Eleanor replaced her bumblaster in the rack and selected a smaller gun with a large round barrel. A Constipator 240. Zack recognised it as a clogger. He knew they were good for inhibiting enemy fire.
Eleanor clipped it to her belt, and pulled down something that looked like a leaf blower.
‘That looks like a leaf blower,’ said Zack.
‘That’s because it is,’ said Eleanor. ‘You can fight hundreds of bums at a time with a leaf blower. It’s also good for cleaning up and clearing the air afterwards.’
Eleanor slung the leaf blower across her shoulder and draped a rack of rubber bum-plugs across her chest.
‘Hold it,’ said the Kisser. ‘Let me handle this.’
Eleanor looked slightly disappointed.
‘Are you sure?’ she said.
‘Yeah,’ said the Kisser. ‘No point in using up ammunition if it’s not strictly necessary. Besides, I could do with the exercise.’
‘Well, if you insist,’ said Eleanor.
‘Oh, but I do,’ said the Kisser. He stood up, applied some fresh lip-gloss and brushed down his suit.
‘Good luck,’ said Zack.
‘Never fear,’ he said over his shoulder as he climbed out of the bum-mobile, ‘the Kisser’s here!’
Zack locked the hatch and then sat back down in the cockpit. He watched the Kisser approach the circle of bums.
They saw him and turned.
The Kisser bowed very low, so low his head almost touched the ground.
The bums moved in around him, but the Kisser made no attempt to escape. Instead, he did something very strange. He began to dance.
Zack watched with a mixture of confusion and amusement as the Kisser gyrated his hips and swayed from side to side in front of the bums. But as the Kisser danced, an even stranger thing began to happen. The bums, as if mesmerised, began to dance with him. They moved slowly from side to side, mimicking his movements with a sort of clumsy grace.
Then, without stopping his dance, the Kisser began motioning to one of the larger bums to come to him.
At first it seemed hesitant, but slowly, almost against its will, it crept forward until it was close enough for the Kisser to touch. The Kisser then reached out and tickled the bum under its arm.
As the Kisser tickled it, the bum seemed to undergo an amazing transformation. Its cheeks went bright pink. It blushed and went weak at the knees. At this point the Kisser reached out and picked it up with both hands—it offered no resistance—brought it to his lips and kissed it. The bum went limp, as if dead, or at least in a faint. The Kisser laid it on the ground next to him and began motioning to another bum, which submitted itself to him as easily as the first.
Having charmed the bums the Kisser was now disarming them as if they were no more dangerous than a pack of marauding marshmallows.
It didn’t take long before he had kissed and immobilised every last bum. They lay in a large pile beside him.
‘Wow,’ said Zack. ‘That’s incredible!’
‘Better him than me,’ said the Kicker. ‘There’s no way I’d want to kiss a bum. Not in a million years.’
Zack watched the Kisser produce a silver hipflask from inside his jacket, tip his head back and swill the contents. Then he spat out a mouthful of greenish liquid and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his white handkerchief. He took another swig and repeated the process.
‘What’s he doing?’ said Zack.
‘Gargling,’ said the Smacker. ‘I have to wash my hands after fighting bums, the Kicker has to polish his boots, and the Kisser has to wash his mouth out with industrial grade disinfectant. As the great bum-fighters have always said, if you want to make it as a bum-fighter, you have to keep it clean. It’s a dirty business.’
Eleanor opened the hatch.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, climbing out of the bum-mobile. The Kicker and the Smacker followed her.
Zack was about to follow them when the radio crackled into life.
‘Bum shelter 5 to bum-mobile BH-007,’ said a voice. ‘Do you copy?’
Zack picked up the handset and pushed the button.
‘Loud and clear,’ he said.
The radio seemed to be working fine now that the bums were out of action and no longer able to jam the airwaves.
‘What is your position, bum-mobile BH-007?’ said the voice.
‘We’re on your landing pad,’ said Zack.
The voice on the other end spluttered.
