Hamish and the Baby BOOM!

by Danny Wallace

  Well, that had stumped everybody. Particularly when Madame Cous Cous then revealed the baby contained something with the very scientific codename F1.

  As they arrived at HQ, Elliot fired up the computer and started researching F1, while Hamish and Alice drew up a plan of action.

  ‘Oh!’ said Elliot, looking at a complicated diagram of compounds and scientific stuff and numbers.

  ‘What?’ said Venk.

  ‘If this is true,’ said Elliot (and don’t forget I just said ‘it seemed to be’ twice!), ‘it explains a lot about cows.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Venk. ‘Hang on. What?’

  ‘According to That’s Interesting! magazine,’ Elliot said, raising an eyebrow (which was actually the logo for That’s Interesting! magazine), ‘when the first alien visitors came to Earth they were very drawn to cows.’

  The kids all raised an eyebrow of their own.

  Elliot spun his office chair around to face them, but he wasn’t very good at that and ended up addressing a pot plant.

  ‘Aliens would apparently often take a cow home with them across the galaxy. Cows became great status symbols. If you had a cow grazing in your cosmic field, you were quite the fancy person. For a while, early alien visitors would mistake cows for our leaders, because a lot of them thought they were more sensible.’

  The PDF all stared at him. He was still talking about cows. And aliens. Had it all become too much for Elliot?

  ‘Apparently, aliens were fascinated by a cow’s milk. Its health benefits in particular. So they developed their own. A lot of it’s produced on a planet called Screed.’

  ‘And it’s . . . space milk?’ said Clover, astounded at the idea.

  ‘Yes, kind of.’ He stood and put his hands on his hips. ‘They called it F1.’

  Hamish looked shocked as a thought struck him.

  ‘That’s it!’ he said. ‘F1. It’s Formula One! That’s what Boffo’s on! That day in the hospital, Mrs Quip said she’d won a lifetime supply of it from the Frinkley Starfish!’

  Alice narrowed her eyes. ‘She won it from that rag?’ she said. ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘I don’t know what the big deal is,’ said Venk. ‘Who cares where they get their baby formula? What are they up to, that’s what I want to know!’

  But Hamish had a more pressing question.

  ‘Elliot, what exactly does F1 do?’

  How tall are you?

  You’re probably roughly child-sized, which is absolutely normal and natural – please don’t worry.

  But did you know that, in its first year, a baby grows a crazy amount?

  Let’s say you were – I dunno – about half a metre long when you were born. If you don’t know how long half a metre is, it’s about half the size of a metre-long baguette.

  Anyway, if you kept growing at the same rate that you did in your first year, by the time you turned twenty, you’d be nearly eight metres tall.

  That’s the height of eight metre-long baguettes!

  Or, to put it another way, the height of seven black cabs popped on top of each other!

  That’s far too big. You’d have to sticky-tape about twelve beds together just to get a good night’s sleep.

  But, according to That’s Interesting! magazine, just adding a little Formula One to a baby’s diet every day means that process speeds right up.

  Formula One latches on to a baby’s growth rate and accelerates it.

  Which means that by the end of that first year of babyness, it’s a baby that might be the size of two double-decker buses!

  ‘Oh my gosh,’ said Clover, when Elliot had finished explaining all this. ‘Can you imagine the size of those nappies?’

  Alice had heard enough.

  ‘Boffo Quip!’ said Alice. ‘That’s why he’s so massive! That’s why he’s got a better moustache than your brother, Hamish!’

  But Hamish had a dark look on his face. Something had been bothering him ever since he’d watched the videos of the babies going crazy. What Hamish couldn’t work out was why they’d turned at that specific moment. Everything had been fine one minute and then chaos a second after. So what happened in that moment of madness?

  ‘Boffo’s not just growing in size,’ said Hamish, ‘he’s growing in influence.’

  Alice stepped forward and nodded. She got what her friend was saying.

  ‘He has the power to make other babies angry,’ she said. ‘Madame Cous Cous told us babies pick up on emotion.’

