“You like drinking blood, though, don’t you?”
“I’ll tell yeh one thing,” said Ernie. “It beats orange juice.”
“I hate orange juice.”
“You’re nearly a vampire yourself, so.”
“Deadly.”
Gloria was feeling almost happy. The woods and the evil whispers were far behind her. They had the Dog on the run, and she knew they’d be able to beat him.
They were off the main path, and they were running along a forest trail, getting nearer and nearer to the elephants. They couldn’t see as much now because the trail was bendy and the trees were close, leaning over, like a green and brown roof above them.
Paddy was still running beside Alice. He took a deep breath and spoke before he could change his mind. “It would be cool to come back and see the zoo properly. Together, like, another time. Wouldn’t it?”
“No,” said Alice.
All the breath left Paddy and he nearly fell down. He felt even worse now. He wanted to turn and run away. But he remembered why he was there.
Paddy could see his da sitting at the kitchen table in his dressing gown, looking sad. He could see him trying to smile, like he was trying pick up a hundred-pound weight, as if his lips and mouth were too heavy. So Paddy kept running, but he picked up speed and ran ahead of Alice.
Alice tried to keep up with Paddy. But she couldn’t. She’d wanted to say more to him, but she’d run out of breath after she’d said “No.” She’d been going to add, “But I’d love to go to the pictures instead.” Because Paddy had seemed to think the zoo was boring, the way he’d said, “Not interested” when she’d pointed out the snake house. But Paddy had run ahead of her before she’d had the chance.
Alice wanted to cry. She felt so tired and far from home, she just wanted to stop and walk away. But she kept running, because of her big brother, Luke. The Black Dog had been at Luke, stopping him from sleeping, stopping him from laughing and making Alice laugh the way he used to. The Black Dog had changed Luke—she’d heard her mammy say that—and Alice wanted the old Luke back. So she kept running.
The kids were still together, a big bunch of heads and elbows and knees. They ran past the red pandas and river hogs. There was a lot of noise in the air. The animals were waking up.
“The children are here!”
“Who said that?”
“Keep going. Come on!”
They were nearly at the elephant enclosure. They just had to run around one last sharp bend in the trail. The sudden corner made some of the kids laugh and bump into one another.
“Got yeh!”
“Got yeh back!”
“Got yeh back back!”
They got around that last corner. And then there was the shock.
The Black Dog was there.
Waiting for them.
They heard his howl before they saw him. It was a howl that ripped the zoo apart. Everything was gone. There was just the howl. A howl that stayed and became a word that hung there, like poisonous gas.
“USELESS!”
The fright made them quickly tired, exhausted. It seemed to suck up all the air. They’d been up all night. They’d been running for hours.
“USELESS!”
They sank to the ground. Raymond, Suzie, Damien, Gloria—all of them. They all lay down on the mucky trail. There was no talking, no protests, no animals hooting or roaring. The animal noise had suddenly stopped—dead. There was only the one word in the air.
“USELESS!”
Gloria’s eyes were stinging and sad. They were closing. There was a word she needed, an important word, but she couldn’t remember it. She couldn’t remember anything. She had to sleep.
“USELESS!”
It was true. She was useless. She was too tired to do anything. Her eyes were so heavy and wet. She had to shut them. Just for a minute. That was all she had to do. That was all she could do. Because she was useless. She was doing that now, closing her eyes. She was . . . closing her eyes . . . now . . . for . . . ever.
“Excuse me!”
Gloria’s eyes stopped closing. There was something pink. Waddling through the sleeping children. A flamingo. It was a flamingo. It was lots of flamingos. There was a big gang of pink flamingos, and they were marching up to the Dog. Gloria’s eyes had started to close again. But—
“Excuse me!” said the first flamingo again.
Gloria could see the Dog now too. A big—a huge—angry dog. His eyes were red, and there was yellow stuff drooling from the sides of his mouth. He was staring down at the flamingo.
