 
Elbee the Dog Vampire Dog Hunter

with Zombies!

and More!

by Ky Day
Published by Retro Robot Works

Copyright 2013 Ky Day

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved
No dogs were harmed during the making of this book
The Beginning

A crescent moon hangs in the autumnal sky. Northumberland sleeps. The soft rolling green hills rest peacefully under the clear star light. Sheep sleep. A deep silence slightly stirs as a single blade of grass begins to rustle. A second blade of grass then rustles, followed by another, then another. The grass soon moves like a wave, sounding oceanic, as the wind rushes from the north. An arctic wind. A reckless wind.

The wind hits an old oak tree and shakes its orange and red leaves to the ground. High above, the wind forces grey clouds against the sky, obscuring the stars and darkening the night. Thickening the night, a dense fog spills out onto the countryside and fills every empty space.

The fog stretches over the hills and valleys of the patchwork countryside, smothers the heathery moorland and blankets atop the tall evergreen forest. The opaque grey seeps between the trees, spreading like thick smoke. Tree by tree, the forest vanishes. Slowly, the fog reaches towards the sleepy city by the river.

A dreamy quietness calms the city. The still silence when all noise stops for that brief moment in the middle of the night, after the last of the night owls go to sleep and before the morning birds wake in song. When cars are parked, the last bus has long left and the Metro trains stop.

The city's quietness fades with a soft song. A lulling tune played by an accordionist with insomnia echoes off the silent stone buildings. The song amplifies skywards, adding an atmospheric gloom to the approaching dark clouds. "Couer Vagabond."

Within the city centre a stone statue stands guard fifty feet in the air. Keeping watch over the building tops, the statue stares south towards the river. His back turned, the lone figure cannot see the towering greyness creeping. He disappears in the fog.

The fog descends upon the city, rolling over every street. Streetlights go dark, light by light, street by street, until the city extinguishes.

The invasive greyness seeps under closed doors and enters through the cracks of metal shutters that protect the closed market stalls.

Inside, the fog dampens the colourful fruits and vegetables, stifles the artificially vibrant candies and sweets, and dulls the already dull brown breads. All colours turn grey in the fog.

Outside, the ornate stone carvings of knights and angels in the architecture blur. Details fade away.

The fog lurches further down Grey Street. Building by building, glass and stone melts into a grey haze. Tall columns and domed rooftops vanish. The already dark and scary cobblestoned side streets and narrow alleyways become even darker and scarier as the fog fills every corner.

The fog curves downhill to the Quayside, where the River Tyne meets the city. The river rushes silently, blinking as bridge lights shimmer on its surface. Five bridges connect the land of the north to the south.

The steel emerald-green bridge, heavily riveted two-hundred feet above the river, pales in comparison to the height of the fog. The Tyne Bridge sinks into greyness, slowly followed by the other bridges. As the bridges disappear, one by one, the land north of the river disconnects from the south.

A small orange and red glow penetrates the fog as eyes open. Eyes with pitch-black pupils and red-orange irises, like coal on fire, burn the fog away. With sight set on Newcastle, the evil eyes cross over the bridge.
The Cockapoo Awakens

A loud noise startles Elbee. She jumps out of bed, lands on her paws and looks around the room with perked ears. The room is noiseless. A sliver of light enters where the curtains meet, but not enough light to cast a shadow. The room is motionless in the middle of the night. Her toys rest on the floor.

Nobody here, she thinks.

Elbee stretches her front paws forward into a downward dog position. Her long floppy ears lightly touch the floor as she sticks her curved tail, in the shape of a crescent moon, up in the air. She leans forward in plank position, pushing the crown of her head as far forward as it will go, stretching her long spine and hind legs. She shakes her body to loosen the tension.

Elbee is a cockapoo. Half cocker spaniel, half poodle, with shaggy golden fur, cocoa brown eyes and a teddy bear nose. She has the brains of a poodle, the hunting skills of a cocker spaniel, and the energy of both breeds, multiplied together. Her endless energy, raised to the nth power, is known as cockapoo power.

The silver star on her red collar lightly rattles as she kicks an itch with her hind leg. She scratches noisily behind her right ear, thumping the floor with the follow-through from each swift kick. She twists her body to find the itch, and kicks recklessly.

Before she can scratch the itch away, Elbee's nose suddenly twitches. She sniffs and picks up the faint scent of burning trees.

She follows the scent to the door at the back of her room, which leads to the garden. The burning smell wafts from the air outdoors. The wind whistles through a narrow gap in the door and a draft drifts through the room. The hinges creak and the door slightly swings open and shut, open and shut as the wind picks up.

Who left the door open? thinks Elbee. My people always lock it safe and sound.

She steps lightly towards the swinging door, tail between her legs, ears pinned back. On softly padded paws, her tiny steps approach cautiously.

Maybe there's a thief, and maybe if I catch the thief my people will reward me with the greatest treat ever. A bone dipped in peanut butter and covered with bits of sausage. She begins to salivate at the thought and licks her lips.

As the door swings slightly open, Elbee sticks her snout in the small gap and flings it wide open. The chilly wind gusts through her fur and she shivers with the loss of warmth. She steps through the doorway and enters the garden. Her nose breathes in the familiar garden smells.

Plants, fruits, vegetables and recycled objects fill the brick-walled grass garden. Strawberry plants grow in the old claw-footed bathtub, tomato plants dangle over the edges of a tall sink, flowers wilt that once bloomed in the toilet. Stacked tires of different heights contain blueberries, raspberries, blackberries and gooseberries. Empty wine bottles sunk in the ground mark the raised beds for potatoes, carrots, parsnips and other low growing vegetables.

A lone apple tree stands over the garden. Its branches are full of tart apples, a collection of handmade wind chimes and a handful of leaves holding onto summer, reluctant to fall. The already-fallen leaves form orange and red piles atop the grass and soil.

Elbee lifts her snout up and sniffs the fiery autumnal air. The scent of burning trees must be from another house, someone somewhere with a wood burning stove, keeping warm.

No smells of thieves in the night. No, the garden is empty.

Elbee finds her spot, a small patch of stained-yellow grass in the corner of the garden, sniffs in circles and drops in position to mark it again.

She stares at the night sky in empty contemplation. The heavy clouds blanket the entire sky. Well at least there are no thieves, she thinks, but then there'll be no treats. Maybe I can convince my people to give me a treat because there are no thieves. Like a good watch dog, I scare away intruders before they even break in. Surely that deserves some reward.

The wind blusters and crashes against the wind chimes, which begin clinging and clattering in an odd harmony. The apple tree holds loosely onto its last leaves with shaky branches, shivering in the frigid air. The wind blasts heavily again, and the few remaining leaves fall lightly, adding to the orange and red piles on the ground.

Elbee hears the ringing wind chimes and perks her ears towards the tree. She stares up at its long naked arms. In the dark tangled weave of criss-crossed branches a white face twists with widened eyes. The brown and tan tree dweller flaps its wide wings and bounces onto the edge of a branch, holding on with sharp talons.

'Who? Who?' The large owl calls.

Elbee tilts her head to the right side. 'Who me?'

'Who are you?' asks the owl.

'Elbee,' she speaks.

'I know who you are Elbee, but do you know who you are?'

'Yes?' she replies with uncertainty. 'I'm Elbee, or you could call me Little Bear or Bear or Elbis Poosley. My people call me lots of names.'

'No. You are more than the names you have been given. More than Elbee. More than a cockapoo. You are the one who was chosen to save the night.'

'Chosen? Who chose me?'

'You were chosen at birth. The pick of the litter. And now it is time you awaken your cockapoo powers and find your raison d'etre.'

'My raisin?' Elbee remembers the dangers of raisins. Dogs should not eat raisins.

'No, not raisin. Raison, your reason. It's French. Nevermind. Elbee, will you fulfil your destiny and save the night?'

Slightly upset earlier that there were no thieves to catch and earn a reward, Elbee imagines again the bone dipped in peanut butter and covered with bits of sausages. She is unlikely to convince her people to give her a treat for the presence of no thieves, even though it is a logical argument that there are no thieves because of her presence. But if she saves the night she can be sure to get a treat.

'Yes?' she answers.

'Then follow me, we don't have much time. The night might get too late to save.'

'Wait. You know my name but I don't know yours.'

The owl looks skywards and stares into the distance as if he is searching for something long forgotten. 'I have no name. I am as old as the night.'

'Can I call you Edgar? You look like an Edgar.'

'No. I prefer to have no name. It's more mysterious that way. Now follow me and I will guide you.'

Elbee hesitates. Should I tell my people I'm going? They may get upset if I wake them in the middle of the night. They may rush out here and scare the owl away. Would I get a treat for that? Probably not. I'll only get a treat if I save the night.

'Okay, Edgar, lead the way.'

Edgar swoops down from the tree and lands on the back gate. With a flick of his wing he flips the latch and the back gate swings open. He flies ahead and Elbee follows him out into the narrow alleyway where the backs of gardens face one another. He turns down a familiar path, and leads Elbee towards the three parks.

In Newcastle, three parks meet. Heaton Park, a large, open park with playing fields and playgrounds connects to Armstrong Park, a section with narrow-wooded trails that lead to Jesmond Dene, a tree-filled park set in a deep valley filled with a fast-flowing stream.

Edgar flies and Elbee walks past the rows of red brick terraced houses in Heaton, the neighbourhood of Newcastle where she and her people live. The path to the park is mostly residential, and, at this hour, filled with sleeping houses. Edgar flies ahead as Elbee follows on the pavement. They pass closed shops, local grocery stores, tea houses and cafes. They cross empty roads and reach the iron gate of Heaton Park. Edgar glides over the gate and Elbee finds a small gap, squeezing into the park.

On the paved red path that cuts through trees and grassy fields, Elbee's nose hits the ground. She sniffs for familiar smells, to see who's been and gone to the park recently, while zigzagging along the tree-lined path.

'Elbee, you are stronger than you know,' says Edgar. 'And it's time you knew how strong you are. Once in a while, but not very often, a chosen one is picked. You, Elbee, have been picked to be the chosen one. There's a power you –'

'Who picked me?' interrupts Elbee.

'Your questions will be answered later, but please listen to me first. We don't have much time. The night might get too late.'

The blast of arctic wind sends shivers.

A noise distracts Elbee and she runs into the grass. She sniffs in circles then drops to the ground and licks herself.

'Look at me,' calls Edgar. 'Look at me.'

Elbee looks up. 'Sorry, I forgot you were there.'

'Elbee you must focus. You are a clever dog. A good girl. Thus far, your training with your people has been successful and you've learned quickly. You've mastered the basics – sit, lie down, roll over, stay, paw, high five. But there's much more you must master to unleash your potential. Let's keep going, this way.'

Elbee and Edgar continue along the path through the park. The chain-linked swings in the playground creak in the wind. Leaves are lifted from the ground. Edgar picks up the conversation. 'The truth about the night is, when good dogs are asleep, bad dogs arise. Very bad dogs. Vampire dogs.'

'Vampire dogs?' asks Elbee

'Yes, everyone has a theory on how vampires and vampire dogs came into existence. There are too many stories to count. Some are classic stories that are gripping and well told. Others are not so well told, yet they remain part of the vampire folklore. But it doesn't matter whether or not a vampire story is told as well as another. What matters is that vampire dogs are real. They are here, and you have been awakened to save the night. You are not simply Elbee, the cockapoo. You are Elbee the dog vampire dog hunter.'

Elbee tilts her head to the right. Her people watch TV shows and movies about vampires, but she never paid much attention to the stories. She always slept on the sofa in the comfort of her people. 'Who me? Vampire dog hunter? What does that mean?'

'It means what it says on the tin. That you are the hunter of vampire dogs. You should feel honoured, Elbee. You were picked to be the chosen one. '

'The only things I've ever hunted were socks in the laundry pile, and my people didn't like that very much. Wait did you pick me to be the chosen one?'

'No. Fate picked you. You have an inner energy that needs to be released. Elbee, your cockapoo power is no ordinary cockapoo power. You are the perfect combination of cocker spaniel and poodle, not too spaniely, not too poodley. Fate has chosen you to be a vampire dog hunter, and fate has chosen me to help guide you. First, a vampire dog's weakness is a stick.'

'Do they chase sticks? My weakness is tennis balls.'

'No, they don't chase sticks. If a stick touches the dark heart of a vampire dog, its evil spirit will burn from within and its body will turn to ash.'

They follow the path to the end of Heaton Park, where it intersects with a road. Elbee sits as she's been trained, looks both ways for a car, and crosses when there is none. With Edgar leading the way, she enters the wooded trail of Armstrong Park. The trail narrows and darkens as trees completely surround them. 'You will have to master the art of stickplay later,' Edgar continues. 'Tonight I'm afraid you must rely on your basic training. The vampire dogs have begun the sacrifice.'

The wind whistles through the trees. Branches tremble and leaves rustle, hissing like television static. Elbee walks quickly under the trees, in case a limb snaps and falls on her. The wooded trail ends at a short bridge above a road. Edgar and Elbee cross over the bridge and turn towards a longer bridge that overlooks Jesmond Dene.

'Seeing will make you believe. Come here, Elbee, I'll show you.'

Lamps burn yellow along the black steel bridge. Edgar flies to the unlit lamp at the bridge's centre and points his wide wing downwards. Elbee's eyes follow his feathers, and she peers through the diamond-shaped gaps, down into the valley of Jesmond Dene.

Two sheep dogs herd a flock of people down a steep path. At least one hundred people, with blank looks on their faces, seemingly sleepwalk. The sheep dogs lead the people into a clearing at the bottom of the Dene.

'Vampire sheep dogs,' explains Edgar. 'They led these people from the city centre, hypnotized and herded them with their vampire sheep dog powers. They brought them here for the sacrifice.'

The vampire sheep dogs herd all sorts of people to the grass field below. Most of the people are underdressed in the frigid night, wearing thin t-shirts and skirts that are too short. Some are oddly dressed in fancy dress costumes even though it isn't yet Halloween.

'Elbee you must stop it.'

Elbee stops licking herself and looks up at Edgar. 'Sorry.'

'No, stop the sacrifice. Well, yes, stop licking yourself too. You must focus.'

'I'll do it!'

'Good girl. Here's a stick. Carry it with strength and remember their weakness is their dark hearts. A word of warning before you go down there. Vampirism is spread through biting, so whatever you do, don't get bit.'

Elbee clenches the sharply pointed stick between her teeth. She crosses back to the entrance of the park where locked iron gates block her path. Elbee holds her breath and squeezes herself through a gap in the gate. She enters the park and stares into the dark valley as she exhales.

One cautious step at a time, she descends the path. She walks with soft paws and glances in all directions towards the sounds of the Dene. Trees on either side rattle with each gust of wind. Unknown birdsong haunts the tree tops. Dark shadows dance on dark paths.

Elbee reaches the bottom of the Dene and sees the open field through the trees, where the vampire sheep dogs have led the people. A vile smell hits her nose, musty and dank like mouldy cheese that worsens with age, the smell of evil. Her nose twitches and she holds back a sneeze, trying not to make a sound. At the edge of the grass field, hidden in the shadows of trees, she lies down and stays.

