Little Marmalade Drong absolutely lost her mind with joy!
The grown-ups didn’t know what to do. It was loud. It was mayhem. They were supposed to be in charge. Some of them tried telling the babies off. They stood there, waggling their fingers and making stern faces, not realising there were babies creeping up on them from behind, ready to pull down their pants and replace them with nappies!
One baby pushed a junior trampoline into the middle of the square, and five or six others began bouncing high up into the air to the rhythm of the heavy-metal music before launching themselves at the screaming adults!
‘Call the police! Call the RAF! Call the Belgians! Call my mother! Just call someone!’ yelled old Mr Neate, slowly waddling away, chased by crawling newborns.
Call Belasko, thought Hamish. But Dad’s still miles away and this is my mess to clear up!
He had to come up with a new plan and fast.
‘ROOOOOOOAR!’ came a voice to his right.
It was Boffo! He was towering over the other babies, like some massive sumo wrestler, and he knew exactly where he was going.
He was headed straight for . . .
‘VENK!’ yelled Alice. ‘Watch out!’
Venk had been batting away babies left, right and centre. They kept trying to hug his legs, because of his ridiculous bear costume.
‘TOH-PEEEEE,’ Boffo said in his deep, deep voice, grabbing Venk’s arms in his enormous fists.
‘NO, NO!’ said Venk, realising in horror what was happening. ‘I’m Venkatesh!’
‘TOH-PEEEEE!’ repeated Boffo, pulling Venk close to his chest.
How was it possible that Boffo was bigger than Venk now?
‘What’s he going to do to him?’ asked Alice.
‘I hope just cuddle him,’ said Hamish, but already he could see he was wrong, because Boffo had grabbed Venk and thrown him over his shoulder. Now he was bounding over to the town clock.
‘Boffo!’ yelled Hamish. ‘NO!’
But Boffo had his prize, and wanted to show the world that the big Toppy Sparkles was his! He started to clamber up the clock tower with one arm wrapped round his life-sized Toppy, as smaller babies punched the air and whooped.
Soon he was at the top, towering over everybody, roaring!
‘Well, at least it can’t get any worse,’ said Alice, putting her hands on her hips.
But you know what? It can always get worse.
As Venk flailed around in his arms, Boffo looked proudly out over the square, then put two chubby fingers in his gummy mouth and let rip with a piercing . . . PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!
Hamish covered his ears and frowned. Babies don’t whistle! That was Point No. 2 in his baby project!
A split second later, other babies began joining in, with whistles so high-pitched and grating that windows started to rattle in their frames and old Mr Neate’s dentures fell out.
‘What’s happening?’ said Alice, covering her ears as the PHEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! came to an end.
And then – distant barks.
Alice stared at Hamish.
The barking was getting closer.
And . . . were those meows now too?
Hamish and Alice braced themselves, as the pitter-patter of approaching feet turned to the thunderous sound of a drum. The last of the grown-ups fled, as from over fences and down drains and across roofs ran dozens of furry beasts.
‘ATTACK KITTENS!’ yelled Alice. ‘And puppies!’
Of course! Cats and dogs were supposed to be able to pick up on human emotions too, weren’t they? And, when an emotion is expressed as powerfully as Boffo was expressing his, obviously it was too much for any animal to ignore!
Hamish looked around, completely startled. It was dizzying, dazzling chaos. It was overwhelming. Where was he even supposed to start?! Scarmarsh had somehow created an army out of the things people loved the most! All of them linked by Boffo, like some kind of master computer!
Kittens were now hanging by their claws from Grenville’s bottom as he ran for the hills. Puppies were pushing over all the radio equipment. Babies were jumping up and down on Elliot. One infant had pulled Clover’s unicorn horn right down over her eyes. They’d locked Buster out of his own van and two of them were peeing on his dashboard. And now Venk was being held hostage up a clock tower by a giant baby who seemed more than mildly in love with him!