“Yes, you!” the flamingo yelled up at the Dog. “I’m talking to you! Some of us are trying to sleep, you know! We need our eight hours!”
“USELESS!”
“We’re pink!” said the first flamingo. “Of course we’re useless! That’s the point!”
She was a Dublin flamingo.
“You eejit!”
Gloria smiled—she couldn’t help it. A talking flamingo. It was—
“Brilliant,” she said.
She remembered. That was the word she’d forgotten, the word she remembered she needed.
“Brilliant,” she said again.
The flamingo’s head turned on its long pink neck and the flamingo gawked at Gloria.
“Oh, thanks very much,” said the flamingo—she was being sarcastic. “Too little, too late.”
A sarcastic flamingo! It was—
“Brilliant,” said Gloria.
The Dog seemed to move, to shift—to push away, lift its head.
“Wake up!” Gloria shouted. “Everyone! Come on! Wake up!”
She looked at the Dog. His eyes were even redder now, and furious. And his mouth—she couldn’t even look at it. Its breath! She turned away. She couldn’t face the Dog.
But she shouted. “Brilliant!”
She heard the groan—they all did—and the weight of the Dog seemed to lift off them. She saw the Dog’s head move, pull away, farther and higher. It wasn’t as close to her, and the disgusting breath was gone. The Dog was leaving.
“That’s right!” said the first flamingo. “Go take a walk!”
“Or chase a ball!” said another.
“Under a car—hellohhoh!”
Gloria started to laugh.
The other kids were waking up. Some of them were standing again. Some of them were yawning, one or two of them were crying. But they could see it, and feel it. The Black Dog was running away.
Alice crawled across the ground, to Paddy.
“Are you okay, Paddy?”
“Yeah,” said Paddy. “What happened?”
“The Black Dog was here,” said Alice. “Look!”
The Dog was running, charging, across the elephant enclosure. Big clumps of muck shot into the air behind him as he ran. He was tearing the ground. The Dog was farther away now, but still huge, only a bit smaller than the adult elephants. They could feel the thump of his paws in the ground beneath them.
One of the elephants lifted its trunk and trumpeted: “Get out of our garden!”
“Oh God, Rayzer,” said Gloria. “The elephants are talking now as well.”
They watched the Dog run to the far edge of the enclosure, then jump. He stayed in the air for ages. It seemed like forever. Then he was over the high fence.
Gone.
“Come on!”
Raymond started to run, and the other kids followed. They were awake again. They’d survived, and they had the big word.
“Brilliant!”
They were winning again. They weren’t tired now—they were full of oxygen and energy. And the energy, the power they felt in their legs and arms, came from the fact that they knew why they were running. They were going to get rid of the Black Dog for good. Then they’d go home to happier houses.
They ran back the way they’d come. They charged past the lake and the flamingos.
“This is a zoo—hellohhoh!” said a flamingo. “You’re supposed to stop and look!”
/> Gloria shouted back at the flamingos. “You’re gorgeous!”
“We know—hellohhoh! Go catch that brute of a dog!”
They were coming up to the meerkat enclosure.
“Go get him, kiddos!”
The meerkat was jumping up and down. But he couldn’t reach the top of the wall.
“Come back to bed, Kevin,” said his wife.
“I want to seeee!” he said. “Oh, I hope they are successful.”
“Me too,” said his wife. “They will try their best.”
“Their vest?”
“Your ears are blocked again, Kevin.”
“Perhaps, my love,” said the meerkat. “But my eyesight is perfect, and your beauty makes my heart go jumpy-jumpy.”
Kevin’s wife tried to smile. She loved Kevin, but she was very depressed.
“Poor Kevin.”
“No, no,” said Kevin. “Rich Kevin! Expensive Kevin!”
The kids dashed past. Kevin looked back at the wall and shouted one last time. “Go get him, kiddos!”
“Who said that?” said Gloria.
