Pete(6)‘Intervention Plan’ (Young adult; adventure/sci-fi)
February 6th 2008 23:54
"What about those bald things behind his ear?" Tomas asked, pointing to where he last seen them. Only the fur had grown over, not entirely, but enough to cover any evidence. "There were bald patches there," Tomas said, raking through the fur on Bluey's neck.
"Like I said son, he's probably been in a fight, dogs get shaken-up after a bad one. Anyway, he looks OK now." John gave Bluey another pat on the head. "And I've got work to do."
"Thanks dad," Tomas said with a resigned sigh as his father walked off. He then turned to Bluey, and said: "What's going on then, mate?" Tomas ruffled the fur on his dog's head. He had the distinct feeling he'd just been conned.
Bluey “whined” and wagged his tail. He wanted so much to tell Tomas what had happened to him, but knew that wasn't possible. Why? He didn't know, and that upset him. The one thing Daxians could not have allowed for in their bio-equation: the special relationship between a boy and his dog.
"Well, I don't know," Tomas scratched the back of his head. "But Dad's right, you look OK now. So, what about a run then aye, see if there's any waves." Riding a surfboard is Tomas' favourite water-sport, and the days when footy training wasn't on, he tried to get a surf in after school.
Bluey barked then did his ‘excited dance’: left, right, left, right, round and round. He actually felt quite silly this time, the dog-dance lacking its usual vigour. Nonetheless the bio-chips told him animal-traits must be maintained—he still had to look like a dog.
Snatching his wetsuit from the clothesline, Tomas undressed on the verandah, pulling the black-springsuit over his body and zipping it up. He then picked-up his surfboard from the lawn—a blue thruster his father bought him last birthday—then raced Bluey out the gate and down Morrison Avenue to the beach.
On arrival, the surf was ordinary with not another surfer in sight. Small, bumpy lefthanders broke on a shallow sandbank just off the Baths. Tomas paddled straight out, the good thing about being the only surfer in the water was you had the pick of the waves.
Bluey sat on the sand and waited patiently. Most times, he would be running up-and-down the beach chasing sand flies, only that didn't interest him today, he was happy to sit and do nothing, just watch his master ride the waves.
Hour and a half later, Bluey had dozed-off when Tomas came running from the surf and splashed water over him. "Come on, mate," he said. "We'll take the short-cut home."
They trudged up over the railway-bridge and into the mine grounds. Then Bluey stopped suddenly as a feeling of dread filled his mind. 'Something's wrong'. The mind-map appeared instantly, this time showing an underground layout of the mineshafts. A red-dot at the top of the map indicated something moving along one of the shafts. The dread turned to outright fear. 'Whatever that is,' he thought, ' it's bad…very bad.' He began barking and stamping the ground.
"What's wrong with you now, crazy dog?" Tomas asked, watching Bluey and shaking his head.
Bluey only barked louder and ran away from Tomas, stopped, barked twice, then ran back jumping and barking.
Tomas got the message: Bluey wanted him to follow. He didn't know why, but he could tell his dog thought something was wrong. No sooner did Tomas quicken his pace, than Bluey took off in the direction of home, stopping only for a quick glance to ensure his master was following.
"Like I said son, he's probably been in a fight, dogs get shaken-up after a bad one. Anyway, he looks OK now." John gave Bluey another pat on the head. "And I've got work to do."
"Thanks dad," Tomas said with a resigned sigh as his father walked off. He then turned to Bluey, and said: "What's going on then, mate?" Tomas ruffled the fur on his dog's head. He had the distinct feeling he'd just been conned.
"Well, I don't know," Tomas scratched the back of his head. "But Dad's right, you look OK now. So, what about a run then aye, see if there's any waves." Riding a surfboard is Tomas' favourite water-sport, and the days when footy training wasn't on, he tried to get a surf in after school.
Bluey barked then did his ‘excited dance’: left, right, left, right, round and round. He actually felt quite silly this time, the dog-dance lacking its usual vigour. Nonetheless the bio-chips told him animal-traits must be maintained—he still had to look like a dog.
Snatching his wetsuit from the clothesline, Tomas undressed on the verandah, pulling the black-springsuit over his body and zipping it up. He then picked-up his surfboard from the lawn—a blue thruster his father bought him last birthday—then raced Bluey out the gate and down Morrison Avenue to the beach.
Bluey sat on the sand and waited patiently. Most times, he would be running up-and-down the beach chasing sand flies, only that didn't interest him today, he was happy to sit and do nothing, just watch his master ride the waves.
Hour and a half later, Bluey had dozed-off when Tomas came running from the surf and splashed water over him. "Come on, mate," he said. "We'll take the short-cut home."
They trudged up over the railway-bridge and into the mine grounds. Then Bluey stopped suddenly as a feeling of dread filled his mind. 'Something's wrong'. The mind-map appeared instantly, this time showing an underground layout of the mineshafts. A red-dot at the top of the map indicated something moving along one of the shafts. The dread turned to outright fear. 'Whatever that is,' he thought, ' it's bad…very bad.' He began barking and stamping the ground.
"What's wrong with you now, crazy dog?" Tomas asked, watching Bluey and shaking his head.
Bluey only barked louder and ran away from Tomas, stopped, barked twice, then ran back jumping and barking.
Tomas got the message: Bluey wanted him to follow. He didn't know why, but he could tell his dog thought something was wrong. No sooner did Tomas quicken his pace, than Bluey took off in the direction of home, stopping only for a quick glance to ensure his master was following.
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