Fluke

A blinding flash of light and the world exploded into pain. After that the darkness, the warmth of his mother's womb and the shock of birth. Then, slowly, colours and smells began to invade him, together with a constant hunger to be appeased and a growing awareness of the friendly-cruel giants who seemed to be in command.

He was a puppy. The men called him Fluke and the name was apt. After all it was by a fluke that he was different from other dogs, or from other creatures of the animal world with whom he had mental communication. Even Rumbo, who at least had a more than average canine understanding of the problems of survival in a man's world, did not seem to want to know where he came from. Rumbo was a mongrel, what men might have called a petty criminal had they been able to read his mind. Perhaps he roped in Fluke as his accomplice in his raids on butchers and supermarkets because he dimly realised that the two of them had something in common.

But as the memories returned to him, Fluke knew that he was really alone. And he began to see what that thing was that singled him out from the rest of the dog world. A blinding flash of light and the world exploded into pain. After that the darkness, the warmth of his mother's womb and the shock of birth. By some fluke he had been born as a dog. But whoever he had been and however he had died, Fluke was really a man, with a man's intelligence and feelings, trapped inside the body of a dog, howling for vengeance.

FLUKE tells the humorous and startling adventures of a man who wakes one morning to find he has become a dog. A different kind of novel by an author whose novels, since his first, The Rats, have all been bestsellers.

FLUKE

Original copyright year:1977

ISBN 0 450 03432 1 (Hardback)

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FLUKE

JAMES HERBERT

Also by James Herbert

The Rats

Lair

Domain

The Fog

The Survivor

Fluke

The Spear

The Dark

Lair

The Jonah

Shrine

Moon

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Published by Hodder & Stoughton

The Magic Cottage

FLUKE

JAMES HERBERT

NEW ENGLISH LIBRARY

Part One

One

The warmth from the sun beat against my eyelids, soft persuasion to open them. Noises crept into my ears then burst through to my consciousness, confusing sounds, a gabble broken by strident pitches.

Cautiously, almost unwillingly, I half opened my eyes, the sleep in them sticky, a soft moist glue.

Through the blur I saw a dark furry body, big as me. It heaved rhythmically up and down, up and down, in a contented sleep. My mouth opened wide as a yawn escaped and my eyes suddenly snapped fully open. Other bodies lay around me, blacks and greys - mixtures of both - some of the coats short and
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straight, others tufty and curly. A flash of white leapt over me and I felt sharp teeth nip at my ear. I pulled away with a whimper. Where was I? Who was I? What was I?

Smells came to my nostrils, unpleasant at first and then strangely pleasing. I wrinkled my nose, breathing in the fumes, powerful odours that somehow made me secure. I wriggled my body closer to the other warm bodies, away from the energetic white pest that finally gave up and bounded towards the surrounding wire. He stood up on his hind legs, resting his paws on the top of the wiring, his rump and stubby tail waggling excitedly. A huge pallid hand reached down and he was lifted away out of sight.

I whimpered again, this time with shock. The hand - so big, so strong! And the smells emanating from it

- so alien. Frightening, yet ... interesting. I tried to snuggle further into the packed lumps of sluggish fur, seeking a contact I didn't understand. Why was I surrounded by these monster animals and why did I feel so akin to them?

The sleep had left me now and my body quivered with awareness. I was in some sort of pen - it looked very large to me - the floor of which was covered in straw. The wiring around us was high, much higher than me, and my companions were dogs. I don't think I really felt fear at that moment; probably just confusion. I remember my breath coming out in short panting gasps and I think I urinated a little, just a trickle. I know I tried to burrow even further between two plump bodies, with two of which I felt some association, some common bond. Now I can guess it was because we were related, but at the time I reacted to instinct alone.

I peeped around me, keeping my head low, my jaw firmly tucked into the straw. Everything was so muted, the colours barely distinguishable apart from their varying tones, only hues of greys and muddy browns. Yet I saw the colours in my mind's eye because I had known them before ... before...

Before?

In my bewildered state even the question, let alone the answer, evaded me.

But now colours were already beginning to filter through, a legacy left to me, a gift that separated me from my fellow creatures. The soft greys turned to light browns, the denser greys to darker browns. The blacks remained black, but deeper. The rainbows flew at me, filling my head with a dazzling variegation, blinding in its intensity. The blacks were no longer black, but blue, indigo, hundreds of shades of browns.

The colours hurt my eyes and I was forced to close them. Yet the sun still stung through and the colours still exploded before me. And then the spectrum took its proper order, the colours found their correct balance; the flashes became subdued, the tones began to relate to each other. I opened my eyes and the brief monochrome world had vanished and been replaced by a rich, moving canvas where each colour belonged to itself yet interlocked and shared with its opposites. Even today, I still delight in everything I see, new, surprising colours revealing themselves without warning, seeming to be borne freshly before me only for me to realise they'd always been there but that I'd never really looked. The colours are more muted now, but still fresher and more interesting that they'd been in the past. I suppose it's something to do with the world being bigger to me; being closer to the ground somehow makes me closer to nature.

Having passed through this curious stage I neither understood nor appreciated, I began to be a little more adventurous in my exploration. I lifted my head from the straw and stretched my neck upwards.

