Kid Normal and the Final Five

by Greg James

  ‘NO SCREENS!’ snapped Angel, spinning round and grabbing his face, forcing it to the front. ‘I warned you. Be careful!’ Murph blinked, and shook his head to try and clear it. ‘Come on,’ Angel told him, striding off again. ‘It’s not far.’

  They passed through more streets, all of them more or less empty. Once, Murph did catch sight of a pedestrian. It was a young man in a hoody, and he had stopped in the middle of the pavement to stare slackly at his phone. That same tantalising blue light was playing over his blank face. Murph quickly snapped his gaze away. Something strange and very, very worrying was happening. The blank look on the man’s face brought to mind his brother’s, the day they’d been captured. Murph’s internal brain-jigsaw enthusiast was beginning to put pieces together, and he suspected he wasn’t going to like the completed puzzle one tiny little bit.

  Angel had started to glance at her watch more and more often, speeding up her pace until they were moving at that half-walk, half-run you always do on a zebra crossing to convince the drivers you’re going as fast as you can. ‘Thirty seconds,’ she muttered.

  ‘We’re home!’ said Mary suddenly, as Angel led them round one final corner.

  Ahead, Murph could see a stone archway in the middle of a row of old terraced houses. Picked out in carved letters across the top were the words PERKINS DAIRY. Beyond the arch Murph could see the familiar cobbled courtyard of Mary’s house. He had visited several times, and had always enjoyed a warm welcome from her friendly parents. Best of all, her mum had recently begun developing an ice-cream business. His stomach rumbled after weeks upon weeks of bland prison food.

  He looked past Angel’s shoulder, wondering if anyone had come to meet them, but the courtyard was completely deserted. As Angel led them underneath the arch, though, something strange happened. There was a shimmer in the air, like a heat haze. And, as if they had passed through an invisible curtain, the scene changed. A familiar figure suddenly materialised out of nowhere, standing in the middle of the courtyard in a brown checked cap and oil-stained blue overalls.

  ‘Carl!’ yelled Murph in delight.

  A grin as large as the Great Pyramid of Giza broke out underneath the old man’s neatly clipped moustache. ‘Kid Normal!’ he beamed in reply. ‘I knew you’d do it, Angel, my love. And Flora …’ Suddenly catching sight of the stretcher Billy and Hilda were carrying, his smile winked out. ‘Oh my days, Flora! Flora, love!’ He ran over, wringing his hands.

  ‘Relax, Dad, relax!’ soothed Angel. ‘She’ll be OK. Broken leg. Nothing the Blue Phantom can’t handle.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ said Carl, visibly shaken, as he smoothed Flora’s white hair back from her forehead. ‘Gave me the right heebie-jeebies, that did. I was already worried enough about her going back to Shivering Sands after last time.’ He collected himself and straightened his shoulders. ‘Well done, Angel, love. Well done. And welcome, Super Zeroes! We’ve been waiting for you for a long time.’

  ‘How come we couldn’t see you?’ blurted Billy, there being simply no room inside his brain to hold in any more unanswered questions.

  ‘Aha!’ said Carl, holding up a finger. ‘Visual and aural Displacement Field. Good, innit?’ he laughed, gesturing towards the archway. ‘Nobody passing by can see or hear whatever’s behind it. Completely hides us! Those idiots still haven’t worked it out. One of my better ideas, if I do say so myself.’ He chuckled, polishing his fingernails on his stained old blue overalls.

  Murph’s brain spun on the spot like a stoat in a cement mixer as it tried to puzzle out the onslaught of information it had been bombarded with over the past two hours. He felt his legs going fuzzy and realised he was in serious danger of completely freaking out before glancing over at Mary. She took one look at him and moved across to take his hand. She, too, looked pale and completely bamboozled, but being bamboozled together – co-bamboozled if you will – felt a bit better.

  ‘Welcome,’ said Angel, ‘to the headquarters of the Rebellion.’

  ‘Rebellion … against what? Knox?’ Murph heard Billy say, now on Question 9,000. Murph had several of his own. Rebellion? Was this what the Heroes’ Alliance had become? Had Miss Flint somehow escaped whatever had happened to Sir Jasper and the Cleaners? Was that who they were about to meet?

  ‘Let’s get you all some answers, shall we?’ said Carl, almost as if he could hear his thoughts chattering like needy budgerigars. ‘It’s time for you to meet the leaders of the Rebellion. Angel, love, you take care of Mum, OK?’

