‘HAMISH!’ called Holly again.
This time, Hamish covered the receiver and mouthed, ‘What is it?’
Holly pointed at the Tower.
All sorts of lights were flashing on it now. The middle section had started to revolve. Bright white beams of light shone from its tip and spun round London like spotlights across a prison yard. Vast satellite dishes began to creak and move. This wasn’t like before, when they’d zapped the police sergeant. This was something bigger.
‘I can’t say any more, I have to go!’ said Hamish, hanging up the phone and running back to the drainpipe to hoick himself up again.
‘What’s happening, Holly? What’s wrong?’ he said, clambering over the wall and running to the viewfinder.
But he could see for himself now. The satellite dishes were surrounded by those angry red flashing lights. Terribles were pressed up against the windows of the Tower, scanning the streets around them.
He moved the telescope up a little and saw . . .
OH MY GOODNESS.
A Hypnobot!
Staring straight back at him!
The giant metal beast’s eyes burnt yellow and seemed to widen for a second as its lenses spun round, zooming in on Hamish and his pals.
THEY KNEW.
And they were ANGRY.
‘It’s too late!’ yelled Hamish. ‘They know we’re here!’
‘Let me see!’ said Alan, trying to get round him.
‘What do we do?’ shouted Alice.
‘I don’t know!’ yelled Hamish. ‘I think we run!’
‘I want to see!’ shrieked Alan.
But, as Hamish stepped to one side and Alan bent down to take a look, his helmet stopped him from getting close enough to the telescope. He began to desperately fiddle with the strap.
‘I say we call Leona,’ said Holly. ‘Get her to drive us out of here.’
‘Elliot,’ said Hamish. ‘Mysterio’s sending the army, but we need to get to the King! What’s the quickest way to the Tower of London?’
‘We run to the river!’ said Elliot.
‘Good!’
‘Then it’s a short walk to catch the 188 bus.’
‘Less good,’ said Alice.
‘Then it’s a brisk sixteen-minute walk, another bus and hey presto – we’re there in less than an hour and a half! Unless it rains and they cancel the buses.’
‘There has to be a faster way,’ said Hamish, who turned to look at the huge bright red Tower one more time before seeing something that horrified him. ‘Alan – what are you doing?!’
Alan had loosened the strap of his helmet and was now taking it off.
‘I want to look in the viewfinder!’ he said. ‘I’m scared and I want to see what’s happening!’
‘DON’T TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF, ALAN!’ screamed Alice.
But Alan flung it to one side, forgetting for just that moment and in all this excitement that on that helmet was the tinfoil that was keeping him safe.
‘ALAN!’ screamed Alice. ‘NOOOO!’
ZAAAAAAAP!
A bright white pulse of light frizzed through the air and popped around Alan like a bubble. His hair blew up into the air and stood on end for a second before relaxing very slowly and going back into position. His fingers straightened and his feet tingled and he may or may not have quickly and quietly farted.
Everyone clasped their hands to their mouths.
(Because they were horrified – not because of Alan’s windypops.)
Was that – a zap?
‘Alan?’ said Hamish. ‘Alan – are you okay?’
Alan turned to Hamish and smiled.
Maybe he was okay!
‘Imagine if you could poop chewing gum,’ he said, very quietly.
Oh, no! They’d got Alan!
Unless that was just something he was genuinely thinking?
‘Imagine if you could POOP CHEWING GUM!’ he said again, giggling.
No – he’d definitely been got!
And wait – if they’d got Alan, then that meant . . .
‘ALICE!’ said Hamish.
He rushed to his best friend and spun her round.
She had a wide grin on her face, but Hamish looked deep into her eyes.
He knew he could tell from her eyes.
And Alice’s eyes . . . were blank.
‘No – please,’ said Hamish, starting to panic. ‘No, Alice, anyone but you!’
‘Always be prepared,’ said Alice, quietly, blankly ‘Always be prepared.’
The air around them started to get cooler, the sky greyer. In the distance, Hamish could hear the mighty cheers of distant Terribles carried on a rising wind, as they celebrated this small victory, and it filled him with cold rage.
