“And now…” Madam Fantutti cried dramatically, holding the sword aloft.
But instead of hearing gasps of frightened anticipation from the audience, she heard giggles. She paused, the sword still in both hands, raised above her head. Glancing sideways, she saw four more sheep galloping onto the stage. They skidded to a halt beside her. The one in front was nodding its curly head and tapping a front hoof. Then it started to bleat in a rhythmic sort of way. The ones behind seemed to be trying to copy it.
“Security!” shrieked Madam Fantutti. “Get these wool bags out of my act!”
But as she shrieked, Links started to rap.
“Hey, Jaycey girl, though you’s pretty in blue,
We want you to know that we love you too.
All that glitter on your fleece might get you dates,
But what about your friends, your Eppingham mates?”
“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…” sang the sheep behind him, hoping it was a cool counter-rhythm. Links nodded approval.
The sword was too heavy to hold above her head any longer and Madam Fantutti let it drop to her side. The stagehands had stopped shaking and nipped on stage behind her. They grabbed the silver box and shoved it hard, sending it spinning away.
“We’s here on a mission, as you well know,
An’ we reckon there’s still a long way to go,
Red Tongue’s out there where the sun is hot,
An’ he’s an evil dude or have you forgot?”
“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…”
The audience didn’t understand a word, but they were loving every second. They began to tap their feet and clap along. The silver box on wheels, hurtling round the stage pursued by the stagehands and the sword-wielding magician, only added to the fun.
“We need you, Jaycey, we need you real bad,
An’ if you ever leave, we’s gonna be sad,
So listen up, Jaycey, won’t you hear my plea?
Stay with your friends, where we want you to be.”
“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…”
The audience was going wild now, on their feet, stamping and clapping.
“More!” they yelled. “More!”
Oxo instantly saw his opportunity and darted from the chorus line. His hard head crashed into Madam Fantutti as she blundered past in pursuit of the box and the stagehands. Her feet slipped from under her, and the sword flew from her hand and slid across the stage. The manager dashed on and grabbed it, while the audience roared their approval and the stagehands picked up Madam Fantutti and carried her off between them, still trying to make it look as if it were all part of the performance.
Oxo charged again, this time at the silver box. It toppled over and Jaycey scrambled out.
“Ohmygrass…ohmygrass…ohmythankyouthankyouthankyou…” she sobbed as she skittered across to join the others, who were still singing.
“We’s rare breed sheep and we’s warriors too,
An’ while we’s together, we’s got work to do.
’Cause we’s one for all, an’ we’s all for one,
So good night, folks, my rappin’s all done!”
“More!” yelled the audience. “More!”
“Curtain call?” Links asked hopefully.
But it was time to go. Oxo gave him a gentle butt and with a little bow he ran off the stage behind the others. They fled down the nearest corridor, then the one next to that, turning corners, never looking back. At last, up ahead, Wills saw the words “Fire Exit.” As far as he was aware, they weren’t on fire, but he knew what an exit was. He reared on his hind legs and banged his front hooves on the metal bar. The doors opened and the sheep tumbled out into soft, hot outdoor air at the back of the hotel.
They stood in a huddle, recovering their breath. Behind them, in the depths of the basement, they could hear the audience—their audience—still clapping and cheering.
“Ohmygrass…ohmygrass…” burbled Jaycey, “I’m sooo…sorry…”
They all gave her a comforting lick and tugged off her blue bow.
“Fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up, fleeced up…” gasped Sal.
“Fleeced up and ready to go,” declared Oxo.
And the reunited warriors raised and clacked high hooves all round.
18
The Bouncing Burger Roadhouse
The Boombergs were twitching, trapped in the lobby, waiting for the doors to be opened. An army of cleaners was working hard, but the place was still a mess. Holly Boomberg didn’t do mess. And she didn’t do defeat. She kicked aside a soggy sandwich.
“Stanley,” she said sharply, “we need a change of plan.”
“Forget the English sheep?” the Professor dared to suggest. “Get some others?”
“No way! These ones are still perfect for the job.”
“But, honey,” Stanley tried again to show her his wrist computer. “See this message? The team is waiting for the animals now. Everything else is checked and ready.”
“Let them wait,” snapped Holly. “I will not be beaten by a bunch of ovines.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Anyway, these ones are already kitted up, remember? Do you have more sensors?”
“Well…”
“No, you don’t. And the sensors are vital. So that’s that!” She ground another sandwich to a squelching pulp beneath her foot. “You must activate the camera.”
The Professor looked at her, startled. “The camera?”
“Yes, dear, you know: pictures. Pictures of things. Locations. Sheep.”
“But it’s not programmed to come on stream yet…it might burn out and the whole project—”
“If you don’t activate it now, there won’t be any project!”
Stanley sighed and, as he did so, the main reception lobby doors slid open. The hunt was on again.
***
The warriors were trotting through downtown Las Vegas when Oxo became aware of a faint whirring in his ear. Eventually, he realized that it was something to do with the gold stud, which was suddenly warm and a bit itchy. He tried to ignore it and not make a fuss.
