Hamish X Goes to Providence Rhode Island

by Sean Cullen

  PUFFIN CANADA

  HAMISH X GOES TO PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND

  Comedian SEÁN CULLEN’s many stage and screen credits include CBC’s Seán Cullen Show and the special Seán Cullen’s Home for Christmas, The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, the Showcase series Slings and Arrows, and the Toronto stage production of The Producers. He is the winner of three Gemini Awards.

  Also by Seán Cullen

  Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates

  Hamish X and the Hollow Mountain

  PUFFIN CANADA

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in a Puffin Canada hardcover by Penguin Group (Canada), a division of Pearson Canada Inc., 2008

  Published in this edition, 2009

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (WEB)

  Copyright © Seán Cullen, 2008

  Illustrations copyright © Johann Wessels, 2008

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Publisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Manufactured in Canada.

  * * *

  LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

  Cullen, Seán, 1965-Hamish X goes to Providence, Rhode Island / Seán Cullen. — Pbk. ed.

  ISBN 978-0-14-317120-1

  I. Title.

  PS8605.U4255H352 2009 jC813’.6 C2009-902360-1

  * * *

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Visit the Penguin Group (Canada) website at www.penguin.ca

  Special and corporate bulk purchase rates available; please see www.penguin.ca/corporatesales or call 1-800-810-3104, ext. 477 or 474

  At last! The final book in the trilogy of Hamish X. We’ve fought Cheese Pirates. We’ve battled Grey Agents and their evil machines. We’ve met kings and raccoons, friends and foes. Now, we arrive at Book III. It’s time for the chickens to come home to roost.1

  I hope you’ve been paying attention to the developments in the books. I’ve taken great pains to lay everything out as simply and clearly as I can. Not too simply and clearly, of course. I wouldn’t want to insult your intelligence by assuming you were incapable of understanding more complex plot points and challenging words. If you are still reading by this, the third book, I assume you appreciate my efforts and I haven’t lost you. If I have lost you, why are you still reading? Are you trapped in an airport or on a bus or in some other equally dull place and forced to read things you don’t really understand just to pass the time? If so, put this book down and find another diversion: thumb-wrestling, nose-picking, nail-chewing, or some other less taxing way to occupy your tiny, bewildered mind.

  We’re coming to the most important part of the story now: the end! When I first entered the ANCC,2 we were told that the end is the most important part of any story. Really, it’s quite obvious. Why even bother telling a story if you aren’t going to end it? What’s the point? If stories ended in the middle and never seemed to have any real conclusion, they would be very unsatisfying. Why, they’d be just like our daily lives that go on and on without any really well-defined stops. That’s one of the reasons people like reading stories: they get to see the beginning, middle, and end. Nice and neat. I try to do that with my own life. I get up in the morning and right before I eat breakfast I say, “Once upon a time, the narrator ate his breakfast.” When I go to sleep I say, “The End!” Very loudly. My neighbours think I am slightly mad, but I find it gives me a certain amount of personal satisfaction and closure.

  My editors wanted me to recap the action from the first two books so that readers are up to speed with the story. I really can’t be bothered. I find it tedious to repeat myself, so I won’t. If you can’t remember the first two books, read them again right now. I’ll wait . . .

  Done? Fine. And for those of you who are just picking up this third book without bothering to read the first two, I must say I think you are extremely lazy, cutting to the end like that. You don’t deserve to have a summary of the first two books at your disposal. All the other readers took the time to read those books and so should you. Shame on you! Shame! Big disgusting buckets of steaming, sticky shame.

  Oh, my. I’m becoming a little cranky and short-tempered. Please forgive me. The strain of telling this very complex story is starting to wear me down. Who knew this tale would have so many amazing escapes, daring adventures, and powerful smells?3 Have no fear, dear readers! I will tough it out to the end. There is nothing that will keep me from reaching the final chapter. Narrators have a sacred duty to complete their stories. I take that duty seriously. Not finishing a story once started can carry stiff penalties enforced by the Universal Narrators’ Guild.4

  Without further nonsense, let’s get to our story. Turn the page and join me as we begin the first chapter of the last book in the tale of Hamish X and his friends, Mimi and Parveen.

  Part 1

  ON WATER, BELOW WATER, AND UNDERGROUND

  Chapter 1

  MIMI

  Mimi stood on the edge of the stone platform. All the children were silent, awed by the sight they beheld: a subterranean vault with black water stretching out beyond the reach of their battery-powered torches. The soft slap of the underground lake was the only sound … besides the sniffling and crying of a few of the youngest refugees from the destruction of the Hollow Mountain. Even these snufflings were subdued by normal standards.5

  Cara stood at Mimi’s side, her eyes desolate and red from crying. Mimi was glad the girl had finally gotten a hold of herself. Cara had wept incessantly and inconsolably for the entire long fall in the escape pod. She had no idea what had happened to her brother, Aidan. She knew only that he had stayed behind when the escape hatch closed to face the invading army of Grey Agents with King Liam. Mimi had understood the pain Cara was experiencing. Parveen was nowhere among the escapees. Mimi was tempted to have a good cry of her own, but she had to hold it together for
the sake of the frightened children around her. She had to lead by example: Hamish X had taught her that.