‘Alice – snap out of it! Please!’ said Hamish, shaking her shoulders, as alarms around the city began to ring and ring and RING.
‘She’s gone,’ said Holly, placing a hand on his arm. ‘Scarmarsh zapped Alice and Alan.’
Hamish could not believe it.
Not Alice Shepherd.
His fists tightened and his brow furrowed. What would he do without Alice? How could Scarmarsh have done this to her?
‘They’re coming!’ said Elliot, who’d taken over the telescope. ‘The Hypnobots have sent the Terribles! Hundreds of them!’
On the roads, for miles around, vans were turning in the streets as the robots spread the word.
Police cars, builders’ lorries, ambulances . . . they were all now headed right this way.
A strange black fog of diesel fumes and Terrible-stink began to carpet the roads of London, as Hamish put on his most determined face yet.
‘We need to get Alice and Alan out of here!’ he said. ‘We need to get to the King – this can’t all be for nothing!’
‘But how, Hamish?’ asked Holly, looking desperate. ‘They’re coming and we’re trapped up this hill! We’d need a miracle to get out of this one!’
Which is when Hamish turned round.
Driving up the hill at some speed was a very unusual vehicle indeed.
Think Quick, Hamish!
‘The Terribles!’ screamed Clover, terrified, pointing at what was headed their way. ‘They’re here!’
It certainly seemed like their luck was up, what with two of them zapped, and the rest about to be taken away by the Terribles themselves.
‘Do we have any weapons?’ asked Hamish, hopelessly.
‘I saw a toilet plunger inside?,’ suggested Elliot.
The strange little vehicle was getting closer. Hamish took a deep breath.
So this was the end of the adventure.
But . . .
BEEP BEEP!
Hang on. What was that?
‘Is that . . . a milk float?!’ said Clover.
It skidded to a halt in front of them.
‘Hi, gang!’ said Buster, leaping out.
But wait – that wasn’t Buster!
That was Bella!
‘Our otherhalves?!’ shouted Elliot, delighted.
In the back, where all the bottles would normally be, sat the Alterna-PDF. For a blissful moment, everyone just stared at each other in wonder.
‘Which one of you is my otherhalf?’ said Elaine, pushing her glasses up her nose, as she stepped out and stood next to Elliot, who pushed his glasses up his nose.
It was pretty obvious, to be honest.
‘There’s no time for introductions now!’ said Hamish, snapping out of it. ‘We need to get to the Tower of London!’
‘We can drive from here,’ said Buster.
‘No we can’t,’ replied Hamish. ‘The Terribles are coming. We’ll have to try and avoid the roads.’
‘Well, what are we going to do – fly?’ bellowed Greta Bile, who was clutching Grenville like a teddy bear. He looked extremely annoyed by this.
Think, Hamish! Think!
Could they get to a Ghost Station? Or should they just stay put and hide?
Hamish looked down the hill.
Wait.
No – they couldn’t.
Could they?
It was worth a try!
‘Everyone back in the milk float!’ he yelled.
The kids bounced down the hill in the milk float while the first of the Terribles were still heading up on the roads around them.
‘They’re almost at the Observatory!’ shrieked Elliot, horrified.
‘Imagine if you could poop chewing gum,’ said Alan, nudging Greta. He really didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.
‘I made a few modifications to Mr Crinkle’s float!’ shouted Buster, with his foot slammed down on the accelerator and the milk float GROWLING away. ‘Mrs Slackjaw let me use her garage! Its even more powerful now!’
‘I am not comfortable with this!’ shouted Bella, who always said that if something wasn’t broken, you shouldn’t fix it.
But look! At the top of the hill, the great beasts were covering the Royal Observatory like a gas, spreading out, screeching, flipping over cars as they sniffed where the kids had just been. Their telescope was flung high in the air.
‘There!’ yelled Hamish, pointing. ‘Head for the Cutty Sark!’
‘That big boat?’ replied Buster. ‘But it’s nowhere near the water!’
