Brilliant (13 page)

They sank to the ground. Raymond, Suzie, Damien, Gloria—all of them. They all lay down on the mucky trail. There was no talking, no protests, no animals hooting or roaring. The animal noise had suddenly stopped—dead. There was only the one word in the air.

“USELESS!”

Gloria's eyes were stinging and sad. They were closing. There was a word she needed, an important word, but she couldn't remember it. She couldn't remember anything. She had to sleep.

“USELESS!”

It was true. She was useless. She was too tired to do anything. Her eyes were so heavy and wet. She had to shut them. Just for a minute. That was all she had to do. That was all she could do. Because she was useless. She was doing that now, closing her eyes. She was . . . closing her eyes . . . now . . . for . . . ever.

“Excuse me!”

Gloria's eyes stopped closing. There was something pink. Waddling through the sleeping children. A flamingo. It was a flamingo. It was lots of flamingos. There was a big gang of pink flamingos, and they were marching up to the Dog. Gloria's eyes had started to close again. But—

“Excuse me!” said the first flamingo again.

Gloria could see the Dog now too. A big—a huge—angry dog. His eyes were red, and there was yellow stuff drooling from the sides of his mouth. He was staring down at the flamingo.

“Yes, you!” the flamingo yelled up at the Dog. “I'm talking to you! Some of us are trying to sleep, you know! We need our eight hours!”

“USELESS!”

“We're pink!” said the first flamingo. “Of course we're useless! That's the point!”

She was a Dublin flamingo.

“You eejit!”

Gloria smiled—she couldn't help it. A talking flamingo. It was—

“Brilliant,” she said.

She remembered. That was the word she'd forgotten, the word she remembered she needed.

“Brilliant,” she said again.

The flamingo's head turned on its long pink neck and the flamingo gawked at Gloria.

“Oh, thanks very much,” said the flamingo—she was being sarcastic. “Too little, too late.”

A sarcastic flamingo! It was—

“Brilliant,” said Gloria.

The Dog seemed to move, to shift—to push away, lift its head.

“Wake up!” Gloria shouted. “Everyone! Come on! Wake up!”

She looked at the Dog. His eyes were even redder now, and furious. And his mouth—she couldn't even look at it. Its breath! She turned away. She couldn't face the Dog.

But she shouted. “Brilliant!”

She heard the groan—they all did—and the weight of the Dog seemed to lift off them. She saw the Dog's head move, pull away, farther and higher. It wasn't as close to her, and the disgusting breath was gone. The Dog was leaving.

“That's right!” said the first flamingo. “Go take a walk!”

“Or chase a ball!” said another.

“Under a car—hellohhoh!”

Gloria started to laugh.

The other kids were waking up. Some of them were standing again. Some of them were yawning, one or two of them were crying. But they could see it, and feel it. The Black Dog was running away.

Alice crawled across the ground, to Paddy.

“Are you okay, Paddy?”

“Yeah,” said Paddy. “What happened?”

“The Black Dog was here,” said Alice. “Look!”

The Dog was running, charging, across the elephant
enclosure. Big clumps of muck shot into the air behind him as he ran. He was tearing the ground. The Dog was farther away now, but still huge, only a bit smaller than the adult elephants. They could feel the thump of his paws in the ground beneath them.

One of the elephants lifted its trunk and trumpeted: “Get out of our garden!”

“Oh God, Rayzer,” said Gloria. “The elephants are talking now as well.”

They watched the Dog run to the far edge of the enclosure, then jump. He stayed in the air for ages. It seemed like forever. Then he was over the high fence.

Gone.

“Come on!”

Raymond started to run, and the other kids followed. They were awake again. They'd survived, and they had the big word.

“Brilliant!”

They were winning again. They weren't tired now—they were full of oxygen and energy. And the energy, the power they felt in their legs and arms, came from the fact that they knew why they were running. They were going to get rid of the Black Dog for good. Then they'd go home to happier houses.

They ran back the way they'd come. They charged past the lake and the flamingos.

“This is a zoo—hellohhoh!” said a flamingo. “You're supposed to stop and look!”