She saw the top of a meerkat’s head—
“’Twas meeeee!”
She saw the little head for just a second. Then he dropped back down to the grass of his enclosure. But she heard him again. They all did.
“I wish you successssss!”
None of them stopped running, but all of them were amazed. She’d heard it before, but Gloria only now really understood. It dawned on her, and on the rest of the kids, just as the sun began to rise over Dublin.
“All the animals can talk!”
The meerkat, behind them, confirmed it.
“Yesss!” he shouted. “I never stop!”
He jumped again and tried to grab the top of the wall.
“Come back to bed, Kevin,” said his wife.
“I want to go with the kiddos!”
“You have a job here,” said his wife.
“But, my love!” said Kevin. “That Black Dog has made your life a misery! He has tormented you! He has filled you up with big unhappiness!”
He jumped again.
“Stay with me, Kevin,” said his wife. “The children will defeat the Black Dog.”
“But—!”
“And your job here is important,” said Kevin’s wife.
“Children love meerkats. Especially you.”
Kevin stopped jumping.
“Only because they think I was in The Lion King,” he said.
The kids were near the gate of the zoo. The air was full of the animals’ messages. The grunts and chirps had become good luck wishes and shouts of encouragement.
“Catch him!”
“Bop him!”
“Bite his bum!”
It was brighter now, dawn, and the birds all around the park were working hard.
“Cheep, cheep! Cheaper, cheaper!”
“Are you not afraid of the daylight, Ernie?” asked Raymond.
“No way,” said Ernie. “That’s only an oul’ myth.”
“The Black Dog’s afraid, though. Isn’t he?”
“Maybe,” said Ernie. “But I’m not convinced.”
“Why not?” said Gloria.
“Dunno,” said Ernie. “I can’t work it out.”
“More than just brilliant,” said Raymond.
“Yeah,” said Ernie. “It has to be. My dog, like—Fang. The only word he’s afraid of is bath.”
The zoo was open. There was a man, one of the zookeepers, opening the gate. He was yawning when he heard a noise and saw the huge gang of kids running straight at him. And his yawn became a silent scream.
Ernie stopped in front of him and showed him his fangs.
“Say your prayers, bud,” said Ernie. “And wash your neck.”
Then he ran after Raymond and Gloria. He shouted back at the zookeeper. “I’ll be back.”
The zookeeper held onto the gate—and his neck. He thought he was going to faint.
“Here, Mister,” said Paddy. “Do we have to pay to get out?”
The zookeeper had breath left for one word. “No.”
“Seeyeh, so,” said Paddy, and he kept running.
Alice was beside him. She thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. She wanted to tell Paddy that, but she needed all her breath to keep up.
The kids all ran past the zookeeper.
They were gone.
Early-morning life seemed to be back to normal, although the animals inside were making a lot more noise than usual. All sorts of grunts and yaps and howls and barks and chatter. The zookeeper would go in now and shout at them.
But the kids—the sight and the sound of all those kids, their excitement. It had reminded the zookeeper of something. He remembered now. He used to sing to the animals every morning. Before the Black Dog started visiting his house.
He’d forgotten that, like he’d forgotten how to sing.
He remembered something else now, something that cheeky kid with the black cape had said to him. He could still see the kids, the last of them, running out of the Park. He put his hands to his mouth, made a trumpet, and shouted.
“I did wash my neck!”
CHAPTER 10
It was very early morning in the city of Dublin, and people lying awake in bed could hear a sound that every Dubliner likes, a ship’s foghorn out on Dublin Bay. But there was something else they could hear too. The birds. The city’s birds were often noisy, but this was different. It was like the War of the Birds out there, with all the cawing and squawking, and the seagulls seemed to be on the side that was winning.
But most people were still asleep. It was Saint Patrick’s Day, Ireland’s big holiday, so there was no school and nearly every adult who had a job didn’t have to go to work. Alarm clocks and phone alarms were turned off, and even the babies seemed to know that they didn’t have to start crying and complaining until later than usual.
