8

Spider squirmed through the fence as the last tremor died away. The stillness returned, and the site seemed deserted. Nothing moved except a curious dust cloud, which expanded slowly outwards. He could see the roof of a bulldozer buried in a pyramid of stone.

He snuffled in the grass, for once again there was the scent of something familiar—a distinctive smell of cloth. He followed the trail, and there they were: two red and black blazers, folded over two school bags. Neither belonged to Tom—he knew that at once—but he also knew he was getting closer.

Buster limped towards him on aching paws, and they gazed at one another in silence.

“Trust those instincts,” said the pit bull.

“I’m trying. He’s here somewhere—I know he is.”

As he spoke, they heard the faintest of cries.

Both dogs leapt forward and clambered on to the debris. Spider barked a volley of short, piercing barks, but they were swallowed again by total silence.

“Be careful,” whispered Moonlight.

“Why?” asked Spider.

“I smell danger, angel. It’s all around us.”

“I don’t care. He was calling me, wasn’t he? I heard his voice!”

The dog was shivering all over again. His tail was up, and the throbbing had returned. He whined and barked as loudly as he could. He threw his head back and howled. He filled his lungs again and cried like a werewolf. At once, a boy’s plaintive voice found strength, and called out once more. It was weak, but the animals heard it clearly: a forlorn, exhausted cry for help.

Moonlight led the way, racing among the rubble. Tom’s scent was rising from somewhere, so Spider bounded this way and that, hunting for a way down. He found a narrow gap at last. It was between two lumps of masonry, but it was scarcely wider than his head. He pushed into it, and the passage opened at once into a narrow cave. Buster joined him, and they could both see that it zigzagged into the depths like a chimney. While they hesitated, a wooden spar groaned and split, and everything shifted.

“Tom’s underneath us,” said Spider.

“Let me go first,” said Buster. “If the way’s blocked, I’ll deal with it.”

Without waiting for a response, the pit bull scampered forward and wormed her way into the darkness. Spider was right behind her, and Moonlight followed.

The chute turned at once into a horribly tight elbow, and they found themselves slithering. Only then did they see the true horror of the situation. They had come to a low, dimly lit chamber. A section of brickwork was tilting inwards, held up by a girder that was about to give way. A slab of concrete rested heavily on that, and there was a constant trickle of smaller stones.

“We haven’t got long,” Spider whispered.

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t be here!” said Moonlight. “We can’t help him, darling. If he’s down here—”

“Keep still,” said Buster. “Let’s think about this. Can you smell him? My nose is full of dirt.”

“He’s so close,” said Spider. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Do you think he’s alive?”

“Definitely. What’s that between those blocks? I can see something white.”

Moonlight gasped. “It’s a hand!”

“I think you’re right,” said the pit bull. “We’re too late.”

Spider launched himself and landed beside it. He hunched over the little fingers, pushing at them with his nose. He turned them and licked at the palm, nipping the thumb and willing it to move. Just as he’d given up hope, the fingers flexed. They stretched, reaching out towards the dog’s mouth, and they touched his distinctive tooth. They ran over it gently, and then they reached up to stroke his muzzle. Spider pawed frantically at the rubble, and in a moment the wrist emerged, clad in a dusty sleeve of red and black. Spider yelped in joy, and gripped the fabric in his jaws. He pulled and pulled, and the arm curled right around his shoulder. Moonlight joined them, pawing the debris away, and at last they saw human hair. Spider forced his muzzle into the grit around it, twisting and lifting, and they saw a cheek, a closed eye and pale, bloodless lips. The whole face seemed lifeless, but as Spider licked it, the eyes blinked open and focused. The other arm shook itself free and, though he was weak and in pain, Tom managed to embrace his dog.

“Oh, Spider,” he croaked. “At last…”

Spider couldn’t stop licking the boy, and in a moment his face was clean. Buster and Moonlight were scrabbling at the masonry that crushed his legs, and Tom managed to twist himself loose. He got a leg free, and they worked together to ease the largest stone, which trapped his other knee. Tom rolled on to his front, then crouched on all fours, unable to believe he was alive. Spider whined, and Moonlight leapt towards the exit above their heads, mewing in fear.

“No,” hissed Tom. “We can’t leave.”

Spider stared at him.

“There’s two more, Spider. We can’t leave them, can we? They’re here somewhere. Help me dig!”

Tom plunged his hands into the rubble, and the animals realized something was still horribly wrong. Almost at once, a new scent reached their noses, and they set to work. Within minutes, they’d uncovered a shoeless foot, and an arm in a torn, white sleeve.

Tom was gasping and choking, for the dust was thickening around them.

“Marcus!” he cried. “Rob!”

The two boys were lying face down. It took another long minute to uncover them, and when they managed to raise their heads it was obvious they were nearly done for. The smaller of the two, Marcus, managed to get up on to one knee. He coughed, and Tom helped him to free his other leg. His friend was hardly conscious, and Tom moved to his side.

“Come on, Rob,” he said. “You’re not dying here!”

“Mum?” whispered Rob.

“It’s Tom.”

“Help me, Tom. I can’t feel my legs.”

“You have to move, OK? I can’t carry you.”

“Is that you, Lipman?”

“Yes!”

“I’m a liar, aren’t I? I’m so, so sorry, but—”

“I don’t care about that!” cried Tom. “Just get up and push, OK? Use your arms!”

Marcus was on his knees beside them and managed to grab his friend’s shirt. He worked with Tom, and at last the third boy was hauled clear. They lifted Rob from behind, and Moonlight was waiting for them. She led the way up the slope towards the tiny circle of daylight above their heads. Marcus squirmed to the front, pulling at Rob behind him. Tom came last, taking some of his old enemy’s weight as the bricks slid under their feet.

Another section of stone was crumbling, and it was Buster’s one good eye that saved them, for she noticed the girder again, even as it shifted. She wedged her thick body against the metal, and Spider heard her gasp as it crushed her. Her lungs were straining, and she was snarling in pain. Somehow she braced herself, and the three boys scrambled past. Buster followed, just in time, and they reached the surface as the ground sucked and plunged beneath them.

They clambered backwards, to safety, as the tunnel collapsed in on itself.

Spider looked at Tom, and Tom looked at Spider.

They were covered in filth. They could hardly breathe, and their bodies were torn and bleeding. They were alive, though, and when Tom fell to the ground it was not through exhaustion or weakness—it was to embrace a true friend and hold him close.

“You’re a good dog,” whispered Tom through his tears. “You’re the best, Spider. The best in the whole, wide world.”