The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  Steven picked up the phone and dialled the number for Sergeant Allen’s police station.

  ‘It’s Steven Knight,’ he spoke into the mouthpiece, ‘I need your help. I want to access the police database. I’m looking for any other reported deaths that might show similar marks to those we saw on the arm from the river. And I want to look in specific places including Nottingham and Birmingham.’ He hung up and leant back in the chair thinking once again.

  If the bacteria was dangerous to humans, many thousands or even millions of people could be at risk if they came into contact with it and could suffer a similar fate to that of the night watchman, or the cow that had been sent to the abattoir.

  The possibilities of the bacteria being spread reached far and wide. If the water systems of towns and cities near airports had become infected the bacteria could be carried around the world on aeroplanes.

  The other worrying form of transport was inside food. Coldred had mentioned that bacteria had already been discovered in a cow, but some may have already have got into the food chain unnoticed.

  Steven stood up and threw the remains of his sandwich into the waste bin, walked over to his suitcase and pulled out his notepad. He flicked through the pages until he found the notes he had made on the train about the infected cow. It had been sent to Newton Rise Abattoir together with the rest of the herd by the farmer Richard Baxley two weeks earlier. The butcher who had noticed the strange colour in the meat was called Gilbert Rackham. Steven decided to make the most of his time and get the local bus to Newton Rise to talk to Mr Rackham as well as examine the paperwork so that he could trace the rest of the cows Mr Baxley had sent, but he was suddenly interrupted by a knock on his room door.

  24. Edinburgh Central Library

  After visiting several high street bookshops, Edgar and the children were still no further forward in obtaining a copy of Pan’s Pipes.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Max spotted a rusty sign hanging outside a shop front along one of the small lanes leading away from the main pedestrian area. It sold antique books, and from the outside the building appeared to be as old as the contents it sold. They walked through an old-fashioned looking door, the green paint was pealing from the wood that framed each individual pane of glass. The shop itself smelt of dust and leather and very little light entered from outside. Ceiling height shelves were crammed with books in every available space, some so full that the wood bowed in the middle under the weight to rest on the top of the books directly beneath. There didn’t appear to be many modern books, and those that had been published more recently were piled in a corner, like they had been disapprovingly cast aside. It was quiet in the bookshop and none of the children dared to speak. It was like being in a very old library where everyone was reading and the slightest sound would disturb them and be frowned upon.

  Edgar slid a book out from one of the shelves he was standing next to and began examining it closely. The orangey brown leather spine had raised bands with gold lettering written on, while the front and back covers looked like thin slices of highly polished wood, the grain striped like the skin of a tiger.

  ‘May I help you?' asked a small bearded man who looked suspiciously round a doorway. His face was pale but his beard was as black as ink. In front of his eyes he wore a thin pair of spectacles, balanced on his nose so that he could peer over the top of them. It was a miracle they managed to stay on his nose considering how much the frame was twisted and taped together.

  ‘We’re looking for a book,’ said Edgar, who suddenly realised that it was a silly answer to his question considering they were inside a bookshop. He quickly continued, ‘have you got a copy of Pan’s Pipes?’

  ‘Robert Louis Stevenson?' said the pale man as he looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Joe withstood the urge to look upwards and see what he was looking at.

  ‘I have several early copies of Stevenson’s work on the shelf behind you, but I don’t believe I have a copy of Pan’s Pipes,’ he replied.

  ‘Do you know the name of the book it was included in?’

  ‘It was published amongst other papers in a book called Virginibus Puerisque. There are not many copies of it around but I’m sure there will be one at the Central Library, they have quite a collection of Stevenson books on display in one of the rooms under the bridge.’

  Edgar took a sharp intake of breath. ‘What do you mean under the bridge?’ he said, thinking back to the line in Hadwyn’s riddle.

  ‘You can find the library on George IV Bridge not far from the castle. There are four storeys of rooms built below the bridge, one of which houses a permanent exhibition to our countryman Robert Louis Stevenson.’

  ‘Thank you so much. You have been a great help,’ said Edgar with a large smile on his face.

  Outside the shop Scarlet was the first to voice her excitement.

  ‘The riddle must mean the bridge that the library is built on. Below the bridge, a piper alone. There must be something to do with Pan’s Pipes inside the library that will actually take us nearer to finding the Silver Bough!’

  They felt excited to be back on the trail once again and it showed in the speed they walked up the Royal Mile towards the castle. The dampness in the air no longer drained the energy from them and they strode purposely past St Giles’ Cathedral then turned left at the signpost for George IV Bridge. After a short walk they came upon an old elaborately decorated building that looked like it should have been built alongside a Chateau in France. They walked through the doors and were instantly surrounded by dark wooden polished shelves of books that had small walkways around the higher levels and cream and white stone pillars stretching all the way up to the ceiling. By contrast to the antique bookshop they had just been in, the library was organised and polished.

  Joe had never seen so many books before and hadn’t even known so many actually existed. All of the books inside the mobile library that visited Parsley Bottom once a month could fit onto one shelf in this building.