An old German shepherd with bat-like ears emerges in front of the hypnotized people. The small army of vampire dogs looks expectantly in his direction, as he circles them slowly like a shark about to attack. The German shepherd is the General, and his soldiers, three Jack Russell terriers and the two sheep dogs, await orders. The General stops circling and sits beside a black French poodle mix. Her long curly fur is tangled and matted from years of neglect.

Elbee crawls closer in the shadows and perks up her ears to hear what they are saying.

'Where are all the other vampire dogs?' asks the General.

'Tonight, it's us only, mon ami,' the poodle mix replies. 'An intimate gathering, a small soirée. The others are coming from afar, from all corners of Britannia. And when we all rendezvous later we'll have an even bigger sacrifice. An end of the world party.' The quick pearly white flash of her sharp fangs reveals a malicious grin.

'Well, more food for us then.' The General turns to the pack of vampire dogs, who await orders with hanging tongues. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' he loudly growls. 'Tonight we feast!'

'Bon appetit,' declares the French poodle mix.

The vampire dogs bark, yap and howl in hungry excitement. They lick their lips as saliva drips down their chins. The people, still under the sheep dogs' spell, seem unconcerned.

Elbee lunges out of the shadows, darts across the field and pounces and pins one of the vampire sheep dogs on its back. Before he can bite, she hits his dark heart with the stick, steps back and waits for something to happen. In an instant the vampire sheep dog turns to ash. Edgar was right, the stick works.

The second vampire sheep dog attacks in vengeance. Elbee swings her head and in one swift motion the stick strikes and he becomes a pile of ash. With both sheep dogs done and dusted, their hypnotic spell breaks. The people snap out of their trance and look confused.

'Run!' shouts Elbee. 'Run away!'

The people wonder why this shaggy little dog is barking at them. They also wonder why they are standing in a park in the middle of the night.

'Get them!' the General barks his orders.

The Jack Russell soldiers chase after Elbee.

'Get them, the people, you idiots! I'll get her.'

The soldiers continue to chase after Elbee, paying no attention to the General.

Elbee stops quick, hits the ground with her front paws and puts her bottom in the air. Whatever she does, she must not get bitten. Jack I foolishly rushes in and jumps too high. Elbee leaps underneath with the stick, dusting him with ease.

Jack II encircles her and yaps, trying to frighten her but only being annoying. She chases after him, rolls him over and leaves him in a pile of ash.

Jack III yaps and shakes nervously. Elbee hits the ground with her front paws, readying to pounce. One look at the stick and Jack III runs away into the safety of the dark woods.

'Coward!' growls the General. 'Must I always do everything myself?'

The General marches forward. He scowls with his violet eyes and Elbee stands her ground. A flapping of wings, Edgar swoops from the trees and lands near her. 'Be careful, the General's power is diabolical,' he warns. 'Follow me into the woods, I have a plan.'

Edgar takes off and Elbee dashes into the woods.

The General continues his march, gliding with smooth strides. Elbee weaves in between the trees, trying to shake him, until she finds a path alongside the stream.

The stream rushes over weathered rocks and forms a waterfall that gushes and churns, cutting the silence of the Dene. Elbee runs against the stream with Edgar leading overhead.

'Quick, up this way, follow me,' Edgar calls from high above.

Elbee reaches the stone ruins of an old mill. A wooden waterwheel stands still on the side of the mill, splintered and decayed. She looks up towards Edgar, and must climb to reach him. Elbee jumps on a stone, and, stone by stone, ascends to the top of the mill.

At the top, she can no longer see Edgar. She looks down the path and prepares, with stick in mouth, to defend herself from the General.

She waits.

The General leaps from behind, catches Elbee off guard and crashes into her. Elbee yelps as they tangle and roll over. The ruined stones' jagged edges bruise her body. Rolling, the General gains advantage with his muscular weight and pins Elbee down. Her ears flop over the edge and she sees the world upside down. The stick drops from her mouth as she gasps for breath. The waterfall churns upwards.

'You ruined my meal,' the General growls. 'Now I'll ruin you.'

Pinned, Elbee struggles under the strength of the General. She wriggles and twists but cannot shake free. The General's fangs grow longer and sharper as he opens his mouth and lifts his chin towards the sky. His howl pierces the night.

Elbee kicks her hind legs with all her might and strikes the General in the gut. His hind legs lift off the ground and he flips tail over head in the air as he falls over the edge. Elbee rolls and stands quickly. The General throws a desperate paw out and snags Elbee's collar with his claw.

The General hangs over the edge, dangling far above the ground, and chokes Elbee with her own collar. Elbee tries to hold on, tries to remain standing on her shaky legs, but her strength weakens and she slumps to the ground. The General's weight pulls her forward. She digs her claws into the ground, but gets dragged closer to the edge. Her front paws hang over the edge, and she can no longer hold on. Elbee slides off the edge.

Attached to the General, she falls fast towards the ground. She wrestles, trying to break loose, trying not to get bit, until she can finally kick free from his claw. She braces herself for a sharp landing.

In a winged flurry, Edgar snatches Elbee with his talons. He lifts her high above the ruined mill to safety. Elbee watches the General as he falls and crashes on the splintered wood of the waterwheel. The wood pierces his dark heart. The ash that remains floats on the stream and washes away.

Flying over the treetops, Edgar carries Elbee back to Armstrong Bridge. He returns her gently to the ground. Elbee takes one last look over the bridge and into the Dene to see the people wandering below, safe and confused.

'I guess we saved the night,' Elbee speaks. She looks up at Edgar, who silently stares beyond the bridge.

'Un moment,' a snarl ends the peace.

The French poodle mix appears at the end of the bridge. Her pointy ears twitch and her red-orange eyes glare at Elbee. She is half poodle and half an unknown breed, perhaps husky, maybe wolf, but definitely a mix with pure evil. Elbee steps back and sticks her tail between her legs.

'Bon soir,' speaks the French poodle mix. 'My name is Voodoodle. Nice to finally meet you, Elbee.'

How does she know my name? Elbee thinks.

'How do I know your name, you must be thinking. Well, they say every dog has its day, and this night belongs to you. But only this night. You think you have killed the big bad vampire dog, but you have only killed my minion. He would have followed me anywhere. But he was an unlucky fool. You will see me again, ma petite, but next time you won't be so lucky. Au revoir.' Voodoodle cackles a sinister cackle and disappears in the shadows.

Elbee starts to chase, but Edgar calls her back.

'Let her go,' says Edgar. 'You saved this night. Your training has only just begun Elbee. These people need you more than they'll ever know. But you must train harder and learn new tricks if you want to defeat Voodoodle.'

'I do want to defeat her, but do I have the choice?'

'Everyone has a choice. To choose fate or not to choose fate. However, fate has a choice too. And fate has chosen you, Elbee.'
Home

'Morning Bear,' Ky opens the door and draws the curtains in Elbee's room. The early morning grey only a shade lighter than the night sky. The sun hasn't been out in weeks. A typical Newcastle season.

Elbee yawns sleepily and stretches into downward dog. Her tail wags uncontrollably at the sight of her people, Ky and Kt. She whips her tail side to side, swings her hips in a chaotic motion, as if her tail is wagging her body.

Elbee digs around in her toy box for the proper greeting. She sifts through bones, stag antlers, squeaky tennis balls, old socks, until she finds it. A tattered fleece blanket ripped to shreds and tied in knots. She picks up the fleece rag with her mouth and gives it to Ky.

'Thanks Bear,' he smiles. 'Let's go out to the garden.'

Ky opens the door and Elbee trots to the garden. She sniffs, finds her spot, circles and gets in position to mark the ground.

Elbee stares up at the apple tree. Her thoughts flash back to the night before. The tree, Edgar, the vampire dogs, the General, Voodoodle. What's next? She begins to wonder. But it's too early in the morning to think.

'Inside Bear, breakfast time,' calls Kt.

Elbee runs into the kitchen to the sound of kibble clanging in her bowl. She salivates and suddenly realises how hungry she is, especially after last night. Her food falls from the bag like a waterfall of golden brown nuggets. 'Good girl, eat your breakfast.'

The bowl empties as Elbee munches and crunches the kibble. She laps up water and dribbles a trail of drops over the floor as she follows Kt and Ky. Maybe they're waiting to give me my treat, my bone dipped in peanut butter and covered in sausages, until later, she thinks. I did save the night after all.

'Hey, Bear. Wanna go for a walk?' Kt asks.

Elbee's tail wags her body in pure excitement. Kt attaches the leash to Elbee's collar, Ky opens the front door, and they turn right, towards the local park. She walks proudly between her people, in step with their footsteps. Her crescent-moon tail wags high as they see the park's entrance in the distance.

The local park is shaped in a rough circle. The main path cuts through soft hills, two playgrounds, a wide playing field, tall grass and parallel trees. Kt, Ky and Elbee walk the path daily.

At the park's entrance, Elbee sits nicely to be let off her leash. With a click, she's free. She dashes onto the grass and sniffs frantically to see which dogs have been and gone. She can tell by the smells that the park has been busy this morning.

A patchy black-and-white border collie with a spot over his right eye bounds down the path. Digit! Elbee rushes towards him and Digit bounces towards her.

They sniff hello to each other. Her people catch up to her and start talking to Digit's people, while the two dogs converse.

'Have you seen the vampire dogs?' asks Elbee.

Digit tilts his head in a puzzled look. 'What are vampire dogs?'

'Dogs that are vampires.'

Elbee pauses with a long dramatic pause. Digit still looks puzzled.

'Don't your people watch those movies and TV shows? Vampirism is spread through biting. If a vampire dog bites an ordinary dog, then the ordinary dog becomes a vampire, apparently. I'm not sure what happens if an ordinary dog bites a vampire dog. But my people taught me that biting is bad, don't bite. Like vampires, vampire dogs can be defeated by sticks. Not the throwing kind but the pointy kind. A stick to their dark heart and they turn to ash. I wasn't so sure myself until I tried it. Last night, there was a small sacrifice.'

She tells the story of last night, how she met Edgar the owl, defeated the General and saved the night. How Voodoodle is still out there.

'And there was talk of a big sacrifice, something about the end of the world. Being good dogs we must fight evil. We have to protect our people and defeat Voodoodle. We might even get rewarded with great treats. Bones, sausages, peanut butter.' Elbee licks her drool. 'What do you say, will you join me in battle?'

'Yes, of course. I'm a good dog. But what's your game plan?'

'We'll have to wait for Edgar, the owl. He's been guiding me so far, talking about being chosen. All this is still new to me, so in the meantime I'll keep working on my moves. I must be faster, smarter and more persistent. Wanna train with me? Let's go!'

Elbee runs up to Ky, sits, waits. She points her snout at the tennis ball flinger, waits, can't wait and swipes her paws at his legs. She whimpers and looks forlornly at the tennis ball with wide watery eyes.

'Are you ready, Bear?' Ky asks. He pulls his arm back and in one quick, semi-circular motion he flings the ball high into the air.

Elbee and Digit race to be the first to the tennis ball. The ball rotates in the sky, the spinning mesmerizing. The yellow-green globe travels in an arch, nearly defying gravity, until it reaches a peak and turns earthbound. The ball crashes to Earth, bounces against the ground and returns to the sky. Elbee launches into the air and snags the ball between her teeth right before Digit snaps his mouth. She lands in stride and stops to turn. She darts back to Ky and drops her catch at his feet.

'More!' she yells silently, as she sits impatiently with an urgent politeness.

Ky flings the tennis ball again, and the dogs chase. The ball spins effortlessly in the air, clear over the playground, and lands in a patch of grass. Elbee plants her paws on a wet spot and slides out of control. Digit grabs the ball and runs through the playground as if it were an agility course. Up the steel steps, down the slick slide, over the fence and across the narrow balance beam. Elbee chases him up the steps, down the slide, and gets within reach of his tail. But she slips on the balance beam and splashes in a puddle.

Digit brings the ball back to Ky. Elbee catches up, soaked and panting. She sits and waits for more.

Another whoosh of the flinger and the ball floats and spins through the air as the two dogs race underneath for position.

The ball bounces off the ground, and Elbee leaps and grabs it. She turns suddenly and, looking over her shoulder, she sprints towards the playground gauntlet. Hot on her heels, Digit keeps pace and tries to grab the ball out of her mouth. Elbee runs up the steps, down the slide, over the fence and with no second-thought, she trots clear across the balance beam. She drops the ball at Ky's feet.

'Time to go home,' Digit's person says. He runs over to her, she puts on his leash and begins to walk away. Digit reluctantly follows, upset that training is over.

'When it is time for the big sacrifice, let's meet at the park's entrance,' Elbee calls out. 'I will bark three times, followed by two times, twice.'

'I'll listen out for you,' Digit barks while leaving the park. 'And I'll tell the others about the vampire dogs. Together, all the good dogs will defeat this evil.'

Elbee focuses her attention on the tennis ball. 'More!' she yells with her eyes.

Ky flings the ball for Elbee. Even without Digit, Elbee races harder than ever. Off a high bounce, she catches the ball and turns in mid-air, hovering like a helicopter, lands and dashes back to Ky and Kt. 'More!'

She retrieves the ball until she can run no more. She flops out on the grass and huffs and pants to cool down. She breathes in deeply and cold air enters her lungs. She breathes out steam. Her tongue lolls out the corner of her mouth.

Ky, Kt and Elbee return home. They enter through the back gate and towel Elbee down in her room. Even after a thorough towelling, her muddy paws leave prints on the floor.

She slurps water from her bowl and drips a trail of drops as she slumps to her bed. She curls up for a post-training nap.

Minutes turn to hours as her muscles regain strength.

After a dreamless sleep, Elbee wakes, stretches, and begs Kt and Ky to take her to the park again. I must train harder than ever, she tells herself.

Again, they walk to the local park. The afternoon grey turns from steel to charcoal.

Circling the park, they pass the playgrounds and the field, and reach the wooded section, where trees line each side of the path. Elbee sees a black lab in the distance with a giant stick between her teeth. Maddy.

Elbee and Maddy sniff hello to each other.

Maddy is mad for sticks. She's a stick collector, an enthusiast, a connoisseur. Elbee tells the story of the vampire dogs and how to defeat evil with the power of sticks.

'Of course sticks are powerful,' speaks Maddy, 'they are the most fantastic ever.'

'I'm looking for a stick, if you have one to spare. The Perfect Stick,' speaks Elbee.

Maddy takes Elbee to a leaf-covered spot between two leaning trees that cross in an X. She digs away the leaves and reveals her treasure. 'Sticks, sticks, all types of sticks, short sticks, long sticks, sharp sticks, blunt sticks, curved sticks, straight sticks. Not a twig in the bunch. My people don't let me take these in the house so I leave them here. Pick your stick.'

Elbee examines Maddy's collection of sticks in search of the Perfect Stick. There is a wide range of sticks, from flimsy thin sticks, which are borderline twigs, to thick club-like sticks, as if Maddy has ripped the arms off a tree. Elbee picks up a stick, carries it between her teeth, runs around a bit, and then drops it back in the pile. Not perfect. She repeats this a few times.

'The Perfect Stick must fit in the grooves of my teeth,' she explains, 'be light enough to carry and heavy enough to have strength. It needs a sharp pointy end and be aesthetically pleasing.'

She finds a stick that ticks all the boxes, but to be sure this is the Perfect Stick, she must perform her ritualistic new toy dance.

