2

The truck’s shutter had lifted completely, and the workers stood ready. Spider gazed in horror, trying to take in his new surroundings.

The rear of the truck fitted snugly into the bay, and amber lamps gave the world a sickly glow. A bell was still ringing, and he could hear the violent drumming of wheels as a conveyor belt cranked into life. Those waiting wore identical white overalls and their eyes peered out over face masks, so you couldn’t tell if they were men or women. What scared Spider most, though, were their bright red gauntlets—he could smell a powerful disinfectant, but under it was the unmistakable scent of blood.

As he looked on, whimpering, two of the figures leapt into the truck and set about their work. They disentangled the cages, using their boots to kick them into line. Then they lifted them, one at a time, and hurled them out of the vehicle. They didn’t need to sort them. Nobody looked inside, for nobody cared about individual animals. The cages were flung from one worker to the next, and there were cheers as they bundled them towards the conveyor belt.

Spider had no idea where Moonlight was, for his own cage had been thrown to one side and he’d lost all sense of direction. The next moment, he felt hands lifting him up and he was pitched through the air. When he was slammed down again the breath was knocked from his body.

The flea was gripping the dog’s fur for dear life.

“Spider!” it cried. “Do something!”

“Go,” gasped the dog.

“Go where?”

“Save yourself! Jump!”

Dazed and desperate, Spider got his head up and glimpsed what lay ahead. He was on the conveyor. It was moving slowly into the factory’s dark mouth, and he could feel the heat of an oven. In the distance there was a small, square hatch that every cage would pass through. The bell had stopped ringing, and there was now a low, mechanical grinding, while the belt still groaned and squeaked. Suddenly a buzzer sounded. The motors changed up a gear, and there was a scream that left Spider cowering. The unloading was complete—he could see that—and the belt was accelerating. Moonlight appeared for a moment, two cages ahead of him, and he realized that he hadn’t even said goodbye. He searched for Buster, twisting painfully in his prison, but seconds later he was through the hatch, and was plunged into inky blackness. The flea was still in his ear, pinching hard even as it shook.

Spider felt a change in direction, and he pawed at the wire. He barked and attacked the cage with his teeth. He lashed out with his claws, but they were blunt and useless. On he went, into the light again, and now he could hear pulleys above. The lamps were mercilessly bright, and the world had expanded into a great white chamber covered in gleaming tiles. Spider looked left and right, trying to work out what was happening. He could see cables overhead, stretched between slowly turning wheels. There were hooks, too, dangling at intervals—he saw one dip low on its chain and pluck the first cage up neatly by its handle.

All at once, he understood—and he realized there was nothing the animals could do.

The first cage was lifted into the air and carried onwards and upwards, higher and higher. Then the second cage was lifted, and then the third. He heard a click as his own cage was plucked up off the belt, and he found himself swinging as the pulleys squeaked cheerfully. It was getting hotter, and Spider saw the future in all its terrifying detail. The pulleys were hauling the cages ever closer to the source of the heat, which was an enormous vat—its iron cover had been folded back, and steam billowed upwards. The first cage disappeared into the murk, and the final stage of the sequence was all too obvious. The cages would pass over the container and they would be flipped upside down, the doors opening automatically as the cables tightened. Every pet would be shaken loose and dropped into whatever was boiling beneath them.

Spider found that he was scrabbling at the wire again, just like every other creature in the line.

Moonlight was yowling, but the most insistent voice was the one deep inside the dog’s ear.

“Use your tooth, Spider!” cried the flea. “Use the long one!”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but it’s our only chance!”

Spider attacked the mesh harder than ever, but the cage was simply rocking, and he was still a prisoner. The stench engulfed him, and for a moment he thought he’d pass out. He was aware of other fleas jumping for their lives—and that was the moment he glanced behind and saw hope.

Buster had freed herself.

