100% Wolf Page 6

  'Well, who was it then? Who are you anyway? I told you, smelly little poodle, that if you were lying I'd bite your tail off.' Freddy didn't want his tail bitten off. He turned, ran through the door and scooted off back down the alley. Behind him he heard the sound of pursuing paws. He had only one thought in his head, to run, run, and then run some more. He ran out of the alley into the main street and straight into a large net.

  'What now?' he yipped in confusion. His paws were caught up in the net and the more he struggled, the more entangled he became. Was it a trap laid by Dr Cripp? He saw two men standing back and laughing. One was the butcher and the other held a second net. Dr Cripp was not there.

  Freddy had been captured again and this time he was very frightened.

  Just then he heard some familiar, welcome woofs.

  'Don't worry, Freddy, I'm coming, I'll save you,' called Batty. She hurled herself onto the net and started to tear at it with her teeth. The men tried to approach her, but she barked at them fiercely.

  'Run Batty, or they'll catch you too. It's the butcher,' Freddy yipped in warning.

  'You never left me in the red meat shop, did you, Stinky?' She tore away at the net again.

  'Look out,' woofed Freddy, but it was too late. The other net was flung on top of the brave mongrel. She gave a howl of fury that any wolf would have been proud of, but she was well and truly trapped.

  The men hauled up the nets and threw the two dogs into the back of a small van. It smelt of fear. A thick wire mesh separated the dogs from the front seats. The doors were slammed shut and the net man climbed into the driver's seat. The butcher stuck his head through the window and smiled with satisfaction.

  'It's them sausage thieves all right,' he nodded. 'You couldn't mistake that ridiculous pink one.'

  'Well, it's Coldfax Fort for these two now,' said the driver with a significant nod of his head.

  The butcher's eyes lit up with delight. 'So I won't be seeing them again any time soon?'

  'Not ever!' the net man said icily, and with another laugh he drove away.

  At the mention of Coldfax, Batty's eyes had widened with terror. She understood very well what was going to happen. The blood drained from Freddy's head and his tail went limp.

  'I'm so sorry,' he moaned with shame. For almost the first time in his life, he really meant it: he meant he was sorry for somebody else and not himself.

  'So am I, little stink-pup.' Batty licked his head through the netting. 'If I hadn't frightened you, this wouldn't have happened.'

  'I'm sorry I lied,' he whispered.

  'Well, I suppose you did try to tell me you were a wolf.' She shook her head in confusion. 'Is it really true?'

  Freddy nodded.

  'Well, I'll have to try and believe you then.'

  With that the two frightened friends huddled against each other. The van bumped along through the growing dark towards the dreaded Coldfax Fort. The slim figure of Dr Cripp slid out from the shadows. He had overheard the butcher and the net man and knew exactly where his werewolf was heading. Freddy struggled under the weight of the net, but managed to balance on his hind legs long enough to look out of the rear window. To his horror he saw Dr Cripp. The werewolf hunter gave a ghastly smile and nodded to him. Freddy was certain that his enemy was going to track him down and he was powerless to escape.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Coldfax Fort

  The van lurched and rattled towards Coldfax Fort. Batty had feared that terrible name since she was a pup. Freddy tried to comfort her with brave words, but she only whimpered in reply. All too soon, the van slowed to a stop.

  'Two more prisoners,' the driver cried, flinging open the doors.

  Freddy and Batty, still entangled in the nets, struggled to stand. They could hardly see after being in the dark van. But they could still smell, and that was bad enough. They were surrounded by the scents of sad and miserable dogs. There were no happy scents at all, but plenty of fear.

  'Oh Stinky,' Batty woofed in dismay, 'this is awful.'

  'Don't worry,' he nudged her. 'We're getting out of here, I promise.'

  'But no dog has ever escaped,' she yipped.

  'But I'm not a dog, I'm a wolf, remember? And what's more, I am ... the Plan Master,' he woofed, all pompous once more. 'And nobody can ever keep me locked up,' he barked defiantly at the driver. He had conveniently forgotten the events of the last twenty hours.

  'Bark all you like, pathetic poodle,' the driver chuckled nastily. 'Nobody'll hear you, nobody'll save you.'

