PARCE: The interview with Unknown Patient #307, “Snapper,” continues. I find myself listening intently and forgetting to ask questions. But he speaks so passionately about his father that breaking his concentration seems unwise at this time. I will likely allow him to speak uninterrupted until we come to a natural stopping point in his tale.
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Sheepskin, Volume I
Part 1: The Old Ram
Chapter 4
307: I had never been in the dogs’ lands before. It was incredible. Most of it was a forest, like the one around Ptera Peak, but these trees were oak instead of pine. They were so dense and twisted together that you could barely see the sky. I had never felt twigs and leaves crunching under my feet as I walked.
It was right after dawn. I followed my father through the woods until we came to a clearing. Wow. To one side was a bunch of cottages and a road lined with lit torches. On my other side were two buildings. One looked like a small pyramid. The other was gigantic, made out of stone with fire and statues all over the place.
I had never seen so many dogs. There were hundreds of them, all different breeds, sizes, and colors. Some came out of the lodges. Others walked out of the trees. I thought they’d be going to the big building, but everyone was headed to the little one. They went through a metal door and didn’t come out. It didn’t look large enough to fit everyone.
My father pointed to the cottages. “That’s the village. The higher-ranking dogs live there. The rest live among the trees.” Then he directed my attention to the two buildings. “Guess which one is the arena.”
I laughed. “What’s the other one?”
“It’s the entrance to a staircase that leads deep underground. We’re headed there first. Follow the crowd. Stay close to me and don’t bump into anyone.”
Being in this strange environment made me more inclined to do as I was told. As he had said, the small concrete pyramid with the steel door led straight to a spiral staircase. We went around and down for what must have been fifteen minutes. Then, like at Tooth & Claw, we came to a long, straight tunnel. But this one was cut from stone, it was massive, and it was really hot.
We kept following the crowd. We walked and walked for a long time. All along the walls and ceiling were murals centered around dogs, fire, and a two-legged creature that was all claws, teeth, and fur. I tried to keep it together and just take everything in, but eventually I lost my patience and asked my dad where we were going.
“Underneath Fleece City,” he answered.
“You’re joking.”
“No. Really. That’s where all the fighters are going to meet before the tournament.”
I resigned myself to the walk after that. At least I had a general idea of how far we had to go. That helped it go by faster.
The tunnel opened up into an enormous underground chamber. I hesitated a little when I saw it. There was no floor—it was a pit with molten lava down below. We all dispersed onto a network of stone ledges and hanging catwalks. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to stand the heat. I worried for my father’s condition.
“We won’t be here for long,” he whispered. “Look down there.”
I stepped as close to the railing as I dared. Below us was a precipice sticking out of the side of the chamber. Carved into the wall there was another image of that two-legged creature. I recognized this one from a photo in one of my school textbooks. It was Karkus, the demigod. Lord of the dogs and a creation of Arghast, the Father Orchid.
Standing on the cliff was Boxer and another dog I didn’t know. But from his bearing, I could tell immediately that this was the commander. He had a gold medal on his collar. He was grizzled, you know, grey and brown, big and hulking, long fur, long tail, pointed ears. I’d have said he was more of a wolf, if I had known about those back then.
He and Boxer both threw their heads back and howled, and the sound of it brought the whole crowd to dead silence. Every single one of them had their eyes and ears forward. The level of discipline was a sight to see.
The two dogs at the front nodded to each other. Boxer stepped back, the other came forward.
“It’s good to see you all,” he said. He had a voice like a gunshot, so loud he didn’t need a megaphone or anything. “For those young enough to be participating for the first time, I want to welcome you. I am Commander Pincher. I imagine this place is a little nerve-wracking for you. It is designed to be. This volcanic hotspot is dedicated to our supreme god Karkus, Giver of Fire and Earth. It is a testament to his awesome power. Here, we brave danger and cheat death in order to give praise to the War Hound!”
“The War Hound!” the crowd bellowed, making me jump a foot in the air. “Karkus the War Hound!”