She was five cages behind, and by some miracle she had bitten through part of the mesh. The old dog’s mouth was cut, and her one good eye was flashing with fury. Somehow she had gnawed her way through solid steel, tearing open a hole through which she now hauled her scarred, twisted body. As Spider watched, she dragged herself on to the roof of her cage and got ready to leap. With astonishing grace, her back legs launched her through the air, and she grabbed the cage in front. She clung to it as it swung wildly, and a quick push with her blunt, bloody nose sprang the catch so that the gate fell sideways. A young puppy jumped for its life.

Inspired, Spider tried again, straining with his muzzle and working his long tooth at the loop that sealed him in. Buster appeared above him just as he succeeded. The door popped open, and he was out, steadied for a moment by the pit bull’s powerful shoulder.

He was free.

Now he could try the same manoeuvre as his friend. His paws scrabbled, but he jumped and just managed to cling to the cage ahead. He hugged it between his forepaws and flipped the lock with his tooth. Buster moved back down the line, while Spider moved forward. The steam left his eyes streaming, but he got to Moonlight in the nick of time. Her cage door swung open like all the others, but the cat was clinging to the wire, too terrified to move.

“Jump!” barked Spider.

“I can’t, darling.”

“You can. You have to!”

“Let me die, Spider,” she cried. “I’ve lived my life, and what does tomorrow hold? Only the pain of lost love—”

Her last words turned into a gasp, for Spider had her round the neck. He dragged her out, hoping he might throw her to safety, but alas, it was too late for that. They were directly above the vat, and a foul, glutinous liquid bubbled and spat, the froth splashing their paws.

Moonlight yowled in terror, as Spider lost his footing and fell. Somehow he managed to grip the rim of the vessel with his forepaws, and somehow he twisted himself back over the edge. He writhed, and spat Moonlight on to the ground, launching himself after her. They rolled together on the hard concrete floor.

Alarms were ringing now, as animals dived for cover; the factory workers gazed in helpless wonder.

Buster appeared, and butted Spider into action again. There was no time to lose, for an enormous grille was descending, blocking their escape.

“Stay together!” snarled the pit bull. “Follow me!”

She dived into a nearby chute, and the whole pack rushed after her, a heaving mass of ears and tails. They found themselves slithering downwards on their backs to land with a clattering crash among empty tins. Spider lay entangled with the lurcher, while a skinny dachshund he’d never seen before wormed its way, yapping, from under his rump. They were on another conveyor belt.

“What now?” cried Moonlight as they sailed onwards.

“I don’t know,” Buster panted. “Hold tight, I guess! It’s not over yet, guys…”

They were in the bowels of the factory, where steel levers gathered the tins into organized lines. A set of pipes appeared over their heads, and a dark substance dripped from a dozen nozzles in stinking lumps. A welding mechanism flashed as it sealed those that were full. Spider took the initiative this time, and as he came under the first nozzle he threw himself sideways into a tunnel that bent sharply to the left. The animals plunged after him, skimming helplessly into a mountain of soft powder. When they’d managed to clamber free, every creature was snow white from nose to tail.

“Flour,” said the flea in Spider’s ear. “Keep moving.”

“We’re still alive!” cried Buster. “Let’s keep it that way, guys. We’re doing well.”

“Which way is out?” asked Moonlight. “I need daylight.”

Spider shook himself and saw a door.

“That way!” he cried. “Move it!”

The door gave out on to a corridor, and he stood back as the line of animals dashed past him. Seconds later, they were in a warehouse. A forklift truck buzzed between storage racks, its light winking. Buster led the way again, dashing down the aisles in search of an exit.

They were soon lost and bewildered, for every shelf was solid with identical cartons. The picture Spider had seen by the bins was reproduced ten thousand times: the same smiling woman served a glutinous gunk to the same eager pets. As the animals stared, mesmerized, a guard appeared. Two more stepped into the space behind them, and they saw they were trapped.