  ‘The first time I met Boffo in hospital, he’d just had a meltdown. And I think it was during that meltdown that all the babies in Frinkley Hospital went mad,’ Hamish said.

  ‘And, when Boffo was at your house, he’d just had a tantrum, hadn’t he?’

  ‘Which was probably when the growling baby launched itself at us in the park,’ Buster said, starting to understand.

  ‘Wait, what about the crazy baby in the fridge?’ asked Alice. ‘Boffo was nowhere near that one when it shouted, “Drool!” and made its weird faces!’

  ‘Maybe it’s like a computer virus?’ suggested Hamish. ‘Once they’re infected, any baby within earshot of another baby will pass it on. So, a baby’s cry becomes a call to arms. Like shouting, “Join me!” ’

  ‘But join me to do what?’ said Alice. There had to be more to it than this.

  ‘I would recommend an immediate quarantine of the babies,’ said Elliot.

  ‘And we should remove any sharp implements from their grasp!’ said Clover.

  ‘And ensure all cribs are secured!’ said Buster. ‘Luckily, it’s past their bedtime. Most of them will already be in their cots, behind bars.’

  Hamish nodded. Those all seemed very sensible ideas.

  ‘And we should do a bunch of other stuff!’ added Venk, trying to join in. Buster cast him a glance.

  ‘Most importantly,’ said Alice, ‘we need to stop them from gathering in large numbers. That’s where the real danger lies. Babies gathering in large numbers!’

  Hamish nodded. And then gasped.

  ‘The Beautiful Baby Competition!’ he said, as beads of sweat began to prickle on his forehead. ‘It’s tomorrow! That’s literally babies gathering in large numbers!’

  Born to Run

  The PDF were filled with a great sense of purpose, which is when they shone the most.

  They knew something big and potentially very bad was going to happen. And they knew they had to stop it. Although one of the gang wasn’t feeling quite as confident as the others.

  Buster had noticed that Venk hadn’t been his usual self since their escapade in the hospital. He took Venk aside to check that his friend was okay.

  ‘I just feel that I’m not contributing as much as everyone else sometimes,’ whispered Venk, a little sadly. ‘I mean, you’re great with tech. Clo is an amazing master of disguise. Elliot can translate basic Latin. I just feel like I don’t have a speciality.’

  ‘Well, maybe not having a speciality is your speciality,’ suggested Buster. ‘And don’t worry. Not everyone is born knowing immediately what they’re best at. You’ll find your moment, Venk. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Oof!’ said Hamish, leading the gang out into the cold evening air. ‘Do you feel that?’

  The PDF clattered out of Garage 5 after him and stood still for a second.

  ‘Bad vibes,’ said Clover, adjusting her black Belasko boiler suit. ‘The world feels . . . grumpy.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ said Alice. ‘Get the baby competition cancelled? I mean, what do we say? You know what parents are like. They’re panicky old oddballs!’

  ‘Should we sound the alarm?’ said Buster, because Starkley had a brand-new Only in an Emergency! siren these days, suitable only for the grimmest of threats. Hamish had to be very certain before doing that. The alarm was wired straight to Belasko and would be beamed to wherever Dad was right now. Their important work would be interrupted as they turned round and shot home.

  Also, it was just past seven o’clock and all t
he grown-ups would be sitting in front of Life’s a Dream with Vapidia Sheen and you only interrupted that in a real crisis.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ said Hamish, zipping up his suit. ‘Something feels different.’

  The town was deathly silent. There wasn’t a trace of a hint of a rumour of a cousin of a noise. The gang stood and listened to absolutely nothing at all.

  Moments later, trusting their instincts, the team was in the van.

  ‘Let’s do a drive-around before we panic,’ said Hamish, and Buster put his indicator on and turned right into Myna Street.

  All the way along the road, houses had their curtains open and their lights on. Hamish cupped his hands and pressed them up against the van window, between the pictures of ice creams and disco balls. He could see mums and dads, grandmothers and grandfathers, brothers and sisters, some of them surrounded by baby toys, sitting in front of the television with cups of tea and plates of biscuits balanced on their knees . . . every single one of them were fast asleep.