Faces passed by, looking down at me, funny tender smiles on them. At that time, they all looked the same to me; I couldn't tell male and female apart, nor one individual from another. Nor did I know what they were exactly. Strangely enough, I could tell the difference between the smaller giants right from the
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start, not just from the elders, but as individuals. Several looked down at me, laughing and making strange noises with their mouths, peering expectantly at the taller ones behind. Above these giants I could see enormous grey-brick buildings stretching far into the sky - and the sky itself seemed so blue, so deep and so clear. Sky is the purest thing I've ever known, whether it's the cold azure of dawn, the striking cobalt of day, or the deepest silver-perforated blackness of night. On the darkest day, when the sky is masked by sullen clouds, the tiniest patch of blue makes my heart jump a little. It seemed then as if I were seeing sky for the first time, and in a way I was - through different eyes.

I gazed rapturously at the blue ceiling for several moments until the rays of the sun made my eyes mist over, causing me to blink rapidly. It was then I realised what I was. I wasn't shocked, for my new brain was still functioning mainly as it should and memories were still lying dormant within it. I accepted what I was; only later did I question my new beginning. But at that time, I thought it was perfectly normal to be a dog.

Two

Is it doubt I sense in you, or something more? Maybe a little fear. All I ask is that you let your mind listen, that you forget for a moment your prejudices and beliefs; when I've finished my story you can decide for yourself. There's a lot that's not clear to me yet and I know it never will be - not in this existence anyway -but I may help you to understand your life a little more. And I may help you to be less afraid.

As I looked around, my vision so different to yours, I felt the fur at the back of my neck being tugged, and suddenly the straw bed dropped away leaving my paws waggling frantically in empty air. A huge rough hand came up from beneath and the pressure was taken off the taut skin at my neck as my bottom was given support. I didn't like the smell of the hands at all, or their hardness. Each smell was separate and mostly new to me. They didn't blend together to make one complete odour; each had its own identity and combined to represent the man. It's difficult for me to explain, but as humans identify each other by assembling in their mind's eye the various features of another person - the shape of the nose, the colour of the eyes, hair, general skin tones, the set of the lips, the build of the body - we animals find it easier to assemble through our senses the various body smells. They're much more reliable, for physical features can be disguised or may change through age, but there's no disguising your own personal scent. It's a gradual build-up from everything you've done in your time and no amount of scrubbing can erase it. The food you've eaten, the clothes you've worn, the places you've visited; that's what gives us your identity, and no visual aspect is more recognisable.

I suppose the giant (I still had no concept of man at that point) who lifted me from the pen reeked of tobacco, booze, fatty foods and the aroma I've found is ever present - sex - but at the time they were all new to me and, as I've said before, frightening, unpleasant, yet interesting. The only familiar smell was the doggy one, and my sensitive nose sought this out and clung to it for comfort. I could now see what seemed like millions and millions of two-legged animals shuffling backwards and forwards, their noises hurting my ears and baffling me. I was in a street-market, of course, and even in those early stages there was some recognition, some familiarity with the place. Rough, growling sounds came from somewhere
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close to my ear and I snapped my head round nervously. The lips of the creature that held me were moving and these were the source of the growling noises. I don't say I recognised the actual words then, but I understood the intent.

Another voice spoke on the other side of me and I was thrust forward into another pair of arms. The aroma was so different. I suppose the food and drink smells were still there, but the nicotine stench was absent. And there was so much more. You can smell kindness; it's like a fragrance. It's not that interesting, but it's reassuring. There wasn't too much of it, but compared to the hands I had just left, it was like suddenly being sprayed by the finest perfume. I began to lick the hands, for there were still traces of food on them. It's such a treat to lick a human hand or face; the sweat on every part of a human body still holds the food recently eaten and the saltiness gives it a special tang of its own. The taste is subtle and soon gone, but the delicate flavour, combined with the ticklish scratching of tongue against skin, is an exquisite pleasure every dog loves. It's not affection, you see (although after a while a familiar taste is more pleasurable than a strange one and almost becomes a show of love) but more an exercise for appreciative taste-buds.

While one hand hugged me against the friendly giant's chest, the other stroked my head and softly tickled me behind the ears. This sent me into raptures and I tried to nip his nose. He jerked his head away with a sound I could only interpret as a happy growl so I increased my efforts to reach that bulbous feature on his face. My tongue touched his chin and scratched against its roughness. This surprised me a little and I drew back, but the excitement overcame me again and I launched myself forward in a fresh attack. This time, firm hands restrained me.

The voices bartered to and fro and suddenly I was placed back in the pen. I immediately jumped up again, trying to reach the friendly giant, my front paws resting on the wooden top of the wiring. A white body joined me and attempted to shoulder me out of the way. I pushed back though, realising something nice might be about to happen to me and I saw several pieces of greenish paper pass over my head to the rough red hands of my keeper. Then I was in the air again, hoisted high and hugged to the kind-smelling giant-creature's chest. I let out a little yelp of glee and tried to lick the huge face above me.

I don't know if or what I suffered under the care of the other giant, but something told me it was good to get away from him; badness poured from his body. Looking down at the other bundles lying there, I felt a pang of regret; they were my brothers, my friends. Sadness swept through me as I was carried away and a vision of a much bigger dog, probably my mother, flashed into my head. I wept then and cowered into the huge creature. At the sound of my whimpers his hand began to stroke my body and soft tones came from his lips.

The crowds of two-legs were even more frightening now I was moving among them and I began to shiver with fear. Everything, everyone, was so big. I tried to snuggle my head inside a fold of the big animal's skin and he allowed me, sympathising with my fright, quietly reassuring me. Now and again I would peep out, but the noise, the flashing colours, the bustle, would soon send my head digging back deeper inside the loose skin, the beat from the broad chest having a strange calming effect on me. Soon we had left the market-place and a new, more terrifying sound roared in my ears.