7

His plan, however, soon ran aground.

Firstly, because of the damn dog, whose whippet genes had propelled him out of next door’s yard, plus the next six, at the most terrific speed.

His jumping was impressive too. Joseph peered, slack-jawed, through the inky darkness as Tweedy cleared fence after fence like a Grand National winner, leaving the boy to trail like a rag-and-bone nag. Jumping had never been his forte, unless it was onto someone’s back before wrestling them to the ground. Scratches bit at his legs from abrasive fence panels and one aggressive rose bush, but as Joseph stumbled over the final obstacle, he caught sight of Tweedy skittering around the corner and away from Calmly View.

‘Bloomin’ mutt!’ He grimaced, forcing his legs to go faster as he gave chase. ‘Get BACK here!’ he yelled, his voice echoing, the only noise to be heard now the siren had finally stopped. The street was so quiet and dark, Joseph could’ve been forgiven for forgetting he was in the city at all.

He cursed the darkness as a kerb tripped him up. If it weren’t for it being the clearest of winter nights, and the moon coating the horizon slightly, he would’ve found any progress practically impossible.

But as Joseph pulled himself to his feet, he spotted a second flash of light: a slice of blinding orange, streaking across the horizon, followed by a series of pure white spotlights, zigzagging endlessly.

What the hell is that? he thought to himself, before realising it was a bomb exploding in the distance, followed by the home guard searching for the perpetrator. It would have been exciting, if it wasn’t so... real, and it became realer still when the noise of the explosion rumbled through, like thunder following lightning.

He couldn’t be sure how far away it was, but it gave his chase renewed purpose. If the bombers were getting closer, then he didn’t want to be out here hunting a stupid dog any longer than was necessary.

He wouldn’t run away, though. He was no coward. He’d run from nothing in his life, so he’d find the dog. Not to please Mrs F, but himself. No one else.

He caught sight of Tweedy, or thought he did, sniffing casually at a telegraph pole, but his footsteps served as too much of a warning, and the dog bolted again. The only response he got when he shouted to Tweedy was from a warden, yelling at him to ‘Get yer backside off the street, before someone blows it up!’

Joseph ignored him, of course, and ran on, following the dog as best he could, though at times he went on luck rather than judgement. Did the damn thing never get tired? He was, but just as he felt he couldn’t take another lungful of air, he spotted something. A landmark that he recognised.

A set of gates, framed by two stone pillars, and beside them, a persistent, straggly mutt dragging itself through the tiniest of gaps.

The zoo. Of course it was. If Tweedy was reeling from the chaos around him, what else was he going to do but follow his mistress?

Although this place might offer some kind of sanctuary from whatever Adolf was dropping, it also offered up the prospect of a whole new war. Because when Mrs F saw the pair of them staggering into view, she wasn’t going to be happy.

Well, sod her,Joseph thought. It was her stupid dog’s fault, after all.

But as he took a step inside, there was another flash of light, another rumble of destruction. Not close, but closer, and enough to see the silence in the zoo broken: there was braying and squawking, and howling from the underfed wolves.

All Joseph wanted was to find the dog. Not to try and drag it home without Mrs F seeing, he wasn’t daft. If he tried to do that then Tweedy would make an even worse noise than the din invading his ears right now.

Perhaps if she spotted them at the same time, then her anger might be mildly diluted. Joseph thought about this for a moment, then realised she’d be livid either way. But did he care? He did not.

So he wandered round the zoo, only flinching when a further explosion lit up the horizon. He walked past the aviary, the birds zipping quickly around it, almost in Spitfire formation. The camels looked animated instead of lazy for once, searching for something to kick or spit at in agitation, while the wolves were too busy howling to look hungrily in Joseph’s direction.

Whichever path he took, there was no sign of Mrs F. Was she even there at all? Maybe she had further secrets. He wouldn’t be surprised. His father aside, he’d not met an adult who was as honest as they claimed to be.

But then he approached Adonis’s cage. He didn’t want to. He’d avoided it on purpose, didn’t want to be anywhere near him or his anger, and as he neared the cage he picked up a rock just in case. He wasn’t afraid to throw it, either, if there was any repeat of their first meeting.

There was no sign of the ape, though Joseph could hear him groaning from the shadows. What he could see though, was Mrs F, standing some twenty yards from the bars of the cage.

He moved closer, but as he did so, he noticed something very strange.

Another bomb burst on the horizon, close enough to jolt her instinctively into a pose that made no sense whatsoever. It wasn’t a calm pose. She wasn’t reassuring the ape through the bars this time. She was standing, legs apart, and clutching beneath her chin a rifle.

A rifle that trembled in her grasp, but was pointed and ready to fire, directly into Adonis’s lair.