Dog Gone by Carole Poustie

now.
    But his idea was worth the risk. We felt around for ages, wedging our hands down between the mattress and the cold, rough walls. Our luck was out, though, and I felt my heart sink to the bottom of the well, where Grandpa’s fishing rod was probably lying, wedged in between all the junk.

Chapter 19

    â€˜ Shhh,’ said Brody, just as I was getting to a good bit in one of my jokes.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜What was that? Did you hear that?’ Brody punched me on the arm to get my attention.
    â€˜Hear what?’ I looked up. I wasn’t sure whether my eyes were playing tricks on me, or whether I could make out a tinge of pink at the top of the well. Maybe the sun was coming up.
    â€˜Shhh – there it is again,’ said Brody.
    â€˜I can’t hear anything,’ I said after a while. ‘You must be imagining things.’
    â€˜Shut up,’ growled Brody. ‘I heard something. I know I did.’
    I strained my ears and listened again. Then I heard it. Brody was right. It was like a low moaning sound, way off in the distance. Every so often it would stop and then start up again.
    â€˜What is it?’ asked Brody.
    There was something familiar about it. I’d heard that sound before.
    â€˜It sounds like someone crying,’ said Brody.
    As soon as he said it, I knew. ‘That’s Molly!’ I screamed.
    Together we yelled at the tops of our voices, till our ears rang and our throats hurt. Then we listened, keeping our eyes glued to the top of the well. Whether it was a hint of light from the sunrise, or a surge of fresh hope that someone might find us, I didn’t know, but suddenly the darkness in the well didn’t seem so black.
    The crying stopped. We held our breath, listening for the smallest sound, watching for the tiniest movement. But there was nothing.
    After several minutes we tried another round of yelling, then listened again. My neck felt uncomfortable from being tipped back at such an extreme angle, but I didn’t dare look away from the small circle of light at the top, in case I missed something.
    Just when I thought I’d have to look down for a minute to stretch it out, a shadow passed across the entrance to the well. ‘Ish, is that you?’
    I never thought I’d be so happy to hear my sister’s voice. ‘Molly – yes, it’s me! And Brody’s down here, too!
    â€˜Are you all right?’ Molly yelled back.
    â€˜I’m okay, but Brody’s hurt his leg.’
    â€˜Stay there – I’m going to get help.’ A second later, her silhouette had disappeared.
    â€˜Der. Stay here? Where does she think we’re going?’ said Brody. ‘She’s really smart, your sister.’
    â€˜Shut it – she’s getting help, isn’t she?’ I gave Brody a shove that must have jerked his leg. He yelled out in pain, then punched me hard on the arm, swearing. I thought for a moment he was going to punch me, but Molly was back, yelling down at us again.
    â€˜They’re calling the fire brigade and the ambulance now. Gran’s getting you some food and –’
    â€˜Ish! Are you okay, mate?’
    Someone else had joined Molly and was looking down at us. And the voice –
    â€˜Dad?’ I looked up, straining to see him.
    â€˜Yes, mate, it’s me.’
    â€˜Dad – is it really you?’ Tears poured down my cheeks and I squinted through them to try and make out his shape. I couldn’t believe it was really him – and I was glad Brody couldn’t see me in the dark.
    â€˜We’ll have you out of there in no time, boys. Ish – you sure you’re all right? You didn’t hurt yourself falling?’ Dad’s voice sounded so concerned as it echoed down the sides of the well.
    â€˜I’m not too bad, Dad – just cold.’
    â€˜Brody, how bad’s your leg – is it broken?’ called Dad.
    â€˜I think so – it hurts