‘You’re what? You’re in extreme danger! Repeat. Extreme danger. Do not leave your craft under any circumstances. The whole area surrounding the bum shelter is infested with bums!’
‘It’s okay,’ said Zack. ‘The B-team has them under control.’
‘You’re the B-team?’ said the voice. ‘The B-team?’
‘Well,’ said Zack, ‘I’m not. But the B-team is standing on your roof next to a pile of freshly kissed bums.’
‘Unbelievable,’ said the voice. ‘We’ll be right up.’
Zack climbed out of the cockpit, out through the hatch and jumped down onto the landing pad. He walked across to the pile of bums. ‘Are they dead?’ he said to the Kisser, who was applying fresh lip-gloss to his swollen lips.
‘No,’ said the Kisser. ‘Just resting. They’ll stay like that for a few weeks now. Plenty of time to be relocated to somewhere else where they can’t do any harm.’
‘Plenty of time to kick their bums, too,’ said the Kicker surging forward.
‘No,’ said the Kisser, stepping between him and the bums. ‘They’re not hurting anybody. Leave them be.’
‘But they’re bums,’ said the Kicker. ‘Dirty, stinking, rotten, no-good, filthy, smelly bums!’
‘Save your energy,’ said the Smacker. ‘You’re going to need it. We’ve still got a long way to go.’
The Kicker looked at the Kisser.
‘Whose side are you on anyway?’ he snarled.
‘Isn’t that obvious?’ said the Kisser, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with his handkerchief, which was not quite so white any more.
‘Ignore him,’ said the Smacker. ‘He’s spouting more hot air than all these bums put together.’
‘Boy, are we glad to see you!’ said a voice behind them. ‘Those bums have been giving us merry hell all morning.’
Zack turned around to see a small officious-looking man. He was dressed like a soldier from the First World War.
‘Welcome to Bum shelter 5,’ he said, saluting. ‘I’m Captain Vincent Brown. Won’t you all come inside? It’s crowded, but we’ve always got room for a few more.’
‘Thanks,’ said the Smacker. ‘But we’ve got to keep moving.’ She put her hands on Zack’s shoulder. ‘We just want to leave young Zack here, if that’s okay with you.’
‘That’s fine, of course,’ said the Captain. ‘Any friend of the B-team is a friend of ours.’
Zack turned to the Smacker trying to blink back tears. ‘I really wish I could come with you,’ he said.
The Smacker put her arm around him.
‘You have to stay, Zack,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to get mixed up with the world of bum-fighting.’
‘I’m already mixed up in it,’ he said. ‘That’s my bum out there. I’ve got a responsibility to stop it. If anyone can talk it out of this, I can.’
‘No, Zack,’ said the Smacker gently. ‘You’ve got a false bum now. Put it on and forget about your first one. Here, I’ll give you a hand. Just loosen your belt a little.’
Zack was too upset to argue. He loosened his belt. The Smacker took the false bum from Zack’s hands and pushed it down the back of his pants and into place.
She patted it gently.
‘How’s that?’ she said.
Suddenly Zack was overwhelmed by a powerful urge to go to the toilet.
‘Where’s the nearest toilet?’ he asked Captain Brown.
‘Just go down the steps and turn right,’ he said.
Zack made it just in time. He was pleased to di
scover that the false bum worked just like a regular bum. In fact in at least one way it was even better—it was self-wiping.
Maybe the Smacker was right, thought Zack. He wondered if he’d be better off staying at the bum shelter with his false bum and forgetting about his real bum.
But he couldn’t.
His bum was trying to take over the world.
He couldn’t just stay there and pretend it wasn’t happening.
He had to do something.
He knew that the B-team weren’t going to allow him to come with them. Not if they knew about it. But what if they didn’t know about it? What if he stowed away?
Zack figured that all he’d have to do is to stay hidden until they’d passed out of the range of any other bum shelters and then they’d have no choice but to take him.
It was worth a try.
Zack climbed back up the steps to the door.