  Angel waved a hand and two shapes jogged sharply out of a large garage door to the left. Murph gasped when he saw the black uniforms of the Cleaners, but Angel reassured him. ‘Don’t worry – they’re with us. Not everyone got sucked in.’ With that baffling pronouncement, the Cleaners took hold of the stretcher and Angel followed them back through the doors.

  ‘This way, then,’ encouraged Carl, leading them across the cobbles towards a pair of large, green-painted wooden doors. Above them was carved the word CREAMERY, but a new, hand-painted sign had been nailed to the left-hand door. LEADERS’ OFFICE, it read in bold black letters, and underneath, in smaller characters, Bring Your Own Spoon.

  ‘As you’re no doubt working out,’ Carl told them, ‘things have gone downhill pretty badly over the last few months. But thanks to this lot, the fightback is well underway.’

  He pushed open the doors, revealing three figures standing in front of a large, scrubbed wooden table.

  ‘Mum!’ gasped Murph, Mary and Nellie, all at the same time.

  8

  Cake Mix and Crushed Cookies

  ‘And that, my friends, is why all people with Capabilities must continue to be rounded up and imprisoned.’ Nicholas Knox gave his sincerest look to camera, crossing one shiny-shoed leg over the other as he leaned back in his squashy, battered leather armchair. ‘Trust your old pal Nick. I’m the only one who can keep us all safe from the misfits in our midst.’

  Away to one side, a monitor screen was displaying the picture that was being beamed to every TV, computer and phone in the entire country. It showed Knox sitting in his comfy chair beside a crackling log fire. An adorable brown dog snoozed on the rug in front of the flames and a cup of tea steamed on a small occasional table by one bespoke-suited elbow. Everything about the scene felt trustworthy and charming.

  ‘So,’ he continued, adjusting a cufflink, ‘make sure you report anyone with strange abilities to the authorities. And I’ll see you back here at six o’clock tomorrow for another cosy little chat. Until then, stay safe, be good, and obey Knox. Tatty-bye.’ He gave a little wave and a winning smile.

  The red light on top of the camera went out.

  ‘Get rid of that filthy thing,’ he snarled, kicking out a shiny toe towards the dog, which looked up at him with liquid brown eyes that would have made anyone except a self-obsessed, power-crazed maniac say, ‘Ahh, look how cute! Who’s the best boy in the world, eh? Who is? You are. Yes you are. Yes you are. Do you want a biscuit?’

  Nicholas Knox did not say any of those things, from which you can draw your own conclusions.

  ‘At once, President Knox,’ said a uniformed footman, rushing forward and scooping it up. Knox smoothed the highly pressed legs of his pinstriped trousers and got languidly to his feet, looking around him as the camera crew swiftly dismantled the set that was created each day for his ‘Cosy Little Chat’, or ‘CLC’, as it was referred to by his staff. The fireplace, which was completely artificial, was wheeled away, along with the section of fake wall against which it stood. The rug was rolled up and the chair carried away.

  Knox was left standing in the middle of a huge, imposing room. It was furnished in heavy fabrics of rich purple and gold. Enormous windows let the early evening sunlight stream in across the priceless carpets and tapestries with which he’d furnished the Presidential Palace. Yes, Nicholas Knox has moved into more comfortable lodgings since we last saw him. Now that he had declared himself President, he had taken over this palace with its d
ozens of rooms.

  He couldn’t let the common people see all this opulence, though. That would completely spoil his friendly, your-friend-Nick, man-of-the-people act. And it was vital that no suspicion arose in the minds of the population that he was not all he pretended. That might break the subtle mind-control waves that were beamed out across the country every evening during his Cosy Little Chat. Knox’s mouth twisted into what might have been a smile as he considered the millions of people he had hoodwinked and brainwashed.

  ‘Mr President,’ said a voice. Knox turned to see his new Prime Minister hurrying towards him. He was an enormous, portly man, ineptly stuffed into an ill-fitting suit. It was as if someone had remembered at approximately 11.48 p.m. that they’d agreed to enter a scarecrow-building competition with a midnight deadline. His face was puffy and waxy, topped with a shock of hair that stood out at odd angles like the nest of a bird who had flunked its nest-building exam eighteen times and just decided to – sorry about this – wing it. The Prime Minister’s nose was – and this is not an exaggeration – enormous. It scythed through the air ahead of him like the prow of a battleship cutting through the waves.

