A/N: Here is the first installment of my latest story. I wanted to try my hand at this concept and see how I do with it. This is how I think things would play out if Dawkins were to have gone missing, and eventually I'll get to the things that he'll have seen. Hope you guys like what I've written up for the story so far. I'll update with more chapters soon.
It was a clammy Saturday morning in the midst of autumn. The young clerk was behind the counter wiping it down with a damp rag and spray bottle. For a pet shop, it was uncharacteristically serene in atmosphere as most of the domesticated animals, awaiting someone to take them to a loving home, were still lazily slumbering away. The little golden bell above the door jingled when the first customers of the day came in. A waft of chilly outside air had flown in contrasting with the warm cozy environment of the pet shop.
The clerk looked up from his diligent cleaning and welcomed his customers. "Hi, welcome to We Heart Pals."
One happened to be a five-foot-eight man wearing a white t-shirt brought to life by a Concorde print on the front and back of it, complimented by the silvery chrome words arching above it spelling out "Concorde Supersonic". The man looked roughly 43 years of age, wearing tan cargo shorts, and had thinning hazel brown hair that had been combed down with hair gel giving it the appearance of being thin yet somehow thick with glimpses of his scalp visible. He had patient dark green eyes and was accompanied by whom the clerk assumed to be his son.
His son looked to be around the age of 10, and had fine light brown hair with stray strands that hung and curled up lazily at the edge of his forehead. He wore a white turtleneck long-sleeved shirt and black jeans. His eyes were a lighter shade of green than that of his father's, but unlike his father's, they were shifty and anticipating. Almost as if he was a boy on a mission.
The father-son duo walked down an aisle lined with bags of bird seed, and made their way to the back where their animals lived. With as quiet as it was in the store, the clerk was able to overhear what the young boy asked his father.
"Do you think this place will have one?"
The boy's father responded in a calming tone of voice, "I'm sure they will have a litter. If all those other owners could walk home with one, why not us?"
The clerk came out from around the counter and approached the two of them. He then spoke up, "hey, did you guys need any assistance?"
The father smiled, and the boy only looked at the clerk with a weary look on his face. "Ah, yes, of course. We were just wondering if you had any dalmatians available at the moment," replied the boy's father in a friendly voice.
The clerk's face fell, and he noticed that the boy's face did so along with him. "I'm very sorry, but we haven't had a new litter in three weeks now. And we aren't expected to have a new arrival in over five months," responded the clerk in an apologetic tone.
The young boy's jaw dropped and he then glanced at his father expectantly. He then said impatiently, "I knew it! Those other kids took up all the puppies, so I couldn't get one!"
The boy's father only smiled down at him sympathetically and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now, now, I'm sure no one had it out for you. Dalmatians are a popular breed in Camden, it was just bad timing," said his father reassuringly.
The boy crossed his arms and huffed, then said grumpily, "yeah, 'bad timing'."
The clerk felt awkward, unsure of how to respond to the inconvenience and pouting child, and just said in a chipper tone, "well, if there's anything else you guys need, feel free to let me know."
The father nodded. "Thank you, we were just heading out."
"No, thank you for stopping by. It's always a treat to have early-birds choose us," parted the clerk, though it sounded a bit scripted most likely from upper management. He then returned to his post behind the counter, where he got to restocking the puppy tags and trinkets at the counter.
The duo walked out the store, the golden bell jingling above them as they exited, and stepped out back into the chilly autumn air. The boy's father, Wylie Flint, reassured his son as they walked to the car parked by the curbside, "don't lose hope, son. There's a dalmatian out there waiting for you to come pick them up and name them yours."
"I'll find them, and when I do. . . They'll be all mine," said the boy, Barry Flint, pouting a little.
Barry got off the school bus, following behind the changa line of kids filing out the bus. Barry lived only a block away from the bus stop, so he didn't have to exercise his legs all too much to get out of the elements. He stuck his hands in his pockets, billows of white fog coming out as breaths as he walked. "An entire Saturday of going on a wild goose chase for a dalmatian, going to all these cutsie pet shops. . . only for none of them to have the decency to save at least one for me!" Barry groused to himself.
He sucked in his breath, then sighed unhappily. "Sure, let's give out dalmatians to all the other kids no questions asked, but leave ole Barry as the odd man out. I'm supposed to be a natural-born champion, a winner! I shouldn't be the one getting the short-end of the stick. Ungh. . . 'specially now."
Barry stopped halfway down his home block and a devious thought stood up in his mind to make a suggestion, "There's been an uptick in demand for dallys as of late, so. . . There's hands-down a whole 'lotta dalmatians out and about. If I'm lucky, I should be able to find an unattended dalmatian at the park and then. . . " Barry chuckled to himself with malintent. "I'll scoop them up and call them mine! Barry always wins."
Barry jay-walked across the street, not that anyone cared since there weren't any cars coming. He set off towards the park, where he'd score a beloved companion who would love him back and fill the gaping hole in his heart. At last, his endless nights of longing for a dalmatian of his own for all these years would come to a close and he would be complete.