  With a cruel laugh, he pulled the dogs out of the van. They yelped as they landed on the hard floor and rolled out of the nets. They were in the middle of a square cobbled courtyard. Tall walls rose on three sides with many tiny windows staring down. Behind them was a high, spiked iron fence with a stone archway. The arch was barred with a metal portcullis, such as you might see in an old castle. The net man handed them over to another man and then drove his van away. The portcullis began to lower.

  'Run, quick,' Batty yelped, her ears flat against her head as she tore away.

  But before she could escape, her head was caught neatly in a loop of rope hanging from a long pole.

  'Oh, no you don't,' the other man said, sounding not cruel but bored.

  He slipped leads around their necks roughly, then jerked them through a small door and into a dark room. The door was slammed behind them.

  'I'm not scared, you know,' Freddy barked at the door, 'so ha-ha-hardy-ha.' The only sound was the man's footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

  Freddy looked around. The room was small, with a stone floor and a tiny window too high up for them to see anything.

  'Where are all the dogs?' Batty wondered. She could smell them, but not see them.

  'Don't know,' Freddy replied. 'Perhaps there aren't any after all ...'

  'Hhhhhoooowwwwlllll.' A terrifyingly loud and mournful howl came from beneath them.

  The two dogs looked at each other in dismay.

  'What was that?' Batty whimpered.

  The unearthly howl came again. Freddy couldn't make out any words in the noise. It just sounded like sorrow, terrible sorrow.

  'It's the creepiest howl I've ever heard,' he admitted in a whisper. 'And I've heard Uncle Hotspur.'

  As the howl came once more, Batty's ears stood high in alarm.

  'I don't never want to meet that dog,' she said decisively.

  'Nor me,' Freddy agreed. 'But I'm not scared!' he added in a hurry.

  'Why not? I am,' Batty whispered.

  'I'm not scared of any dog in the world,' he woofed loudly and defiantly. It didn't sound convincing.

  'OH NO? You will be when I get to you!' came a huge roar outside the door. It wasn't the sorrowful voice of the howler, but a new savage and mean one.

  The door flew open with a crash and the dogs yelped with fright.

  'Stand still for inspection, dregs!' slavered the brutal bark. Batty and Freddy backed away in alarm. There in the doorway stood a huge grey wolfhound. It was almost the size of Sir Hotspur when he was a wolf. He bared his teeth and glared hatred at the two prisoners. Freddy, mesmerised with fear, was only just able to raise his eyes to see the human who stood next to the beast. He could have woofed with surprise to see a tiny old lady with a perfect bun of white hair. She wore small half-moon spectacles, a brown jumper and a sensible check skirt. She might have been anybody's teacher or granny.

  'Cerberus, what a terrible din. Do pipe down – I can hardly think.' She tugged sharply at the wolfhound's ear. His barking became a steady growl, and he continued to glare at Freddy.

  'Now then,' said the woman, bending down to inspect the bewildered dogs. 'I don't like the look of these two,' she told Cerberus. 'Especially this pink one. Looks like a real sneak, a sissy if ever I saw one.'

  'I do not!' Freddy yipped, despite his fear.

  'Keep quiet when the Commander speaks, dreg!' Cerberus slavered viciously.

  'Is he giving cheek, Cerberus? Keep your e
ye on that one. He looks slyer than any dog I ever saw.' The old woman looked over the top of her glasses at Freddy with distaste. She gave a shudder. She absolutely loathed all dogs except Cerberus. It made her ideal for her job as Commander of Coldfax Fort. She was only too glad to make sure her dogs were never seen on the streets again.

  'Well, girls, I have only three rules: no barking, no running and no breaking any other rules I think of.'

  'Girls? Are you blind? I'm not a girl!' Freddy barked loudly. He simply never knew when to keep quiet.

  'Freddy, shush,' warned Batty.

  Too late. Cerberus sprang forward and knocked Freddy onto his back. Freddy yelped with terror as the beast's slavering teeth snarled in his face.

  'No barking in Coldfax, nose-drip. No laughing, no talking, no running, no howling, no nothing, unless I tell you. Is that understood?'

  'Yes,' Freddy whimpered.

  '"Yes, sir"!' Cerberus snarled.

  'Yes, sir,' Freddy replied shakily. The wolfhound gave a final snarl and took his paws off the poodle's heaving chest. The Commander laughed.

