Howl (18 page)

Brodie stared at her fiercely, his face white. He swallowed hard then checked his watch. “I’ve got to get back. Before they figure out what I’ve done.” He turned and hopped on his bike. In seconds, he was gone.

Stunned, Robin watched him go. How could he leave her like this? With the sheriff on his way? But there was a more pressing question pounding her brain: what was
she
going to do? She had to figure out a plan, and she had to figure it out fast.

Breaking into a run, she headed towards the house. She’d phone her father and Griff. They would know what to do. Halfway there, she stopped. What if her father told her to do nothing? She couldn’t stand that. Confusion overwhelmed her. She swayed from side to side, uncertain about what to do.

She went to Griff’s. The moment she was inside Griff’s cabin, she felt herself calm. With shaking fingers, she called Zo-Zo’s number. It took her three tries to get the right numbers punched in. The phone rang once. Twice. Then three times. When Zo-Zo’s voicemail came on, Robin gushed her message into it.

“Zo-Zo, come quickly. The sheriff is on his way — the animals, they could be —” The voicemail clicked off. Had it even taken her message?

Now what? Think, Robin, think! The sheriff would be arriving any moment. What if she tried to talk to him, what if she tried to explain about the animals needing care.

He’s not going to listen!
a voice inside her harped.
No one’s going to listen to a twelve-year-old!

Her eyes shot up to the gun. With a gun, she could
make
him listen. With a gun, the sheriff would take her seriously. He’d have to. She reached up and took the gun down from the rack. It was heavy in her hands, and the metal felt cold. And mean. This gun had killed things. It had spilled blood. She wasn’t planning to shoot anyone but knew the gun would scare them off. That’s all she wanted. But what if her fingers slipped on the trigger?

“Put it away,” Griff said quietly.

Robin knew the voice belonged to her imagination, but she also knew this was exactly what Griff would say. And that Griff was right.

She eased the gun back up on the rack, and relief flooded through her. But now what? Her eyes cast about the room desperately and stopped on the photograph of Emmeline Pankhurst. The woman’s blazing eyes bored right into her.

“What should I do?” Robin whispered aloud.

To her surprise, Emmeline told her. Not in words of course, but like an instant message that went from the suffragette’s brain to hers. And she decided right then she was going to take that advice. It was risky, dangerous even, but it was the right thing to do.

She left the cabin and took Relentless to the farmhouse. She didn’t want the dog getting hurt. This way, she’d have both the dog and her brother out of the way.

Squirm glanced up. “The movie’s great. Want to watch the rest with me?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll just take care of some people who are coming.”

Squirm nodded, his gaze staying on the TV. He was used to people coming and going.

Determined now, Robin went outside. Her stomach felt like a gymnasium full of bouncing balls. She busied herself with the animals.

She was cleaning the skunk cages when she heard the sound of tires coming up the driveway. She stopped what she was doing and listened. Most of the people who came to the animal shelter drove cars or vans, and their tires made light, gravelly sounds as they approached. This vehicle sounded heavy, its weight grinding against the gravel as it went.

She peeked through the slats of the barn and saw the sheriff’s black pick-up truck approaching. It had a large trailer hitched to the back. The trailer had been brought along to take away the animals.
Of course
, she thought.
He wouldn’t put them to sleep here. He’ll take them somewhere to do it. If
she let him. But her plan was to stop him. No matter what. It was up to her now. The lives of the animals were in her hands. Fear clawed through her body. She felt shaky, but she got into position anyway.

By the time the big black truck stopped in the yard, Robin was prepared. She had shut the barn door tightly behind her from the outside, making sure the long bar that went across the whole front of the door was firmly closed. She leaned back now and felt the solid strength of the barn itself. In the stillness, she could smell the hay and the tangy aroma of the various animals. Usually, the animals made some sort of noise — grunting, licking, clawing, yipping, but at the moment, they were dead silent. Griff had told her once that animals were always the first to know about hurricanes, earthquakes, and other natural disasters. They were certainly sensing danger now.