She stands over the stick, hops forward, throws her head over her shoulder and kicks the stick sideways with her back legs. She repeats the dance until she knows for sure. The Perfect Stick.

'A fine choice,' agrees Maddy.

'Will you join us in battle?' asks Elbee. 'When it is time, I will bark three times, followed by two times, twice. Meet us at the front of the park.'

'I will bring my sticks.'

Elbee carries the Perfect Stick home with her. Kt and Ky open the back gate and they walk through the garden. Covered in dirt and mud, her people won't let Elbee bring the stick inside the house. She leaves it under the bathtub of strawberries for safekeeping.

Back in the house, Kt and Ky prepare supper for the night. As soon as the kitchen drawer is open, Elbee materializes from thin air with a hopeful stare and a salivating tongue. They chop and fry vegetables, make a red wine tomato sauce, boil spaghetti and bake a baguette in the oven.

The smell of fresh bread from the oven makes Elbee drool. Baguettes are in her top five favourite people food. At the table, she stares up hopefully as Kt and Ky eat supper and pretend not to see her.

Her people finish eating their meal and use the leftover baguette as incentive for brushing. Elbee dislikes the brush. But if a baguette is involved, she can moderately tolerate the brush.

Brushing is a two person job. Ky distracts Elbee with the baguette, while Kt attacks the matted tangles with her brush. Elbee sits in perfect posture, back straight at a 45 degree angle, chin up, eyes wide and expectant, mesmerized by the baguette, with a look that says please feed me people food, please.

She survives the brush and admits to herself that she feels better for being tangle-free, although she would never admit it to her people. The brush is a necessary fact of life, she reluctantly concludes. She devours the bit of baguette along with her supper.

With her stomach full, Elbee joins Kt and Ky on the sofa as they watch TV shows and movies about vampires, zombies, werewolves, robots in space and other strange creatures. A multitude of fantastic stories that all blend into one continuing story on the same theme. Ideas of survival and hope, good versus evil, heroes versus villains, adventures and misadventures. Plots overlap, shuffle and mix. Characters relate to others in different series and different situations. The many stories combine into one singular story that is told throughout the ages.

Not bothered about watching the screen and happy to have a full stomach, Elbee sleeps. All sorts of noises, moans and groans of zombies, vampire screeches and bites, innocent screams, piercing stringed instruments, don't disturb Elbee's sleep. However, birdsong in the background, the tweets and whistles that fill a scene but have no importance to the story, peaks her attention and perks her ears up. She darts around the TV looking for the birds. Somewhere there are birds in there and somehow she must find them.

Unable to find the birds, she jumps back onto the sofa, curls up and closes her eyes. As Elbee sleeps, the stories seep into her subconscious.
Northumberland National Park

A heavy rain falls and fills the lake. Concentric circles ripple atop its surface. Each drop raises the lake until it overfills and spills onto the land. Evergreen trees drink up the water and appear even greener against the muted grey daylight. The forest floor soaks up the rain and turns to mud.

In a forest clearing, fresh-cut blades of grass get washed clean in the rain. Drops ping off waterproof domes on the campsite while the wind flaps the plastic back and forth. The pair of tents shelter against the downpour.

Outside the tents, two dogs play in the rain. Mud squishes beneath their paws as they wrestle. The heavy-set chocolate lab tackles the scrawny Bedlington terrier and pins him down.

'1, 2, 3,' barks the chocolate lab. 'I win!'

'Well done Charley,' speaks the Bedlington terrier. 'Best two out of three?'

'I've already won all four times. Haven't you had enough Romero?'

'I don't know the meaning of enough,' he replies.

The dogs continue to wrestle. Romero's short light-grey fur cakes in mud each time he is thrown to the ground by Charley. His elongated face grimaces in pain as he is pinned, but he enjoys the challenge. If only I can pin Charley once, he tells himself. Romero waits for the moment when he can launch into his surprise attack.

'Here boy, time to go for a walk!' the man calls from the electric blue tent. Romero's small ears perk up. He shakes off mud clumps and water droplets, but his grey coat remains stained in brown.

'Well Charley, my person beckons. We're going on a long walk today. Around the lake. Shall we wrestle later, mate?'

Charley hasn't spent as much time on the ground as Romero and, aside from his paws, remains mud-free. 'Sure thing, Romero. I'll be out with my person too, scouting the trails. I hope to find a squirrel, chase it, catch it. I have no idea why I want to catch a squirrel, let alone what I'd with it, but something about their tails makes me want to catch one.'

'Well good luck, Charley. I hope you catch your squirrel.'

'Have a good walk and take care out there. If you happen to catch a squirrel yourself, bring it back. I'm sure we could find something to do with it.'

Charley and Romero return to their people and head off in separate directions, one clockwise around the lake, the other counter-clockwise.

The rain never ends and the muddy trail thickens. Romero's paws squish deeper with each step and soak up the mud. The trees smell fresh and clean in nature's shower. Perfect weather for a walk in the forest.

The grey day becomes a grey night. The campsite floods in pools. The tents stand against the wind and protect the camping supplies to provide a warm, dry shelter. Romero and his person are first to return to the campsite.

The walk was long and, since Romero marked many trees in the forest, successful. They circled the entire lake, walking up an appetite. His person fills up Romero's bowls with food and water before retiring inside the tent.

Romero laps up water from his bowl and devours his dinner. He follows his person into the tent, curls up near the sleeping bag and reflects on the day. He marked a lot of trees today, getting closer to marking all the trees in the forest. He wonders how many trees are out there and how long will it take to mark them all. Romero closes his eyes as he starts to count all the trees he's marked. He falls sound asleep.

Romero wakes in the dead of night. The rain has stopped. He hears four paws squish in the mud and reckons it must be Charley coming back to the campsite. Rather late. Romero pokes his head out of the tent and squeezes through the open zipper. Charley moves slowly, his heavy legs weigh him down.

'What's the matter, Charley, what took you so long? Did you catch your squirrel, or did the squirrel catch you?' asks Romero as he leaps about excitedly, ready to wrestle.

'We had to keep stopping. I've caught this itch,' explains Charley. He thumps his back paw against his ear. His chestnut brown eyes look tired. Charley hardly has enough energy to keep his eyelids open.

'Did something bite you? Was it fleas? Ticks? Midges?' asks Romero.

'I hope not. I wouldn't want another bath.' He shudders in disgust.

'Well, we'll wrestle tomorrow then, Charley. Onwards and upwards.'

Charley stumbles to his tent and collapses into a deep sleep. Romero returns to his tent, but he has trouble sleeping. The thought of Charley's itch, the fleas or ticks or midges that may have bitten him, keeps him awake. He hopes the itch will be gone by tomorrow. We have to wrestle again, I have to pin Charley at least once.

The next morning Romero awakens to the sound of crows scavenging the campsite. He steps out of the tent and stretches. Nose to the morning frost, he follows a grass trail to the edge of the forest. He sniffs the rain-washed trees and marks a new one. Head held high, he returns to the campsite. One step closer to his goal of marking every tree in the forest.

Romero walks over to Charley's tent to see if his itch has been relieved. He sticks his head through the small unzipped gap of the olive green tent.

He sees Charley in a deep, bottomless sleep. A dreamless sleep, without a twitch. Romero nudges him with his snout, first gently, then with more force, but Charley doesn't wake. He breathes heavily, with a slight wheeze. A heat radiates from Charley's forehead and his nose is dry. Fever.

Romero notices the patch where Charley has been scratching. Right behind his right ear. The patch is hairless from the incessant scratching. A thick black-green ooze seeps from the raw skin, slowly like sap seeping out of a tree.

'Well mate, get better soon,' whispers Romero.

'Here boy, time for a walk!' his person calls.

Romero and his person explore a new trail, entering the thick of the woods. The forest enters his nose, fresh evergreen after a heavy rain. Crisp, clean morning air.

The trail is quiet. In the summer the campsite would have been overcrowded, but in the autumn only the most adventurous brave the cold nights and the biting bugs. They walk at a relaxed pace, and Romero admires the scenery. Each tree unique, wonderful, beautiful. He plans to mark them all, to leave a bit of himself behind with the beauty.

Deep in the forest, Romero leaves the trail to sniff an attractive tree. He marks it proudly. One tree closer to his goal. Suddenly, he hears a strange noise and perks up his ears. A groany growl drawled out to horrific vowels. He looks for the sound, but sees nothing.

Romero's body trembles with a chill and he turns to his person. But there's no one there. He quickly spins in circles, but sees only rows of trees.

The drawled growl gets louder, closer. His heart fills with panic. Romero runs back to the trail, until he realizes that it's in the other direction. He runs the other way, but the path is not there. He slows to a walk and finally stops. He inhales deeply. His nose twitches and he chokes in disgust.

The stench overpowers all the pleasant smells of the forest. A fetid, putrid, rancid stench. Wherever the stench is, the drawled growl is not far behind.

Romero suddenly sees another dog in the distance.

'Charley, thank goodness you're here,' he calls, relieved. 'I thought I was lost!'

Charley's ears perk up. He twists his head around and begins to move towards Romero, walking stiffly, staggering like his legs have been asleep and are waking with pins and needles.

Romero senses that something isn't right. Charley has changed. His chocolate fur has turned mushroom grey and his eyes are now deadened into a custard yellow. The black-green ooze has crusted over his furless patch. Pea green drool drips from his mouth.

Charley bears his fangs at Romero and lets out a drawled growl.
Home

'Morning Bear,' Kt opens the door to Elbee's room and draws the curtains. The room doesn't brighten. Another dreary grey morning.

Elbee does her morning stretches, the downward dog position with her front paws stretched and her crescent-moon tail in the air, followed by the plank position with her head leaning forward for a back leg stretch. She waggles her tail and her hips sway uncontrollably. She sniffs in her toy box and grabs an old sock to give Kt.

'Good girl,' Kt says as she opens the back door. Elbee trots to the garden. The wind carries the scent of a new morning. The clouds completely cover the sun for another dark day. Elbee finds her spot and as she gets in position to mark it, she thinks about the other night. The vampire dogs. Edgar the owl. The General. Voodoodle. She has the memories, but they seem so distant now. Where is Edgar? When is the big sacrifice? Or was it all a dream?

'Breakfast time, Bear,' Ky calls as kibble falls, clangs and fills her bowl.

Elbee runs into the house, through her room and into the kitchen. She wolfs down her breakfast. Her hunger is insatiable as she prepares for a full day of training.

They walk their daily walk, side by side, to the local park.

Once inside and off her leash, Elbee sniffs to see who's been and gone. She marks a spot for others to know she's here.

Two lumbering figures in the distance move slowly and steadily. With thunderous steps, their paws pound the path. The St Bernard brothers, Oaf and Loaf, approach.

Elbee respects Oaf and Loaf. Their sheer size, six times that of Elbee, demands respect. Elbee bows her head, lowers her body to the ground to greet them. Her tail wags uncontrollably and sweeps leaves off the ground. She crawls forward and rolls over on her back. Oaf and Loaf sniff her, their ginormous heads almost the size of her entire body. Elbee stands, sniffs hello and tells them the story of the vampire dogs.

'I need your help. Your strength will be a mighty weapon in the battle of good versus evil,' speaks Elbee. 'Please, let me train with you. Let me try to learn your strength. Let's wrestle!'

Elbee's front paws hit the floor and spread wide. She sticks her bottom in the air and barks.

Oaf follows first with a heavy stomp. The earth moves slightly. His deep, rumbling bark shakes the trees and leaves fall.

Elbee leaps forward, front paws outstretched and lands on her hind legs in a bear stance. Oaf mirrors her and she flattens under his weight. She yelps, tail between her legs, and scrambles to get away.

Oaf and Loaf laugh playfully. 'You won't win weight for weight,' speaks Oaf. 'You'll have to use your head.'

Elbee looks at the size of their ginormous heads, six times the size of hers, and she shakes hers in disagreement. 'No, I don't think I should use my head. That'll hurt.'

She approaches Loaf next, and gets down low to pounce. In one quick motion, she darts around Loaf's side, rolls underneath and pulls back her legs in position to kick him. In the split second she's ready to release a mighty kick, Loaf lies down and pins her.

Oaf and Loaf chortle and grunt.

Elbee alternates wrestling between Oaf and Loaf, and the results end the same. She gets pinned to the ground before she can strike.

'Let's go Bear,' calls Kt from a distance.

Elbee thanks Oaf and Loaf and tells them to listen for her bark when it is time. She wearily returns to her people. Her strength is no match for the St Bernards. At least they are on my side, she tells herself.

Further down the path, near the field, Elbee runs into Jill the Greyhound. If Jill's not faster than a speeding bullet, then she's just as quick. She wears a sleek, purple, aerodynamic coat to keep warm.

Elbee and Jill sniff hello. Again, she tells the story of the other night, about the vampire dogs and needing as many good dogs on her side to fight this evil.

'Yes, I'll certainly help you,' speaks Jill. 'If you want to train, then how about a race? See if you've got what it takes to live fast.'

Elbee and Jill line up, side by side, at the edge of the field.

'OK, on the count of three, we run to the end of the field and back. First one back wins, simple as that,' speaks Jill.

They count together. 'One, two...'

'Three!'

Jill gets a quick start, with Elbee close behind. Jill's long strides bounce smoothly and effortlessly, while Elbee pounds the ground ferociously with all four paws. Her claws dig into the dirt and fling clumps of grass behind her.

Jill reaches the end of the field first and turns around gracefully. Not too far behind, Elbee stops sharply at the field's end and twists awkwardly back around. She gains speed as Jill's light steps start to shorten. Elbee sees an opening and sprints up the side. A few feet before the finish line, Elbee guns forward and as she is about to overtake Jill, the field ends. Tie.

'Good race,' speaks Jill. 'You're faster than you look. Maybe if you shaved your shaggy fur and get one of these racing coats, you'd be more aerodynamic and win for sure.'

Elbee breathes rapidly, panting for cold, refreshing air as white froth drips from her mouth. 'Good race,' she exhales.

Kt and Ky slowly walk her home. Back in her room, Elbee laps her water bowl clean, gets a refill, and drinks even more.

Her strength and speed now tested, she feels stronger and faster than before. She recognises her limitations, that she may not be the strongest or fastest dog in the park. Wrestling may not be her best skill, but she's certainly a quick sprinter. Exhausted, she slumps to her bed, curls up and takes a long nap.
A Dream or Not a Dream

Blurred vision, Elbee struggles to open her eyes. She smells familiar scents that trigger old memories. Past smells of her puppyhood, saw dust and newspaper, the new puppy scent of her sisters and brothers. She finds herself on the bottom of a mountain. Only the mountain is not made of rock or stone. The mountain is soft and furry. It moves with each puppy's inhales and exhales, an expanding, contracting, living thing.

Elbee wriggles and digs herself out and into the bright light. The mountain collapses and puppies tumble to the ground. Her sisters and brothers wake with small yawns from their small dreams. With waking steps, Elbee walks towards the sound of guiding voices.

'We have four girls and three boys in the litter,' a voice explains to the couple. 'And you get first pick.'

The couple ooh and ahh at the sight of the puppies. Elbee can hear them speaking, but she doesn't understand what's happening. She wants to find out who the new people are and what they want.