Hamish’s head was spinning with the scenes around him, but the worst thing was that all of this wasn’t even their biggest problem. They might have postponed the Baby Boom from spreading too far for the moment, but Scarmarsh was still out in the woods, with enough Formula One to infect the entire country anyway.
‘What do we do?’ Alice asked Hamish in a shaky voice. ‘What do we do??’
‘DON’T PANIC!’ came a voice.
The kids spun round. It was Nurse Pickernose!
She stamped on the end of her medical skateboard and it flipped up into her hand. She was flanked on either side by two other mobile nurses called Hilda and Ludwig.
‘You’ve done a good job,’ said Pickernose. ‘But you made me realise you were right, Hamish. Babies require specialists. We’ve got this!’ She was ready for battle, with bottles of milk in holsters on her hips and refills strapped across her chest.
Hamish smiled. He’d been hoping she’d show up. He knew kebabs were her new love. But he also suspected she’d never be able to turn her back on the babies.
‘HILDA!’ Pickernose yelled, testing the temperature of the milk on her wrist and spinning the bottle back into its holster. ‘You take the newborns. BOTTLETOP BAXTER, YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW! Ludwig – grab the pets. ORANGINA – PUT THAT OLD MAN DOWN! I’m gonna tackle the big boy . . . C’MERE, BOFFO!’
And, as Hilda started scooping up newborns and Ludwig wrestled with attack kittens, Nurse Pickernose unfurled a mega-super-pack of moist towelettes, then ran for the clock tower and began bouncing up the sides like a determined and furious cat.
‘We’ll deal with this!’ shouted Clover, who was wearing a baby almost like a backpack. ‘Go get Scarmarsh!’
Hamish and Alice nodded at each other. They needed to get to the woods.
It was time.
Alice Turned
Around
Down the country lane Hamish sped, his Howler roaring at full pelt, with Alice charging alongside on Blue Streak.
They were a fearsome duo, and both Vespas were packed with awesome new features, courtesy of Buster.
Like Alice’s ElectroGlide lights, which meant that now everywhere she rode she left a brief, bright blue streak behind her, matching the one in her hair.
Or like Hamish’s small plastic sandwich box.
On reflection, Alice’s moped was probably cooler.
Alice had insisted they take the back routes out of Starkley so they wouldn’t be spotted on any baby monitors. That was super smart. Scarmarsh had to have been listening to the radio broadcast to make sure his Baby Boom had spread. Which meant he would already know the PDF had scuppered things.
Hamish was worried about that, because Scarmarsh was so unpredictable. If he felt threatened, he might lash out, like a wounded animal. He was not a patient man and seemed to have this vendetta against Starkley in particular, but why? His deal with the Superiors meant he could go anywhere in his part of the universe. Why keep coming back to Earth – and why to a town where he knew there’d be resistance?
Alice’s eyes were watering: the smell of cinnamon was hot in the air.
Hamish signalled to her to pull off the road, and together they rode along the bumpy dirt track to the edge of the woods.
Each reached over to the back of their bikes and pulled out a sleek new PPP – Panic Protection Pack! – and strapped it on. Inside was water, whistles, super-spicy Tabasco sauce spray, Chomps for energy, an old nut and pickle baguette, hygiene gel, walkie-talkies, flares, masks, warpaint, a packet of sweets and a chess set. They’d had time to change into their black Belasko boiler suits and now looked ready for an
ything.
‘We don’t know what’s waiting for us,’ said Alice. ‘Scarmarsh might be panicking. Or he could already be long gone. Though from the stink of that Formula One I’d be surprised.’
Hamish agreed. Scarmarsh was still around, he was sure of it. They needed to be on their guard, and as they crept through the bracken in the woods, keeping low and moving quickly, they made sure not to step on any sticks or give away their position.
The smell of cinnamon was overpowering now, and Hamish could hear engines.