Robin stared into the cab of the black truck. Two men were sitting in the front seat. Both were staring at her. One had leaned so far forward, his nose was almost squashed against the windshield.

Although she couldn’t hear them, she could see their mouths moving, and every once in a while, the pointer finger of the man in the passenger seat jabbed the air in front of him. What were they saying? Were they figuring out how they were going to arrest her? Would they use handcuffs? She felt so small leaning up against the barn. And vulnerable. Then she heard them laugh. It was the kind of laugh one of the bullies at school might make if a puny kid challenged him. That startled her.

The sheriff and his deputy got out of the truck slowly, both slamming their doors at the same time. The sheriff was tall and skinny and had a shiny badge pinned to his shirt, just like in the movies. His deputy was smaller and so round in the middle that the material of his shirt strained against the buttons above his belt buckle.

The sheriff pasted a smile on his face and approached her. Robin tried to find his eyes, but he was wearing dark sunglasses and she couldn’t see them.

“Your dad around?”

Robin shook her head. She was glad he’d asked her something that didn’t require words. She didn’t think she could have spoken if she’d wanted to.

“Don’t matter,” the deputy said to the sheriff. “We can tack these papers to the wall, move this little lady to the side, and get on with our business.”

Robin bristled.
Little Lady?

The sheriff put his hands on his hips and watched as the deputy tacked the papers to the barn a few feet away from her.

The deputy came and stood beside the sheriff, putting his arms on his hips as well. He looked down at Robin and spoke firmly but kindly. “You’re breaking the law, you know that, don’t you?”

Robin wanted to speak up, wanted to tell them they’d put in their application already, that they would have their certification any day now, but she could barely breathe, let alone speak.

The deputy crossed his arms. His elbows almost jutted into her face. He fired words at her. “We’re taking the animals out of here. Step aside.”

Robin didn’t move. She couldn’t move.

The deputy shifted from one foot to another. “You deaf, girl?” He looked at the sheriff then back at Robin. “Step aside!”

Robin still didn’t move.

The sheriff’s voice wasn’t as mean. “Now listen, little girl …”

“It’s all right, Chief, I’ll just lift her out of the way,” the deputy said matter-of-factly. “You’re just making it hard on yourself.” When Robin said nothing, he shrugged, shoved the cuffs of his shirt up his arms, and came for her.

Robin tensed. She could smell his minty deodorant as he moved his body close. His fleshy hands gripped her waist, then he jerked her up as easily as if he were lifting a small dog. Robin felt her feet come off the ground.

Then the lifting stopped.

“What the —” The deputy put more heft into his lift, tugging harder to pull Robin out of the way, but he couldn’t wrench her away. He put her down, and as he did he saw the thick metal bike chain wrapped tightly around her, fastening her to the metal bar that stretched across the barn door.

“Crap!”

The sheriff took off his sunglasses and cleaned the lenses with his shirt sleeve. She could see the glisten of sweat on his forehead. He leaned towards his deputy and whispered. “Smart little squirt!” Then he turned to Robin. “What’s your name, kid?”

Robin tried to find her voice, but it was still hiding somewhere. She looked up at his towering presence and squinted. The sun was in her eyes, and she could barely see.

The sheriff slid his long, boney index finger under the bike chain, assessing its weight and thickness.

Robin squirmed. She didn’t like the feeling of his fingers so near her body, and with the man so close, she could smell the acrid aroma of coffee on his breath.

“Listen, kid,” he said, “you got two choices here. You can undo this and have a perfectly good bike chain at the end of the day, or we’ll saw it off, and you’ll have a wrecked one. What’s it going to be?”

The deputy gave her a mean look. “Either way, we’re getting you out of here.”

The sheriff took off his hat and ran his hand through his thinning hair. He forced his voice to stay level. “You want to get yourself arrested? Is that what you want?”