Her tail wags with each step as she gets closer to the voices. She sees two pairs of tall legs and, high above, voices fall from the sky. She doesn't know why, but she knows she must get closer. An inexplicable energy brings her forward, makes her fearless, but a wooden barricade blocks her path. She stands on her hind legs and tries to lift herself over the barrier with her front paws, but she cannot climb over. If she could only cross the barrier and reach the two pairs of legs, then she would get their attention. She wags her tail to generate momentum and prepares to leap over the barricade. She bends her legs, pushes against the ground and springs into the air.

Elbee lifts off the ground much higher than she intended. She flies over the barrier and through the air with ease, higher and higher, closer to the voices. Her tail wags like a propeller. She feels the giant gentle hand under her chest and realises she's not flying, but being lifted.

Eye to eye she meets the people. Their eyes are kind, she thinks, and full of love. Her puppy dog eyes water at the thought of loving people and she licks the arm of the giant hand that cradles her. The people softly pet her and rub her ears. They hold her close and comfort her. She feels safe and protected.

This is exactly where she's supposed to be.

She could sleep forever in their arms.

Elbee remembers this moment. As the scene replays in her mind, she asks herself, is this a memory or is this a dream? This was the first time I met my people, and I knew right away that they were the ones. I chose them, and they chose me.

'We want this one,' says Kt as she cradles Elbee and holds her soft padded paws. 'She's like a little bear with her black paws and button nose.'

'She'll be the pick of the litter,' says Ky. His warm hand caresses her right ear.

They give her one last hug before returning her to her sisters and brothers. 'We'll be back in a few weeks, when you're old enough to leave. Then we'll take you home with us.'

Elbee glides down and lands on the ground. In the corner of the room, her sisters and brothers have already reformed the puppy mountain. She must have been in the air a long time, even though the moment felt timeless. Elbee yawns with tired excitement. She steps on the heads and tails of her sleeping siblings, climbing to the top of the mountain. At the summit, she tucks her head and body into a ball and dreams of her future home.
Home

'Hey Bear, wanna go to the country park?'

Elbee stretches and wags her tail excitedly. She follows Kt and Ky out the front door to the car. She leaps into the back. Adventure awaits.

As the car rolls swiftly down the road, Elbee pokes her head up and pushes her face flat against the glass. The countryside flies by in a green blur. Rolling hills, sheep-covered fields. They go around roundabouts and the roads narrow to a single track.

The car stops. Kt and Ky open the back door and Elbee leaps out. The country air smells a sweet combination of barley and sheep.

The country park starts at the base of a tall hill and spirals counter-clockwise to the top. The cold wind strengthens as Kt, Ky and Elbee struggle to climb the hill. A whoosh blasts Elbee's ears backwards and presses her fur tightly against her body. She pushes forward, fighting the wind.

Eventually they reach the top of the hill, where Elbee sees a West Highland terrier in a tartan coat. His navy blue eyes have witnessed the unknown, revealing an inexplicable experience. His ghost white fur is radiant without a drop of mud, compared to Elbee, who is covered in mud - her fur soaks it up like a sponge. The terrier shuffles with his short legs towards her. They sniff hello and circle one another.

'My name is MacDougal. I'm from the Highlands originally. Have you ever been to Scotland lassie?'

Elbee begins to answer but is cut short.

'It's a beautiful and terrifying place. North of the border is wild country. Wolves roam the wilderness. All types, you name it, grey wolves, werewolves, reverse werewolves. Aye, you know what those are don't you lassie?'

Elbee opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn't answer fast enough.

'You're too young. Well wolves are wolves, of course. Sort of like us dogs but not as civilised. Werewolves are people who turn into wolves every full moon. Reverse werewolves are wolves that turn into people every full moon. It's all lunacy, really. The moon has everything to do with it. The cause and effect has been misconstrued though, confused throughout the ages. It's a long held belief that the appearance of the moon makes wolves howl, but actually the howling of the wolves makes the moon appear. Wolves howl, and out comes the moon. That's the way it is. Why am I telling you, you ask?'

Elbee thinks about answering, but thinks she probably doesn't have enough time to answer. A long pause and just as Elbee is about to answer, MacDougal begins again.

'Good question. I don't know why I am telling you all this. Werewolves are interesting but a bit predictable. People turn to wolves every full moon, let out their animal urges, then return home and act like everything's normal. Reverse werewolves are more interesting. These are wolves that turn into people and are not quite sure what to do. Some go to fancy restaurants and eat with silverware, enjoying their chance at a civilised meal with civilised conversation. Some are not so civilised and cause havoc, disrupting the night trying to control their wolf urges in their human bodies. Some reverse werewolves are in denial and sleep until the moon starts to wane.'

Elbee ponders what she would do if she were human.

'Things in reverse,' MacDougal states, 'that's the thick of it. When there's reverse effects there's reverse causes. When you say the word reverse enough it starts to lose meaning. Is it truly reverse if the reverse werewolf turns into a human every full moon, or shouldn't the reverse werewolf turn into a human when there's a full sun? I guess it's just a matter of how you define the word. In this case, I define 'reverse' as meaning kind of opposite but not truly opposite. Whether or not the reverse effect from a reverse cause is predictable depends on the situation.'

Elbee wishes to reverse the conversation, and take it back to the beginning before it started. Her ear begins to itch.

'The wolves of Scotland,' he continues. 'You wouldn't want to cross them, no way. There's also the Loch Ness Monster. Aye, Scotland is a terrifying place, no doubt, but beautiful. Glad to have moved south of the border where everything is safe as strawberries and cream.'

Northumberland is not so safe and cosy either, thinks Elbee. She scratches her ear hastily and gets ready to tell the story of the vampire dogs, of the impending battle of good and evil. But when she finishes scratching and sits up, MacDougal is gone.

Elbee looks across the Northumberland countryside and sees the vast green hills, the white dots of tiny sheep, the brown and fertile farmlands, and the white peaks of waves on the dark sea. The grey clouds stretch from horizon to horizon, covering the sky in countless shades of grey. Somewhere in the Northumberland wilderness, a vile evil lives.
Northumberland National Park

Romero runs. He wonders what could have happened to Charley. It must have been the fleas or ticks or midges or whatever it was that bit him. Whatever gave him the itch gave him the disease. The fever brought on by an infectious disease that went to his brain and took control of his body. If it can be spread through insects to dogs, can it be spread to humans as well? Could it be spread to my person?

Romero returns to the trail and sprints back to the campsite. He races to get there before Charley.

I have to warn my person, he tells himself. We have to pack up and leave before this disease spreads any further.

His heart drops as he reaches the campsite. His breathing stops. Electric blue and olive green plastic shreds scatter across the grass. The tents have been torn down. The food and camping supplies have all been rummaged through. A murder of crows scavenges the crime scene, but this couldn't have been the work of birds.

His person is nowhere to be found. Romero sniffs but doesn't detect his person's manly smell. The putrid stench of Charley's disease is all he can breathe. Charley has gotten here first, and he must be close.

Romero spots a pack of dogs on the campsite, ones he's never seen before. These strange dogs huddle over something obscured from his view. Maybe they know where my person went. Maybe they saw him before the campsite was destroyed.

As he walks slowly to the pack of dogs, the rancid stench gets stronger. Romero looks around for Charley. How close can he be without being seen? Romero lowers his nose to the ground to find direction. The smell leads right to the pack. Have they caught Charley?

The dogs remain huddled over the object, not noticing Romero as he approaches with gentle steps. A small twig snaps under the slight weight of his front paw.

The dogs perk up their ears and twist their heads sideways to Romero. Their stares have the same deadened custard yellow eyes as Charley. Their fur is the same shade of mushroom grey. The same deep black-green ooze seeps out of differently placed but similar looking hairless patches. A chorus of drawled growls grows louder as the pack, ready to attack, staggers towards Romero. Their smell is overpowering.

Romero runs away. The dogs chase awkwardly, hobbling after him in stiff movements, as if their legs were made of sticks. The diseased dogs don't move fast and Romero easily escapes into the woods. He tries to run away from the smell, but it permeates the entire forest.

He runs deeper and deeper into the forest, until he can no longer find the trail. He can't find his person's scent to follow either. Surrounded by trees that all look the same, Romero realizes that he's lost and alone.
Battle of the Bridges

Elbee returns home from the country park covered in mud. She tries to escape the inevitable, but is forced into the bathtub. Kt and Ky assure her it's the only way she can relax on the sofa later. The muddy brown water circles counter-clockwise down the drain.

Wet fur flat against her skinny body, dripping over the floor, Elbee looks like a drowned rat. She shakes in one swift motion, flinging water all over the bathroom. She escapes the bathroom and darts back and forth across the house in a mad dash. She shakes her body dry and her fur fluffs up, doubling her size.

Clean and dry, she sleeps on the sofa while Kt and Ky watch a vampire or zombie or some similar sort of movie. The horrific screams don't stir her slumber.

Elbee wakes in her bed to a familiar noise. She must have been so tired that she hadn't realized when Kt and Ky carried her to her room and tucked her into bed. The noise comes from the garden. Elbee sees the open door and knows that the time has come.

In the garden, she marks her spot and stares up at the tree. Edgar perches atop the leafless apple tree.

'The time has come, Elbee. Only you can save the city, and, consequentially, the world.' Edgar pauses dramatically. 'Voodoodle is calling all her minions tonight. Hundreds of vampire dogs are approaching for the big sacrifice, and you are the only hope.'

Edgar swoops to the back gate and lifts the latch for Elbee. She picks up the Perfect Stick, hidden under the bathtub of strawberries, and they leave the garden.

Elbee explains to Edgar that she must call her friends first, that she's assembled a pack of good dogs to combat the impending evil. She walks down the pavement to the entrance of the local park. She barks three times, and then twice more. She barks loudly, so the whole neighbourhood could hear. So all her friends could hear. Digit, Maddy, Oaf and Loaf, Jill. She repeats the series of barks.

Digit is first to appear at the front of the park. 'Tonight?' he asks.

'Tonight,' echoes Elbee. 'The city is under threat. Hundreds of vampire dogs are approaching, so we'll need all the help we can get.'

They wait for the others.

'Maybe they're busy,' Digit says. 'How long should we wait?'

Elbee barks again, louder, with impatience.

They wait longer.

'Where are they?' wonders Elbee. 'They said they would help.'

'Maybe they can't get out of their houses. Some dogs find it tricky to unlock a door, pull down the handle and open it,' Digit reassures her.

'We really can't wait any longer,' Edgar says. 'The night is getting late, and time is running out on Newcastle.'

'OK looks like it's just us then. Let's go!'

Elbee and Digit walk along the streets of Heaton, while Edgar guides from above. Quiet at this time of night, they don't have to wait for cars to pass. Nevertheless, they sit at the traffic lights and wait for the green man. They cross roads and pass under a tall bridge as the Metro train glides overhead.

They reach the pub on top of a steep hill and look down into Ouseburn Valley. The dog-friendly pub brings back memories to Elbee. She has warm winter memories of sitting in front of the fire with her people at the table, listening to musicians play Celtic jigs and folk songs, and warm summer memories of sitting in the beer garden, soaking up the sun and smelling the summer smells of barbecue and sunblock. The pub garden is quiet on this chilly autumn night. But through the windows she can hear the musicians playing Celtic songs. Fiddles and pipes provide an epic march as Elbee and Digit descend the steep steps into Ouseburn Valley.

They walk alongside the winding stream, the same stream that flows from Jesmond Dene. Around a curved path, small old boats docked bob in the light sway. They pass under a tall brick archway, where a pub blares out rock music. "When the Levee Breaks."

Elbee and Digit arrive at the Quayside and face the city. The wide river rushes with the black water of night. The bridge lights reflect in ripples off the dark water, blinking. The city glistens in the distance. Without explanation, Edgar soars and disappears into the sky. Elbee knows he'll be watching.

They continue their journey by following a stone walkway. They pass newly built glass and brick buildings, the futuristic Millennium Bridge, old stone architecture interspersed with even older wooden framed buildings.

High above the street, the Tyne Bridge looms in the sky. Thousands of soft footsteps rattle the bridge. Elbee and Digit stare up at the green outline as silhouettes move across.

Vampire dogs. Hundreds, perhaps hundreds of hundreds, march across the bridge, quickly filling the city.

'Digit!' Elbee whispers loudly. 'There are too many of them for us to fight.' She suddenly recalls what to do in such situations. It was in one of those movies or TV shows, she starts to remember. Somewhere in her subconscious she knows how to solve this problem. 'Let's try to find Voodoodle. I have the feeling that if we can defeat her, then her followers will be destroyed too. Either that or they'd be really upset and confused without their leader, which would give us the upper paw.'

Elbee and Digit run up the steep hill of Grey Street. They can smell the stench of evil as it permeates the city. People are stumbling around the streets, in and out of buildings, making loud noises and acting foolish. Easy prey for vampire dogs.

A shrill, sharp howl calls out from the Bigg Market. The call bounces off buildings, amplifies and reverberates over the city streets.

'Digit! You herd the people to safety and I'll get Voodoodle. Make sure everyone stays inside. Vampires can't enter buildings unless they're invited, so it's probably the same for vampire dogs. Chase people, bark at them, do what you must to keep them inside!'

'OK. You're a good dog, Elbee. Be careful.'

'You're a good dog too, Digit. Let's hope this works.'

Digit darts in the opposite direction and starts to herd people off the streets. He tries to herd them inside by annoying them and interrupting their conversations. At first they think he's a cute dog and laugh while petting him and trying to play with him. After a few minutes, the people soon get bored and annoyed by his incessant barking, and they hide inside to continue their conversation at the nearest no dogs allowed pub.

Some pubs do allow dogs inside, and Digit wonders if these dog-friendly pubs have a standing invitation for all dogs to be allowed in, then would this apply to vampire dogs? He has no time to think twice, he must keep the people safe.

Meanwhile, nose to the ground, Elbee follows Voodoodle's evil scent uphill. It gets stronger as she sniffs up Grey Street. She must be close. She passes the Bigg Market but Voodoodle is no longer there. A sharp howl pierces Elbee's ears.

Under the monument man who stands guard above the city, Voodoodle is calling. Elbee sees the black-matted poodle mix and hides underneath a back alley rubbish bin. The garbage will camouflage my smell, she thinks, and give me the advantage of surprise. She holds the Perfect Stick tightly in her mouth, ready to defend her city. Filling the streets like rush hour traffic, the vampire dogs march from all directions towards the monument man.

'Bienvenue à Newcastle. The city is yours!' declares Voodoodle, to a chorus of barks and yowls from the vampire dogs. 'Feed tonight and get stronger! Our mission is almost complete. You all know the next step in my grand plan, so wait for my call. Tonight the city, tomorrow the world!'

The vampire dogs excitedly bounce and jump, bark and yap, wag their tails and sharpen their fangs as they disperse into the city streets. They are hungry, and the city is their food bowl. Voodoodle circles the monument man and marks her spot.

The city belongs to her.

Voodoodle struts around a pole with a mustard yellow cube and black block M. The Metro. She descends the stairs that lead underground.

Elbee chases Voodoodle down the stairs. Paying no attention to the ticket machines, she runs down the escalator, far underground, into tunnels and onto the train's platform. She smells the evil scent in the stale air. Where is Voodoodle going?