Gloria shouted back at the flamingos. “You're gorgeous!”

“We know—hellohhoh! Go catch that brute of a dog!”

They were coming up to the meerkat enclosure.

“Go get him, kiddos!”

The meerkat was jumping up and down. But he couldn't reach the top of the wall.

“Come back to bed, Kevin,” said his wife.

“I want to seeee!” he said. “Oh, I hope they are successful.”

“Me too,” said his wife. “They will try their best.”

“Their vest?”

“Your ears are blocked again, Kevin.”

“Perhaps, my love,” said the meerkat. “But my eyesight is perfect, and your beauty makes my heart go jumpy-jumpy.”

Kevin's wife tried to smile. She loved Kevin, but she was very depressed.

“Poor Kevin.”

“No, no,” said Kevin. “Rich Kevin! Expensive Kevin!”

The kids dashed past. Kevin looked back at the wall and shouted one last time. “Go get him, kiddos!”

“Who said that?” said Gloria.

She saw the top of a meerkat's head—

“'Twas meeeee!”

She saw the little head for just a second. Then he dropped back down to the grass of his enclosure. But she heard him again. They all did.

“I wish you successssss!”

None of them stopped running, but all of them were amazed. She'd heard it before, but Gloria only now really understood. It dawned on her, and on the rest of the kids, just as the sun began to rise over Dublin.

“All the animals can talk!”

The meerkat, behind them, confirmed it.

“Yesss!” he shouted. “I never stop!”

He jumped again and tried to grab the top of the wall.

“Come back to bed, Kevin,” said his wife.

“I want to go with the kiddos!”

“You have a job here,” said his wife.

“But, my love!” said Kevin. “That Black Dog has made your life a misery! He has tormented you! He has filled you up with big unhappiness!”

He jumped again.

“Stay with me, Kevin,” said his wife. “The children will defeat the Black Dog.”

“But—!”

“And your job here is important,” said Kevin's wife.

“Children love meerkats. Especially you.”

Kevin stopped jumping.

“Only because they think I was in
The Lion King
,” he said.

The kids were near the gate of the zoo. The air was full of the animals' messages. The grunts and chirps had become good luck wishes and shouts of encouragement.

“Catch him!”

“Bop him!”

“Bite his bum!”

It was brighter now, dawn, and the birds all around the park were working hard.

“Cheep, cheep! Cheaper, cheaper!”

“Are you not afraid of the daylight, Ernie?” asked Raymond.

“No way,” said Ernie. “That's only an oul' myth.”

“The Black Dog's afraid, though. Isn't he?”

“Maybe,” said Ernie. “But I'm not convinced.”

“Why not?” said Gloria.

“Dunno,” said Ernie. “I can't work it out.”

“More than just
brilliant
,” said Raymond.

“Yeah,” said Ernie. “It has to be. My dog, like—Fang. The only word he's afraid of is
bath
.”

The zoo was open. There was a man, one of the zookeepers, opening the gate. He was yawning when he heard a noise and saw the huge gang of kids running straight at him. And his yawn became a silent scream.

Ernie stopped in front of him and showed him his fangs.

“Say your prayers, bud,” said Ernie. “And wash your neck.”

Then he ran after Raymond and Gloria. He shouted back at the zookeeper. “I'll be back.”

The zookeeper held onto the gate—and his neck. He thought he was going to faint.

“Here, Mister,” said Paddy. “Do we have to pay to get out?”

The zookeeper had breath left for one word. “No.”

“Seeyeh, so,” said Paddy, and he kept running.

Alice was beside him. She thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. She wanted to tell Paddy that, but she needed all her breath to keep up.

The kids all ran past the zookeeper.

They were gone.

Early-morning life seemed to be back to normal, although the animals inside were making a lot more noise than usual. All sorts of grunts and yaps and howls and barks and chatter. The zookeeper would go in now and shout at them.

But the kids—the sight and the sound of all those kids, their excitement. It had reminded the zookeeper of something. He remembered now. He used to sing to the animals every morning. Before the Black Dog started visiting his house.