  ‘The Prime Minister, Hector Blunderbuss,’ announced a footman, grandly and unnecessarily.

  The great scarecrow-like figure came close to Knox. Well, as close as his gigantic conk would allow, anyway. ‘We have a problem,’ said the Prime Minister in a low voice.

  ‘Leave us,’ commanded Knox abruptly. There was a mousy scufflement as the footmen bustled out of the room.

  ‘Well, my friend?’ said Knox, sinking into an overstuffed, embroidered couch. ‘What could possibly be making you so … agitated? The mind control is holding firm. Every day, more and more of these superpowered freaks are being handed in. You and your, ah … colleagues are being given the free rein I promised you. And yet you come to me, talking of … problems?’

  Hector Blunderbuss licked his lips nervously. ‘I just got a message from The Sponge,’ he mumbled.

  Suddenly Knox was at full attention. The air seemed to crackle with malice as he sat up sharply. ‘The Sponge?’ he snapped. ‘Shivering Sands? What has happened? TELL ME!’

  ‘It’s the … the … splrrr …’ Blunderbuss stammered.

  ‘Tell me what has happened immediately,’ instructed Knox, ‘or my servants will be picking pieces of you from the nap of this hugely expensive carpet for the next seven months.’

  The fat man mopped his brow and took a deep breath. ‘It’s the … Super Zeroes,’ he said quietly. ‘They seem to have … dashed off. Vamoosed, if you will …’

  Knox lurched to his feet, bunching his fists.

  ‘They’ve escaped!’ squeaked Blunderbuss. ‘I don’t know how. I’m sorry! Someone broke them out of their cells. And they stole a helicopter, you see …’

  ‘Well, track it, then!’ snapped Knox through gritted teeth.

  ‘The Cleaners did track it, Your Presidency,’ stammered Blunderbuss. But the locator unit had been removed. They were led to a … a … fried chicken shop.’

  ‘And there was no sign of the Super Zeroes?’ asked Knox.

  ‘No, sir, no sign at all, just some … hot wings.’

  Knox raised his face towards the richly painted ceiling and let out a terrifying howl of pure, animal rage.

  While that last scene was going on, a huge amount of hugging was occurring back at Perkins Dairy. Really good, high-quality hugging, in fact. Hugging that could quite easily compete professionally in the international hugging championships, even if that meant it had to relinquish its amateur status and was no longer eligible for the Hug Olympics.

  At one point Murph realised he was hugging someone he’d never even met before. Nellie’s mum was a tall woman with the same long dark hair as her daughter, only without the green-dyed tips. ‘Nice to finally meet you, Murph,’ she told him. ‘I know we’re in the middle of a rebellion and everything, but I must say, seeing Nellie’s amazing friends in person for the first time might just be the most exciting moment of all!’ Nellie came up beside her mother and put an arm around her.

  ‘Right, right, right,’ said a bustly voice. Mary’s mum had frizzy greying hair and – behind round glasses – the kindest eyes you have ever seen. ‘Come on, ladies, it’s about time we told these five Heroes what’s been going on.’

  ‘Finally!’ puffed Billy, ballooning an eyelid in relief.

  ‘How has Knox got everyone trusting him all of a sudden?’ asked Murph.

  ‘That,’ continued Mrs Perkins, beckoning them over towards two large chest freezers that stood on the scrubbed red tiles against one wall, ‘is exactly the question we’re trying to answer. We’ll tell you what we know – and it’s quite a story. But in my experience all good stories go down better with ice cream. I’ve been working on some new flavours during my spare time. You know, when I’m not plotting to overthrow the Government.’ She beamed and tugged open the lids of the freezers.

  The freezers were lined neatly with big, deep metal containers – each one labelled on the top in spidery handwriting.

  ‘Cake Mix and Crushed Cookies,’ read Mary, bending over the left-hand freezer. ‘Oh, wow, Mum! That sounds amazing.’

  ‘Lime Blossom Banoffee,’ read Billy aloud from the next container. ‘Elderflower Starburst Sorbet. Yum!’

  Murph wafted aside a puff of freezer-steam to read the other labels: Crystallised Gingerbread, Coconut Fudge Ripple, Buttery Biscuit Base. His stomach gave an even bigger rumble, so big it made his head vibrate slightly. Considering his head was already so full of urgent questions that it felt like a pint of bees, this wasn’t a great sensation.