“Where are we going?” asked Jaycey in a subdued voice.
She was still feeling very ashamed of herself.
“Lookin’ for Red Tongue, remember,” said Links, not unkindly.
Wills suddenly stopped walking. “I think he’s already gone.”
“What?” cried Oxo. “Not again!”
Wills nodded. He was looking at a huge red neon sign which had just started flashing on a building ahead of them.
“It says, ‘Red Tongue does it again,’” he said.
“More slaughtering?” asked Oxo.
“I suppose so,” said Wills.
The next lot of words flashed up and he read them aloud.
“Good-bye, Las Vegas. Next stop: Aries End.”
Sal, who was a little behind the others, flopped to the pavement. Heat, exhaustion, and being up so late had suddenly got the better of her.
“It’s no good, dears,” she breathed, tears filling her eyes. “You may have to go on without me…”
“No way,” said Oxo. “One for all and all for—” He looked at Sal, then froze. “All for run!” he yelled.
The others looked up and saw what he had seen. Staple Gun Woman was creeping toward them again. Her man was carrying the rope. Oxo butted Sal to her feet and they all galloped off round the nearest corner.
“Man,” panted Links, “that lady don’t never give up…”
It wasn’t easy for Professor Boomberg to run round corners and look at his wrist computer at the same time, especially with his wife dragging him along.
“Where are they now, dear?” she demanded. “Where are they now?”
“Just went past a car,”
puffed the Professor.
This wasn’t very helpful in a town with more cars than people. Holly stopped abruptly. She grabbed her husband’s wrist and peered at the computer. On its screen was a moving picture, like a tiny CCTV monitor. She saw cars and sidewalk, then the back of a sheep, then, briefly, a street sign.
“They’ve turned down Rhinestone Boulevard!” she cried.
The sheep were still galloping.
“We’ve lost them!” shouted Oxo. “Oops. No we haven’t!”
The Boombergs had appeared in front of them. The warriors back-pedaled and skidded down an alleyway. But no matter how they zigzagged, twisted, and turned, Staple Gun Woman always seemed to know where they were. And Sal was really struggling, her breaths coming in short gasps, her sides heaving even more than in the desert.
“She’s runnin’ on empty, man…” Links warned.
The warriors were in a huge parking lot now, outside a tall circular building with big lights shining above it. There were rows of buses. One of them had a red trailer attached. It had double doors at the back and the doors were open. Wills dived in.
“Here! In here!” he gasped.
The other sheep jumped in behind him, Oxo and Links pushing Sal with their heads. Wills pulled the doors shut with his teeth.
“Not a sound!” he whispered in the darkness.
The warriors stood as silently as they could with their hearts hammering. Soon they heard running footsteps. The footsteps slowed and came to a halt right outside the trailer.
Stanley leaned on the trailer for support, his legs wobbling under him. He didn’t do running.
“Where have they gone?” snapped his wife.
Stanley held up his wrist to show her the blank screen.
“Cameras don’t work too well in the dark,” he puffed, before she could complain.
His patience was running out as fast as his breath. There had to be easier ways to fund his projects than living with this very rich but very bossy wife. Maybe he could rob a bank or two? Holly’s voice cut short his brief fantasy.
“They must have gone into the stadium. The players’ tunnel is just over there. Come on…”
The sheep heard the humans running off. They remained motionless for a few seconds, listening intently, then began to relax. But the moment they did so, the trailer doors flew open. Something heavy whizzed over their heads and thumped on the floor. A sports bag. Then another…and another. The warriors ducked and retreated.
“Ohmy—”
“Shush!” whispered Wills to Jaycey.
The storm of sports bags was followed by a shower of dirty boots and finally a football, which bounced off Oxo’s head. Different human voices were approaching: loud male voices, talking excitedly.
“Any more for the trailer?” someone yelled.
No one answered the question and the trailer doors were slammed shut.
The trailer rocked a bit as the men outside got into the bus; it vibrated as the driver backed slowly out of the parking bay. Then it jolted to a halt. The warriors heard familiar running footsteps and a familiar voice. They held their breath again.
“Excuse me! Excuse me! Stop!”
“I already did, lady.”
The driver of the bus stared down at a smartly dressed but annoyed-looking woman clutching a length of rope. She had a ratty little man with a sweaty red face with her.
“We’re looking for a flock of sheep,” said the woman breathlessly. “Have you seen them?”
“No, lady,” replied the driver. “I see the occasional flying pig but not sheep. Try Hotel English Meadows, two blocks north.” And he resumed reversing.
Holly Boomberg stepped hastily aside but, as the bus swung around and pulled away, she noticed a tuft of wool caught in the trailer doors.
“Stop!” she screamed. “Come back! You’ve got our sheep!”
She raced after the departing bus and trailer. The driver saw her in his rearview mirror and put his foot down.
“You get all kinds in Vegas…” he muttered.
Holly stepped in front of a passing taxi.
