Middle: Chapter Three.

His life may have been short and taken away from him too early, but thankfully there was the afterlife. A limit-less opportunity for all to enjoy what they missed in their first life.

Granted, there were some limits. Like they were unable to smell a fresh new budding flower, hot food cooking on the stove and feel the sunlight on their face. But they had the little things. The sight of a child playing. Being reunited with their loved ones, who were taken too soon from them. Or, quite simply, a little red ball.

Aside from his master, that was what he missed the most, but thankfully Miss Plum was able to supply him with one. And little Scraps was delighted! A red ball, all for himself. His day had been made.

It was another day down in the Land of the Dead. The skeletons came to the pub, knowing they could drink their body weight in ale without damaging any major organs – anymore! The band played from beginning to end, taking requests – slow and melancholy, or vibrant and energetic, with Bonejangles taking the lead all through the night. The pub was alive each night and Miss Plum was worked off her feet. To keep Scraps from getting trampled on or tripping anyone over during the 'Happy Hours', she threw him his trusty red ball in to the streets and knew he would be content for the next three hours or so. When he was tired, he would come running back to the pub, via the kitchen door and wait patiently outside until the pub was shut and the staff were cleaning up. Then he'd journey to his bed by the still-warm stove and await another day.

So, it all happened again. 5pm, the pub doors were opened and Miss Plum threw out Scraps' favourite toy. He grabbed it with delight, heard her shut the door behind him and started his own play time.

Meanwhile:

"Blast!" Lord Barkis cried, slamming the cupboard door so furiously, it rattled on its rusty hinges. He was a man of the finer things – like expensive wines, rich cheeses and smoked meats. That's what he missed about being alive – the flavour of food. Right now, he was dying for a glass of the Bordeaux 1855 – his favourite wine – with a plate of smoked salmon, drizzled with lemon juice and sprinkled with dill. Oh god, so this was hell! The inability to enjoy food! Barkis hated it with a vengeance. Now he was truly suffering. The cupboards were bare, and the supplies were all gone. And Christopher needed feeding. Not that he was under-fed, it's that he had consumed all of the food that Barkis relished and that made him mad!

But just because he was dead, didn't mean he couldn't eat. His gluttonous mind – whatever was left of it – knew he needed supplies. However, that meant leaving the house, and that meant leaving Christopher…on his own. Barkis stood in the kitchen, one hand on his hip, the other tapping on his chin, in deep thought. Thankfully, it wasn't a Saturday and no search party was coming round for another four days. And hardly anyone walked in these regions of the Land of the Dead – it was a barren piece of land and therefore his perfect hiding spot. This was his opportunity. And he grabbed it.

"You can't understand me, young one, but I'm going. I will be back in good time, with food for me…and you, of course. Just stay with your toys."

Barkis walked out of the door, little Christopher watching him as he went, eyes wide open in curiosity. The man had left him before, he was used to it, so he didn't cry. He merely looked around at his surroundings. Door – floor – table – curtain – window – blanket – and found his favourite toy within reach of him. The little white dog toy with the red collar. He giggled in delight, squealing a little as he shook the toy, as if it would magically come to life. Christopher was easily amused, but something else caught his attention. The yapping of a dog. It was coming from outside the window. Christopher was intrigued, crawling across the bed and reaching up for the window sill, the dog toy still in his hand. Gazing out of the window, he caught sight of…a little white dog with a red collar! He was playing with a red ball, grabbing it in his teeth and tossing it in the air, having his own little game.

Christopher was in awe! He giggled at the sight of the dog, who looked round in amazement at him. The dog – with the ball in his mouth – stared at him, so intrigued, cocking his head in wonder as they looked at each other.

Scraps eventually walked over to the window, looking up as Christopher looked down at him. He jumped up and placed his front paws against the wall, trying to have a closer sniff of the baby. There was something about this child, that made Scraps want to play with him. Christopher was delighted at the sight of this dog, believing he was the toy that he held in his hand. Well, they matched perfectly – aside from the bones. Scraps was a white dog – because of his skeleton frame – with a red collar. It was as if he had sprung forth from the toy and was inviting Christopher to play with him.

Overjoyed at the idea, Christopher started bouncing on the bed with excitement, but losing grip of the toy. It fell gently to the floor outside, right next to Scraps.

Uh oh! Not good!

Without his toy… Christopher started crying. Starting as a gurgle and then proceeding to a full-on tantrum, he wailed as loud as he could, bouncing up and down on the bed in protest. Scraps didn't like it. Though his ear drums disappeared a long time ago, he still hated the piercing scream this baby made. He didn't like it. But he knew exactly what to do.

It happened when Victor was growing up as a five year old boy, whenever his mother or the nanny made him cry, Scraps was there to comfort him. He merely grabbed hold of Victor's favourite toy, scuttled over to him and dropped it by his feet, wagging his tail gladly. That always cheered Victor up – the sight of his loving companion and his favourite toy. It was him that made Victor's childhood a lot more tolerable and easy-going. Though it all came crashing down the day that Scraps was found in his bed, and Victor realised he wasn't breathing.