  Mimi thought back to how they had arrived on the shore of this dark sea.

  Aidan had slammed the hatch shut, automatically launching the pod on its journey down the escape shaft. What followed was a hair-raising fall accompanied by the screams of the occupants as the contents of their stomachs threatened to paint the inside of the pod. The blackness made the fall worse. Mimi couldn’t orient herself. Her terrified mind tried to focus on something to make the fear go away, but there was only darkness.

  After what seemed like an age, the pod took a sloping turn, pressing the inhabitants against the restraint straps. The pod picked up speed and began a slaloming6 series of S turns, throwing the passengers back and forth.

  “Oh,” squeaked Mrs. Francis. “Why can’t they flick on the lights?”

  As if in response to her question, a light went on overhead, shining a yellow glow down on the pale faces of the passengers. Mrs. Francis and Mr. Kipling were holding hands. Cara’s cheeks were slick with tears. Two other young children Mimi didn’t know looked decidedly green about the gills.7

  “Maybe it was better in the dark.” Mrs. Francis grimaced as the pod jerked side to side. Mimi focused on a rivet above Mr. Kipling’s head in an effort to keep her stomach settled.

  The escape pod had finally come to rest after a long, tumbling descent. The pod had some kind of gyroscopic system that generally kept the passengers right side up during the descent, but the twisting and turning was hard on the stomach nonetheless. Mimi was relieved when the pod finally rolled to a stop, the hatch facing upward. She unfastened her harness and spun the wheel that unsealed the hatch. With a hiss of air, the heavy steel hatch swung open. Mimi popped her head out into a dark, cold space. She pulled her electric torch from her belt and switched it on, piercing the darkness with the beam and discovering they had come to rest at the end of a long stone corridor. Confident that there was no immediate threat, Mimi turned back to the hatch and said, “I guess we’re here … wherever here is.”

  Mr. Kipling and Mrs. Francis immediately began to unfasten their harnesses. Cara sat with her head buried in her hands, her hair hanging like a curtain around her face, making no move to get out of the pod.

  Mimi grabbed Cara’s shoulder and shook her. Cara looked up, her eyes red and puffy, her face smeared with a paste of soot and tears.

  Mimi made her voice as firm as possible. “Cara. We need ya to snap out of it.”

  Cara wiped her tear-streaked face with her sleeve, blinking. “But he’s gone. I was supposed to take care of him.”

  “We cain’t think about that now. We gotta keep movin’. It ain’t like I know where we are. Yer a Swiss Guard. You gotta start actin’ like one.”

  Cara covered her face with her hands and sobbed anew. Mimi didn’t know what to do. She caught Mrs. Francis’s eye. Mrs. Francis nodded and slid next to Cara. The former housekeeper looked quite bizarre in her white wedding gown, now soiled and torn from the battle and their flight from the Hollow Mountain.

  “There, there, dear. It will be all right. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” soothed Mrs. Francis. Cara turned her face into Mrs. Francis’s shoulder and wept. “If anyone could survive, it would be young Aidan,” the former housekeeper assured her.

  Mimi then caught Mr. Kipling’s eye and jerked her head towards the lightless corridor. “Mr. Kipling,” Mimi said, “let’s have a look-see.”

  Mr. Kipling nodded and smiled. “Shall we?”

  Mimi gripped the rim of the escape hatch and pulled herself up. She swung herself around and slid down the side of the smooth pod until her feet hit solid ground. Standing still, she listened.

  There was silence, save for a soft humming. She couldn’t place it in an exact location. It seemed to come from all around her. Pale yellow light shone up from the escape pod, a cone of illumination piercing the gloom and bathing the ceiling in a circle of gold. The ceiling was made of solid rock smoothed and sculpted by hands or tools, Mimi couldn’t be sure.

  She sniffed the air. It was cool and moist but smelled fresh. There was a slight tang of salt.

  “I smell the ocean,” said Mr. Kipling. He dropped down beside Mimi, steadying himself with a hand on her shoulder. “We must have travelled a great distance underground.”

  “Yeah, but where to?” Mimi reached out and brushed her fingertips on the smooth stone surface. “This place ain’t natural. Somebody dug this tunnel.”

  “I agree. They had very sophisticated tools at their disposal as well.” There was a scratching sound, and suddenly a match flared in the darkness, casting Mr. Kipling’s long bony face in a stark reddish glow. He smiled and lit his pipe. He puffed softly until the bowl of the pipe burnt like a coal in the dimness. “Shall we take a look down this tunnel, then?”