  'Well done, boy. You show the sneaky little beast who's boss.' She patted him on the head. 'Wait a minute, what's this?' She yanked at the little medal that Pam had put on Freddy's collar.

  'Dripsy-Wimpsy? Well, the name is spot on. Farfang Castle? So you're not a stray after all,' she sighed. How she hated the idea of a dog having a safe, warm home.

  'Let's take them to the Pit for walkies. I'll decide what to do about the pink one later.'

  'Move it faster, nose-drips. You make me sick,' Cerberus added helpfully as the Commander took their leads and pulled them out of the door.

  'I don't think he likes us,' Freddy whispered to Batty.

  Coldfax Fort was shaped like a giant letter H. A corridor ran the full length of one of the long 'legs' of the H, with cells on either side. At one end was the main entrance and the Commander's office, and at the far end was a heavy oak door that led down to the dungeon. The Commander led the two dogs down this corridor and past a long row of empty cells. Each had a barred iron door and straw scattered over the floor. Batty could tell by the smell that this was where the dogs lived, but where were they? The Commander pointed at a cell.

  'This'll be your home for the rest of your miserable lives,' she laughed, prodding Freddy with her foot.

  'The only way out of Coldfax alive is to be adopted. And nobody ever adopts a dog from here. Because you are the biters, the pooers, the scratchers, the farters, the thieves and the filthy mongrels. Nobody wants you. You'll be here till your pink curls are grey and so will your scruffy friend.' She gave another nasty laugh.

  Cerberus didn't know what her words meant, but he knew that when the Commander laughed, his prisoners would be miserable. That made him laugh, too – a rough, terrible, mean laugh.

  'You'll never leave here. I'll always be watching you now,' he snarled.

  Freddy and Batty looked at each other with grim determination. They both knew what the other was thinking. Somehow, some way, they must escape from Coldfax Fort.

  'Down there, dregs,' Cerberus snarled.

  They had reached a narrow passageway on their left that ran off the main corridor. A door in the middle of this corridor opened onto several steps, which led down into another courtyard. Like the entry courtyard, this one was surrounded on three sides by the building and on the fourth by a high fence topped with barbed wire. This was the Pit. It was filled with over a hundred dogs of every shape and size, pacing slowly in a circle. The man who had thrown Freddy and Batty into the cell stood in the middle, watching. He was still bored, but not as much as the dogs. A sadder sight Freddy had never seen. There was no yapping, nor sniffing, nor fighting nor chasing, just a slow and sorry walk.

  'Go on then. Walkies! Walkies!' the Commander instructed, removing the dogs' leads.

  Batty and Freddy walked grimly down the stairs and into the stream of dejected dogs. Not one pair of eyes rose to greet them. There was no Hello Sniffing dance. The dogs just silently stepped around them and carried on their walk to nowhere.

  The newcomers joined the slow circle. The Commander and her dreadful hound disappeared and the door slammed shut with an echo. Freddy seized the opportunity.

  'Okay,' he whispered, 'the Plan Master has already worked it out. We build a tunnel, bring out the earth in our pockets and drop it on the ground during Walkies. The Germans never know.' Freddy had watched too many old war films.

  Batty wrinkled her nose. What was he barking on about? What did Germans have to do with Coldfax Fort? She had other things on her mind.

  Batty was on full alert. Her pretty ears were standing tall and her tail held high. All the usual rules of Doggery didn't seem to apply here. The Hello Sniffing dance isn't just polite, but essential to know who is friend and who is foe – who will play and who wants to fight. Batty caught whiffs of anger and danger. But from which dogs she couldn't tell. She needed every sense ready to spot trouble. And Freddy, she had little doubt, would be no use whatsoever if it did come. Wolf or not, she would have to take care of him. He wouldn't stand a chance without her.

  Freddy, of course, saw himself in a quite different and far more heroic light. Even as a poodle, he felt the blood of Sir Rathbone in his veins. He was the Plan Master and was going to take care of Batty. She wouldn't stand a chance without him.

  'Now, you always need a passport to escape,' he yapped excitedly. 'Which dogs are good at forgery?'

  Batty wasn't listening. From behind her she could hear a low growl. It sounded like danger. She looked back nervously.

  'They don't say much, do they?' Freddy yipped, looking around. 'It's a well-known fact that dogs are stupid. Except you, of course. That's probably why they haven't escaped. I would have by now.'