But the kids were wide awake. They were out of Phoenix Park by now, and they were running toward the center of town, along the quays, beside the River Liffey. There were hardly any cars or trucks, and the few adults they saw walking looked tired and cold, as if they’d been walking all night.
They were still chasing the Black Dog. But—
“Where is he?” asked Precious.
He’d had been in front of them, a few corners ahead. But then he was gone. Again.
He seemed to be playing a game with them, leading them on, teasing them.
They all slowed down, unsure, disappointed, relieved—worried. Was this another of the Black Dog’s tricks?
“Is he hiding?”
“Where’s he gone?”
“Keep going!” Damien shouted.
“Yeah!” Raymond agreed.
If they stopped now, they probably wouldn’t be able start again. Their legs would feel stiff and their feet would be sore. They had to keep running.
They heard a voice.
“He’s down there, so he is!”
It seemed to have come from way above them. Gloria looked up as she ran, but all she could see was a gang of seagulls. Then they heard the voice again.
“There!”
It was lower this time, to her right. She looked, and saw a seagull flying beside them, over the river.
“Just follow my beak!”
“Oh my God!” said Alice. “The seagull’s talking.”
“Well, the pink birds in the zoo were talking as well,” said Paddy. “So, it’s no big deal, like.”
The seagull had gone ahead, flying faster than they’d ever seen a seagull fly before. No floating or gliding, his wings were going mad, like a colossal wasp’s.
“I thought seagulls would be too stupid to talk,” said Alice.
There was a sudden squawk, right in her ear. It was another seagull, flying beside Alice’s shoulder.
“You got that one wrong, love!” the seagull roared at Alice. “See him—see him, do yeh?!”
The second seagull’s beak
was pointing at the first seagull, flying ahead of them.
“Yeah,” said Alice.
It was the first time she’d ever spoken to a seagull.
“Well, he’s my fella!”
“Really?”
“He’s me life partner!”
“Oh,” said Alice. “So you’re a girl, then?”
The seagull stared at Alice. She was brilliant at it, considering she was flying straight into the wind.
“Is it not obvious?!” she eventually squawked, after six very long seconds.
“Eh . . .”
“And you think we’re stupid?!” she squawked. “My God!”
And she flew after her boyfriend. “Pete!” she cawed. “Wait up!”
(Try cawing “Pete.” It isn’t easy.)
They saw it now—they understood. All the seagulls were flying with them. That was how it seemed anyway, and how it looked. Every seagull in Dublin seemed to be above or beside them. It was like running inside a tunnel made of seagulls. It should have been terrifying. But it wasn’t. The seagulls were with them, encouraging them.
“Keep it up!”
“Yis’re doin’ great!”
“Considerin’ yis don’t have wings!”
“Or proper beaks!”
The kids kept running, past Collins Barracks. There was still no sign of the Dog. But the seagull at the front was still pointing straight ahead, along the river. He flew under the James Joyce Bridge.
“Wheee!”
“Pete! Wait, will yeh!”
Gloria loved the seagulls. She remembered once when she went to a place with her Uncle Ben. Raymond wasn’t with them, or her mam or dad. It was just Gloria and Uncle Ben. They’d gone in his van to this amazing place. He’d called it the South Wall. But it wasn’t really a wall. It was more like a wide path, and it went right into the sea. It took more than half an hour for them to walk to the end of it, and the sea was on both sides of them all the way. It was like they were walking out of Ireland, across a bridge that grew out as they walked. The sea was rough on one side, and calm on the other, rough where the sea stretched out to the rest of the world, calm where the wall—maybe it was a wall, after all—blocked the waves and protected the bay and the docks. The sunshine bounced on the sea, and the sky was full of seagulls. They were mad. It looked like they were playing football, with hundreds on each team—and no ball.