  Mimi nodded in agreement and pointed her torch down the corridor. They were at one end of a stone tunnel now blocked at their end by the escape pod resting in a depression on the floor, stoppering the corridor like a cork in a bottle. The tunnel stretched away for several metres in the other direction and seemed to widen out into a larger chamber.

  Mimi reached out and took the older man’s hand in her own. “I think we wanna go that way.”

  “Where are you going?” Mrs. Francis had popped her head out the pod. Her face was visible in the pod’s interior light as she looked down at Mimi and Mr. Kipling. Her brow was knotted with worry.

  “You stay in there with Cara and the others, Isobel,” Mr. Kipling said. “We’re just going to reconnoitre the tunnel.”

  “Just don’t reconnoitre yourself into any trouble!” Mrs. Francis said sharply. “You’re my husband now and I expect you to look after me!”

  Mr. Kipling answered sheepishly, “Yes, dear.”

  “And you shouldn’t be smoking,” Mrs. Francis said. “It will make you ill. And it’s a poor example for the children.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “And it makes you smell.”

  “Please sit back down and wait for us to return, my dear,” Mr. Kipling pleaded with mild exasperation. Mrs. Francis frowned and ducked back into the pod. Mr. Kipling shook his head. “She’s such a worrywart.” He smiled, put out the pipe, and tossed it away. It struck stone and rattled in the darkness. “Still, it’s nice to have someone to worry about you. Come now, Mimi. Let’s find out where this tunnel leads, eh?”

  “I’m gonna switch off the torch and save the battery. We’ll have ta wait a second ta let our eyes adjust.”

  “Good thinking, sweetheart.”

  Mimi clicked off the torch. The only light came from the hatch of the escape pod. After a few moments, Mimi was able to discern the walls around her in the dimness. “Let’s go.”

  Mimi shuffled right and reached with her right hand while Mr. Kipling did the opposite with his left. Just before they were extended as far as they could while still holding hands between them, they each touched the respective sides of the tunnel.

  Carefully, they shuffle-stepped their way forward for a few minutes until they reached the end of the tunnel.

  They stopped, sensing a vast empty space opening up in front of them. The salty sea smell was stronger here.

  “Listen,” Mimi whispered, and though her voice was quiet, it sent echoes scurrying and chasing one another all about them. When the echo died down, Mr. Kipling heard the sound, too: waves lapping against stone.

  “Hello?”

  Mimi and Mr. Kipling started at the sound of the human voice. It was a boy’s voice and it came from a good distance away, echoing throughout the chamber. “Is somebody there?”

  Before Mimi could answer, another voice piped up, “Here. Over here,” this time from a different side.

  “Hey,” Mimi cried, throwing caution to the wind. “Hey! Who the heck are y’all? I’m Mimi Catastrophe Jones.”

  Mimi’s declaration seemed to break a verbal dam. Children’s voices were calling from all over.

&
nbsp; “I’m Tiny! We were in pod seventeen!”

  “Jarko and Semina! Pod thirty-two.”

  “Ursula! Pod twelve!”

  “Hold it! Hold it!” Mimi raised her voice, shouting until she had silence. “We’ve escaped from the Hollow Mountain. But does anyone know where we are?”

  Cara’s voice sounded close by Mimi’s ear. She had been utterly silent in her approach and startled Mimi with her flat tone.

  “We are in the Staging Area. According to the King’s escape plan, all the pods were designed to converge at a central chamber. I can only assume that this is the Staging Area. We were told about it in security briefings, but I don’t think any of us have ever been here.”

  “Great. That sounds peachy. What are we supposed ta do now we’ve all converged?”

  “We will be met.” Cara’s voice was hoarse, the memory of weeping still rasping at its edges.

  “Who will meet us, Cara?” Mr. Kipling said softly.

  “We were never told who would meet us. The King said it was important for security. A ‘need-to-know’ situation.”

  “Well, now we need ta know!”

  “Like I said, I just don’t know. Security.”

  “Security? Whose security?”

  “Ours … theirs …,” Cara guessed. She squatted down and cupped her hand, scooping some of the water up and tasting it. She spat. “Salt water.”

  “Well,” Mimi said to the refugees now gathered around her. “Now what?”

  No one had a ready answer. And so they stood at the shore of a dark sea with no idea what was coming next.8

  What happened next was a sound. Well, not a sound, exactly. Remember the hum mentioned awhile back when Mimi emerged from the hatch of the pod? Well, it had continued, but as is the way with humming noises, the human ear tends to register them at first, but as time goes on and the hum continues, the brain dismisses the hum as part of the background clutter of noises that exist in the world. Oh, silly brain, so easily deceived! So lazy! Sadly, it is the only thinking organ we have, so we’ll have to muddle through.9