The pressure suddenly changes as a burst of wind fills the tunnel. The train roars forward and a voice on a loudspeaker announces, 'The next train is for the Coast.'

The train stops and its doors slide open. The last remaining people on the train step onto the platform. Elbee sees the blur of black fur on the other end of the platform as Voodoodle enters the front carriage. People get in Elbee's way, and, drunk with laughter, they try to pet her. She has no time for affection and no time to reach the front of the train. She dashes into the last carriage as the doors shut, nearly clipping her tail. The train pulls away from the platform and speeds towards the coast.

The carriage is empty. Somehow Elbee has to get to the front of the train to confront Voodoodle, but the carriages don't connect. Elbee jumps on a speckled cushioned seat and stares out the window. She sees her reflection against the glass, but doesn't recognize herself. The train emerges from the tunnel and the landscape is filled with tiny flashing lights. The city lights seem like distant stars sprawling across the universe. The River Tyne is a milky way that binds them all together.

'The next station is Manors,' announces the loudspeaker. The train enters a Metro station with warm yellow lights. Nobody stands on the platform.

The train stops. Its doors don't move, but tiny buttons with green arrows light up. Before Elbee can push a button, a loud buzzer sounds and the train starts again.

'The next station is Byker,' announces the loudspeaker. Elbee knows now she must act quickly to get to the front of the train.

The train stops and she leaps and pushes the button with her front paw. The doors slide open and Elbee rushes towards the front of the train. Her claws click on the tiled floor. The loud buzzer buzzes. She turns around quickly, slides on the tiles, regains her footing and rushes into the carriage before its doors close.

Not much time, she thinks. I'll have to move forward, one carriage at a time.

'The next station is Chillingham Road.'

Elbee recognizes the name of the street. Her house is not too far off Chillingham Road. Her people would cross that street to get to Heaton Park and Jesmond Dene. She thinks of her people and her home. I should be home now, asleep. In my room with my toys. Curled up in bed and dreaming of the park. Maybe I should give up and go home. After all, I never asked to be the chosen one. Maybe somebody else can save the world.

As the train stops, Elbee pushes the green-lit button and escapes the train. She's about to run home, back to her people, back to bed, but she thinks twice. Voodoodle needs to be stopped, or who knows what kind of world she'd wake up to in the morning. Elbee runs to the next carriage and jumps up to push the button on the outside door. The door slides open as the loud buzzer sounds and she leaps into the carriage.

Each stop she repeats the sequence. She pushes an inner button, rushes out to the next carriage, pushes an outer button, and rushes into the carriage. Walkergate, Wallsend, Hadrian Road, Howden, Percy Main, Meadow Well, North Shields, Tynemouth, Cullercoats. It is a long train, made longer when Elbee gets distracted at a few stations, remains sitting and staring out the window, forgetting to push the button. Eventually, Elbee reaches the second carriage from the front. She gets ready for the next stop.

'The next station is Whitley Bay.'

With the Perfect Stick in her mouth, Elbee sits upright. It is time to confront Voodoodle once and for all.

The train stops.

Elbee pushes the door's button and rushes out. She darts to the front carriage, jumps and pushes the outer button. The doors slide open. As she leaps in, Voodoodle leaps out. The buzzer buzzes. Elbee skids, stops quick, and dashes out as the doors slide shut behind her.

She stands on the platform as the Metro train whooshes past her. Looking back and forth at either end of the platform, she can't see Voodoodle. She smells the evil stench as it wafts in the salty sea air. The North Sea coast is close. Elbee senses Voodoodle's presence not too far ahead.

Nose to the ground, she tracks Voodoodle out of the Whitley Bay Metro station, down Station Road, the Esplanade and onto the Promenade overlooking the sea.

A strong, bitterly cold arctic wind hits Elbee. She stumbles sideways, tripping over her paws, and struggles to regain her balance. In the cold wind Elbee's nose twitches. She can smell Voodoodle. There's also the faint scent of polar bear.

Elbee runs north.
In the Dark

Oaf and Loaf sleep stretched across a two seater sofa. Each on one cushion, they have no room to move. The old, well-worn sofa dips in the middle, bending but not breaking under the years of their weight. Their deep snores sound as if a bow is moving slowly on a low note across the thick string of a double bass.

Loaf opens his eyes. He nudges Oaf.

'Hey did you hear something?' Loaf asks.

'Urgh, it's nothing go back to sleep,' replies Oaf groggily.

'I have this feeling that we're supposed to be doing something.'

'We are doing something. We're sleeping.'

'No. Something important.'

'What's more important than sleeping?'

'Eating. And saving the world.'

'That's quite ambitious of you. Can the world wait till tomorrow?'

After a long thought about saving the world and going back to sleep, Loaf agrees. 'I suppose the world's not going anywhere. Alright, we'll save it tomorrow then.'

Oaf snores deeply, already asleep before his question is answered. Loaf yawns languidly and closes his eyes. The world can wait till tomorrow, he tells himself. He sinks back into a heavy slumber.
Northumberland National Park

Romero runs deeper into the forest. He can outrun the staggering dogs, but he cannot outrun the omnipotent smell of disease. The stench fills the forest from every direction. Disoriented, he focuses on all directions, in case one of them is behind the next tree.

The branches of a tree shake clumsily. Romero looks up and sees a grey squirrel jumping trees. He can't be certain if it is a normal grey squirrel, or if it's a red squirrel that's turned grey from the disease. Afraid that other woodland creatures might also be infected, Romero treads even more carefully.

He analyses his situation, how he ended up here and what he knows. He mentally lists the symptoms of the spreading disease. Fever, dark black-green ooze. Fur turns grey. Eyes change to a pale custard yellow. The diseased dogs have wild eyes that look dead. Clouded and soulless.

Can their dead eyes see? They certainly looked like their eyes were following me. Unless they could smell me. Maybe my smell is too strong for them. Maybe I smell too good.

Romero quickly dives head first in the mud. He shoves his long face deep in the soft ground, then dips his shoulders, dropping his body with a squishy splash, and rolls over on his back, squirming like an earthworm. His light grey fur cakes in shades of brown.

Not satisfied that his naturally good smell has been masked entirely, he finds a moss-covered tree and rubs his now brown body against its patch of green. The moss sticks to the mud on his body.

Camouflaged in mud and moss, blending in with the trees and rocks and smelling like the forest, Romero continues his quiet run. The trees all look the same. The many blur into one as he runs quicker, uncertain and directionless. The blurred colours spin his head in a whirlwind of lost thoughts and misdirection. The Earth spins below his legs as he runs, and if it were spinning faster, he'd be on a treadmill running nowhere. He stops to think exactly where he is running to.

Running away from something is one thing, and running to something is another. Well, I guess I could be running away from something and running to something else at the same time. Away from the diseased dogs and to, let's see, where's home from here?

He looks up to the sky for direction.

Grey clouds upon more grey clouds amid the tips of evergreen. The sun would give directions home, but the sun has been gone for weeks.

A strong wind blows from the coast, carrying the sea. The wind travels far, rushing over the countryside and shaking the forest. The trees shiver in the cold salty air.

Nose to the wind, Romero smells the sea in the air. Yes, the coast. The beach always has dogs and dog walkers. If there are any healthy dogs left, they're certain to be there. I know I can find my house from there. My person might be waiting for me at home.
Great Run North

Elbee runs north into the almighty wind. A blustery, bitter, biting cold arctic blast forces Elbee's fur back. Her ears flap while her paws dig into the beach, flinging sand in her wake as she chases after Voodoodle. The wind pushes her back, warning her not to run north. Not to follow Voodoodle. To return home and be safe and warm.

She wants to believe that she is the chosen one picked by fate, even though she's not certain. She wants to believe that everything means something. That the TV shows and movies her people watched while she slept and subconsciously learned how good can defeat evil are meaningful. The long walks and adventures she went on with her people, playing with dogs and training in the park. She has her doubts, but she wants to believe in greater meaning.

The wind is unkind.

Gulls hang like kites on tight strings overhead. White specks against the clouded night. They glide with the wind, effortlessly drifting with their wings outstretched. Looking down, the gulls taunt Elbee with laughing caws as she fights against the wind.

Waves crash on the eerily empty beach. Knotted driftwood, smooth rocks, sea weed and debris litter the shore, but there are no dogs, no people. The desolate coast stretches out as the tide recedes. Wide at low tide, the sand continues to expand as each wave returns to the sea. Elbee shrinks in proportion as the beach widens. She feels as small and insignificant as a grain of sand on a forgotten beach. Waves crash regardless of who's listening.

Elbee remembers stretches of the coast. Her people took her here on long weekend walks. There were always other dogs running and playing. She had her tennis ball to chase, speeding through the sand and leaving a trail of paw prints behind. She ignored everyone but her people and everything but her tennis ball. All she wanted was to chase it, catch it, retrieve it and repeat. Timelessly.

From experience, Elbee knows that wet sand is better to run on. The brown mirror reflects her strides as she leaves a trail of paw prints. Strange there're no foot prints, no other paw prints. Where are Voodoodle's paw prints? The beach has been deserted for some time.

Can Voodoodle be that far ahead? Is she that quick or can she run without touching the ground? Elbee can still smell the evil carried in the northerly wind. She has to be on the right track.

Elbee keeps running, her four paws pound the ground. Her open mouth tastes the sea air, filling her lungs with salty breaths. She runs and the terrain changes. From beach to rocks to cliffs to grass paths to beach again to sand dunes to more rocks to farm land to golf courses to tall grass to footpaths to beach again. She runs past a white lighthouse, signalling in case someone is somewhere out at sea. She runs past large metallic blades of wind turbines, which spin like toy pinwheels under the wind's energy. She runs past the ruins of an abandoned castle, falling stone by stone into the sea. She runs past empty fields where sheep should be grazing, but there is no sign of life, no sign of anything, nearby.

Elbee didn't have much time to think when she dashed after Voodoodle in the city. Now, on her great run north, she has all the time to think and ask herself questions. Why did I leave my bed? Will I be able to catch and defeat Voodoodle? Can I keep this pace or should I take a break? What will my people think? Will I get the best treat of all?

She has no answers to her questions and she allows them to be drowned out by the pounding of her paws, the beating of her heart, knowing that if she dwells too much her head will tell her to turn back. Instead, she focuses on the immediate future, the next steps she's going to take. She doesn't know what's ahead, so she must stay aware of her surroundings. Voodoodle could be around the next corner.

The waves keep time with a steady rhythm. Elbee keeps pace with the waves and runs throughout the night.

The sky lightens to a dark grey as the early morning light tries to break night into day.

Clouds cover the sky in a kaleidoscope of grey, spinning in dizzying swirls as the wind weaves layers of grey. The thick clouds block any sunlight and cast a lonely gloom over the coast.

Far in the distance, Elbee sees a silhouette. A dark shadow moves across the sand dunes. Elbee crouches and lowers her tail underneath her legs. She clenches her teeth tightly around the Perfect Stick, ready to strike. Ears pinned back, she slowly and awkwardly crawls to the sand dunes. She stays low, allowing the curly waves of her golden fur to camouflage her in the ripples of the sand. With the Perfect Stick ready, she approaches the shadowy figure. Its ears perk up and the silhouette grows taller.
Newcastle City Centre

The vampire dogs wreak havoc in the city, ferociously barking and chasing the late night revellers, marking buildings and knocking down rubbish bins.

Screams alarm and sirens wail.

Amid the chaos, Digit scrambles to warn the few people who linger foolishly outside. He herds them by any means necessary, pushing his snout against the backs of their legs, tugging on their clothes. He annoys the people until they seek refuge inside the nearest no dogs allowed pub. He's been doing this all night and has perfected the art of annoyance.

Digit sits and listens for cries of help. It's been a long night, and he's starting to get tired. The chaotic city sounds blend into one. He doesn't hear the vampire dogs as they ensnare him in their shadows.

Senses tingling, the hairs on Digit's back raise in alarm. He feels an evil presence closing in, but he sees nothing. He searches for an escape. He can't hide inside the no dogs allowed pub, so he turns the corner and darts into a darkened alleyway, hoping it will lead to safety. The alleyway stops and the grey stone traps Digit.

Dead end.

The vampire dogs follow him into the alleyway. They blend into the stone and shadows. Only their eyes burn through the darkness.

Digit looks for a way out of the trap. Looking up, he tries to jump over the wall. His legs are powerful and his jumps look effortless as he launches into the air, but the wall is too high. Over and over he jumps, falling to the ground each time.

Burning eyes light up the alleyway. The warm-coloured glows float towards Digit as he jumps in vain. Tongues lick fangs.

Out of ideas and out of fear, Digit barks. His barks bounce off the stone wall and amplify. Perhaps someone will hear him. He has saved so many people tonight, someone must be out there to save him. He barks until his barks quiver with the fear as he realizes that no one can hear him.

He can't bear to look at the end as it approaches. He can't bear to hear it, either. He lies down low and covers his head and ears with his front paws. The end is here.

The vampire dogs' ears suddenly perk up. They all hear the shrill call from the north. Voodoodle summons them. They know the signal. The time has come for the end of the world party.

Following their master's call, they retreat through the alleyway, leaving Digit cowering in fear. Eventually, when he no longer senses their presence, Digit uncovers his eyes and ears.

They're gone, he thinks. I scared them away with my bark.

Holding his chest and tail high, Digit struts out of the alleyway and into the quieted streets. If the vampire dogs are scared of me, I might have a special power like Elbee. They're probably seeking protection and going to hide behind their leader. If I follow them, they'll take me directly to Voodoodle, and then Elbee and I can team up and defeat them all.

From a safe distance, Digit follows the vampire dogs.
The Old Castle

Tail down low, Elbee slowly approaches the silhouette moving across the sand dunes. It smells both good and evil, and she cannot tell which is stronger. The dark figure bounces excitedly towards her, tail wagging and mud flying. She crouches and dips her head low to hide in the sand. But the figure pounces on Elbee and rolls her over. Elbee pops up into a defensive stance, and sees the mud-covered dog wanting to play.

His friendly blue eyes look like they have seen something terrifying. The two dogs chase playfully in circles, then sniff hello.

'My name is Romero, and I'm the last dog on earth. Well, until I met you. Where is everybody? Have you seen any people?'

'The beach is deserted. I ran from Newcastle and haven't seen anyone along the coast.'

'Have you seen any other dogs. Any,' he pauses, 'diseased dogs?'

Elbee tilts her head quizzically.

Romero tells her his story. About Charley's fever and transformation. About the campsite and the wild diseased dogs. About his escape through the forest and his survival.

These descriptions sound familiar to Elbee. Dead custard yellow eyes, fur turned grey, black-green ooze and staggered walking. She remembers a movie her people watched, with the dead walking people. The zombie people.

'Zombie dogs,' she explains. 'They must have been infected by the bite. Did any of them follow you?'

'I don't know. They moved slowly and awkwardly. They smelled something vile. Like rotten eggs covered in rotten mayonnaise left sandwiched between two stale slices of mouldy bread. I think the smell is still in my nose. Do you smell anything?'

'You smell pretty evil yourself. Not entirely bad, but a blend of good and evil.' She sniffs Romero. 'I detect notes of mud and moss, a subtle hint of pine, and,' she takes one big sniff, 'is that fox?'

'No. I first thought it was fox when I rolled in it, but it smells much worse.'