And so, Scraps sought to repeat the past as little Christopher continued to cry over his toy. He had tossed aside his red ball and started sniffing the little toy that the baby had dropped.

Oh my! Something very familiar with this toy! Something about the smell! It was familiar…very recognisable…like he knew what it belonged to…or who!

Scraps yapped in excitement! It was his master's scent! But this baby wasn't his master! That was odd. Unless…

Scraps yapped uncontrollably. He may be just a little dog that liked to eat, sleep and play, but he also heard things. He was present on the day when the pub announced Emily was pregnant, when she gave birth and when the baby tragically disappeared. He had joined the search parties, the groups of skeletons and zombies that gathered every Saturday, including Lord Hunter. He was considered the leader of the group, as it was his grandson they were searching for.

But the baby had his master's scent, and the only way that was possible was if he was his master's son! Scraps could hardly contain his excitement. He yapped so uncontrollably that he almost forgot Christopher was still crying.

He had to devise a plan – a plan to get the baby out of the house and back to the pub with him. The sun was disappearing over the horizon, which meant the pub would close soon and Miss Plum would be searching for him. The perfect opportunity. Scraps turned back to Christopher. He looked down, saw his toy and picked it up in his mouth. Christopher saw this, and his crying slowly ceased. Scraps had to figure a way in to the house, or a way to get Christopher out.

He looked around to see what options he had, and he spotted one immediately. The front door! A simple wooden door, but one that had been on its hinges for years and years, and its wear and tear was starting to show. The wood was rotting away and the hinges were rusty. There was the perfect little hole at the bottom of the door, which had rotten away in to a sort-of triangle shape, big enough for Scraps head to fit through.

Scraps immediately ran over to the hole in the door, toy still in his mouth and poked his head through, looking around. Christopher was to his right, the bed he was standing on immediately in sight. He saw Scraps head and thought it was hilarious! He started laughing.

Well, it was better than crying.

Scraps wriggled through, his body fitting perfectly through the hole in the door, and he turned to Christopher who was now pulling away from the window sill and sitting back on the bed. This part was going to be tricky. How to get the baby down from the bed without hurting him. The bed was quite a particular height, even if Christopher climbed do himself, there'd be a considerable distance between him and the floor. Too much distance!

Scraps dumped the toy on the floor, having an idea. Beside the bed was a table and single wooden chair. He leaped over to the chair, eyeing up one of its legs and cocked his head slightly, taking the leg in his mouth. Using all the strength he had in his little skeleton body, Scraps tugged on the leg and starting pulling the chair out from under the table. Little by little, it edged its way across the floor until it was positioned perfectly beside the bed. All he had to do was crawl across the bed, gently lower himself on to the seat of the chair and then lower himself to the floor. The chair was now a stepping stone for the baby, a halfway point between the bed and the floor so he wouldn't hurt himself. Hopefully he would figure out exactly what to do.

Scraps had considered a somewhat easier option – running back to the pub and fetching Miss Plum, but he ignored it. The pub would still be busy and she'd be unable to pay any attention to him. By the time he fetched her and returned to the baby, he could be missing. Scraps knew he had been kidnapped, and he was concerned the captor would return soon.

That's what made him yap to the baby, encouraging him and ordering him to use the chair, and follow him back to the pub, where Miss Plum could see him for herself.

The baby was smarter than you could give credit to him. Within minutes of Scraps placing the chair near him, he crawled across the bed and gripping on to the blankets, slowly lowered himself on to the chair, feet first. He used the back of the chair to balance himself, before he glanced down at Scraps and chose to take the next step. He kneeled down on the chair, preparing himself, gripping the edge of the seat and slowly lowering his little legs over the chair, the floor in sight.

Scraps was beyond relieved! He had caught on with the idea, and he was now safely approaching the floor, his toes just centimetres away. He landed safely and gracefully on to the floor, gripping the legs of the chair so he could stand up properly.

'What to do now?' Scraps wondered. He had to get him back to the pub and Miss Plum. The baby was just about able to walk, and the pub was quite a distance away. But Scraps knew how important this would be for his master, so he was prepared to go the extra mile. He started jumping on his feet, to keep Christopher's attention focused on him. He grabbed the toy from the ground, and instantly Christopher was hooked. The dog had his toy, and he wanted it. So Scraps took this opportunity and started heading for the front door, hoping the baby would follow. It took a few moments for Christopher to catch on to what the dog was doing, but eventually he followed, taking tiny steps away from the chair.

Scraps headed for the door, squeezing through the gap once more, poking his head back through to make sure the baby followed. Christopher was right behind him and he instantly got down on to the floor and began crawling through the hole in the door, all the time focused on the toy in Scraps mouth.

Result! They were out of the house! Now they had to make their way back to the pub. This was the tricky bit. The pub was quite a distance away. It took mere minutes for Scraps to return there normally, but he had two extra legs and therefore he was faster. Plus, the baby hadn't mastered walking yet, so on the odd occasion he fell back on his bottom, before attempting to walk again.

But Scraps was a patient dog, and with his master on his mind, he focused on getting back to the pub, with the baby in tow.