At the top of the steps there was an emergency telephone.
He wondered whether he should ring his gran and let her know that he was all right. If his plan to stowaway worked he might not get another chance and there was no telling how long he would be away. He didn’t know what he would tell her, but he didn’t want her to be worrying about him. She had enough to worry about, what with the war and probably her own bum before too long.
Zack rang her number.
She picked up the receiver after only one ring, as if expecting his call.
‘Hello?’ she said. ‘Zack? Is that you?’
‘Yes, Gran,’ said Zack, a bit surprised. ‘How did you know?’
‘You weren’t in your bed this morning. Is everything all right?’
‘Sure, Gran,’ said Zack. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Really?’ said his gran. ‘I thought you might have been conscripted . . .’
Suddenly Zack had his excuse. It was perfect.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I have been conscripted. I might not be home for a while.’
‘Do you know where they’re sending you?’ she said.
‘I’m on a secret mission, Gran . . .’ he lied. ‘Can’t say too much on the phone . . .’
‘I quite understand,’ she said.
‘Thanks, Gran,’ said Zack. ‘I’ve got to go now.’
‘Well, good luck,’ she said. ‘I’ve just got one piece of advice for you, Zack.’
‘What’s that, Gran?’ he said.
‘Don’t forget to wash your hands!’
And then she was cut off.
Zack tried to ring back, but the line was dead. Why had Gran warned him to wash his hands? he wondered. It was a strange piece of advice to give somebody who was apparently going off to war. Unless it was a bum war, of course. But how could she have known that? It was probably just a grandmotherly sort of thing to say, like ‘Look both ways before you cross the road’, or ‘Remember to brush your teeth’.
Zack shook his head. Whatever it was he didn’t have time to figure it out now. He had to get on board the bum-mobile while there was still time.
CHAPTER FOUR
NED SMELLY
The B-team was still where Zack had left them, deep in conversation with Captain Brown.
And even better still, they had their backs towards him.
But he knew he had to be quick.
Zack ran across the roof of the bum shelter and leapt onto the landing pad. He ran to the far side and hid behind one of the wheels of the bum-mobile.
So far so good.
Now he just had to work out where to hide.
There was no room inside the bum-mobile. It would have to be the cargo hold. He grabbed the handle of the heavy metal door and pulled as hard as he could.
The door opened easily and there would have been plenty of room except that there were two large metal drums taking up most of the space.
Zack grabbed one of the drums. He expected it to be too heavy to move but he had to try. To his surprise it shifted easily. It was completely empty. So was the other one.
Zack lifted both the drums out and hid them behind a small shed at the back of the launching pad.
There was not a moment to spare.
Captain Brown, Eleanor and the B-team started walking across to the landing pad. They were talking about how to dispose of the kissed bums.
‘Don’t touch them for a few days,’ said the Kisser. ‘Leave them until they’ve degassed themselves. They’ll be less dangerous to move.’
Zack dived into the cargo hold and pulled the door shut behind him.
It was cold and there was a ridge of metal sticking into his back, but even though he was uncomfortable, Zack knew he was doing the right thing.
He heard footsteps approaching the bum-mobile.
‘Zack’s taking a long time,’ said Eleanor.
‘Probably still a bit upset that he couldn’t come with us,’ said the Smacker. ‘We might have to leave without saying goodbye.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Captain Brown. ‘I’ll see that he’s taken care of.’
‘Thanks,’ said the Smacker. ‘Tell him we’re sorry we had to go, but that there wasn’t a moment to lose.’
‘Will do,’ said the Captain. ‘Good luck!’
‘Good luck nothin’!’ said the Kicker. ‘I’ll kick their bums so hard they’ll wish they never had them.’
‘But they are bums,’ said Eleanor. ‘How can a bum not have a bum? It would just be a hole.’
‘Then I’d kick that as well,’ said the Kicker.
Zack heard them climb inside the bum-mobile.
‘Prepare for take-off,’ said Eleanor.