'Yeah, it's atrocious. If the zombie dogs are following, they'll find you out here. You'll stick out, smelling like the forest on the beach. Quick, jump in the sea and wash off.'

Romero runs across the beach and jumps into the frigid water. The mud and moss leave a brown-green trail on the water as he paddles out to sea. A white wave crashes over his head and submerges him in a salty bath.

He swims to the sandy shore, dripping clean. He shakes the water off with a swift twist that starts from his head and spirals down his spine, shaking convulsively, spraying water in all directions, from head to tail, until his grey fur fluffs up dry.

'Much better now that you smell like the sea,' she says.

'Ta muchly. So, what brings you here?' Romero asks.

Elbee tells her story about the vampire dogs and tracking down Voodoodle. She lost the scent when Romero crossed her path.

'If you don't know where to go next,' Romero speaks, 'there's a big castle nearby. I passed it on my way over here. Maybe we can stop and rest? It looks quite foreboding, so I'm sure it'll be a great place to hide from zombies and vampires.'

Elbee doesn't want to hide from Voodoodle. She didn't run all this way to hide, but a rest does sound inviting. The sea air has gone straight to her head. A short nap to regain her energy, then she'll be refreshed and ready for battle.

They cross over sand dunes and follow a winding path through tall grass. They stop and tilt their heads up, taking in the sudden sight. Their mouths drop open.

The foreboding castle stands high atop the hill, heavily fortified to battle the war against time. The dark grey clouded backdrop adds to the foreboding atmosphere.

'Are you sure it's safe in there?' Elbee asks.

'No,' Romero answers. 'But is it safe out here?'

They stare up at the castle's fortified walls. 'How do we get inside?' Romero asks.

'Let's try the front door.'

They walk up the steep hill and reach the front of the castle. A thick bottle-shaped door blocks the entrance. The door looks heavy, impenetrable. Elbee pushes it with her snout and it opens easily. Too easily.

Elbee and Romero enter the castle. Both drop their noses to the stone floor and sniff in circles, looking for traces of vampires or zombies or food. Nothing.

Elbee's ears perk up. 'Romero, do you hear that?'

The noise gets louder as they approach the next room. From underneath the door comes a strange percussion.

Elbee pushes open the door. Snout first, she slowly enters the room. Romero waits behind until he's certain they're safe.

Incessant ticking and tocking fills the vast room. The sound bounces off the stone walls and up to the wooden beams in the high ceilings. On one wall a star-shaped stained glass window emits the grey-tinged colours of the dull light from outside. On the opposite wall a fire roars in the hearth, but its sound is drowned out by the drumming ticks and tocks.

The room is full of clocks. Grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, tall and short, big and small, rectangles and squares, circular faces with minute hands, hour hands, some with second hands, some with pendulums swinging and whooshing. A collection of clocks that move forward in time, at their own time. Not in a particular rhythm, but offbeat. Off offbeat.

Elbee notices something moving around the room. It doesn't seem to have noticed her.

The eccentric figure is shaped like an old miner's lamp, with a cylindrical body covered in holes and a flame lit in its chest. Behind the holes, its gears move in circular spins around a rod in the centre. Mixes of copper, silver, nickel and gold shine in the flickering light of its flame. The figure has arms and legs and looks crudely like a man. A metallic man. A robot.

He moves swiftly across the vast room, running from clock to clock, climbing up shaky ladders to reach the tall clocks, crouching down to reach the clocks by the floor. His back is turned as he examines each clock. He doesn't notice that the door to the room has opened.

Elbee smells no evil and rushes over to use her charm. She wags her tail, rolls over on her back to reveal her soft belly, and widens her eyes in a look that is irresistible. The robot's back remains turned to her.

'Hello?' speaks Elbee.

The robot looks at her. A blackened monocle covers one eye and an old miner's hat sits on his head. His hands are designed for winding and digging, not for petting dogs on the belly. The robot has a wind-up lever on the side of his head, which he cranks every so often. He is a self-powered, wind-up robot.

'Welcome,' he announces in a friendly monotone voice. 'Please make yourselves at home. I haven't had visitors in a very long time.'

'Thank you.' Elbee stretches out, licks herself, and starts to make herself at home. Romero finally enters the room and relaxes as the robot seems unthreateningly nice.

'What's with all the clocks?' Elbee asks.

'I wind clocks,' the robot replies. 'I wind all day and all night. I must keep time moving forward. Always forward. When a clock stops, I stop, listen and try to fix it with the broken parts from old broken clocks.'

A pile of broken clocks is stacked beside the grand fireplace. A hungry fire lights up the room with flickering shadows. Elbee wants to curl up and sleep with the comfort of warmth wrapped around her. She's drowsy and could doze for a short nap. After her all-night great run north, she's dog-tired. The robot throws more wood on the fire from the pile of broken clocks.

'You wind and fix clocks, but what happens if all the clocks break beyond repair?' asks Romero.

'If all the clocks stop, perhaps the future will stop. Or maybe not. The future is unknown, so who knows what will happen to it. But as long as I keep fixing and winding clocks, I can ensure that the future will always be. And always be moving forward.'

'And what about when you sleep, how do you keep the time moving forward?' asks Elbee, with sleep on her mind and looking forward to a future nap.

'I have no sleep mode, no on-off switch. Unless I stopped winding myself up, I too will always be moving, like time. There is a method to the monotony, to the everyday grinding of gears. Time doesn't move on its own. Time needs actions to propel it forward.'

'But what if you did nothing?' she asks.

'Even no action is an action. The act of not acting has consequences. You can tell because time still moves forward. But some non-actions are not worth taking. Doing nothing can either be good or bad, or indeed good and bad, dependent on the consequences.'

Elbee stays silent to think about nothing. The clocks continue to tick and tock.

'At the end of the day, clocks are but a hobby of mine,' the robot explains. 'Keeping them wound and on time keeps me focused on the future. I've been looking forward to the future for over a hundred years now.'

'What is it you're looking forward to?'

'Well anything can happen, of course. Anything and everything is possible, that's what makes the future exciting.'

'And terrifying,' Romero adds.

'But you've been waiting so long for the future. Do you think it will ever arrive?' asks Elbee.

'I haven't been waiting too long, possibly not long enough. I used to work down in the coal mines. But now I've retired to this castle.' The robot looks wistfully into the fire before turning back to Elbee and Romero. 'But enough about me, what brings you two here?'

'I'm looking for a vampire dog,' Elbee explains. 'Voodoodle. He's looking for a safe house from the zombie dogs.'

The robot stops winding clocks.

'Who did you say?' he asks.

'Voodoodle.'

'Voodoodle?'

'Yes, maybe you've seen her? She's a French poodle mixed with pure evil.'

'Ah I used to know a Voodoodle. I haven't heard that name in years. Yes, she and I were awfully close,' the robot starts.

Elbee bolts upright and stands prepared to fight. If the robot knows Voodoodle, he might be evil. He might even be a vampire robot.

'Well her person and I were close,' he continues. 'Before the accident. Before she turned pure evil.' A dramatic pause fills the room. Elbee relaxes, there's more to the story than she first thought. The robot motions for them to follow. 'Here, let's sit by the fire. I'll tell you my story.'

'Back in the 1830s, I was brought to life by my creator, George. He named me after him. Oh, where are my manners, my name is Georgebot, by the way.'

'My name is Elbee,' speaks Elbee.

'And I'm Romero,' adds Romero.

'Pleased to meet you,' Georgebot replies automatically. He continues, 'My creator had just finished building a steam-powered train, and was looking for innovative ways to use wind-up technology. Sustainable energy was the future. Much better than dirty coal.

'In search of the perfect energy technology, my creator turned to wind-up inventions. He started with tiny wind-up birds, worked his way to a wind-up robot as a precursor to building his dream – the wind-up train. However, he never perfected his dream.

'That's how I came to be, as an invention, a solution to a problem. My function was to work down in the coal mine, the pit we called it, as a safety inspector. I helped the miners dig. They could only go so far underground before needing a little help. I dug to the edges of the earth, the inside edges that is, to the brink where the miners couldn't go without being in danger. I was a canary if you will, but a robotic canary that didn't need to die to show danger. I could measure danger with my tools, levels of carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, nitrogen, methane, flammable and toxic gases, but I won't bore you with details of deep underground mining.

'My fellow miners depended on me. They needed me to keep them safe, not only from gases, but other dangerous objects underground. One day there was an accident and I failed them. Not only did I fail my fellow miners, but I failed my function, I failed my creator.

'After the accident I retired. I wasn't prepared for what happened that day. The world wasn't prepared for what happened.'

Georgebot pauses in a sudden introspection, as if he's accessing data that has been buried deep in his memory.

'The pit was your typical deep underground coal mine. It was tough work, but we were even tougher workers. One of the miners had a dog, a French poodle mix, black as coal, or perhaps it was all the time she spent near the coal mine that made her dark. She would wait outside and stand guard, while her person was inside. Her name was Voodoodle.

'Voodoodle was a good dog back then. Her person was Francois, a Frenchman with a joie de vive. He treated her kindly, kept her curly coat brushed and tangle-free, and took her on long walks in the countryside. Francois and I worked closely together in the pit, and in short time we became good friends.

'After a day's work, all the miners would go to the pub in the nearby town. Francois, Voodoodle and I sat at an oak table until the early hours of the morning. We were always the last awake. He had a passion for life and I had no sleep function.

'Voodoodle was fed treats of soft cheese from the table. French cheese, only the finest for her. And she would eat her brie, camembert, along with her gourmet kibble before sleeping contentedly under the table and dreaming whatever it is dogs dream.

'Francois and I talked about everything. From current events and the way of the world, to our dreams for the future. Francois dreamt of owning a vineyard back in France and living off the land, but first he was to make his fortune. He heard rumours of riches in the earth, perhaps something more valuable than gold in the mysterious depths of Northumberland. Even though it may have been a longshot, it kept him going. If he found wealth he would share it with his fellow miners, we were all in it together. But what I found, what we found, no one could have predicted.

'That dark day was a seemingly ordinary day. The sky was grey as usual, but that didn't matter as we were deep down in the pitch-black pit.

'I dug as I ordinarily did. Deeper and deeper, until I struck what I at first thought was a stone. I shone my light and it was a black stone, the blackest stone I had ever seen. The stone was about the size of a billiard ball. I pulled it out, examined it, tested it, and discovered it was more than an ordinary black stone – it was a black diamond. Immediately I thought of Francois. Was this black diamond the riches we were looking for? Would Francois be able to retire to the vineyard of his dreams? What would I do with my share of this good fortune? I safely stored the black diamond in my chest cavity and started to turn back to share the news.

'As I turned, the earth began to shake. The ground quickly collapsed into a sinkhole. I leaned over the edge of the fallen pit and looked down as the earth sunk into an abyss. My lamp would not shed light to those depths, but I could see a bright red glow, shining like a distant star, at what was possibly the bottom of the abyss. Then more bright red glows appeared, more distant stars underground. I was staring at an underground universe.

'The red glows were getting closer, though, enlarging circles emerging from the abyss until thousands of bats flew out. The bats were unearthed from the depths of –'

'Wait, what kind of bats?' Elbee interrupts.

'Vampire.' Georgebot pauses with another dramatic pause. 'Vampire bats unearthed. Thousands dispersed in all directions. Wings flapping, mouths screeching. A heat seared off the bats, as hot as the centre of the Earth. Their sharp fangs bit, but they also burned, see –' He reveals two small piercings in his armoured neck, the metal melted around the rims of the holes. 'The fangs melted my neck like a hot knife on butter. The bite had no effect on me otherwise.'

'So you didn't turn into a vampire. Is it even possible to have a vampire robot?'

'Maybe if a robot was programmed to be a vampire, then yes, there could be a vampire robot. But an ordinary robot wouldn't turn into a vampire robot if bit by an ordinary vampire bat.' Georgebot thinks for a second. 'Perhaps if a vampire robot bat, programmed with a spreadable vampire virus, bit a robot, then it might turn into a vampire robot. But from ordinary vampire bats, vampirism cannot spread unless there's blood.'

Elbee thinks for a minute about vampire robots.

Georgebot continues, 'My fellow miners were not as fortunate as I. As the vampire bats filled the tunnels in a flutter of flapping wings and a crunch of clenching fangs, blood covered the mine. Ghastly screams echoed off the walls as the miners were bit. The acoustics of the cave amplified the sounds of screams like a musical instrument of torture.'

'Like bagpipes?'

'Precisely. The sound blasted outside, where Voodoodle stood guard. Voodoodle heard Francois shout, and ran into the pit with no hesitation. She saw him on the ground, bleeding from the neck. She whimpered and tried to lick clean his wound, but he was unconscious and the loss of blood too substantial. Suddenly, she yelped as the sharp stab of fangs clasped deep into her neck. She twisted her neck and bit the vampire bat's wing, and with a strong lash she whipped the bat onto the rock wall.

'Voodoodle hobbled out of the mine. She needed to find help for her person, for the rest of the miners, for herself. She was lightheaded by the amount of blood she lost, but she saw the nearby town, and thought if she could get someone's attention she could save everyone. She was heading towards the town when she fell unconscious.

'She awoke a vampire dog, and rushed back to her person, who by now was a vampire. But when she returned to the pit, Francois was gone.

'After her person disappeared, she became pure evil. She felt abandoned by her best friend, and lost all love for mankind. She stalked the night, and built her legions of vampire dogs by recruiting all the lost dogs, the abandoned and neglected dogs, one bite at a time.

'You see, Voodoodle is an original, since she was bitten by one of the original vampire bats. An original begins a lineage by turning others into vampires. When an original bites another, the bitten one becomes a follower. The followers are then loyal and will protect an original, obeying her every command, because if an original dies, then all the followers will die.'

'Wait, how do you know all this?' asks Romero.

'Research. I was trying to find a cure for Francois, for all the miners, so I studied all the books. Unfortunately, I failed. I found a hobby instead. Clocks.'

'So what you're saying is, if we can defeat Voodoodle, all the vampire dogs will follow her to oblivion?' asks Elbee.

'All the dogs Voodoodle has turned to vampires, yes. This land has a secret buried deep in its past. Hidden in Northumberland is an energy, not coal, nor wind, but a more powerful force, a cosmic force, forged from the stars, the ancestral heavens, the stuff of – are you listening?'

Elbee stops scratching herself and looks up. 'Yes, sorry. I've got this itch, right behind my ear, see.' Elbee shoves her head under Georgebot's hand. 'Can you get the itch? If you can just move your hand slightly.'

Georgebot scratches Elbee behind her ear. Her right leg thumps involuntarily, pounding the ground.

'Yeah, that's the spot.' She recklessly kicks the ground until he stops. 'Ahh much better, thanks. Please continue with your story.'

'Where was I? Oh, yes, Northumberland has a secret energy not too far from here. There's an ancient battleground for good and evil, a small island just off the coast. Go to Holy Island.'

'Holy Island? Where is it?' asks Elbee.

Georgebot pulls out an antiquated map from an old book by the fireplace. Sepia-toned and frayed at the edges, the map gives a detailed view of Northumberland.

'You are here.' Georgebot points to the castle. 'Carry on up the coast. Travel a couple miles north and turn towards the sea. You can't miss it. But beware. You'll reach a causeway that can only be crossed when the tide is low. Many large vehicles have met their soggy fates ignoring the warnings.'