  Batty heard the growls from behind her again.

  'They look a bit cowardly,' Freddy whispered far too loudly. 'Probably too scared to run away.'

  'Will you put a paw in it? Unless you can say something helpful,' she growled at Freddy.

  'I'm planning our escape. What's more helpful than that?' he snapped.

  The growling behind them was steadily growing. Batty looked around with much concern. She was trying not to listen to Freddy, but unfortunately bits of his nonsense kept reaching her ears.

  'I could climb down the wall on a rope made of blankets. Or ... or ... how about... hide inside a wooden horse? That's what some famous old duffers did once. I won't give up like these no-hope hounds.'

  'Don't you ever shut up?' Batty growled in despair.

  The bored man stood up from his chair in the centre of the courtyard. With a stretch and a yawn he walked through the slow parade of dogs. He climbed the few steps, unlocked the door, and left the Pit.

  The dogs came to an immediate halt. As one they raised their drooping noses and turned to look at the newcomers. Batty and Freddy moved closer together nervously. There was not a snuffle or a sniff. The tension was unbearable. Freddy couldn't bear anything that was unbearable.

  'Boo!' he yelped. Every dog jumped, including Batty. She glared at him in disbelief. How was she ever to keep such a silly creature safe? Freddy wheezed a giggle at his great joke. All the surrounding dogs began to growl quietly. Suddenly, a large boxer jumped out and snarled at Freddy, who leapt back in alarm.

  'Who's the coward now, poodle?' He looked at the smaller dog with disgust and sniffed him.

  'You don't smell like no proper dog. Don't look like one neither, not a real dog, that is. What are you really, pink poodle?'

  'A wolf, can't you tell?' Freddy yipped defiantly.

  'We don't like poodles in here.' The boxer gave an unpleasant snarl.

  The other dogs growled in agreement.

  'They don't never live on the Wildside. You wimps always need a human, you're always snitching to them.'

  'No-one calls my friend a snitch,' Batty snarled, moving in front of Freddy.

  'Yeah!' Freddy yipped. 'So if you do it again, I'll tell her.' />
  The boxer looked down at Batty and snorted.

  'Like I'm so scared, of a girl,' he laughed sarcastically. He and Batty glared at each other.

  'Bruno! Is that any way to talk to a lassie? You should be scared of the girls – they'll cause you more trouble than anything else in the world.' This new bark came from a small white-haired terrier, who limped up to the boxer. The big dog immediately drooped his ears. The terrier was obviously their leader.

  'You'll have no luck with the ladies that way, lad.' He gave a woofy chuckle. The boxer's nose went red with embarrassment and he stuck out his lower jaw in a sulk.

  The terrier laughed.

  'Well now, who do we have here?' He and Batty danced the Hello Sniffing, and he introduced himself as Hamish.

  Freddy sat down quickly and held out his paw.

  'He's a stranger. He don't understand no Good Doggery,' Batty woofed.

  'He's strange all right,' the boxer yipped.

  'He doesn't understand when to keep his muzzle closed.' The terrier looked at Freddy and shook his head.

  'That's 'cos he's a poodle,' the boxer growled. 'Don't never trust 'em.'

  'My hairy ears! Bruno, you talk nearly as much rubbish as this wee pink lad. I've told you many times; don't judge a dog by its breed.'

  The boxer stuck out his lower jaw grumpily once more.

  'Bruno is in here because of a poodle, you see; it led the dogcatcher to his hideaway.' Hamish turned to Freddy. 'You're a brainless buffoon, lad,' he laughed. 'But we'll give you one more chance. Good Doggery is more important here than anywhere. There is no escape from each other and no escape from Coldfax.'

  'Yes, we know,' Batty sighed sorrowfully.

  'Speak for yourself!' Freddy barked. 'I'm going to escape even if you can't. Just 'cos you're all afraid doesn't mean I am.'

  The terrier was unimpressed and gave the pink poodle a scornful laugh.

  'Big words for such a silly dog,' Hamish yipped. 'Wait till you have been here for ten years.' (He meant dog years, of course.) 'I've seen nobler hounds than you sink under the dread of Coldfax. There is no escape. Hiding, climbing, digging, running, jumping. Many dogs have tried, but not one has succeeded. I received this for my third attempt, when Cerberus caught me.' He held up his lame paw.