  ‘This way,’ said Edgar in a quiet voice, pointing to a sign directing them to the Stevenson Exhibition. They went through a door and wound their way down a black metal circular staircase until they reached the third floor and a dark corridor with no windows. A series of small lamps that hung on the wall led them beneath the bridge towards an exhibition space. There was a dark blue carpet here, not the highly polished wooden floor they had stood on in the entrance, and it was worn slightly along the middle from the many feet that had walked along it. They followed Edgar as he walked alongside a wood panelled wall then into a room off the main corridor. It was a very plain room with nothing in it except a series of glass cases in the centre arranged in a square surrounding a stone plinth with a bronze statue on the top. The walls were hung with several small information plaques, as well as paintings and photographs of Stevenson at various stages through his life.

  Other visitors to the exhibition were looking into the glass cases whilst the library guide patrolled slowly between the Stevenson Exhibition and the neighbouring Arthur Conan Doyle room.

  Edgar and Scarlet moved around the cases looking closely at all of the contents until they came back to their starting point, whilst Max and Joe studied the pictures on the wall. The glass cases contained various books held open at certain pages, as well as other items that had belonged to Stevenson during his life.

  ‘Have you found anything?' asked Joe as he looked over to Edgar.

  ‘The book the man said contained the poem of Pan’s Pipes is in this third cabinet, but the book isn’t even open. Other than that there's no mention of Pan’s Pipes. What about the pictures and photographs?’

  ‘Nothing there either. They seem to chart his life and travels, rather than anything to do with his books.’

  Edgar, Joe and Max stood staring into the cabinet, desperate to look inside the book to see what the Pan’s Pipes poem said, but prevented by the thick protective glass. Scarlet went over to a small wooden bench that was pushed up against one of the walls and
sat down feeling quite deflated. Suddenly she sprang up and shouted: ‘It's there!’

  Everyone in the room turned and looked at the red haired girl who was now pointing directly at Edgar and the two boys. Embarrassed by her outburst she apologised to the other visitors and the guide who now stood watching her very carefully.

  ‘Where?’ whispered Joe, thinking that Scarlet must be seeing things.

  ‘The statue in the middle,’ she said walking over to them.

  They all turned and looked at the statue in the centre of the arrangement of glass display cases. Standing on the top of the smooth cream stone pillar was a dark bronze statue on a wooden base. Although the top half of the figure looked human, the legs appeared to be those of a goat. Held in his hands was a musical instrument made up of several tubes.

  ‘That must be Pan.’

  ‘Scarlet, you are amazing, where would we be without you?' said Edgar.

  ‘So is that the Silver Bough?' asked Max pointing to the musical instrument.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. The Silver Bough is one pipe,’ replied Edgar. ‘What the figure is holding is a collection of pipes of different lengths to make the different sounds. The hunt is not over yet, but we are getting closer.’

  As they looked more closely at the statue, they noticed a plaque on the wooden base. It read:

  Pan, God of the Wild

  Presented to Edinburgh Central Library by the

  Holyroodhouse Palace Arts Trust in commemoration of

  the centenary of Stevenson’s death

  1994

  ‘Holyroodhouse is the royal palace at the end of the Royal Mile,’ recalled Joe. ‘Looks like that’s our next stop.’

  25. A Shocking Revelation

  The knocking on Steven’s door began again, but this time with more urgency. He stood up and opened the door. Looking back at him was Georgia who gave him a kind, but nervous smile as Coldred stepped out from the behind her and entered the room. He was closely followed by Seward, both of them dressed in dark suits like they had just come back from a funeral.

  Georgia lay a gentle hand on Steven’s arm as she entered the room and sat herself on the edge of the bed.

  Steven wouldn’t expect the two men to come all the way from London to Parsley Bottom if it wasn’t for a very good reason so he decided to be patient and wait and see what they said. By the time Steven closed the door Seward, who looked older than he had when they last met, had already sat himself down at the desk and was looking at the sketch of the river map Steven had drawn earlier. Coldred was standing to the side of the window looking out at the green in front of the pub.

  ‘What have you have found out so far?' demanded Seward who obviously didn’t even have time to say hello and seemed to be in a very bad mood.

  ‘Well, I spoke to Mr McRae, the gentleman who found the original meteorite, and have since been carefully searching the land around his watermill for more meteorites. So far I have found a further two, all of which appear to be intact,’ Steven decided it was probably best not to mention the box of meteorites that had been stolen from the car.

  ‘Where are they?' interrupted Coldred.

  Steven opened the wardrobe door, reached inside a bag and passed the two meteorites to Seward.