When Robin still did not speak, the sheriff snapped at his deputy. “Get the hacksaw.”

The deputy brightened. “Yes, sir!”

Robin stood stiffly as she watched the deputy return to the truck. Her eyes began to sting. In seconds, they were going to cut her away and start clearing out the animals. She looked down, willing herself not to cry. Not here. Not now.

Tires sounded on the gravel. Robin’s eyes shot up. Zo-Zo! She almost shouted with relief to see her friend speeding up the lane on her bike, her braids flying behind her.

When Zo-Zo saw the sheriff, she jammed on the brakes so hard, her bike spun. She threw it aside and ran to Robin. “I got your message. I —”

“They’re taking the animals,” Robin cried. She was yelling, but her voice sounded no louder than a hoarse whisper. “As soon as they cut this chain.”

Zo-Zo looked down at the bike chain and her hand flew to her mouth. “Cool!” She leaned towards Robin and said in a low tone, “I called some of the other kids….”

The sheriff pushed Zo-Zo aside. “Go on. Get out of here. We have enough problems.”

Zo-Zo recovered her balance and walked over to her bike.

The sheriff called back to his deputy. “It’s in the box, the one with all the tools —”

As the sheriff shouted instructions, Zo-Zo unwrapped the chain from her handlebars and ran back to Robin, chaining herself in as well.

When the sheriff turned and saw what Zo-Zo had done, he shook his head slowly. He wagged his long finger at them. “If you think you two little girls can stop us, you’ve got another think coming.”

“At least we’ll go to jail together,” Zo-Zo said quietly to Robin.

The deputy finally found the hacksaw and brought it to the sheriff.

“It would be a lot easier if you just undid yourselves,” the sheriff said. “I’ll try not to cut you, but —” He eyed his deputy. “Better get the first aid kit.”

“He’s just trying to scare us,” Zo-Zo said, but she closed her eyes as the sheriff began to saw Robin’s chain.

Suddenly there was a scream and loud barking. Squirm and Relentless came charging out of the house. Seeing the saw so close to his sister’s flesh, Squirm threw himself at the sheriff. Relentless snarled and bared her teeth, ready to attack. The deputy whipped out a bottle from his pocket and sprayed. Relentless yelped with pain and began pawing at her face and eyes.

Robin screamed and tried to run to her dog, but the chain stopped her.

Squirm threw himself at the deputy. “Get away from my dog!”

The deputy grabbed Squirm and held his arms behind his back while the sheriff dragged Relentless to the truck and shoved her inside.

“Stop!” Robin cried. “Stop!” Now her voice
was
loud.

Squirm’s face reddened as he screamed. “Leave her alone!” His chest was heaving as he tried to pull in air. When he couldn’t, the colour drained from his face. He clutched his chest and fell to the ground.

“He’s having an asthma attack!” Frightened now, Robin tried to undo the lock on her bike chain so she could run for the inhaler but couldn’t remember the combination. “His inhaler. It’s on the fridge.” She pointed to the house.

The sheriff rushed off. The screen door banged once, then twice and he was back beside them, inhaler in hand. Kneeling, he pulled Squirm against him. “Here, kid, open your mouth. That’s right. Suck it in.”

Robin dropped to her knees and took her brother’s hand. It felt moist and terribly small. “It’s okay, Squirm. It’s okay.” As the drug in the inhaler took effect, she could feel him relaxing. The wheezing stopped.

“He looks better now,” the deputy said.

“You feel better, son?” the sheriff asked. “Sit up a bit.” He arranged Squirm on his knee. “My son had asthma. His attacks used to scare the bejesus out of me. But that was before all these new-fangled drugs.”

Squirm stood up and eased himself nearer to Robin. The sheriff stood, too, and slapped the earth from his pants. He handed Squirm the inhaler. “Keep this close.” He turned to Robin.

“I suggest you take your brother up to the farmhouse now and put him to bed.”