“In this changing world,” Pincher continued, “centuries-old traditions like our HoundBlood Tournament become more vital than ever. In the last three decades of peace ushered in by the pigs, the necessity of our role as peacekeepers and guardians has been increasingly called into question. Even our own people grow more apathetic each year, neglecting their duty to participate in our sacred contest.” He paused, letting the angry buzz rise and fade in the crowd.
“The cowardice of the sheep and the arrogance of the birds combine into a toxic environment of complacency. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Fleece City, the hive of decadence above our heads.” Pincher pointed up at the ceiling with a look of disgust. “I can’t stand to set foot in the place. The citizens look down their noses at the dogs that guard their borders. They think it barbaric that we hold this tournament every year. We determine our social and military hierarchy by fighting ability, which is unthinkable to their ‘civilized’ minds. They act as if we are relics of a bygone era. They think this current age of information and prosperity will last forever. They would rather we fade away like horns on sheep. They do not understand the necessity of our role because our last real conflict was too long ago for most of them to remember.”
I looked to my dad. He ignored me, of course.
“That is why we keep to our traditions,” Pincher proclaimed. “We know better than anyone else that peace is a delicate balancing act. You’d think the birds would understand this too, with their political intrigue and weasel words. The HoundBlood Tournament keeps us honest! Here, you back up your words with your teeth!”
The crowd erupted in barking and howling.
“We fight every year because it reminds us who we are and what we are capable of,” Pincher yelled over them, “unlike the avian frauds up on their mountain who spit lies and call it rhetoric. So who’s really civilized?”
Now they were making so much noise in this echoing chamber that I thought my ears were going to burst. Pincher waited for them to settle down this time.
“So we forge ahead, undaunted, as we have done every year,” he said, turning to face the carving. “We have the strength of our Lord Karkus to see us through. Everyone pray for victory in the way you see fit.”
The dogs all put their heads down and prayed, some silently, some aloud. I turned to my dad again.
“That was a pretty good speech,” I said.
He shook his head. “Pincher is full of crap.”
“What do you mean, Dad?”
“He says all that because it’s what they like to hear. I would love it if he meant what he said. Dog honor is a wonderful thing to behold. But Pincher is a sell-out.”
I started to ask another question, but just then Pincher’s booming voice came back. “We thank Karkus for this chance to show our strength to the world, as we do every year. I’ll see you at the arena, everyone.”
Then we were moving, right back out the way we came.
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Boxer had not been kidding. The arena was packed. Thousands of dogs and sheep elbowed for space. Birds lined the rafters. Dozens of rows of bleachers wrapped around the fighting ring in the center. It was a concrete circle twenty feet wide. An iron post was cemented into the floor at the very middle. Around the ring were segments of chain-link fence reinforced with sheets of plastic, all arranged in a circle.
Overhead, suspended from the ceiling, were three private boxes. Pincher was in the center one. To his left were Caper and a few more birds I didn’t recognize. To his right were a couple of pigs. I caught a glimpse of a red glow among them.
My father and I stood just outside the ring. A dog came up to us, wearing a vest that said STAFF.
“Do you need a cornerman, Old Trampler?”
My father shook his head. “No, thank you. My son will corner me.”
I suddenly got nervous looking at the massive crowd. I whispered to him, “What am I supposed to do?”
“Just be friendly to the dogs. And whatever you do, no healing.”
“OK.” As soon as I said it, the staff dogs opened up a barred gate under the bleachers on the far side of the ring. Two more of them came out, hauling a chain. I couldn’t see what was at the other end. The poster Boxer had given me had been a pretty goofy drawing, but it had made my imagination run wild with thoughts of blood-spattered claws and fangs.
I think seeing Entomber eat that sheep had affected me more than I wanted to admit.
“Good morning.” Pincher’s voice boomed out of the speakers over my head. The crowd went quiet. “I want to welcome you all to HoundBlood Two Hundred Forty-Two. And a special welcome to our first-time guests. I am very happy to see Professor Caper and the birds here to share this piece of our culture and history with us.”
I glanced at Caper in time to see him roll his eyes.