The bum-mobile roared into life. Zack felt it rise slowly through the air and then Eleanor fired the thrusters and the bum-mobile took off.
The thrusters were near the cargo hold and Zack could feel the heat through the floor. It was radiating up through his fake bum. He hoped that fake bums were fireproof as well as self-wiping.
But despite being cramped and having a hot bum, Zack was warm and sleepy. He closed his eyes.
He wasn’t sure how much longer it was until he opened them again, but he knew he’d had a good sleep.
He could hear shouting.
‘. . . we should kick their bums!’ ranted the Kicker. ‘It’s the only way!’
‘Now listen up,’ said the Smacker. ‘This is no ordinary mission. We could be in for the fight of our lives. Our success is going to depend on us working as a team, not just going in kicking and smacking and kissing and shooting. We’re going to need to work smarter than that.’
‘And then we’ll kick their bums!’ said the Kicker.
Zack heard the Smacker sigh.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, as if talking to a child, ‘then we’ll kick their bums.’
‘I’ve got the bumcano on the radar,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s incredible—I’ve never seen so much bum activity concentrated in the one spot. And there are bums pouring in from all directions.’
‘How far away is it?’ said the Kisser.
‘I’d say about six hours flying,’ said Eleanor. ‘We have to cross the Great Windy Desert.’
‘What’s the pong factor outside?’ said the Smacker.
‘Extreme,’ said Eleanor. ‘We must be approaching the desert now.’
The bum-mobile lurched sideways.
Zack started to feel sick again.
‘Uh-oh,’ said Eleanor. ‘Hold onto your hats. There’s a lot of wind out there.’
An alarm sounded. The bum-mobile started to shake as it went into a series of violent dips and climbs.
‘Oh no!’ said Eleanor. ‘We’re out of gas! Just what we needed.’
‘Have you got reserve tanks?’ said the Smacker.
‘Yeah,’ said Eleanor. ‘There are two cans in the cargo hold.’
A fresh wave of nausea flooded through Zack. But this wasn’t anything to do with the movement of the bum-mobile. This was to do with the two cans he’d removed from the cargo hold.
He didn’t feel any better, either, when he
realised that what he thought was the wall between him and the cabin of the bum-mobile was actually a sliding door.
Zack tried to roll as far back as possible, but it was too late. The door slid open, light flooded in and he saw the Smacker staring at him.
‘Zack?’ she said, frowning. ‘What on Earth are you doing in there?’
Zack just looked at her.
He couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he’d done.
He didn’t have to.
‘There are supposed to be two spare gas tanks in here,’ she said. ‘You took them out to make room for yourself didn’t you?’
‘I thought they were empty,’ he said. ‘They were so light . . .’
‘Bum-mobile gas is lighter than air,’ said the Smacker, flexing her enormous hands, which Zack was scared she would soon be using on him.
‘Have you found them?’ called Eleanor. ‘I can’t hold it much longer.’
‘All I’ve got is a stowaway,’ said the Smacker, yanking Zack out of the hold.
‘What?’ said Eleanor, glancing around. ‘Zack? But what . . . why . . . where are the fuel tanks?’
‘He removed them,’ said the Smacker.
‘I told you he was a bum sympathiser!’ roared the Kicker. ‘He’s on their side! He’s sabotaged us! I’m going to kick your . . .’
Suddenly the bum-mobile lurched sideways and went into a nose dive.
‘We’re going to crash!’ yelled Eleanor. ‘Brace yourselves!’
Eleanor and the Kisser curled over in the crash position.
The Kicker and the Smacker both grabbed handholds and pushed their backs against the bum-mobile wall.
Zack sat down, put his arms over his head and waited for the crash.
He didn’t have to wait long.
WHAM!
The bum-mobile hit the ground. Zack was thrown forward towards the hatch. He put his hands out in front of him. The hatch opened. He went flying out and landed head-first in an enormous clump of thistles.
The Day My Butt Went Psycho Page 5