“Follow that bus!” she ordered as she bundled Stanley into the back seat.
The taxi driver didn’t argue. You got all kinds in Vegas. Peering forward, Stanley could clearly read the words printed in black on the back of the trailer’s red doors: RED TONGUE.
“Well, well,” he said, perking up. “How about that…”
“How about what?” asked Holly.
“That’s the team’s bus,” said Stanley. “My team’s bus. I wonder how they got on tonight.”
Holly gave him a look. She would never understand her husband’s stupid obsession with American football and Red Tongue. She leaned forward and stared at the trailer, willing it to stop.
***
Inside the trailer, the warriors were being thrown from side to side.
“Sit down, guys,” yelled Wills.
They wedged themselves amongst the heap of bags and boots. One of the bags had come open and its contents had spilled out in the darkness.
“Ohmygrass…” said Jaycey. “What’s that smell?” She poked a pair of sweaty socks away from her nose. “Ugh!” But it was better than the perfume of Madam Fantutti.
The bus and trailer rocked on along the highway, leaving the brilliant lights of Las Vegas far behind. The sheep wondered where they were being taken and tried not to listen to their stomachs rumbling.
At dawn the driver pulled off the highway on to the forecourt of the Bouncing Burger Roadhouse.
“Breakfast stop!” he yelled.
The hungry footballers piled out of the bus. Someone yanked open the trailer doors, fished around in a sports bag for some toothpaste, and then ran after the others, leaving the doors open.
The warriors cautiously emerged from the jumble of bags.
“Let’s get out and see if we can check where we are,” said Wills.
“What about Staple Gun Woman?” asked Sal.
Wills sprang from the trailer.
“We left her behind in Las Vegas,” he said.
The others jumped out too and stood stretching their legs in the parking lot. As they did so, a taxi turned off the highway, and for a moment, the five sheep were framed in its headlights like a photograph.
19
Tummy Trouble
The taxi slowed to a halt and Stanley Boomberg looked up from his wrist computer screen. There didn’t seem to be much point in staring at it now— the sheep were there, just waiting to be captured. Holly reached for the taxi door but it was locked.
“Would you mind letting us out?” she demanded.
“Would you mind paying?” replied the driver mildly. “Sorry to ask, lady. It’s just an old-fashioned custom we taxi drivers have.”
He tapped the fare meter.
“All right, all right…”
Holly delved furiously in her briefcase but the taxi man didn’t want any of her twenty-five credit cards.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t do plastic.”
Holly was becoming angry. She couldn’t see the sheep anymore.
“Stanley! Give the man some cash!”
“Yes, honey…”
But Stanley had to scrabble around in every pocket to find enough, and by the time the Boombergs had finally been released and the taxi man had gone off to breakfast with a handful of crumpled dollar bills and coins, the sheep had gone.
“Relax, honey…” said the Professor, feeling in charge for once. He showed Holly his wrist computer. “I’ve got them. They’re rooting around the trash yard.”
The warriors had trotted around to the back of the roadhouse. Wills was searching for a sign that would show him where they were. Everyone else was searching for food.
Oxo banged his head against one of the rubbish bins, not
just because he was hungry, but also because the gold stud in his ear was beginning to drive him mad with its pinching.
“Ohmygrass, you’re making it bleed,” cried Jaycey, but Oxo went on banging.
A waitress, who’d seen them from the kitchen doorway, suddenly strode over.
“Is that thing bothering you?” she asked, taking hold of Oxo’s ear and peering at the gold stud. “Who would do this to a dumb animal?”
She pried open the staple with her kitchen scissors and removed the stud from Oxo’s ear.
“Is that better?” she asked, holding it in the palm of her hand for Oxo to see.
Oxo put his nose into her hand and snaffled up the stud. He chewed once or twice, then swallowed. The waitress laughed and went back to the kitchen.
“Why in Ovis did you do that?” asked Wills.
Oxo shrugged defensively. “Habit, I suppose. Well, when humans hold a hand out, there’s usually something in it to eat, isn’t there?” He waggled his ear. “Anyway, feels great now. Which way do we go?”
“Uh…that way,” said Wills.
He nodded to a narrow stony road, a hikers’ trail, leading from the back of the service area into the desert hills. A small wooden signpost stood beside it.
“That says ‘Shortcut to Aries End,’” he said.
“What’s a shortcut?” asked Oxo suspiciously.
He’d heard about cuts of meat. He didn’t fancy being a shortcut. Not even a long cut.
“It’s just a quick way to get somewhere,” said Wills. “I expect the highway goes there too but takes longer.”
“And remind me why Aries End is important?” said Sal.
“It’s where Red Tongue’s goin’ next, right,” said Links excitedly.
“Yeah,” said Oxo. “It’s where we’re gonna have the final showdown. So let’s not keep him waiting.”
And he led the gallop onto the narrow, winding road.
***
The Boombergs had stopped on the other side of the bins while the Professor stared at his wrist, suddenly bemused.
The Warrior Sheep Go West Page 9