Barry prowled through the park keeping his eyes peeled for any potential candidates. "Hmm, who will be Barry's new best pal?" He muttered to himself.
There were labradoodles, poodles, schnoodles, and even one lady who was walking a bernese mountain dog. It was bow-wow galore in the park that evening, but not a single dalmatian in sight. Barry growled in frustration, wondering why he even bothered walking four blocks just to get to the park. For all he knew, his mum was probably wondering what was keeping him. He noted to himself to use the bus being late as an alibi.
Barry pushed onward, walking through the park looking casual while scanning discreetly for any white furred black spotted canines within the proximity. His shoes crunched on scattered orange and red leaves that littered the concrete pathway. He walked down the path until he came around to the large grass field where owners habitually played frisbee and ball with their dogs.
He gasped, stopping immediately.
A wide grin spread on his face ear-to-ear, and clapped merrily. "Dalmatians! A whole brood of them!"
Delgado caught the tennis ball in his mouth. "Don't hold back on us now, wheels! Pack some horsepower behind it!" Dolly called out riveted.
Delgado smirked with determination. "Ready to put the pedal to the metal!" He spun around in a nauseating circle digging up deep tire tracks in the grass, kicking up dirt and mud. Dylan covered his mouth to keep from puking at the dizzying technique. Delgado then hit the brakes abruptly and sent the tennis ball flying.
"Heads up!" Delgado called.
Dawkins squealed with delight and chased after the ball. "I've calculated that this ball has hit speeds in excess of 25 miles per hour!" Dawkins said excitedly, feeling graced to be running in the wind alongside such a ball.
The ball outran Dawkins, not that it was a difficult feat considering his scrawny stature and lack of athletic build. DJ stood in front of the ball with his paws held high. "You've hit a dead end now, ball. Give yourself up," declared DJ triumphantly.
The tennis ball, however, took that as a challenge and screamed through the air straight at DJ who refused to budge. DJ concentrated, not wanting to lose his focus. He had to align himself just right. "Come on, come to daddy. . . "
DJ made his move and attempted to catch the ball in his mouth. However, it ended with him getting smacked in the head by the rogue tennis ball leaving a big black and purple bruise. DJ was knocked to the ground and his eyes swam in his head as he laid in a dizzy stupor. "H-Hey. . . Why are the club lights so bright and burny?"
The tennis ball ricocheted off DJ's forehead and flew over the hedges, disappearing from sight. There was an outburst of disgruntled groans from the pups. Dawkins then ran after it panting and announced, "fear not you young pups, I'll procure that elusive tennis ball!"
All the pups broke out into cheer and rooted for Dawkins. Dolly crossed her arms and shook her head out of pride for her little brother. "That's my attentive little brother. Always diligent."
Dawkins disappeared around the hedges as he went after the tennis ball. He glanced around the area, looking under benches, around trash cans, searching for where that wild tennis ball could have gone.
He thought to himself, "if I were a tennis ball, where would I be?"
As he sniffed the ground, trying to pick up a scent trail as he walked, a tall humanoid shadow loomed over him like a skyscraper. He stopped in his tracks, confused, and then saw a pair of black Vans shoes standing right before him. His stunned gaze traveled up this strange figure until he met the gaze of a grinning young boy, who had his hands on his hips.
Dawkins hated the grin that was on this boy's face though, he sensed something untrustworthy behind the friendly facade. The boy peering down at him, blocking out the sun, then spoke in a plotting tone of voice, "I see you've strayed away from your owner, and you can't find 'em. Forget those high-rollers, pooch. I think you'll become very accustomed to living with me."
Dawkins' eyes widened and he whimpered as he started to run away. But Barry was faster and grabbed hold of him before he could go anywhere. Barry then started fiddling with Dawkins' collar. "Yuck, whoever chose that collar out for you has some geeky taste. Not my style, dog," said Barry occupied.
Dawkins arched his brows offended, and shot Barry a look of disdain and scoffed snootily. "Well! I'll have you know that collar was a Camden Annual Science Convention exclusive, of course a simpleton like you wouldn't know anything about such things. Would you?"
Barry snickered and replied, "ahh, hush up your whining. I know you hate wearing that ugly tacky thing. I'm hurrying on getting it off, don't worry."
Barry unlatched the orange science collar and casted it into a nearby trash can, which was conveniently a few feet away. Barry then picked up Dawkins and cradled him in his arms, and started to walk. "You really have to meet my folks, they're good peoples. Uh. . . I guess you could say they're yours too now though, so I'll call it our folks. How's the sound of that?"
Dawkins had enough of this nobody trying to claim him as his own, he decided to send out a distress signal. He started barking and yowling loudly hoping to draw as many eyes on the two of them as possible. He wanted everyone to see what this miscreant kid was up to. Barry's eyes flew open, not expecting the sudden drama bomb, and he quickly started shushing Dawkins. "Sshhh! Can it, will ya'? You're gonna get me caught!" Barry pleaded in a stressed, hushed tone of voice.