Peeking through the trees, they saw a flabulous, globulous Terrible with a clipboard barking orders. Its bug eyes were yellowed and its nails scraped at the dirt underfoot. Mushrooms on the ground stretched and strained to get near it, the way flowers reach for the sun. This thing was like a fungus magnet. As he passed trees, giving out more orders, the moss seemed to blacken. The Terribles in the lorries were nodding at everything he said, and pressing buttons inside. The Terrible in the mechanic’s outfit they’d seen the last time they were here was tinkering with an engine, getting it to pump Formula One faster and faster with his bright red box of tools.
Hamish hated these good-for-nothing monsters. They were like Scarmarsh’s private military. Their stink mixed with the cinnamon from the Formula One and the petrol from the tanks and created a sick-making brew. The kind that made your nostrils flare, and made every sniff feel like someone had jammed two spiky straws up your nose.
Each lorry juddered and thuddered as their tanks pumped more and more Formula One.
‘So they’ve not gone,’ said Alice. ‘And it doesn’t look like they’re stopping.’
Hamish shook his head.
‘They’re making even more Formula One,’ he said, as a line of white transit vans driven by Terribles started to pull up by the petrol station.
Each had something different written down the side.
STEAKS ARE HIGH
BUTCHER’S
OF PEPPERMILL
JUST FALAFS!
Falafels and Gags for Thrunkley and Beyond!
WISHY-WASHY
LAUNDERETTE
We’ll Clean You ‘Urp’!
As they trundled to a halt, Terribles rolled out toxic-looking barrels from behind the petrol station and started loading the vans.
‘Look – those vans are going to Urp, and Thrunkley, and Peppermill,’ said Hamish. ‘Alice, I think that Scarmarsh is planning to secretly take Formula One to different towns. Then he’ll be able to create loads of new Boffos and start the BABY BOOM that way!’
‘Babygeddon,’ said Alice, gravely.
Hamish shot Alice a look that said, We have to stop this madman from unleashing complete anarchy on the streets of our towns and cities.
It also said, We both know our roles here and what we have to do.
It was a look that also said, Alice, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking then grab those tools and set to work immediately while I sneak a closer look at what’s happening in the tower, and then wait for my signal.
‘Why are you giving me that weird look?’ said Alice, confused. ‘Have you got wind?’
So Hamish explained what he’d been thinking out loud, which, on reflection, he probably should have done in the first place.
Alice nodded as he spoke, then did exactly what she’d trained herself to do.
She waited until the Terribles had finished loading their vans.
She SCANNED the ‘action area’ to work out where her EXIT POINTS were in case she needed a swift getaway.
She made a mental note of where the enemy had gone and added it to a MIND MAP she was MEMORISING.
She COUNTED the number of PACES it would take her to get where she needed to be, and how FAST she’d have to RUN to do it well.
She SCOPED OUT a number of hiding places – a bush, a tree, a bin – and she did it all in a matter of MOMENTS.
And then, her recon of the area complete, she nodded and turned to Hamish once more. Hamish had another very strange look on his face.
Alice slowly turned round and looked up into the warty, bulging eyes of a Terrible.
‘Whoooooaaaaa!’
Hamish and Alice flew through the air.
They’d been flung out of the woods by the ginormous Terrible who was so very terrible he could have been called a Verrible.
‘Whoooooaaaaa!’ cried Hamish, wondering if he would ever land.
BOFF!
The kids crashed heavily onto the ground, skidding along in the dirt and coming to a painful stop by the petrol pumps.
When this absolute giant had picked them up by their PPPs, he’d held them at arm’s length, nipped between his fingers, and grimaced, the way a parent might pick up a sock from your bedroom floor.
He seemed completely and utterly disgusted by this pair of yuklings he’d found in the woods. Yet he was the disgusting one!
‘He stinks of cinnamon!’ said Alice, mentally kicking herself for allowing this awful thing to creep up on her.
‘Formula One,’ said Hamish, scrabbling to get to his feet. ‘Maybe he’s been drinking it. Maybe it doesn’t just work on babies . . .’
Alice’s eyes widened. It was one thing raising a barmy. But Scarmarsh controlled thousands of these Terribles. Maybe millions across the universe. Who knew? If each of them suddenly grew as enormous as this one, there could be trouble!