The lurcher started to bark, and there was soon an ominous howling as the pack squeezed together. Every dog and cat prepared its claws, ready for the fight. The guards, meanwhile, were calling for back-up.

“We’ll have to break through,” panted Buster. “We need a fire exit. If we could find one of them, it might save us.”

“A fire alarm,” said the flea.

“What about it?”

“That would buy us time. Panic and confusion are what we need, so let me on to that stack, Spider. Above your head.”

“Why?” whined Spider. “We don’t have time! They’re coming for us.”

“Stand still,” cried the flea. “It’s an old trick, but it never fails…”

The animals watched as the tiny insect hopped from Spider’s ear to the nearest shelf. It leapt again, vaulting up the cartons towards a thin wire. For a moment they lost it, but—even as the guards advanced—it reappeared beside a bright red box. It squeezed through the seal, and seconds later, Spider saw a tiny spark.

The building erupted in howling noise. Sirens wailed, and a metallic voice burst from overhead speakers: “Emergency! Emergency!”

The words were repeated over and over, and the guards had no choice but to run for it.

The flea pushed its way back out of the box, dazed and unsteady. It dived, and Spider caught the exhausted insect right on his nose. It was hot as a cinder.

“Go,” it cried weakly. “I short-circuited the system, but it won’t give us long.”

“Wait,” hissed Moonlight. “Look at the roof, Spider. That’s a cooling system up there, I’m sure of it. If we could get inside, we’d find our way out.”

“You mean climb?” said Buster. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Moonlight replied. “I don’t have the strength, but the rest of you might make it.”

The animals gazed up at the warehouse roof. Sure enough, there were ducts and pipes above their heads, and the fattest was almost within reach.

“It’s our only chance,” said Spider. “What we need is a ladder.”

“Behind you,” said a terrier.

A pair of ragged spaniels raced down the aisle to a set of steps. They grabbed its rail between them and it was soon in position. The next moment, Moonlight had jumped nimbly up its rungs, and was soon close to the vent. Spider struggled after her.

“There’s a bracket,” he barked. “Get on to that, and you can open the hatch.”

“I know what you’re looking at!” she cried, as she wrapped herself round the pipe. “You’re laughing at my tail!”

“Just go!” barked Spider. “Hurry…”

“They’ll be back,” growled Buster. “We have to keep moving!”

Moonlight snapped the flap open with her paw, and the animals scrambled into the gap as best they could. They used their jaws and their paws, and somehow tipped themselves into the vent, hauling each other upwards. Thankfully, the chute levelled almost at once, and they were soon in a line again, trotting briskly into the gloom. When they came to an intersection, it was a Labrador that guided them.

“Fresh air,” she whimpered. “I can smell it, I know I can…”

She turned right, and they all caught the scent together. They galloped now, their paws drumming on the metal, and reached a set of pumps and valves. When they’d clambered past them, they found themselves gazing upwards, for they had come to a chimney and, at last, they could see a disc of pure blue sky. The cats found the final ascent simple, but the dogs had to inch carefully upwards, bracing their backs against the metal. When they got their chins over the rim, it wasn’t so hard, and they rolled over and dropped down on to the factory roof. They staggered to its edge and dropped again, into a car park. The perimeter fence proved no obstacle: they all pushed under it into a field of long, lush grass. As the alarms faded behind them, they realized they were free.

They flopped down in the sunshine, and lay dazed and aching, unable to believe their good luck. They were on a gentle slope, and a valley spread before them, so green and lovely nobody could speak. They lay there, panting, gazing at the sheer beauty of the world.

 

“What now?” said Buster.

“We rest,” replied Moonlight. “We curl up together and lick our wounds.”

“We need something to eat,” said the lurcher. “We’re all starving.”

Most of the other animals were nodding. Some had stretched out, exhausted, and one or two had fallen asleep. The dachshund was on its back, paws in the air.

Spider, however, was silent and alert.