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“Of course, we all know who the birds came to see,” Pincher said. “We are opening this year’s tournament with a special exhibition match, a display of awesome power that will set the tone for the rest of the day. These birds have traveled all the way from their mountain home to see their champion, the one who inspired them to feats of valor that won’t be soon forgotten—at least not by us dogs. So, let’s hear it for the esteemed warrior, one of the last fighting sheep left in the world, the Grey Old-Timer, the Hell-Horn, the Trampler!”
The crowd roared and barked. Thankfully this arena was large enough that the noise didn’t kill my ears the way it did in the shrine. The staff dogs pulled part of the wall aside and my father stepped into the ring. After they shut him in, they slid a crate over so I could stand on it and reach my head and forelegs over the top.
“And now,” Pincher said, “we give you Trampler’s opponent. A creature whose origins are shrouded in mystery. Extremely powerful and incredibly dangerous. Only the most skilled of dog warriors can go against this beast and hope to survive. A blessing from Karkus against which dogs build their power and hone their defenses. Our exhibition fighter, the Mauler!”
The staff dogs hauled on the chain and the monster came out of the gate. I gasped, and I could hear that I wasn’t the only one. But mine wasn’t out of fear. More like shock and disappointment.
Don’t get me wrong, the Mauler was scary. He was massive, bigger than any dog. I didn’t know what a gorilla was at the time, but that’s how his body was shaped—you know, long arms, short legs. And he was just strapped with muscle. Each of his arms was bigger around than my whole body.
But it was obvious the dogs had been treating him like absolute crap. He was covered in cuts. He walked with a hunch, keeping his head down so I couldn’t see his face. But his defeat was in his posture.
They pulled the fence open again. The staff dogs yanked on the chain again and the Mauler lurched into the ring. Now I could see what his face looked like. My heart stopped, Doc. The last link of the chain was through his nose. The fur on his face was crusted over with dried blood.
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My dad must have been thinking the same thing, because he turned away and shut his eyes while the dogs attached the free end of the chain to the iron post at the center of the ring. The beast slumped down onto the ground and stayed there. Boxer brushed past me to jump over the fence. Then he pulled my dad close.
“Stay out of his range and cut him after he swipes his claws,” Boxer whispered. “Don’t let him grab you or you’re finished. You can handle him.”
My dad rounded on his old friend. “When did this happen, Boxer?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at that pathetic creature. He used to live for fighting. I saw it with my own eyes. What have the dogs done to him?”
Boxer started to say something, but Pincher interrupted over the speaker system. “Are the combatants ready?”
“No,” my dad called out. “I’m withdrawing. I won’t fight.”
Pincher’s eye twitched. “What?”
“This Mauler is the symbol of Karkus’s power?” my dad shouted. He was the only one speaking in the entire arena. “Yet you saw fit to chain him by the nose? What’s changed?”
He started walking around the edge of the ring. Then he spun and lowered his head, charging at the Mauler. At the last second, my father stopped. Another step and his horns would have gone into Mauler’s ribcage. The whole time, the beast eyed him but never made a move to defend himself.
“I know what’s changed. You began to treat the Mauler the way the pigs have treated you,” my father said. “The will to live has been kicked out of him. I came to the shrine this morning and I heard you blame sheep and birds for the state of society. Try looking inward. You have let the pigs beat you into submission. And you turned your powerless anger on this slave. The Mauler here is a symbol, all right… of you.”
Pincher lowered his head. His ears went flat and he bared his teeth. The predatory look on his face sent a chill through my bones.
Boxer grabbed my dad again. “Friend… Brother. I urge you to reconsider. Don’t anger him. The Mauler doesn’t mean a thing to me. You do. You’ve got to fight. Otherwise, we did all this for nothing.”
“You condoned the way this beast has been treated?” My father pushed Boxer’s paw away. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but it’s not going to work. What will beating a helpless creature prove to my enemies?”
The scolded dog turned and shoved a panel of fence out of his way. Boxer stormed off and my father followed him out of the ring.
“You’re going to regret your words today, Old Trampler,” Pincher growled over the speaker system.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Come on, son. We’re leaving.”
I jumped down off the crate and followed my dad out of the arena. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but I couldn’t help but glance up at the private boxes.