Elbee and Romero thank Georgebot for his hospitality. They start to leave the castle, when Georgebot remembers and shouts after them, 'Oh, one last thing! There's a giant beast that guards Holy Island! Do take care, and cross only when the tide is low!'
Home

'Morning bear,' said Ky as he opened the door to Elbee's room.

In the empty silence, she wasn't there.

'Bear? Where are you hiding?'

He opened the curtains. The thick grey light didn't brighten up the room. He flipped the light switch on and the light flickered with a hum. The room was motionless.

'Bear?'

There was not much hiding space in Elbee's room, so Ky looked throughout the house. He could not find her in the kitchen. She wasn't on the sofa. She wasn't in the living room or bedroom or bathroom.

He went back to Elbee's room and noticed the door was slightly open. He walked out into the garden.

'Bear! Come here Elbee!' he called.

The garden was deserted. He searched behind the berry bushes, underneath the strawberry bathtub, around the tomato sink, behind the flower toilet and the apple tree. He spread the leaves out with his foot in case she was playing a game of hide-and-seek. No, she wasn't in the leaves. She wasn't behind the tree or the plants. She was not in the garden.

The back gate swung creakily on its hinge. Ky noticed that the latch had been opened. He went out into the back alley.

'Bear?' he called.

The back alley was filled with recycling and rubbish bins. He walked up and down the alley while calling Elbee's name, whistling in desperation. He could not find her.

Ky went back home to Kt.

'Have you seen Elbee?' he asked with hopeful worry.

'No,' she replied. 'What's the matter?'

'The door to Elbee's room was open, the back gate was open. She must have gotten out.'

'What do you mean? Elbee's missing?' Her voice trembled as tears filled her eyes.

Kt and Ky searched frantically for her. They went to the local park. She wasn't there. They crossed the streets of Heaton to the three parks, Heaton Park, Armstrong Park, Jesmond Dene. She wasn't there. They went to Ouseburn Valley and the Quayside. Elbee wasn't anywhere.

They returned home, walking side by side without Elbee in the middle.

'Where could she be?'

They made flyers. 'Missing – have you seen Elbee?' A picture of her with a description – floppy ears, shaggy fur, a red collar with a silver star tag.

Kt and Ky put the flyers on every lamp post. They asked passers-by if they had seen a lost dog. Nobody had seen Elbee.

'What will we do if we don't find her?'

'If we don't find her, she will find us. We must keep looking, never give up on her. She's out there and needs our help. She needs her family.'
The Story of the Sea Monster

Elbee and Romero follow Georgebot's directions to Holy Island. Like he said, they went north along the coast a couple of miles, turned towards the sea and couldn't miss it.

Afar, the sea reflects the sky, and Holy Island floats in the grey clouds. A piercing cry calls from the distant island like a beaconing signal. Ears perk up. 'Voodoodle,' speaks Elbee. 'She must be calling her followers.'

Elbee and Romero walk towards the island and reach the shore's edge. Waves lap where the causeway connects to the island, burying the path underwater. High tide. Elbee sticks her left paw in the frigid water. She reaches for the bottom of the sea but cannot find it. Too deep.

'We could swim,' she speaks.

'What about the giant beast that guards the island?' Romero remembers out of fear. 'Georgebot warned us not to cross when it's high tide.'

'If Voodoodle's calling her followers, there's no telling how much time we have. In the city, we saw hundreds of them congregate at the sound of her call. The vampire dogs could appear behind us at any moment.'

They sit and stare blankly at Holy Island.

'What will we do when we cross over? Do you have a plan?' asks Romero.

'We'll find Voodoodle. I have my stick and I will slay her.'

'Stick? Where's your stick?'

Elbee suddenly realizes the Perfect Stick is no longer clenched between her teeth. She looks around desperately, sniffing in circles, but cannot find it. She hangs her head, drops to the ground and mourns the loss of the Perfect Stick. 'We'll have to find another Perfect Stick. You'd better have your own stick as well. Let's go back and search in the woods.'

As they turn inland towards the trees, the water near the causeway begins to bubble. Elbee shudders and shoves her tail between her legs. Her ears pull back. She lets out a whiney growl as fear and courage battle within her. She wishes she had the Perfect Stick, or any stick for that matter. Romero cowers behind her.

The bubbles grow larger and move faster until a dark grey stone, smooth as water, breaks the surface. As it emerges, the stone reveals it's not a stone, but a sleek grey head. The head has short ears and a face that looks somewhat like a wet dog with a shiny grey coat. Its whiskered nose twitches. Two gigantic sub-arctic blue eyes stare at the little dogs ashore. Elbee sees her reflection in the monster's eye and begins to growl. Her reflection growls back at her and Elbee gets scared.

'I come in peace,' the sea monster bellows. 'Don't be afraid, little one. I may be giant, but I'm not that large compared to the vastness of the sea, the vastness of space. A drop in the ocean of the universe.' The sea monster's large head is attached to an even larger body. She's taller than any ship. But she has kind eyes. An ancient all-knowingness in her gentle gaze.

Elbee rolls over, exposing her belly to show she means no harm. Her tail wags nervously. Romero keeps a safe distance.

'Hi, I'm Elbee, this is Romero.' Elbee sits up tall. 'We've never been here before, but we want to cross onto the island.'

'I'm the Great North Seal,' the sea monster introduces herself. 'And I've always been here. The best way to cross over is to wait. The tide will be low soon, and when you're ready the causeway will open.'

'I've never met a sea monster before,' Romero's voice cracks. 'How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?'

'I'm pre-historic, meaning I've existed before history even began. I've always been and will always be. Once history ends, I will be post-historic.'

Romero stays silent in deep thought.

'Maybe I'm a cosmic accident,' the Great North Seal speculates. 'Or maybe the universe has a hidden connectivity, and all things that happen must happen for a reason. What brings you here, is it an accident or do you have a reason?'

'We're here searching for a vampire dog that may have crossed not too long ago,' Elbee speaks. 'She's a poodle mixed with pure evil. Black matted curly fur, burning red-orange eyes. Have you seen her?'

'Perhaps I have seen this vampire dog you speak of, but let me tell you a story first.'

'Is it a long story?'

'No. Relatively, it's a short story. It all starts billions of years ago.'

Elbee slumps her head. It was going to be a long story. She lies down and gets comfortable in case she happens to close her eyes halfway through the story and falls asleep. Not that she isn't interested in what the sea monster is about to say, but after Romero's tale and Georgebot's history, she's starting to grow tired of long stories. Alongside her heroic attributes of goodness, courage and determination, her attention span is also being tested.

The Great North Seal clears her throat dramatically. In a deep booming voice, she begins her story.

'In the primordial cosmic soup, when stars and planets were settling down and finding out their place in the universe, countless objects hurtled through space, racing to be the first into the great unknown. Small rocks, big rocks, gases, stars, energy, this was a time of rapid expansion and exploration.

'I was small back then, much smaller than I am now. I was a single-celled microorganism actually, invisible to the naked eye. Travelling through space, frozen on an asteroid, I was not only frozen in space ice, but I was also frozen by suspense, the suspense of not knowing where I was going and where the asteroid would take me.

'The space rock was my home. A home that floated through space. One night, while the stars were all alight like distant cities waiting to be visited, my asteroid collided with another space rock, Earth.

'The massive impact shattered my home, hurling asteroid fragments everywhere. Still stuck in the space ice, I had no control where I was going and I landed with a hard splash. I hit the ocean and sunk to the bottom. It didn't take long for the ice around me to thaw, and at the bottom of the ocean I started my new life.

'Back in those early days, before the comforts of modernity, what mattered most was survival. The sea was an angry place. So much so that fish tried to escape and begin new lives on land. The sea was big, endless to those who swam around the blue globe, surrounded always by water. Giants ruled the waves – giant squids, giant sharks, giant seahorses, you name it and there was a giant version of it.

'At the bottom of the ocean, I had everything I needed to survive. I could withstand high pressure and tolerate hot and cold extremes. I was small enough to hide, self-sufficient, and quite intelligent. However, I was lonely.

'Being one of a kind can be lonely, since there's no one else to speak your language and listen to your stories. So I split in two and created a sibling, a friend. The two of us got along fine, as siblings do. We had some arguments, heated debates, but in the end we were related and we had each other. But some of our debates got fierce. There was this one philosophical debate, what it was about I can't quite remember, in which more opinions were necessary. So we both split into two more, each with the thought that the new microorganisms would share our viewpoints and that would settle the debate. This proved problematic as the two new beings had entirely different opinions on the matter, and believing they were right, they split into two more to gain support in the debate. I forget what it was all about now, perhaps the integrity of splitting in two or staying as one. Anyway, this went on for some time, until we had a colony of microorganisms, thousands of us, on the seafloor.

'That's when one of the microbes got bored of philosophical debates within the community, and wanted to seek out other philosophical viewpoints in the world wide ocean. He ventured out, possibly to meet others with similar opinions. But what happened to the first adventurer was extraordinary.

'The first adventurer swam up, and not before long he came across a squid. This wasn't a giant squid, rather an ordinary-sized, if not somewhat on the small side, squid. The adventurer questioned, 'What are your philosophical inclinations to the way of being?' And the squid remained silent. Taken as a profound response, the adventurer replied 'I like your way of thinking, will you be my friend?' And in an instant, the squid ate him.

'That's not the end of the adventurer's story though. In the belly of the beast, a wonderful thing happened. The two DNAs interacted, combined, and with a rumbling stomach, the squid mutated. It grew larger than the largest giant squid. The combination of the two became a sea monster.

'After a while, more of us ventured upwards and were eaten by various sea creatures. My brothers and sisters became sea monsters, lake monsters, river monsters, and so forth. We're all dispersed in this great sea of Earth.

'I have too many memories, my memory as a single-celled microorganism floating on a space rock, and my memory as a playful young seal pup floating in the sea. Sometimes I have trouble remembering, but that comes with having so many memories. I am now one with my past, present and future.'

Elbee is flabbergasted. But much stranger things have happened. 'I've heard of the Loch Ness Monster up in Scotland,' she speaks, 'but I've never heard of you. How have you stayed hidden all these years?'

'Nobody's been looking,' explains the Great North Seal. 'Cryptozoologists have been researching and searching elsewhere. Once the press gets a hold of you, your privacy is over. Poor Nessie became tabloid fodder. Her life has never been the same since the public took interest. Cryptozoologists are one thing, but when you're famous and the whole world wants to see you, the simple life becomes complex. Nessie had to move lochs and go into hiding. Luckily, neither the public nor cryptozoologists know that I exist.'

'So what brought you here, to Holy Island?'

'I don't know how I ended up here, but here I am. Perhaps something brought me to Holy Island. Something with no definition, an inexplicable energy beyond the waves. All I know is a current within guides me to swim in circles, around and around this island.'

'But doesn't the causeway get in your way, when it's low tide?' asks Romero.

'No, there's a tunnel deep underneath the sand, allowing me to complete circles around the island. In quiet contemplation, I swim. Swimming is a meditation on the universe and everything. All I can do is swim and let my energy be harnessed by the island, by the seas, by the oceans, by the Earth.

'I give and give, and something as simple as swimming in circles is all that's needed. I don't need to sleep, I don't need to eat, I don't need anything. I have everything. I am celestial, ever being, always moving. In motion, in action, I spin, the world spins, the universe spins, everything spins.'

'Sounds dizzying.' Elbee thinks of her tennis ball in the air, spinning, and she wants to catch it. 'What's the point of all the swimming?'

'Sometimes the effect you have on the world seems pointless, but there's hidden meaning to everything. It all depends on the meaning you take from it, and the meaning you give to it. Cause and effect are one and the same. There is no cause without effect, and no effect without cause.'

Elbee still thinks of her ball in the air, spinning, and she wants to catch it. Her eyes roll as an imaginary ball travels across her field of vision.

The Great North Seal continues, 'When I swim in circles, an aura of goodness surrounds the island. That is my purpose. But I am weakening. An evil presence arrived on Holy Island not too long ago. My power weakened as soon as it crossed the causeway. And I sense more evil approaching.

'If enough evil crosses onto the island, the balance will tilt to the bad side. I might lose all my energy and the aura of goodness around this island will fade, leaving only darkness. I will no longer have an influence on the world. When I lose my energy, I'm afraid, I may stop swimming forever.

'But you, Elbee, I sense good in you. You have a strong energy. You must be the chosen one, the one who has been picked to save the world. If you can defeat this evil, then the balance of the island will be restored. You can protect Holy Island from becoming an Unholy Island.'

Elbee remembers Edgar's words, and wonders if he's been talking to the Great North Seal. 'I've heard that before, that I am the chosen one. But why me?'

'Maybe it's a cosmic accident. Or maybe it's written in the stars. You must decide if you believe in meaning. The choice is yours, whether you think the universe is random, or if you believe a greater interconnectivity sets cause and effect into motion, an endless motion, told one story at a time. This is your story Elbee. If you believe in meaning, what more is there to do but swim in your own circles, knowing that the circles you swim in cause waves around the world.'

Elbee thinks about these words. On her great run north, she wanted to believe in greater meaning, and now, listening to the ancient sea monster's words and staring into her omniscient eyes, she starts to believe in herself and her purpose. Elbee starts to believe that she has been picked to be the chosen one, the one who will save the world. She has the sudden realization that somehow it is all connected, the vampire dogs, the zombie dogs, the stories.

The tide rushes out and the causeway opens.
The Battle for Holy Island

Elbee and Romero walk side by side across the causeway. The water level is low enough that they cross without swimming, though their paws splash in shallow puddles. The wind picks up and Romero shivers.

'What do you think will be on the other side?' he asks.

'There's only one way to find out,' answers Elbee.

The powerful wind rips through the tall grass, almost uprooting it from the island. The harbour is filled with abandoned boats rocking in the waves. Elbee and Romero walk into the wind until they reach the village.

There are no lights on in any windows. The houses are silent. The shops are closed. The village is either asleep or has been abandoned.

They walk down the cobblestoned streets and see a pet shop with bright shiny objects in the window. The door to the pet shop has a cat flap, a large cat flap, too large for an ordinary cat. Elbee has no trouble squeezing into the pet shop, while Romero, afraid to go in, stands guard outside.

Inside, Elbee looks for a weapon. But then she sees something much better sitting in a basket by the counter. The bright yellowish greenish glow, round with slightly soft fuzz, that fits perfectly in her mouth. Eyes transfixed, she walks in a trance to the tennis ball. She squeezes it with her powerful jaws and it lets out a squeak. A squeaky ball! Elbee chews and squeaks as if she were speaking. Squeak squeak squeeeak!

In the shadows, behind the scratching posts and fleece beds, ears twitch and a tiny bell rings. Whiskers poke out and vertical slit eyes stare at Elbee. The fat cat looks displeased. He lives the pet shop life with all the food and toys he wants. But a permanent frown pulls down his face.

'Harumph! Pedestrian. A tennis ball, how predictable,' he purrs in contempt.

Elbee doesn't know what to think of the cat. She has only seen cats in the distance, but they run away when she gets too close. She has never had the chance to sniff a cat. This is her first conversation with one.

'Umm shouldn't we sniff hello?' she asks.

'Sniff hello? Ha! How uncouth. Don't be daft. But I suppose you can't help it,' the cat laughs without a smile.