Well . . . even more trouble than usual.
Now the giant Terrible was coming at them, snarling and snapping off whole branches from trees and casually tossing them aside, as the bushes around them rose and fell with each stomp of an enormous foot.
STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!
The kids looked around, horrified. They had to think quickly. What should they do? Dig a hole? Climb a tree? Make a run for it? But they were surrounded by vans, and barrels, and the Terrible blocked their path to the woods, and how on earth would digging a hole help them?
‘Hamish, look,’ said Alice, pointing at the ground.
A cluster of mushrooms swayed this way and that, as if attracted by a dozen different things they couldn’t decide between. They were like weird little tentacles growing from the ground.
Now the nasty old weeds that had grown round the old petrol pumps were rising and straining too. Black moss started to shake, then fly from the trees, like it was being sucked across the atmosphere. The bad vibes hung heavy in the air.
Hamish suspected this could only mean one thing: a bruise of Terribles was upon them.
That’s when it really hit them.
‘We’re surrounded,’ said Hamish, taking off his PPP as long, gnarly, angular shadows grew all around him.
A piercing noise shot through the place like an arrow.
SQUEEEEEEEEEE!
Alice threw her pack to the ground and poured the contents out. She grabbed a super-spicy Tabasco sauce spray. Hamish picked up a stale nut and pickle baguette and wielded it like a sword, as from all around them fresh, freakish Terribles loomed from behind vans and bushes.
The monsters snortled and sniffed and panted like horses and seemed to grow as they circled the children. Black smoke wisped from warty nostrils.
Which one would move first? wondered Alice, getting ready to fight back.
And, as the first one extended its arms and made a grab for them, Alice sprayed her Tabasco and leapt away. Hamish thwacked it on the back of its head as it spluttered and sneezed and scratched at its eyes.
ROOOOAR!
The Terrible was terribly furious. Its cry was loud and the air that shot from it was like a super-powerful leaf blower. Sticks and leaves and pebbles swirled in a whirlwind around them, making it harder to see. Also, it was pretty clear that the Terrible had eaten fish for lunch.
The kids were back to back now, moving in a slow circle, the full horror of their situation upon them.
Another Terrible lurched itself forward but Alice was too quick.
She spun away again, this time picking up her bottle of hygiene gel and squeezing it
hard. A slick of gel shot at the Terrible’s germy tummy and began to fizz and spit as it . Hamish delivered another POW! with his baguette, but more Terribles were ready to take its place.
‘We can’t keep doing this,’ said Hamish. ‘There are too many of them! We need to get out of here!’
Hamish wished he could just whistle and his Howler would turn up, like a magic horse. He really needed to talk to Buster about that – but now was not the time for thinking about magic horses.
BAFF!
Hamish thwacked another Terrible, but the beasts were starting to realise that approaching the kids one by one wasn’t going to work.
The giant Terrible raised its hand and held up four disgusting fingers . . .
‘What’s he doing?’ said Hamish, as another ROAR sent more sticks and pebbles flying at them.
Then the grinning Terrible held up three fingers . . .
‘He’s counting down!’ said Alice, and she knew exactly why. They were about to pounce!
Alice fell to the ground and grabbed her walkie-talkie as the Terrible now held up only two fingers . . .
‘PDF! PDF!’ said Alice, holding down the red button on her walkie. ‘SOS! SOS!’
ROOOOOARRRR!
A DOZEN HUNKERING TERRIBLES thundered forward, striking all at once and from every angle, grabbing the children from all sides and hoisting them up in the air by their ankles.
Alice watched as her walkie was crushed in a monstrous fist. It sparked and fizzed as a Terrible threw it at a rock.
Had the message got through? Or had Scarmarsh interfered with the radio signal again?
As the kids now bounced around on top of the horrible horde, prodded and poked at, they kicked and sprayed and kept swinging baguettes.
‘I need more than a sandwich for this!’ wailed Hamish, still bravely bashing away at the beasts below and flinging nuts and pickles everywhere.
Hamish and the Baby BOOM! Page 13