Durdge stared right back at me.
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“What are we going to do, Dad?” I stared out our living room window, taking it upon myself to watch for threats coming from Fleece City.
“I don’t know yet, son.” My father lay on the concrete floor, only half paying attention to the Chugg Report spread out in front of him. “I’m thinking about putting you in the tunnel with Tenber for a while. But I want to get an idea of what the repercussions for this are going to be before I take any drastic action like that.”
“So we’re just going to wait?”
“That’s right.”
We waited. Pincher’s words and the look on his face kept popping back up in my mind. My father was going to regret this, Pincher had said. Durdge was there. The whole idea behind the fight was to convince Durdge and Entomber that my father wasn’t worth messing with. That hadn’t happened. I just wanted to know who was going to retaliate and when.
The sun crawled up above the house, where I couldn’t see it anymore. I lost track of time after that. My stomach growled, but I didn’t dare venture out for a bite.
A pounding at the back door made me jump so hard I banged my head against the windowpane. My dad jumped to his feet and pulled the door open. Standing there was a dog, red-eyed and panting, looking furious and desperate. My dad knew this dog, but I sure didn’t. I tripped over myself in panic as the dog tried to come into the room.
My father shoved the dog, making him backpedal off the step and into the grass. “What the hell are you doing here, Fowler?”
The dog pulled his tongue back into his mouth. “You went way out of line this time, Old Trampler. Those sheep at the Quarry have been talking about what you did, turning your nose up at the Mauler and insulting Pincher to his face. Now they’ve all got it in their heads that they can stand up to Chugg. They’re refusing to work. They even ganged up on one of my men and beat him.”
My father threw his head back and laughed himself into a coughing fit, which seemed to enrage the dog even more.
“You have to stop this, Trampler,” Fowler snapped. “Come with me now and tell these sheep to get back to work.”
“Get Shiver to tell them.”
“Shiver wants nothing to do with this. It has to be you.”
“The Quarry sheep are suddenly listening to me?” my father answered. “Today of all days? I should have done this a long time ago. No matter what happens to me now, Fowler, it will have all been worth it.”
“I can calm Pincher down,” Fowler said. “Are you going to cooperate with me or not?”
“Cooperating hasn’t done anything but let Chugg mistreat my people. I’m finished. Crawl back to your pig masters and tell them why you can’t control a bunch of sheep.” My father reached around the doorframe to the kitchen counter, where he kept his bottle of prescription Vexylam. Then he tossed the bottle at Fowler. “And take their poison with you.”
He slammed the door in Fowler’s face. He stood there without saying anything for a minute. Then he turned and walked over to me. He looked pale.
“I don’t know what came over me,” he said.
I stood up. “You fought back.”
He shook his head and looked out the window. “I’ve got to fix this. Just because there’s no hope for me doesn’t mean I should act this way. They will take it out on you. I’m sorry, son.”
I leaned in to him, the sheep way of giving a hug. For once, he didn’t pull away. I was glad for that. I was proud of him and I didn’t care anymore what consequences came my way. I’ll hold on to that memory for as long as I live.
I didn’t see the plume of smoke rising from the far side of Fleece City, but he did.
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There were other things going on that I had no way of knowing about at the time. Such as the fact that Durdge was sitting on our roof, monitoring us. He watched Fowler skulk away from our house in the direction of the Megatropolis. And he was involved in a phone call between two pigs on opposite coasts. The voices of the other callers were being transmitted to the circuits in his metal head.
“Pincher and Fowler have done nothing but complain all day,” said a whiny voice. That was Scurvert, the pig in charge of the Quarry. “These rams are undermining their authority and becoming a problem.”
“The rams are more useful alive than dead,” Durdge said. “As long as they do what they agreed to do and keep others from following their example.”
“Well, they are not doing so well lately,” Scurvert answered.
“If they’ve become more trouble than they’re worth, it’s time we took action,” said a third voice. A radio voice, baritone, so sweet it would make you sick.
“The old one’s thrown out his Vexylam, Pops,” said Durdge. “Entomber will have him soon. I can make sure it happens tonight.”