'Have you seen any other dogs on the island. Any vampire dogs?'

'I've heard of vampire bats, those rats with wings, how I'd like to catch one and,' he licks his chops and closes his eyes, imagining the exotic taste of a vampire bat. 'But I never heard of a vampire dog. Sounds hideous, nightmarish. Grotesquely idiotic.'

'It is evil and I have to defeat it. I've been picked to be the chosen one. I'm a good dog.'

'Sure you are,' the fat cat meows with an ironic tone. 'Well, then, good dog, if you're looking for evil, there's a menacing castle up on the hill.'

'We've been to the one a few miles back, Georgebot, the wind-up robot, told us to come here.'

'Georgebot the wind-up robot? What are you talking about? That's the trouble with dogs, you try to have a civilised conversation and they talk nonsense. No, there's a castle here on the island. Northumberland is full of castles, don't you know. At the edge of the island, on its highest point, you will find it.'

Elbee thanks the cat, grabs the squeaky tennis ball and leaves the pet shop.

'Alright pet?' asks Romero, as Elbee runs past. She squeaks uncontrollably and trots down the road, while Romero hurries to catch up. With tennis ball in mouth, Elbee has nothing to fear.

A shrill call shatters the atmosphere. Voodoodle's calling.

Black clouds drift slowly across the sky. Bulging with rain, they stop directly overhead, ready to flood the island, waiting to break.

Elbee and Romero follow their ears to the island's edge, where they see it. The menacing castle stands on a tall hill surrounded by rocks crawling out of the sea.

The waves crash against the rocks and spray Elbee and Romero as they trek the long, dry-stone wall lined path that leads them to the foot of the castle. Noses to the ground and tails down low, they scale the steep rock hill upwards until they reach the castle door.

It's open.

Voodoodle's sharp call fills the surrounding air and spreads outwards, from atop the castle to faraway ears. She cackles as her signal travels across the sea and over land, to all corners of Britannia.

A procession of evil marches towards Holy Island. They follow Voodoodle's call. Staggering and hobbling, softly stepping and nearly gliding, the procession moves at all speeds. Hundreds of vampire dogs, hundreds of zombie dogs, crash onto the island in a wave of evil. They unite in a disharmony of drawled growls, mangled moans, yips and yaps, dark barks and sneering hisses.

The representation of dog breeds in the procession is near complete. Every breed imaginable, and even those unimaginable, descend upon island. The pure breeds and mixed breeds walk side by side, united in evil, following Voodoodle's call.

Amongst the bad dogs, a good dog follows bravely. Digit trails behind the procession, keeping a safe distance, waiting to see where this is going.

The zombie dogs have no hunger for the vampire dogs, and the vampire dogs don't want to bite the zombie dogs. There seems to be an unspoken understanding between the two, either that or they all smell too unappetizingly bad to each other. Had one bitten the other, perhaps a hybrid zombie-vampire dog or a vampire-zombie dog would be born. But it's best not to think about that.

The Great North Seal's influence weakens as the endless procession crosses the causeway. The heavy weight of evil descending on Holy Island tilts the balance away from good and towards the bad side. The Great North Seal swims slower, slackening her pace until she is merely floating in prolonged circles around the island.

The aura of goodness begins to fade.

Inside the castle, Voodoodle's cackle echoes and bounces off the cold stone walls in every direction. Elbee and Romero look at each other and shiver together.

'That laugh. Which direction is it coming from? Where should we go?' asks Romero.

'I can't tell. Maybe we should split into two groups,' Elbee suggests. 'That's what they always do in the movies. They split up. I'll be group A and you can be group B. I'll go this way and you go that way.'

'Okay. Be careful.' Romero takes a left down the passageway and Elbee takes a right.

Nose to the floor, Elbee follows the passageway as it narrows into a set of stone stairs. The evil scent leads up the cold steps.

Elbee ascends one step at a time, sniffing carefully to determine how recently Voodoodle has been there. She tracks the smell to a small door. She reaches to pull it open, when the wind blasts in, throwing open the door and blowing Elbee's ears back. She steps against the wind through the doorway, out onto the castle roof.

Outside, the black clouds burst into a torrential downpour. The stone shines atop the castle and becomes slippery when wet. There's no sign of Voodoodle on the roof. Elbee inches to the edge and takes in the view of Holy Island. Vampire dogs and zombie dogs everywhere, as far as she could see. The island floods and begins to sink under the weight of evil.

Romero and I might be the only good dogs left, she thinks.

Soaked in the heavy rain, she holds her tennis ball tightly between her teeth and gives it a comforting squeak. The rain smells clean, fresh. If only it could wash away all the evil.

Elbee's back is turned when Voodoodle emerges and creeps up behind her with clenched fangs, sharpened and ready to bite.

Voodoodle sniffs Elbee. Shocked, Elbee jumps back, shoves her tail between her legs and whimpers. She holds onto her squeaky ball, gently squeezes it and gets an idea.

When Voodoodle approaches a second time, Elbee squeaks the ball and shakes her head back and forth. Voodoodle's eyes follow the ball. She sees Voodoodle is hypnotized by the ball, and launches it over the edge of the castle roof. Instinctively, Voodoodle starts to chase, but she stops before the edge and laughs.

'I've been around awhile,' she snarls at Elbee. 'Unlike you, I know when not to chase a ball.'

Elbee steps back until her paw slips on the edge. With nowhere to go, she slumps her head and lowers her body to the ground. Her tail couldn't get any further between her legs. She's cold and wet and tired.

'Why all the running?' asks Voodoodle. 'You know you cannot escape your fate. We could use your power on our side, when the original vampires rise and take over the world.' The rain falls heavier as if on cue.

'Hold on, you mean you're not the only original?' Elbee starts to wonder how many original vampires are out there, and if she needs to defeat them all, or only Voodoodle. This could get quite long and tiresome very quickly.

'Thousands of vampire bats spread all over the world. Countless originals exist, vampire dog and vampire man alike. And worldwide domination is inevitable. I want to be the first to conquer the world, and Holy Island is the key to my plan. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

'Let me start from the beginning, before I make you my follower.' Voodoodle flashes her sharp white fangs and licks her lips. 'My story begins –'

'Wait, is it a long story?' interrupts Elbee.

'It's a beautifully tragic tale of painful separation, existential angst and emotional abandonment. So, yes, it is a long story.'

Elbee is bored of long stories. She just wants to go home, stretch out on the sofa and sleep while her people watch TV shows and movies. As Voodoodle starts her story, Elbee tunes out and licks her bottom.

'Are you listening?' asks Voodoodle after she nearly finishes her story.

Elbee looks up from her licking. 'Umm, no, sorry.'

'Then you haven't heard my passionate tale!? I really should start at the beginning and make you sit through my story a second time. Well to make a long story short then, in the end, Holy Island will become an Unholy Island, and I will become the master of all people. Once you become a vampire dog, you will understand. We will have an eternal feast!'

'But people are friendly and loving, always giving treats. Why would you want to hurt anybody?'

'Ma petite, you're too young. People leave when you need them most. You really should have listened to my story, it explained everything. All these vampire dogs have been abandoned and neglected by their people. Nobody rescued them, nobody cared. I made them my followers, and now I will get everybody's attention once and for all. The world will be mine!'

A thought suddenly strikes Elbee. 'Hey, have you seen Romero?'

'Didn't you hear what I said? The world will be mine? Oh never mind. Romero? If he was that sheepish looking fellow, well he's long gone now.' Voodoodle smirks maliciously.

I'm the last good dog left.

From out of the black clouds, soaring high above the castle, Edgar suddenly appears and shrieks, 'Elbee! Now! Do it!'

'Do what now?' asks Elbee.

Edgar circles overhead. 'Oh, you haven't figured it out yet?'

Elbee tries to think. Figured what out? I hadn't thought I was supposed to be thinking, she thinks. Let's see, what are the clues? Vampire dogs, zombie dogs, conversations with good dogs in parks, a time-obsessed robot, the timeless sea monster. Fate, I've been picked. Causes and effects. Cosmic accidents or written in the stars. Choices. Stories. My story.

'No, sorry, I have no idea! What was I supposed to figure out?'

'Howl, Elbee, howl!'

'Owl? I know you're an owl!'

'No, not owl. Howl! With an H.'

Elbee had never howled before. She hardly even barked. She was taught that barking would not get her treats, and howling never crossed her mind. She thinks of her people, of her dog friends, Romero, Digit, her park, her neighbourhood, Newcastle, the coast, Northumberland. She remembers being back home, safe on the sofa with her people. All those treats she was given for being a good girl.

My people love me, and I love my people. They must be sad that I left to save the world.

Elbee sits up as tall as she can, opens her mouth to the sky and howls loudly. She howls for the world. She howls for her people. She howls for love. To say it was a howl would be overstating it. The sound was more a reverse howl, a poor imitation of a wolf.

But reverse causes have reverse effects.

Voodoodle laughs, 'What kind of a howl is that? If you're trying to scare me, you'll have to try harder. Or stop trying altogether. I'll show you real fear.' Voodoodle growls and sharpens her fangs.

Elbee's reverse howl echoes off the castle's stone walls and bounces into the sky where the black clouds absorb the sound. The sound waves crash inside the clouds and a thunderous rumble growls loudly. The thick clouds start to thin and split across the sky, tearing the rain away. A sliver of lead grey turns translucent, lightening quickly to silver before brightening to blue. The sun suddenly shows its face and burns sharp rays of gold over Holy Island.

Voodoodle steps back as the clouds rip open. Afraid of the bright light, she scrambles to the dark safety of the castle. But she cannot outrun her fate.

'Mais pourquoi?' she yelps, as the blinding sunlight catches her. Voodoodle evaporates into smoke and a burning pile of ash. The ember in her remains glimmers orange and red. A gentle breeze picks up, and her final glow fades to black.

The vampire dogs follow their leader and burn to oblivion. One by one, their evil extinguishes from Holy Island.

Elbee shakes the rain from her fur, and starts to soak in the sun.

With the vampire dogs gone, the balance of good and evil tilts the island to the good side. The Great North Seal regains her power and swims faster and faster around the island. But the zombie dogs still attack.

Hundreds of zombie dogs stagger slowly and awkwardly towards the castle, closing in like a drawn net. Their drawled growls and mangled moans reach Elbee's ears. She stares down from the castle edge, but sees no escape from the horde. She's trapped.

She looks up to the sky, but Edgar has flown away.

Swimming in circles, the Great North Seal strengthens and returns the aura of goodness around Holy Island. Each lap she swims faster, and the aura of goodness gets stronger.

The zombie dogs' deadened custard yellow eyes regain life and colour. Their mushroom grey furs turn to yellows, browns, blacks, whites, all their natural colours return. The putrid stench becomes slightly less offensive, a general doggy smell. The aura of goodness cures the evil disease.

Completely healed, the dogs sit, hang out their tongues, and look confused. Some start to lick and scratch themselves, while others start to wrestle and play.

From the castle roof, Elbee witnesses the return of life and goodness to Holy Island. The aura of goodness shines brightly under the golden sun. She stares at the clear blue sky, unguarded and unaware as a lone figure sneaks up soundlessly behind and sniffs her.

Elbee startles and whimpers. She tucks her tail between her legs and dashes away.

Then she sees him. 'Romero! You're alright!' Her tail wags.

'Elbee! You saved the world!' Launching their front paws forward, they leap into a dog hug, which is not unlike a bear hug.

'Voodoodle thought I ran away,' he speaks, 'thought I was long gone. She didn't know I was hiding, waiting for the surprise attack. I was just about to sneak up on her, but you beat me to it with that dead canny howl of yours.'

'So that's it then. We saved the world.' She breathes a sigh of relief, taking in the moment. 'I guess there's not much else to do but return home. My people will be happy that the world's been saved. I might finally get my treat. I really am pretty hungry now.'

'I still need to find my person,' Romero whimpers as he lowers his elongated face. The world has been saved, but his person is lost. His blue eyes water with held back tears. 'I hope he hasn't caught the disease. More zombie dogs are out there, staggering dead in the forest, and my person might be among them. I'll go back and search for him. And any zombie dog I cross, I'll lead them to Holy Island. At least we know the cure.'

'I hope you find your person. You're a good dog, Romero.'

'You're a good dog too, Elbee.'

Elbee leaves the castle and walks alongside the cured zombie dogs. There is one last thing she must do before leaving Holy Island. She sniffs the ground. In a frantic search, she circles the grass until she finds it resting untouched. She picks up the squeaky tennis ball and squeezes it between her teeth. Her crescent-moon tail wags high as she starts her long walk home.
Home

Kt and Ky were afraid that Elbee was wandering outside in the cold, lost and alone in the night.

She wouldn't have gone too far, they told each other, we'll keep searching around the neighbourhood, calling her name, with her favourite treat in our hands. She will smell the bone, the peanut butter, the sausages, and hear us calling her name. Somewhere she is heading home, on her way back to us.

Kt and Ky stayed up all night looking for Elbee. They walked up and down the streets of Heaton, through the parks, searched in the woods, overturning every leaf. They called her name and whistled in vain. When dawn broke they returned to their empty home.

We'll look again tomorrow. We'll find her, or she'll find us. We'll find each other again. Elbee was the pick of the litter, but she chose us. She walked right up, her tail wagging so hard, and stood tall on her little hind legs, reaching up to us, to be picked up and held by us, to be chosen by us. Maybe we chose each other. She chose us and we chose her. And when we made the same choice, it was fate.

In the house, Kt and Ky kept looking behind them, expecting to see a shaggy bundle of golden fur follow in their footsteps when they went into the kitchen, into the living room, into the bedroom. They kept expecting her to appear, they couldn't remember a time when she wasn't there. But she was gone. The house was too quiet without her following footsteps.

'All this time I thought we were showing Elbee how to live in the human world,' Ky's tired mind was rambling with scattered sentimentality, 'but maybe she was showing us how to live in the dog world. Or maybe the dog world and the human world are both the same world, and we show each other how to live. Dogs allow themselves to be entirely dependent on people in exchange for best friendship. And treats. And in turn, we become dependent on dogs. All those adventures we had with Elbee. She took us all over Northumberland. She's probably out there now, on an adventure of her own.'

Ky told a story of Elbee's adventures. How she was picked to be the chosen one, and had to fight an evil vampire dog in order to save the world. She chased the vampire dog to the city centre, onto the Metro, followed the evil creature all the way up the coast. Elbee wasn't alone though. She met another lost dog running away from zombie dogs. She met an eccentric robot, and then a cosmic sea monster. And finally, Elbee defeated the vampire dog on Holy Island, destroying evil and bringing goodness back to the world.

'She knows the coastal route from all those walks in Northumberland, so she can find her way back. She's probably now on the long walk home,' said Ky.

'A nice thought,' said Kt. 'Elbee the dog vampire dog hunter. You should write it down. Someone might read it and then find her.'

Too worried to sleep, Ky left the room and returned with a blank notebook and a pen. Looking down, he thought he heard soft paws following him from room to room. He pulled a chair up to the desk and sat with a heavy sigh. Ky began to write Elbee's story.
The End?
If you find Elbee, please email LostElbee@gmail.com. Please share this story, tell a friend, keep on the lookout and help find Elbee. Thank you.
