Dog Gone by Carole Poustie Page A

like hell,’ Brody shouted back.
    â€˜Which part of your leg?’‘
    â€˜It mostly hurts near my ankle.’
    â€˜Hang in there, boys. Help’ll be here soon,’ called Dad again. ‘You fellas must be hungry and thirsty as heck. Gran’s making you some sandwiches to go on with. Close your eyes for a minute – I’m going to move this cover off to see if I can get some more light in. Watch out in case any dirt falls in.’
    â€˜Dad, be careful,’ I yelled. ‘The bricks are loose around the top!’
    â€˜Yeah – two’s company, three’s a crowd,’ muttered Brody. ‘Don’t want your old man dropping in for a visit like you did.’
    â€˜Ish!’ It was Gran’s voice now. ‘I’ve got a drink for you and some food and a torch. I’ve wrapped them in a table cloth – oh, and a coat each. We’ll lower it down when your dad moves the cover. Are you all right, love?’
    â€˜I’m okay, Gran.’
    â€˜What about you, Brody – is your leg bleeding, love?’
    â€˜No, Mrs Douglas,’ called Brody, ‘it’s just really swollen and hurts a lot.’
    The ring of light at the top of the well suddenly grew larger, and I could see another face peering down at us.
    â€˜Your food parcel’s comin’ down now, lads,’ boomed a voice I recognised straight away. Mr Ironclad had joined the rescue party. ‘We’re lowerin’ it down with your Gran’s clothes line. Watch out – here it comes!’
    The bundle bumped and swung from side to side as it made its way down to us.
    Finally, we could reach it. We opened the parcel as quickly as we could without spilling the stuff everywhere. I found a torch and shone it down Brody’s leg as he struggled to put a coat on. One leg of his school pants was up high enough for me to see the damage.
    â€˜Whoooa, no wonder it hurts so much,’ I gasped, as we both saw for the first time how badly it was broken. Brody’s leg was black and swollen, and instead of being straight and smooth, his shin bone had a huge lump in it.
    â€˜It looks gross,’ said Brody. ‘Do you think I’ll have to go to hospital? I hate hospitals.’ He stuffed a sandwich in his mouth.
    There were some new noises from up above. I wasn’t sure what was going on until another voice shouted down the well at us, making us jump. The fire brigade had arrived and they were going to send down a harness. Two firemen called down what we had to do. Brody was to put it on like a life jacket. I would have to help him do up the buckles, because there was no room for a fireman down here.
    With a bit of a struggle we managed to get Brody’s arms through the right places. I watched as he spun around while the thick rope hauled him upwards. Gran’s torch cast spooky shadows on the sides of the well as I aimed the beam on the bottom of his shoes. He cried out in pain and everyone at the top shouted out encouragement.
    When he disappeared from view, I shone the torch down in front of me in a last-ditch effort to find the fishing rod and to have a closer look at where I’d spent a whole afternoon and night.
    The bottom of the well was full of old junk – empty paint tins, broken tiles, rotten fence palings. I wondered what else I was sitting on, hidden underneath the mattress. It was better not to think about it.
    The walls were cold and brown and I suddenly felt like they were closing in on me again, now that I could see how narrow the well was. It’d been easier to be here in the dark with Brody.
    I closed my eyes and started to take deep breaths to keep myself calm. After about four breaths I noticed something weird. The air temperature had changed – it was warmer. I had on one of Gran’s coats, but it wasn’t that.
    I looked up to see if the fire brigade were sending down a heater or something, but all I could see was the ring