  All down Elderberry Avenue, the flickering blue light of the TVs bounced off the cars outside. The noise of gentle snoring drifted through windows as the PDF spotted more clapped-out, exhausted grown-ups dozing in front of the telly.

  ‘Everyone’s worn out,’ said Hamish, almost to himself.

  In some of the upstairs windows, the soft yellow of night lights cast a glow around dangling baby mobiles.

  Everything seemed strangely peaceful. Weirdly normal.

  Apart from one thing.

  ‘Look up there,’ said Clover, pointing at a window. ‘That’s odd.’

  Hamish looked up. In the window of No. 22 Elderberry Avenue was the camera from a baby monitor. Now there’s nothing unusual about that, is there?

  Except that this camera was pointing outwards – towards the street.

  Hamish frowned and stared up at No. 35 as they passed. That was the home of Mole Stunk. Her mum had just had a new baby. Everyone had wanted to know what was wrong with the old one. But she’d called it Millie (short for Millipede) and as they passed her house . . .

  ‘The Stunks’ camera is facing outwards too,’ said Hamish.

  It was the same at No. 18 Viola Road.

  And 12 Knotweed Lane.

  ‘I think we’re being watched,’ said Hamish in alarm, as they trundled along. ‘The babies are using the monitors to monitor us.’

  ‘What was THAT?’ screamed Buster, slamming on the brakes as something scuttled across the road.

  The ice-cream van skidded to a halt on the high street. Disco records slid everywhere.

  Outside Pizza Hat, under the colourful bunting that stretched this way and that, four metal bins rattled from side to side.

  ‘Maybe it was a fox?’ said Clover.

  Buster moved off and the team strained to see if they could spot anything.

  They circled round, past the town square, and as they approached Myna Lane . . .

  CLABANG! CLATTER!

  From the side door of No. 26, a cat flap rattled. It had swung open with real violence and slapped back down into place.

  ‘Did anyone else see that?’ said Hamish.

  He was sure something had burst out of the cat flap. Something heavy. It was too dark to see exactly what. And now it had padded away into the undergrowth of the garden.

  As the PDF watched, a whole tree started to sway as something brushed past its trunk and moved through the bushes of the garden next door at great speed. And with it came a noise almost like a drumbeat.

  Chakkachakka.

  Chakkachakka.

  Chakkachakka.

  Wait – that wasn’t a drumbeat.

  That was . . .

  ‘A rattle?’ said Alice.

  ‘Let’s get out,’ said Hamish. ‘We should follow it on foot! Keep a low profile!’

  Buster pressed a button and the back doors shot open. Hamish, Alice, Elliot and Clover leapt out.

  ‘You and Venk get back to base,’ said Hamish. ‘Make sure whatever’s in the bushes sees you go so it thinks we’ve left!’

  Buster winked at him and turned the radio right up. He honked his horn and drove off at speed, disco music blaring from the windows.

  The bushes moved slightly until the van was out of sight, then began to stir again.

  Hamish and the gang kept low and moved fast, following the noise and watching as something in the dark stalked through gardens and over fences.

  It was moving with great determination. It obviously had somewhere to be.

  At the corner by the Snooze Agents, as the kids jogged behind it, it suddenly leapt from the bushes and continued to run in the street. Now it was lit by the street lamps, and Hamish could not believe what he was seeing.

  A small, powerful, muscular baby. Pounding down the street like a crazed escaped monkey. Clover couldn’t help but gasp.

  The chakkachakkas slowed and the baby stopped in its tracks. It caught its breath, panting and growling. Steam rose from its body.

  It turned and stared at them.

  Bye, Baby

  Bunting!

  The baby stared at Hamish, Alice, Elliot and Clover as its heavy pants fogged the air.

  Er, hang on.

  I mean the baby was panting heavily.

  I don’t mean it was wearing heavy pants and they were somehow fogging up the air.

  You might wear pants like that but this baby didn’t.