Meanwhile, at the pub:

"Last orders, gentlemen! Last orders!" Miss Plum cried, ringing the bell frantically. On her words, floods of skeletons and living dead came swarming round the bar, thirsty for another pint.

"Easy gentlemen, I've only got two hands!" she cried as they shouted their orders. She thanked goodness she was dead already, otherwise this shift would kill her. Who knew the dead loved to drink so much! Well, for the past five years, she had discovered just how much. Every night – except for Sundays – the pub was swarming with the same punters, all dying for their favourite drink. Now she had Mayhew to assist her behind the bar, half of the job was taken off her shoulders, and she was incredibly thankful for it. Paul's cockroaches never helped, and the kitchen staff were far too busy cooking up meals to help her out. Their establishment was the best – and the only – in the Land of the Dead.

Twenty minutes later, she checked the time on the wall and gave the final warning.

"Ten minutes before closing. Ten minutes! Finish your drinks, and head off home. We've all got somewhere to go" she yelled to everyone.

"Darling!" she heard someone call her. "Darling!"

She knew it was Mayhew. He was the only member of the living dead that could get away with calling her that, considering they were an item.

"Yes love?" she called back. Mayhew was back in the kitchens, placing used dinner dishes on the counters, ready for the washing up, when he poked his head through the door that separated the kitchens from the bar.

"That dog is back! He's outside yapping away."

"Well, let him in love!" She glanced back at the clock. "Mind you, he is a little early. Maybe he got bored with that ball" she wondered. Collecting the last of the tankards and glasses, she headed back to the kitchen, placing them next to the dishes. She could hear Scraps barking from outside, eager to get in.

"Alright love" she called, hurrying over to the door and reaching for the handle. "You're early you know" she said, opening the door.

"Did you get bor…" she began, but was cut off when she saw who was with him. A baby?!

"Mayhew!" she called out. "Come look at this!"

"What is it?" he asked, approaching Miss Plum from behind and looking over her shoulder. He instantly saw the baby and gasped in shock.

"What on earth?" he said. "Get them in!"

"He's…he's…" Miss Plum stuttered, as Scraps ran inside with a toy in his mouth. Mayhew let him run inside and walked past Miss Plum, scooping the baby up in his arms and setting him down on the kitchen counter, in a space free from plates and glasses.

"What on earth is a baby – a living baby – doing with Scraps?!" Miss Plum screeched, as she shut the door behind her, her words grabbing the attention of the kitchen staff. They all turned around from their usual duties and saw what they were talking about. A little baby, dressed in a dirty blue outfit, shoes missing off his feet, was sitting on the counter – and he was alive!

"A living baby?" they asked. "Are you sure?"

Miss Plums face said it all.

"Look at him!" she cried.

"You sure it's a boy?!"

"He's wearing blue!"

"Where did he come from?"

"Scraps found him."

"Where? How?"

Everyone was crowding around the baby like he was a museum exhibit, and they never shut up asking questions, until Mayhew interjected.

"He looks familiar to me."

Everyone went silent.

"Pardon?"

"He looks familiar" he repeated. "I've seen those eyes before."

"How come?"

"I just have. Someone I know has eyes identical to those. I…" Mayhew paused. "Hang on…how long has it been since Victor and Emily's child disappeared?"

His question brought the room to a standstill. It was as if, all of a sudden, they had thought the same thing as him.

"No…it can't be…"

"Could be…he looks old enough."

"The colour of his hair though…it matches Victors"

"And his eyes!" Mayhew erupted. "I knew it! He has his father's eyes!"

"And Emily's nose!" Miss Plum screeched.

At that point, Scraps yelped from the floor. He had dropped the toy to the floor, waiting for someone to pick it up. Miss Plum reached down and grabbed it in her hands, inspecting it closely. A soft white dog with a red collar. The baby instantly reached out for it, eagerness and want in his eyes.

"Give it to him, go on" Mayhew said. Miss Plum held it forward, allowing Christopher to grab hold of it and smile gleefully. He was instantly happy.

"But how do we know for sure he's Victor and Emily's boy?"

Again, Miss Plum pulled a face laced with sarcasm.

"He's a boy, got Victor's eyes, Emily's nose, Victor's dark hair. Not to mention he's got a toy identical to Scraps, he looks the right age…oh yes, and he's alive!"

"But how did he get down here? He didn't crawl out of his cot!"

"Elder Gutknecht said that he had been stolen from his cot. The nanny saw a shadowy figure standing over him before snatching him away" Mayhew said, watching the baby intently.

"How long ago was this?"

"About a year ago…this month, actually. He was born February last year and was snatched one night in April. He's been missing for a year" Mayhew realised.

"And the search parties are still looking?" the cook asked.

"Indeed. Every Saturday for the past year, and with no success."

"Which means that wherever he was hiding, was away from obvious human contact."

"Maybe his captor held on to him? Kept him away from sight whenever the search parties came round?"

"Quite. But we're missing the main point here. We've found their baby. He's alive! We have to return him to them. And fast!" Mayhew ordered.