But that only encouraged Dawkins, and he only ramped up the ante. He started howling and yelping as if he had just stepped on a rose thorn. Barry knew he had to think of something quick before anyone got the wrong idea. People started looking and some started whispering to each-other in questioning mannerisms. He then started playing it off and said in a playful tone of voice, "yes, yes, Comet, we all know how badly you wanna keep playing at the park. But it's time for us to go home now! We can't stay here all day, buddy."
Dawkins growled, and snarled. "That's Dawkins to you! Who are you even anyways? Who sent you? Hunter?"
Barry started carrying away Dawkins, smiling as if nothing was wrong, but on the inside his heart was skipping and doing jump-rope at record speeds. He didn't get very far when he heard two angry barks run up from behind him, accompanied by the loud crunching of brittle leaves beneath them. Turning around startled, he saw two bigger dalmatians running his way with angry expressions imprinted on their faces. One dalmatian had a three-ringed blue and orange collar. The other dalmatian had a red collar with a blue star insignia for a tag.
Barry squeaked and started running. "You know, why don't we run home? A little cardio'd be good for the heart 'n lungs," said Barry with urgency starting to pick up the pace.
Barry ran through the park, Dawkins held secure within his arms, he could feel his new pup's little heart race as fast as his was. The two dalmatians pursuing him were hot on his trail and were barking at him, presumably to stop and give them back their friend. Barry saw a metal trash can coming up his way, so when he got close enough — he grabbed it and threw it to the ground. The trash can fell onto the concrete path with a loud thrash and spat out the heaps of loose garbage it had accumulated from all these days. The once clear path was now barricaded off by a mountainous wall of rank refuse.
Dolly glanced over at Dylan and commanded, "I go high, you go left."
Dylan nodded and replied, "roger that."
Dolly leaped up high and cleared the reeking barricade, while Dylan sprang to the left and curved around it. They were both back in the chase and gaining on the two-legged human thanks to the extra muscle of an extra pair of legs. Barry looked over his shoulder and saw how close he was to being possibly mauled or facing bodily injury. "You haven't seen nothin' yet. I hope I've still got it," said Barry gruffly.
Barry swiftly snatched an unbitten apple out of a man's hand before he could take a bite, then looked behind taking aim. He sharpened his focus, honing in his crafted ability. "I am The Meteor. . . Be Meteor. . . "
Once locked on target, he hurled the apple using all of his arm and sent it hurdling straight for Dylan. Before Dylan could register the foreign object debris coming straight at him, he was nailed in the knee. His knee buckled from underneath him from the sudden shock and he lost his footing, stumbling over into Dolly. He cried out startled.
"Whoa, whoa, watch where your twirling!" Dolly responded in surprise, keeping a steady eye on her out-of-control brother.
Barry smirked and said with satisfaction, "bullseye."
"Aaahhh, watch out Dolly can't stop!" Dylan cried out in panic.
Dylan got caught up in Dolly's running and sent the both of them tumbling on over into the grass area. They crashed into a pile of neatly raked fallen leaves, sending a confetti of reds and yellows flittering everywhere. The gardener, who was clearing up leaves with a leaf blower stood in shock at what had become of all his hard work. He said nothing and simply dropped his blower and threw off his hat, storming away. It was someone else's problem now.
Barry, who had witnessed the aftermath he had caused, laughed maniacally at the dalmatian's incompetence. "Don't start what you can't finish, lousy mutts," remarked Barry.
He then escaped out the entrance of the park, running off with Dawkins still held hostage in his arms. Then he disappeared around the outer corner, disappearing out of sight. Dylan and Dolly were both lying on the ground tangled up in each other, coming out of their daze. Dolly looked at Dylan with a look of disdain. "Thanks, Dylan. Clumsy doofus," said Dolly with thick sarcasm.
"Uhh, for what? And, urr, don't call me a doofus," replied Dylan unknowingly, rubbing his head.
Dolly rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Now because of your lack of skill, we've lost Dawkins! How are we gonna explain this to mum and dad?"
Dylan came back to reality and the gravity of the situation weighed in on him like a thousand pound iron anvil. He arched his brows. "That's just it. . . We don't," said Dylan with vague finality.
Dolly's expression turned to one of baffled shock and she then asked, "whatta you mean, 'we don't'? How the dog are we gonna rescue, Dawkins then Mr. Know-it-all?"
Dylan looked over at Dolly with a melancholic, yet hopeful smile and said, "there's a fail-safe in case this sort of thing were to ever happen. I'll let you in on the details at home."
Dolly cocked a brow. "I'll take your word for it, but if things go south, you're taking most of the blame. I mean, you are one who pushed me after all," said Dolly with uncertainty, unsure of what kind of 'fail-safe' could tow them out of this mucky situation.
Dylan tilted his head side-to-side in passive agreement. "Fair enough, but we're in this together now. Don't you forget that."
A/N: Whew, there's the first chapter. Will Dylan and Dolly be able to save Dawkins, or will they lose him forever? Stay tuned to find out!