  Ice-cream selections were made. And why not play along with our fun ‘Super Zero Ice-Cream Selection Game’ right now?

  All you have to do is guess which ice-cream flavour each of the Zeroes selected, and for every one you get right, your parent, guardian or caregiver has to give you a biscuit.

  Ready? NO PEEKING.

  Got your guesses ready? Here come the answers now …

  Murph: Coconut Fudge Ripple

  Mary: Buttery Biscuit Base

  Nellie: Lime Blossom Banoffee

  Hilda: Crystallised Gingerbread

  Billy: Cake Mix and Crushed Cookies

  (If you’re feeling sad that the Elderflower Starburst Sorbet got left out, don’t be. Carl had a double helping.)

  How did you do? Did you enjoy your biscuits (if you won any)? Have you brushed all the crumbs away? Come on, come on. You’ll be all itchy. Nearly – there’s one crumb left over there. No, over there. Yes, that’s got it. Top-notch crumb-brushing. Right, you’ve waited long enough. Time for some answers.

  9

  Knox Rising

  Murph looked around the large wooden table at the faces of his friends, all busy with their bowls of ice cream, and then at the three leaders of the Rebellion. For the first time since he had heard the commotion outside his cell earlier that day, he relaxed his shoulders slightly. He caught his mum’s eye and felt tears prick the back of his vision.

  ‘I know it’s a bit overwhelming,’ she said to him gently. ‘For all of you. That’s why we thought … ice cream first, explanations later.’

  ‘Well, I’ve finished my ice cream,’ said Mary firmly. ‘So let’s get to it, shall we?’

  ‘OK,’ said Katie Cooper. ‘Here’s what we know. Nicholas Knox has made himself President. The Heroes’ Alliance is scattered. Most people with Capabilities are now being held in prison, and most of the others are working for Knox – including many Cleaners.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ said Billy. ‘Talk about ripping the plaster off! That is a lot of information! Knox is … President?’

  ‘President Knox,’ confirmed Katie. ‘He’s keeping people docile using screens – phones, TVs, computers. I dare say you’ve started piecing that together yourselves by now.’

  ‘Well, it must have all started with that first broadcast,’ Murph confirmed. He’d had weeks and weeks to turn this
all over in his mind. ‘Jasper said he was going to watch it … then the next thing we knew, he’d swallowed all Knox’s nonsense. Hilda’s parents, too …’

  ‘I mean,’ Hilda broke in, ‘they always thought my horses were … slightly embarrassing, I think. But to just turn on us like that … to say I should be shut away.’ She stuffed her sleeve into her mouth to keep from crying.

  ‘It’s not their fault, Hilda, honey,’ said Mary’s mum, crinkling up her eyes behind her glasses and smiling at her kindly. ‘And it’s not Jasper’s fault either. It’s …’

  ‘Mind control,’ said all five Super Zeroes at the same time. They all looked at each other in amazement. ‘When did you work that out?’ they asked each other, once again in perfect unison. ‘In prison,’ they all replied, like a strange five-headed beast having a chat with itself.

  Katie Cooper was chuckling, looking at the other two mums. ‘Well, we thought they’d have figured a lot of stuff out for themselves,’ she laughed. ‘Turns out we weren’t wrong.’

  ‘Since that first broadcast,’ said Mrs Baker, ‘he’s been addressing the nation at 6 p.m. every day. And that’s what’s keeping people under control. We also know that he’s being helped by more than just mind-controlled Cleaners. Many, many former members of the Alliance of Evil have joined him, too.’

  ‘We saw some spongey guy at Shivering Sands,’ Murph broke in. ‘And an elephant.’

  ‘He’s got loads of Rogues on his side,’ Carl confirmed. ‘Including one very slippery customer who we’ve been trying to nail down for years.’

  Mary’s mum had been leafing through a brown cardboard folder. ‘We can’t show you any footage,’ she said, ‘because we daren’t risk looking at any screens. But we believe Knox has been helped for some time now by this Rogue.’ She pulled out a sheet of paper and turned it around so they could see. It showed a grainy black-and-white photograph apparently taken from a CCTV camera. It was of a small woman in a large knitted coat. It was hard to make out her face underneath a round fuzzy hat, but she seemed to have dark eyes and a sly smile.