  ‘This is one of those moments,’ said Hamish, stretching his arms out protectively in front of his team, ‘where either it chases us or we chase it.’

  And then – POW!

  The baby turned and began to pound away, scuttling on all fours quickly through the town square and past the old clock. It leapt over a bin, knocking tin cans from the pile and sending them noisily bouncing off the pavement.

  ‘Looks like we’re chasing it!’ yelled Hamish and the four friends set off in hot pursuit.

  Alice took the lead. She was still Starkley Under-12s 100-metre champion, after all. But even she had to admit it felt weird chasing a baby.

  Around the corner the tiny beast ran, its little feet and hands slapping against the concrete. It was faster than a kid on a bike!

  But the PDF were hot on its heels as they skidded round the corner and . . .

  ‘Where’s it gone?!’ Alice said.

  They stood in confusion at the end of the high street, staring out at the closed shops and abandoned street in front of them.

  The baby had disappeared into thin air.

  What? How? Where had it gone?

  Was it some kind of magical shapeshifter?

  Had it transported itself to another realm?

  Could it move through time and space?

  Or had it just scrambled up a drainpipe?

  ‘Look!’ yelled Clover, pointing upwards.

  The baby had scrambled up a drainpipe! And was about to do something insane.

  It stretched one foot out and tapped the Union Jack bunting that criss-crossed the street above the shops.

  ‘No, baby weirdo!’ yelled Hamish. ‘Don’t do it, baby weirdo!’

  But the baby weirdo looked determined. It was going to walk the bunting like a tightrope!

  Hamish and the others fanned out, standing right beneath it in case it fell.

  It put one chubby foot out . . . and the bunting began to sway.

  To the right it wobbled!

  Then to the left!

  The kids gasped!

  The baby put its arms out for balance, before putting its other foot on the line.

  What was it doing? Bunting was no place for a baby!

  ‘Babies can be so childish!’ said Elliot, furious.

  Now the baby was wobbling back and forth, teetering over them, spinning its arms as it tried to keep its balance. It was terrifying. The kids all stayed right underneath, just in case. Somehow they’d gone from enemies to potential saviours in the blink of an eye!

  And then, getting used to the rope, the baby starte
d to walk . . .

  Faster . . .

  And faster . . .

  And then it started to RUN down the bunting, from one set to the next, ZIGZAGGING across the street as the PDF chased underneath.

  ‘It’s too fast!’ said Alice, keeping her elbows and knees high.

  Off the baby ran, scampering up another drainpipe and standing on a rooftop, silhouetted by the full moon, then leaping into a tree with a star jump.

  But Hamish and the gang weren’t giving up that easily. As it slid down the trunk and continued to run, they ran harder, chasing the fleeing baby as it pelted out of the town and away into the fields.

  ‘I think it’s heading to Frinkley!’ said Alice, slowing her run. ‘Hasta la vista, baby!’

  The others huffed and puffed and came to a standstill behind her. Elliot had a stitch and Hamish was all muddy.

  Which is when the noise began, stopping Alice in her tracks.

  A juddering, thuddering, gear-shifting roar of a noise.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Clover, feeling small in this big field by the road.

  Suddenly the kids were lit up by strong and powerful headlights. They quickly ducked out of sight.

  The four of them watched as the first in a long line of huge, thundering, sixteen-wheeler lorries turned down the road.

  The scream of the engines was immense. The smell of diesel filled the air. They were coming in off the motorway and indicating left for Frinkley. The field blinked orange.

  One enormous, ginormous, super-mega-normous lorry after another.

  ‘Are they petrol tankers?’ asked Alice.

  But Hamish shook his head, pointing at the words written on the side of the huge silver tanks in dirty red letters.

  ‘There’s enough there to feed every baby in Britain,’ whispered Hamish.

  And as the tankers rolled on towards Frinkley, and the noise began to fade, a lesser team than the PDF might have been so frightened and distracted by the sights they’d seen that they could have missed hearing Starkley’s Only in an Emergency! siren cut through the brisk night air.