EXCERPT The evening brought an air of gathering gloom for the two teenagers as they
packed bags in preparation for the start of their summer holiday. Mark Hammond
looked with discontent out of the window, the streetlights illuminating the rain
that had been falling for several hours. As he looked, he brushed his fingers
through his shoulder-length fair hair. His square jaw was grim with
determination as he packed the camping provisions. In the light of the dining
room, where the assembly of rucksacks, sleeping bags and other holdalls had been
gathered as the evening had progressed, Mark Hammond looked older than his
fifteen years. His fixed expression revealed an underlying confidence in his
general manner. That confidence and his general good looks made him a firm
favourite with the opposite sex at school.
By contrast his brother James, younger by almost exactly a year, was tall
and wiry. His narrow face and short black hair strengthened his appearance of
height, and already he was a good two inches taller than his older brother.
As the evening passed, and the rain hammered at the window, both teenagers
looked periodically and with growing dismay at the scene outside. They discussed
with muted excitement the finer details of the journey proposed for the next
day. That journey would take them from their home village of Nailsbury to their
Uncle Jack?s farm in Mainswell, Devon. They had arranged with him to camp in one
of the fields for a fortnight and had planned to spend their days at a number of
adventure sites and a theme park in the area. The new sports and leisure
complex, only a few miles from the farm, was also high on their agenda. As they
watched the rain, their excitement at this, their first holiday on their own,
dwindled.
Now though, the tent and camping gear was all packed and the arrangements
had been made. Kitbags were crammed full of clothes and other bags held their
supplies for the first few days. Both boys were experienced campers, having
spent several summers under canvas with various youth organisations. This time
though, they would be on their own. Their parents had agreed to such a holiday
because the boys were staying on their Uncle?s farm and could, therefore, easily
get help if they needed it. There was a second reason for their parents?
consent, and that reason was Archer.
Archer came complete with four thick legs, a long, continuously wagging
tail, a bark that would worry the life out of almost anyone, and the reputation
that goes with being an Alsatian. Archer was not, however, most people?s opinion
of what an Alsatian should be. His temperament had always been very mild and,
with one exception from his puppy days, his bark was much worse than his bite.
Archer was now very fully grown, and that particular evening he sensed
something was up. He sniffed the bags that were stuffed full of clothes and food
until he found the one that had excited him, the one that contained his
favourite chews. Then he stood over the bag, looking at it with his big, doleful
eyes. When, after a few minutes, he realised no one was paying him attention he
began to whine. Very softly, almost inaudibly, the whine began. As the humans
continued to busy themselves elsewhere the whine got louder until the boys?
father yelled from his study.
?Someone sort that dog out! I?m trying to work, and with a noise like that
I can?t think.?
Mark ran down the stairs and at the foot of the study yelled back.
?It?s not an it, it?s a dog, it?s a he, and he?s got a name, Archer. Here
boy,? he continued as he entered the dining room. ?What?s the matter, eh??
Mark looked at the dog, and the dog in turn looked down at the bag.
?Something in there, hey? Let?s see what it is shall we?? The boy opened
the backpack and rummaged around. ?I?ll bet I know what it is. Chews?? He looked
mischievously at the dog. Archer, by way of reply, wagged his tail furiously and
then, impatient at the time it was taking to extricate the chews from the bag,
he let out one very loud, very excited, very penetrating ?woof?.
The study door flew open and the boy?s father appeared at the dining room door.
His red face was one of anger, and he vented that anger in the boy?s
direction.
?If you can?t keep that blasted animal quiet when I?m working, then he?ll
have to go. You know the house rules. It stays away from my study. Now keep it
quiet or it goes. What?s all this?? he continued, questioning the pile of bags
on the dining room floor.
?It?s our camping gear. Remember we?re going away for a fortnight
tomorrow, and yes, we?re taking the dog too, so you?ll get your precious peace
and quiet.?
?Camping? Who said anything about camping??
?It?s been arranged for weeks. We?re going to Uncle Jack?s remember. You
agreed so long as Archer went too.?
?Did I? Must have forgotten.? The voice was calm again, almost quiet.
?Must have forgotten? he repeated as if trying to remember, though this was his
manner rather than any attempt at recollection.
?Woof?.
?Yes and you?re going too. Peace at last. Now I must get back to work.?
?Are you working on anything exciting??
?All my work is exciting to me. That is the advantage of being at the
cutting edge of your field. Electronics is a wonderful area to work in, so much
invention, so many new things being developed all the time.?
?What exactly are you working on??
?That?s top secret. I can?t tell you, but I can tell you it will greatly
help those who seek to keep the law of this land.?
?Great, another radar gun, more sophisticated than the last time.?
?No, it?s not a radar gun, something much more useful. Now, I must get
back to my office.? The boy?s father returned to the study and shut the door
loudly.
?Come, Archer, let?s see what we?ve got. Hmm, your favourite chews.
Who?s a good boy then??
?Woof.? This time the bark was playful and not loud.
?Better not do that again. We don?t want Father out here in a rage again
tonight. Must be very important what he?s doing. He?s spent days in that
study.?
This time Archer wagged his tail, being unable to bark lest it should lose the
chew it had just grabbed hold of. The evening passed, and the rain continued to
pour down outside the window. Both teenagers finally decided they were packed,
and eventually retired gloomily to bed.
?Hope it?s not raining in the morning,? quipped James.
?Yeah, let?s hope so. Night then. Alarm?s set for eight tomorrow.?
?Night.?
Both bedroom doors closed and a few minutes later an observer outside
would have seen both lights go out. Night had fallen, and with it the
opportunity for adventure loomed on the horizon.
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Children`s Fiction
Non-Adult Fiction
