Well, Rusty, shall we go muttered Walter, adjusting the makeshift leash fashioned from an old rope.
He buttoned his coat up to his chin and shivered. February that year had been especially cruelsnow mixed with rain, wind cutting straight through.
Rustya mongrel with faded reddish fur and a single blind eyehad entered his life a year earlier. Walter had been returning from a night shift at the steelworks when he spotted the dog by the scrap yards. The animal was beaten, starving, its left eye clouded with cataract.
Hey, lad! Where are you off with that mutt? a voice rasped on his nerves.
Walter recognised the speakerSimon Crook, the local authority of about twentyfive, surrounded by three teenage cronieshis crew.
Just out for a walk, Walter replied shortly, not raising his eyes.
And you, sir, pay the leash tax for that pooch? one of the lads snorted. Look at that nasty crooked eye!
A stone flew, striking Rusty in the side. The dog whined and pressed against his owners leg.
Beat it, Walter said quietly, but his tone was steel.
Oh! Granddad Kulibin has a voice! Simon stepped closer. Dont you forget this is my patch? Dogs only run here with my permission.
Walter tensed. In the army theyd taught him to solve problems fast and hard. That had been thirty years ago. Now he was a tired retired mechanic who wanted no trouble.
Come on, Rusty, he turned toward the house.
Thats right! Simon called after him. Next time Ill finish off your little friend!
That night Walter couldnt sleep, replaying the scene over and over.
The next day the snow fell wet. Walter delayed the walk, but Rusty sat at the door, eyes full of devotion, and eventually he gave in.
Alright, just a quick one.
They moved carefully, steering clear of the usual hangout spots. Simons gang was nowhere to be seenprobably hiding from the weather.
Walter was beginning to relax when Rusty suddenly stopped in front of an abandoned boiler house. He cocked his head, sniffed the air.
Whats up, old boy?
The dog yelped, tugging toward the ruins. From within came strange soundssomething like a cry or a moan.
Hey! Whos there? Walter shouted.
No answer, only the winds howl breaking the silence.
Rusty kept pulling the leash. In his single good eye there was panic.
Whats wrong? Walter crouched to the dog. Whats there?
Then a child’s voice cut through clearly:
Help!
Walters heart leapt. He unfastened the leash and followed Rusty into the crumbling structure.
Inside the halfruined boiler room, behind a pile of bricks, lay a boy about twelve. His face was battered, a split lip, clothes torn.
Lord! Walter knelt beside him. What happened to you?
Mr. Walter? the boy managed to open his eyes. Is it you?
Walter looked closer and recognised himAndrew Minton, the son of a neighbour from the fifth block. A quiet, shy lad.
Andy! Whats the story?
Simon and his gang, the boy sobbed. They demanded money from my mother. I said Id tell the constable. They caught me
How long have you been here? Walter asked.
Since morning. Its freezing.
Walter tore off his coat and wrapped the boy. Rusty came close, lying down to share his warmth.
Andy, can you stand? Walter asked.
My leg hurts. I think its broken.
Walter examined the leg. It was indeed fractured, and internal injuries were likely after the rough handling.
Do you have a phone? he asked.
They took it.
Walter fished out his ancient Nokia and dialled 999. The ambulance promised to be there in half an hour.
Hang on, lad. The medics are on their way.
What if Simon finds out Im still alive? Andys voice trembled. He said hed finish me off.
He wont, Walter said firmly. He wont touch you again.
The boy stared at him, surprised.
Mr. Walter, didnt you run away from them yesterday? Andy asked.
That was a different matter. Back then it was only about me and Rusty. Now Walter left the sentence hanging. What could he say? That thirty years earlier hed sworn to protect the weak? That in Afghanistan theyd taught him a real man never abandons a child in need?
The ambulance arrived sooner than promised. Andy was whisked to hospital. Walter stayed by the boiler house with Rusty, lost in thought.
That evening Andys mother, Eleanor Harris, came to his doortears streaming, gratitude pouring.
Walter Harris, she sobbed, the doctors said if hed lain out there another hour, hed have died. You saved his life!
It wasnt me, Walter patted Rusty. He found your son.
What now? Eleanor looked anxiously at the door. Simon wont rest. The constable says theres no proof; one childs testimony isnt enough.
Itll be all right, Walter promised, though he wasnt sure how.
That night he lay awake, wondering how to protect the boy and the many other children who suffered the gangs cruelty.
By dawn a resolve settled in him.
Walter donned his old army dress uniformthe ceremonial one with medals. He fetched his ribbons from the wardrobe, stared into the mirrorstill a soldier at heart, albeit an older one.
Lets go, Rusty. We have work to do.
Simons gang usually loitered by the corner shop. Spotting Walter approaching, they snickered.
Oh! The granddads going on parade! one of the lads shouted. Look at the hero!
Simon stood up from the bench, smirked:
Move along, old man. Your times passed.
My time is just beginning, Walter answered calmly, stepping closer.
What are you doing here in that getup? Simon asked.
Serving the country. Defending the weak from men like you.
Simon laughed:
Youre an old stump! What country? What weak?
Andy Mintonremember him? Walter replied.
A grin faded from Simons face.
Why should I care about some kid? he muttered.
Because hes the last child in this estate to suffer at your hands, Walter said.
Youre threatening me, old man? Simon growled.
Consider this a warning, Walter replied.
Simon took a step forward, a knife glinting in his hand.
Ill show you whos boss!
Walter didnt flinch a millimetre. Decades had passed, but the training remained.
The law is on my side.
What law? Simon waved the knife. Who appointed you?
My conscience did.
Then, unexpectedly, Rusty, who had been sitting quietly, rose. His fur bristled along the neck, and a deep growl rumbled from his throat.
And your dog Simon began.
My dog fought in Afghanistan, Walter interrupted. With a fierce bark that echoed through the empty street, Rusty lunged, and Simon fled, never to trouble the neighbourhood again.