  ‘We took further water samples from the river and I also have a draft report from the Pathologist about the arm that we found,’ he placed the piece of paper Sergeant Allen had given to him that morning on the desk in front of Seward before continuing. ‘The report describes the muscles and skin as being “in a state of early decomposition” which sounds similar to the description of the muscle changes in the cow that went to Newton Rise Abattoir. I’m sure you agree it would be a good idea for the Pathologist’s samples from the arm to be tested for the alien bacteria. I’ve also mapped out the path of the river. If the bacteria is transporting itself through the water, the extent of the contamination could be quite considerable.’ There was silence in the room. Steven wondered which of them would talk first, finally it was Seward:

  ‘We have some very dark times ahead of us, Mr Knight, very dark indeed,’ Steven wondered if the dark rings under Seward’s eyes had anything to do with what he was about to hear. ‘We are faced with a danger on a scale this planet has never seen before. The very existence of the human race is at greater risk than it has ever encountered from any natural or manmade disaster before. How we act now will define the future of our species as well as the world we live in for generations to come.’ Seward’s words hung in the air. Steven sat down next to Georgia on the edge of the bed. Suddenly the mood was very sombre.

  They all looked at Seward, waiting for him to explain what he was talking about.

  ‘The bacteria we found inside the meteorite is the same as that found in the river water as well as that found in the muscles of the cow. We heard yesterday that the man who came into contact with the cow at the Abattoir has now died, as have his wife and a daughter. A third member of his family, the eldest daughter, is critically ill in an isolation booth in hospital. The Abattoir has now been locked down, all employees are being tested for the bacteria and so far 87% of them have tested positive and are now in a secure military wing at Selly Oak Hospital in Birmingham. I can also tell you that the arm you found in the river does indeed contain traces of the alien bacteria.’

  ‘How are the workers from the Abattoir being treated if the bacteria is new?' asked Steven.

  Everyone turned away from Seward towards Coldred who spoke to them whilst continuing to look out of the window. ‘As the bacteria shows similarities to the Streptococcus bacteria or “flesh eating bacteria” that we already have on Earth, they are being treated in the same way with high doses of antibiotics as well as Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy,’ answered Coldred.

  ‘What’s that?' asked Georgia.

  ‘It’s like a glass chamber that you lie down in. The Oxygen level is increased inside the chamber to control the infection and encourage healing.’

  ‘Will they die?' asked Steven.

  ‘Some will,’ Coldred casually replied, ‘some may not. We don’t know yet. We have started working on a vaccine that can make you immune to the bacteria, but until then we need you both to take a course of antibiotics just in case you’ve come into direct contact with the bacteria,’ added Seward. ‘Some of the antibiotics we have already tried have been successful in preventing the disease in the laboratory and all major UK drugs companies have now been ordered by The British Government to produce it as a matter of great priority.’

  Steven was amazed at how much speed could be achieved when it was really necessary.

  ‘Start taking these tonight,’ instructed Coldred who threw a small box of tablets over to Steven and Georgia.

  ‘But what about all the other people who may have come into contact with it? Some have had more contact than us: Mr McRae, Sergeant Allen, all the policemen who searched the river. Anyone could be carrying the bacteria, what about them?’

  ‘The exposure of the alien bacteria to the wider public has become a greater risk than we first thought,’ said Seward. ‘Tomorrow morning a press release from the Ministry of Health will be reported on all news channels. In it there will be a statement about a new strain of Flu that has already caused illness across Britain and for the first time ever, everyone will be required by law to take the antibiotics until the vaccine can be found.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to lie!’ shouted Georgia to the surprise of everyone. ‘Shouldn’t people know exactly what's happening? What about those people that decide not to go to the doctor and don't take the antibiotics?’

  ‘They will probably die,’ Coldred said without feeling.

  ‘Miss Brown, we are faced with a very dangerous problem and need to act immediately so that we can save as many people as possible and protect the future of the human race,’ said Seward gently. ‘If the public knew the truth, there would be mass panic, resulting in more death. We need to be able to provide an orderly programme of protection
. It’s the only way we can make sure that as many people are protected against the bacteria as possible.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Coldred interrupted Seward, ‘the bacteria is the least of mankind’s worry. There is a much greater threat to come out of the meteorite than the bacteria, one we don’t know how to protect ourselves from. Even if every one in the country was vaccinated, we may still not be able to stop them from dying.’

  Coldred moved away from the window and stood in the centre of the room. He paused for drama, making sure that all eyes were on him and he had everyone’s attention, before continuing his story.

  ‘The thing Miss Brown brought to London could be described as an animal,’ he began, ‘but certainly not one that exists on this planet. Do you remember that I told you the bacteria was quickly changing and how we were constantly have to re-label it as the molecular structure changes?’

  Steven nodded, thinking back to the meeting below MI6.

  ‘After enough growing and feeding, that animal you brought to London is an evolved version of the bacteria, there’s no way of knowing how it will change from here on.’

  ‘But that’s impossible isn’t it?' added Steven in an amazed voice. ‘How can something grow and change in such a short space of time?' he asked.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this too. Their fast growth could be caused by the difference in air pressure or gravity compared to that on their own planet. All planets have a gravitational force that sticks things to the ground, but on some planets that gravity is greater, making things heavier. If the gravitational pull on the alien bacteria’s planet is different to our own, their growth rate could also be very different. For example, one of our years, could be equivalent to one hundred of their years.’