them or . . .”

  “Have to catch them . . .”

  “Catch them . . .”

  “Or . . .”

  All this buddabuddabudda is grating on Burt. He has ripped the tape and as the anxious buddabuddabudda rises, he explodes. “Or what,” he rages before they can silence him. “Or what?”

  Shocked, someone in the back comes out with the truth. “He got tired of the prisoners so he’s getting rid of the prisoners. If we can’t catch the kids, he’ll . . .”

  Someone says shakily, “Take away our stripes!”

  The woman VP snaps, “You’d better hope that’s all he does. If he can’t get rid of them, he’ll . . .”

  There is a gasp and then there is another silence. Like Burt, everybody in the tram is thinking, Get rid of me?

  Everybody moans at once. “Ohhh, nooooooo!”

  All around Burt, Zozzpeople are panicking. Then the VP on the right side of Burt turns and says in a strong voice, “Cheer up, we’ve already caught two.”

  The woman VP says firmly, “And the big one’s going to lead us to the rest.”

  Burt spits out the last bit of tape. He bucks and struggles, shouting, “I will not!”

  “Oooooh, yes you will!” the VP on Burt’s right shouts, so everyone will hear. “Or else.”

  “Or else what?” Burt is grappling with the other VP—his last words before she slaps fresh tape over his mouth.

  Then she says darkly, “You don’t want to know.”

  Somebody says, “We don’t know.”

  “Nobody knows.”

  In the back, someone asks the real question. “What does he want with these children anyway?”

  “Adoption,” one says, and somebody else tries, “torture” and grinding away at the tape over his mouth which is now partly inside his mouth, Burt hears, “Clearance sale!”

  The buddabuddabudda chases itself in circles as they race along, ending at, “sacrifice. Maybe he wants a sacrifice.”

  They take it up and Burt shudders. “Sacrifice.”

  Now they are all muttering at once, “Sacrifice!”

  Oh, yes this makes Burt anxious and guilty. He had no idea why he thought he had to make an offering to Amos but that’s why he marched the girl toward the Dark Hall: sacrifice. He doesn’t know what he thought it would get him, only that it seemed like a good idea. He does know that he was thinking sacrifice at the time. He is guilty and sorry and scared.

  A whisper swells in the air. “What if we fail?”

  Everybody gasps. Then everybody groans.

  The officials in black uniforms with gold stripes and gold emblems shout as one, “WE MUST NOT FAIL!”

  Then, because there’s always the possibility that their leader is listening, the VP on Burt’s right raises a loyal shout. “Anything for Zozzco.”

  The one on his left chimes in with a rousing, “Anything for the corporation!”

  They all cry, “Everything for the corporation.”

  “We love the corporation.”

  The buddabuddabudda turns into a little chorus, like song.

  Someone whispers, “We love Zozzco . . .”

  The vice presidents prompt, “And who else do we love?”

  They shout in unison, “AND WE LOVE AMOS ZOZZ!” Loud as they are, the Zozzpeople are uneasy.

  “What if he doesn’t love us?”

  A hush falls. Then they wail, “Don’t even think it, we have to try!”

  The muttering turns desperate. “You can try, but . . .”

  “. . . but you never know . . .”

  Buddabuddabudda, “. . . you never know with Amos Zozz.”

  Burt shudders.

  This is awful.

  Unlike Doakie, he knows where they’re going.

  Worse. He thinks he knows what they’re going to do.

  You bet he is scared.

  NINETEEN

  MAG CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY Tick and his main men are racing through the tunnels, chasing after a stupid dog when they ought to be down on the underground river right now, heading for the Dark Hall.

  She can’t understand why they aren’t rushing to save Burt, although she ought to know. When she told them Burt had been captured, Jule said, “He wanted to hurt me. Why should I care what happens to him?”

  Tick added, “You want me to risk everything to save a guy who wants to ruin us?”

  “Right,” Jule said. “Why should we care when I could care less?”

  This, of course, was when Tick surprised her, although Mag already knew how this would come down. As Mag watched, Tick Stiles took this girl Jule by the shoulders and held her in place firmly, to make her listen. “Because that’s what kids do for kids. We have to help each other, no matter what.”

  She started, “Even after he tried to . . .”

  “Yes.” Tick let her go and stood back. “It’s what I do.”

  OK then, why aren’t they already on the river, rushing to rescue Burt? Something awful could happen to him, while they’re messing around in the tunnels. He could die!

  It’s the puppy’s fault. Tick and Willie, James and that girl Jule are following this little black furball when they should be on the river this minute, rowing for Burt’s life.

  “Come on, guys. Could we do this later? Please?”

  But the Crazies are chasing that dog. Right when they were fixing to go down the hatch to the bank of the u
nderground river, they heard it. Arf. Mag had them all set to go down the ladder in the wishing well in the Hall of Beauty—gear and all—when this baby Scottie bounded in out of nowhere and distracted them. All the Crazies dropped their rafts, pumps and paddles right there in the middle of the Hall of Beauty. Some rescue team!

  Stupid puppy. They had the lid halfway off the wishing well and here it came out of nowhere, wagging and barking like a rescue dog with people to save. Arf. It jumped up and down, spronkaspronka. Arf!

  Jule yelled, “Guys. That’s Doakie’s dog!” Arf.

  The Crazies forgot all about Burt. “Doakie!”

  “Is he all right?”

  “Doggie, where’s Doakie?” Arf arf. The Crazies were running in circles.

  “Did Doakie send you? Does he need us?”

  “What’s the matter, Puppy?”

  Arf!

  “He’s trying to tell us something! It’s about Doakie, right?”

  Arf. “Is Doakie lost or trapped or something? Is he OK?”

  “Wait a minute,” Mag yelled. “What about Burt?”

  Willie lunged. “Grab him. I think he knows where Doakie is.”

  James grabbed and the puppy skittered away. “Hurry. He could be hurt.”

  “He’s fine!” Mag banged the fake wishing well with an oar to get their attention. “Guys, the river’s this way. Doakie will be fine. Hurry. We have to save Burt!”

  Instead, Tick went after the stupid dog. “Tavish!”

  Then that girl Jule called, “Puppy?” It came to her right away, but every time she reached for it the thing backed out of reach. When she quit following, Puppy turned. Aren’t you coming? He cocked his head, waiting. Jule said, “He’s leading us somewhere!” and they all took out after him.

  Now instead of going down the ladder and launching the rafts, like they were supposed to; instead of rescuing Burt, Tick Stiles and his main Crazies are after this stupid dog. Tick, Willie and James and Jule are deep in the service tunnels. If Mag doesn’t follow, she’ll never get them back on Burt’s case. Everybody that ought to be saving Burt is chasing Puppy along the glistening tram track. Like Scotties can talk, and as soon as they catch him the dog will say what’s up with this kid Doakie. Yeah, sure.