Buster was right. The Cutty Sark was just a tourist attraction these days. It hadn’t sailed in forever. It had been mounted high in the air, held by thick glass panes, which sort of looked like water underneath it and reflected the sun.
The float skidded to a halt by the famous old clipper ship, leaving tyre marks on the concrete behind it.
‘Buster – do you think the float is powerful enough to pull the Cutty Sark into the river?’ Hamish asked.
‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe what I can make her do,’ said Buster, revving the engine.
‘My worry is the ship!’ yelled Bella, worried. ‘It’s like a million years old!’
Buster pressed a button and a big silver winch dropped from the rear of the float.
‘Hook that to the front of the ship!’ he shouted, and the gang leapt into action. Buster was terrible at tying, so Elliot and Clover attached it to the ship’s hull in a double knot.
‘Okay, Buster! DO IT!’
Buster revved the milkfloat– BVVVVVVVVVVVVVT!
‘Get on board the ship!’ yelled Hamish. ‘Everybody!’
BVVVVVVVVVVVT!
‘It’s not working!’ said Clover. ‘How can this possibly work?’
‘Have faith,’ said Holly, calmly, as Buster revved again.
BVVVVVVVVVVVT!
‘More, Buster!’ yelled Hamish, as Holly dragged a blank-eyed Alice and Alan on board. ‘Give it everything she’s got!’
‘PUUUULL!’ shouted Clover. ‘PUUUULLLL!!!!!’
The old ship began to creak and strain.
‘They’ve spotted us!’ yelled Buster. ‘Look!’
At the top of the hill, a Terrible was ROARING to the others, and pointing one awful finger at them. A group of monsters began to pound towards them on all fours.
‘Keep going, Buster!’ yelled Hamish, as the others clambered on board.
Now the glass around the bottom of the boat began to splinter and crack.
‘It’s working! It’s working!’
Buster jammed his foot on the pedal with everything that little float had. Its wheels began to spin. The rubber was burning. Sparks were flying.
BVVVWVVWVT!
But it was no good! Despite Buster’s best efforts, the little milk float just wasn’t quite powerful enough.
‘LET ME HELP!’ yelled Greta Bile, rolling up her sleeves and plucking Grenville from where he stood.
‘GIVE ME A HAND, LITTLE MAN!’
The first of the Terribles was now not far away. Saliva flung round its mouth as it galloped ever closer.
Greta and Grenville ran round the back of the old boat and began to push . . . and PUSH . . . and PUSH!
‘NNNNNgggggggghhhh!’ grunted Greta.
Then . . .
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
The glass began to splinter and shatter even more! Thanks to Greta and the milk float, the Cutty Sark broke free from its surroundings . . .
BANG!
Its hull slammed down on to the concrete as tourists screamed and ran. The back of the ship was now raised high into the air, with Greta and Grenville hanging on for dear life . . .
BVVVVVVVVVT! went the float, wheels still spinning, but it was working! The tyres had fallen apart now, flinging burnt rubber everywhere, but it was pulling the Cutty Sark towards the water!
The ship reached the concrete slide.
‘Just a bit further, Buster!’ yelled Hamish, as the first Terrible made it to the rear of the boat . . . It jumped up, tried to catch the back of Grenville’s heels with its scampering paws, but slipped . . .
Buster rocketed forward, taking the milk float right into the water. Black smoke poured from behind him, the giant Cutty Sark now and SPLASHING into the water behind it. It bobbed for a second as it righted itself . . .
‘SAILS!’ screamed Hamish. ‘NOW!’
UP went the sails, catching the wind in a split second and puffing out with a FAFFAF! as ugly new Terribles leapt and desperately jumped to try and catch the boat.
The Cutty Sark began to move away from the riverbank . . .
‘We did it!’ shouted Hamish, delighted, and with the biggest grin in the world. ‘Holly – raise the Union Jack!’
‘The what?’ said Holly.
‘The Union Jack!’ said Hamish. ‘The flag!’
‘Ohhh,’ said Holly. ‘In our world we call it the Union Jill!’