“Do it. And as for you, Scurvert, I’m counting on you to bring those damned Quarry sheep to heel. I don’t care how.”
“I’m on it, Pa. In a couple of hours they’ll remember who’s in charge.”
“Good. I’m proud of you boys. After tonight, the horns of rams will not be giving us any more trouble. Now, get to work.”
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My father snuck out again that night. This time, I had really gone to sleep. He went without me. Like before, he snuck around Fleece City in the dark. Caper met him outside the entrance of Tooth & Claw.
“Boxer won’t be joining us,” said the owl. He led my dad to University and took him through the main gate into the courtyard. Then they went inside the lecture hall and locked the door behind them.
“Is he still upset about this morning?” my father asked.
Caper nodded. “He will understand in time. You did the right thing.”
“Is that what you called this meeting for? To ease my guilt?”
“No. After your antics at the tournament, I sent Tenber on some reconnaissance. I wanted you to hear his report.”
“Ah. Good. Will he be back soon?”
“He may already be in the tunnel. Let us head down there and find out.”
Caper led the way through his own secret door, and they entered the underground tunnel from the University end this time. When he turned on the lights, Tenber was in the center, using his clothes to give himself form.
“No Boxer?” he asked.
“It will be just us tonight,” Caper answered. “Did you learn anything?”
“Yeah. Nothing good.”
“Tell us.”
Tenber came up close to the two old men. “They’re moving tonight. The way the old ram embarrassed Pincher this morning was the last straw. They decided there would be no more horns.”
My father took a step back toward the stairs. “I have to warn Shiver.”
“It’s too late,” said Tenber. “They already got him.”
“What? He’s dead?”
“No. Scurvert attacked his daughter.”
My father gasped, which turned into a coughing fit that brought him to his knees. Caper rushed to his side.
“The girl,” my father groaned. “Dreamer. What have I done to her?”
“She’s alive,” said Tenber, “but hurt pretty bad. Shiver too. His horns are broken off. The pigs wanted to make an example of them to get the Quarry under control. It worked.”
“So they will come for me and my son next.”
“Yeah.” Tenber paused. “They’re pretty upset you threw out your pills. They want it to look like the medication was the only thing holding Entomber back from getting you. You know, the same thing they tell everyone. So they’ll send him after you.”
My father sighed. “Then I have to go to him.”
Caper reached up with a foot and grabbed my dad’s shoulder. “Yes, the first priority is keeping the boy safe. We’ll help you.”
“No. I have to go to Entomber. If I surrender, go easily, maybe they will leave Snapper alone.”
Tenber said nothing.
Caper shook my father. “That’s nonsense. Get it together, Old-Timer. You’re not going down without a fight.”
“It’s for the best.”
“No, it isn’t. Listen to yourself. You wanted to show Entomber what you can do. Now is your chance. Fight back. You’ve already shown the world that the Chugg Corporation and their lap dogs are cruel because they are weak. Now show everyone that they can bleed.”
My father stood up. “You’re right, Caper. I’m going home.”
The three of them left the tunnel and pushed through the wrought-iron gate leading out of the University courtyard. The night was dark and cool.
“Wait,” said Caper. “Stop.”
My father leaned in close to whisper to him. “What do you see?”
“The Megatropolis gate is open. Dogs are coming out. Dozens of them. Warthogs, too. They’re all identical. It’s the clones. The Chugg Corporation is building an army in its laboratories.”
“They’ll head for your house,” said Tenber. “They want this to look like some kind of official enforcement action.”
“I’ve got to get to Snapper before they do,” my father said.
Caper unfolded his wings. “Then let’s get a move on.”
“No. I need you to go get Boxer.”
“Very well. Tenber, go with Old-Timer to his home.”
My father shook his head. “Can you slow them down?”
Tenber retreated into the darkness. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll thin them out as much as I can before they get there.”
Caper was already in the air. “Don’t waste any more time. Get going.”
The three of them headed in different directions. My father kept his distance from the advancing clone assassins, running as hard as he could on his stiff leg, gasping for air the whole way.