Vurt

Where was Mandy? Where was Twinkle? Where was the Beetle? Where was the Bridget? Why was I doing this alone?

And then Uber's howl, from the top storey. Sounded like a siren's cry, refused in love. The scrabbling of his dog claws on lino and floorboards. Me taking a lurching race for the last stairs, where the front door lay waiting, and the doordog was turning to see what all the howling was about.

Thing was, he was just a little bit busy.

Because Mandy was happily wrapped around him, one hand reaching down stroking him between his legs.

Thanks for the help, Mandy. Appreciate it.

But then I saw that her other hand was reaching for the coat hook, and I changed all that around. Do it, girl! Do it!

I could hear the dogs getting close behind as I raced down, stumbling under the burden of the Thing, slipping on dogshit, making a slide of it, heading straight for the doordog. His eyes were so wide, felt like I was going to slide right on in there. Something was grabbing at me from behind, pulling at the Thing on my back, dragging hard, so we were pulled up, and back, halfway down the stairs, lodged against the two walls. A strong, white, human hand reached around and grabbed my neck. My face was jerked back, and I was looking straight into the eyes of Das Uberdog. That's when the lights came on.

A scorching brilliance.

Every lamp shining down with a fierce radiance, dazzling in rainbows of colours.

Beetle! Was that your work, my man?

I heard dogs behind me howling in pain; sounded like a bad jerkout.

But not Uber.

He took it, unblinking, and I felt his claws digging in at my throat.

I brought my right hand up, and backwards, in a sweeping arc, the breadknife lodged solid in my fingers.

Das Uber saw it coming, moved his face with a dog's jammed-up instinct, whip-fast, away from the blade's path.

Too slow, sucker!

The knife went in, hard against the flesh, somewhere on his left cheek, hit bone, slipped, cut through, into the jawline.

Blood on my face, Das Uber howling, me twisting the knife, hard!

I was free of the grip now, so I heaved the Thing back up, letting go of the knife, and started for the door again. The doordog had struggled free of Mandy. He was shielding his eyes from the glare with one forepaw, struggling up the stairs, his other paw flailing around in front of him.

That's when Mandy delivered. Delivered good.

Do it, girl!

First the flash of bright hot light, then the exploding air, the noise of it enough to kill, then the howling scream of Doordog as he's thrown up the stairs by the force. He bangs against me, and then drops. In the centre of his back a black and ragged hole is burning. Flame bullet.

The dogs were howling from the top of the stairs, and when I turned I saw Das Uberdog pulling the knife out of his torn face. He peeled his gums back, away from the long teeth, displaying his wound.

I stepped over the body of Doordog, and joined Mandy at the bottom. She was standing with legs apart, my gun in both hands, just like she'd done, no doubt, in countless Bloodvurts. At the top of the stairs I could see the dogs scuffling about in panic, banging into the walls, their half-cut brains struggling with the messages. Behind them Bridget and Twinkle were standing. Twinkle had Karli by her side. Robodog looked okay, a bit wobbly, some blood on its fur.

"You hurt, Uber?" called Bridget, from the landing.

He didn't answer, didn't even look around, just put one paw down on the next step.

Mandy had the gun well aimed, but I could see her shaking some.

Uber brought another paw down, another step, holding the knife in his right hand. It had his blood on it, and more of the stuff was flowing down from his ragged lips.

"One more step, dogbreath," said Mandy, "and it's the big ke

Uber raised his paw, staring her straight in the eye. He could see the sweat on her face, and the shake in her arms. He started to bring down the paw.

"She'll do it, Uber," shouted Bridget. "I know her." And then, more slowly, "These are my friends."

He stopped then, looked back up the stairs towards his lover, his fine and sleepy-eyed shadowgirl lover. And I wonder what thoughts she had found there, inside that dog man?

"Uber... that's enough." Bridget speaking. No. Not speaking. Just thinking. I was tuned into them, the woman and the dog, and all the things that had gone on between them.

I think she was the purest thing he'd ever known.

And when he turned back to us, you could see that something had changed, something had clouded over in those deep eyes that had run with the dogs, whilst also contemplating the works of John Do

He stepped back to a higher level.

I guess the poetry made it through, this time.

"You coming on down, Twinkle?" I shouted.

"Karli's hurt," she cried.

"Karli's done good. She's a real Stash Rider. Just like you, kidder."

Bridget nodded when Twinkle looked at her. So the young kid came down the stairs, followed by the robodog. And Das Uber stepped aside, to let her pass. Just like a man should do.

Twinkle came into my arms. There were tears on her face. I wiped them with my filthy hands. It was all I had.

I looked up the stairs, past Das Uber, to where Bridget was holding onto the dogs. The look in her eyes told me a story. You know that one, about giving up something good, for the sake of something else. And then finding no way back? And maybe you don't want to go back anyway?

Yeah, I guess so.

For what I've lost, and for what I've taken, a part of this story is for you, Bridget. Wherever you are.

I still didn't have a clue where the Beetle was, except that the lights were starting to fade again, but I suddenly thought; We're going to do this! We're getting away with it! "You're going home, Big Thing," I said, making Twinkle laugh.

Mandy tucked the gun into the back of her jeans and then opened the front door. She went through, taking Twinkle with her, and the Karli Dog. I followed, the Thing on my back. He was squirming around on there, like he knew he was going home. Like he knew that we were going out there, into the dark of Claremont, to where the ice-cream van lay waiting.

But there was another car parked close by, a black and white job; another one just down the road. Cop cars. A beam of light came whirling into position, trapping us there. Shadowbeam! Full intensity. Inpho flickering over my face, searching for clues. Clues of fear.

Shecop Murdoch was waiting for us, over by a streetlamp, gun in hand. Takshaka Shadowcop was flooding out from the roof of one of the police cars, and he was smiling that smoky smile, as he transmitted.

DO NOT MOVE. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST.

"I guess we got you, Scribble?" Murdoch said.

Some other cops, real-life ones, four of them, stepped out of cars.

"I guess so," I answered.

FLARE That's okay, officers. We've got this one."

At Murdoch's word the four cops backed off a little, leaning against their cars, like this was some kind of easy squeeze.

I was standing in the doorway of the doghouse, my hands tight around Twinkle's shoulders and chest. Karli was snarling at the shadowcop, but keeping it under control. Mandy was in front of us, out in the rain some, so that I could see that her hair was getting a sheen on it. Behind me the Turdsville door was still open, but I couldn't chance a move, not with Takshaka beaming me. The deal was knife-edge.

"Shame about Tristan," Murdoch said.

Her hair was drenched to the bone. She looked like a near-death drowning, and the intense look of purpose on her dog-ripped face was starting to tell me something.

"Is it?" I answered.

"Yeah. Died during custody."

"I'll bet," I said, but my heart was falling fast, into despair, and I felt the world slip to one side slightly, like maybe the rain was falling sideways.