And as the Union Jill was hoisted upwards, and the sails caught another welcome burst of wind, Hamish felt victorious.
But wait!
Oh, no!
Down there, on the milk float, still in the water!
‘Buster!’ shouted Hamish. ‘Why aren’t you on board?!’
But Buster was having trouble.
He and Bella were standing on the roof of the milk float as the engine put-put-putted its dying gasps.
And the problem with floats is . . . they don’t float.
It was sinking, with both kids still on it!
Hundreds of Terribles now lined the shore, jumping up and down and grabbing at a boat they couldn’t reach.
‘They’re staying put,’ said Venk, confused.
‘They hate the water, remember?’ said Hamish. ‘Now we need to turn this boat around to get Buster!’
But Buster knew what had to happen.
‘Go!’ he shouted, bravely. ‘If you come back, they’ll get us all!’
He stood, bobbing, on top of the slowly sinking milk float, as 200 awful monsters now calmly stared at him, smiling sickening smiles. Puddles of Terrible drool formed at their clawed feet and slickered down into the river, coating it in a thin grey gel.
Hamish didn’t know what to do.
So he did the only thing he could.
Buster and Bella looked smaller and smaller and smaller as the Cutty Sark sailed away.
Sail of the Century!
‘We can’t just leave them there,’ said Clover, as the Cutty Sark sailed down the Thames at quite a clip. ‘What will the Terribles do to them?’
‘We have to,’ said Hamish, the wind in his hair. ‘Buster was right. We have to get to the Tower in the next half an hour to stop the King from being zapped. If we go back now, they’ll catch us all and that would mean the end of the world.’
But Hamish felt terrible. And sad. And confused. And very guilty.
He felt responsible for Alice and Alan being zapped. And, if it hadn’t been for him, Buster and his otherhalf would still have been back in their homes, probably perfectly safe and eating hot dogs or talking to flies.
This was a disaster. Two PDF blanked. Two PDF captured.
But, as the ship broke through the waves, and Hamish felt the water spatter his face, he also felt determi
ned.
Whoever this Scarmarsh chap was, he had to be stopped. It didn’t help that Hamish couldn’t visualise him. He’d never seen him, which made it harder to work out how they were going to beat him. Or his army of Terribles. Or his all-seeing Hypnobots.
Hamish turned to see that what remained of the PDF was just standing, staring at their Alterna-PDF counterparts.
No one really knew what to say to each other. It was like when one classroom of kids meets another one entirely and everyone goes a bit quiet and shy.
‘Okay, we’re all quite different,’ said Hamish, gently. ‘But, if we’re going to save the King and stop Scarmarsh, we have to work together as a team. Just remember this – we always thought we were complete people. But really we were always just half of something. Now that we’re together – we’re finally whole.’
He made his best ‘inspiring’ face. But no one looked inspired. It was just a bit awkward.
Colin was staring at Clover, who still had her fake moustache on. Colin kept bumping into things and knocking stuff over. Clover didn’t think he’d be very good at spying.
Violet was staring at Venk, wondering why he always felt the need to take sunglasses everywhere.
Grenville looked grumpy as he kept trying to stop Greta from combing his hair like he was a doll.
Elliot kept trying to explain what was going on to Elaine, but without being insulting I think it’s fair to say she wasn’t quite the genius he was.
‘Scarmarsh is beaming these zap signals from very high up, you see,’ he explained.
‘Why?’ asked Elaine.
‘Well, because signals fly through the air.’
‘Why?’ asked Elaine.
‘Because they need to get where they’re going,’ said Elliot.
‘Why?’ asked Elaine.
‘Because modern construction techniques mean some buildings block signals.’
‘Why?’
‘Because old buildings used to be made of generally weaker materials.’
‘Why?’ said Elaine.
‘Because people only had access to straw,’ said Elliot, sighing.
‘Why?’
‘Because straw is a crop which is easy to grow.’
‘Why?’
‘Because straw makes up almost half the yield of all cereal crops worldwide.’
Hamish and the Neverpeople Page 12