He had never been as thirsty or sore, and he hadn’t drunk water for days. Somehow, though, he could feel his strength returning—and with it came that terrible restlessness. He couldn’t stay still.

Buster padded close and butted him.

“You did well, pal,” she said. “You’re quick-thinking for a pet.”

Spider shivered, and flipped his ears back.

“It won’t go away, Buster,” he said. “It’s worse now. Worse than ever.”

“What is?”

“The need to be found. I can’t rest, you see—I need to be moving.”

The flea pinched him gently. “You’re getting hot again,” it said. “What are you thinking now? What do you want?”

Spider lowered his head and lifted it again.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I just want to go on. I can’t stay with you guys—you know I can’t.”

“Darling, wait,” said Moonlight. “This is a good place. We’ll find a stream and have a wash, and—”

“You don’t understand,” said Spider. “I don’t care about washing. I don’t care about food. I’m just as lost as I was, and a lost dog cannot find peace. Ever.”

He walked forward, wincing at the pain in his pads.

Buster nodded and growled.

“I feel the same,” she said quietly. “That’s something we have in common, buddy. We’re both being looked for by people that care. Why? Because we’re needed. We’re both loved, I guess. Remind me: what’s the name of your master?”

“Tom,” said Spider, and once again the word was like a bolt of electricity. He closed his eyes, and the fur on his back rose up.

“My man’s called Spike,” said Buster. “It’s the only word I can spell—it’s tattooed across his knuckles. Both hands!” The pit bull shook her head. “He’ll be going crazy without me.”

“Tom came out to that village,” replied Spider. “He must have done, Buster. He pinned that poster to the lamp post, because he’s trying to find me. So it’s even more urgent now: I have to get home. And I’m sorry—because I know it’s selfish—but this really is goodbye.”

“Don’t say that,” whispered Moonlight, but the dog was staring ahead.

In the distance, a train made its way through the valley, and Spider thought of the long trek ahead. He flexed his left paw and then his right. He would find water at some point. All he knew was that he had to start at once.

“You’re not going alone,” said Buster.

“No,” said the flea. “I’m not leaving you. I’m in this for the duration.”

“Oh, please!” cried Spider. “You mustn’t follow me. I’ll get lost again—I’m bound to—and it could take a lifetime!”

“Stop arguing, pal,” said the pit bull. “We’re a team now, and that’s all there is to it. We’ll find your boy, and when you’re safely back home together, I’ll find my boss. Who’s looking for you, cat?”

“Nobody.”

“Really?”

“I’m free, darling. Free as a bird.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Moonlight put her cheek against Spider’s and nipped his ear. The other animals looked on in respectful silence.

“You know, Spider,” she said, “I shouldn’t have come between you and that little boy. You want to find him, and I understand that now. He’s probably forgotten you, because boys are heartless creatures, but—”

“He’s hunting for me, Moonlight. I just told you.”

“Ah, you’re so loyal. You always will be, with a heart like yours. We’re the same, aren’t we? Mad, emotional things, guided always by love.”

Spider closed his eyes and swallowed. “I’m not sure we’re the same, you and me,” he said. “All I know is that Tom needs me, more than ever. The last time I saw him he was hurt, and he’s still hurting. I abandoned him, and… something’s very wrong.”

“Is he in danger?” asked Buster. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. I think he is.”

Even as he said it, the sun disappeared behind a cloud, and he felt cold all over. He had never before felt such a strong premonition of impending doom, and he found his tail was trembling.

“Lead on,” said Buster. “Are you with us, cat? You’ve come this far, so you’d better make your mind up.”

Moonlight shook her head, then—suddenly—nodded it.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I think I should.”

Just then they heard the sound of a motor. Somewhere in the distance, a moped was puttering along a lane. They heard it stop and start again, and a tiny yellow crash helmet came briefly into view before it disappeared into the far-off trees. The noise of the engine died, and was replaced by birdsong.