by Susan Berran
Me and Jared found it behind the railway station where all these hobo guys sleep at night. We found out that some of them are really spies in disguise. They have these really scraggy beards and smelly, crappy clothes on purpose . . . so they’re not discovered.
This one guy, who’s always there, told us that he had to ‘knock someone off’ whenever the country was in danger. They send him his orders by transmitting a message from a satellite dish in outta space and then bouncing it onto the station’s tin roof. That’s why he has to live there and smell like the boys’ toilets in the middle of summer all the time . . . it’s his job.
He was going to show us his actual ‘license to kill’ but there were too many hobos (enemy spies) around, so we’d be in mortal danger if he showed it to us.
He told us the torch we found had belonged to a Bulravian spy that he had to ‘take care of’ and if we’d turned up five minutes earlier, we could have taken it straight off the body . . . cool!!
Anyway, it’s a totally awesome torch. At night, I can point it at the space shuttle in orbit and see astronauts getting dressed . . . really! Jared has seen them too; we just don’t want to show anyone else.
But then a certain little sister; who is not supposed to go into my room, sucked on my torch so hard that the globe came out and she swallowed it. I thought it was really funny the way her eyes bulged, her nose went runny and she turned this yellowy-greenish colour. Of course Mum didn’t find it as funny as me. We all had to race into town and sit around the hospital for hours, waiting while the doctors tried to decide whether to ‘let it pass’ or ‘go in and get it’.
I suggested we throw a battery in after it. Then, when it caught up, the bulb would glow and we could just watch where it went.
I thought it was a brilliant idea, but no one else seemed to.
Anyhow, I didn’t hear them coming up with anything useful.
But now I was almost wishing I had said ‘yes’ to keeping the bulb when it finally passed; after midnight. The nurse said that she’d cleaned it up to be as good as new, and the doctor said he couldn’t see any reason why it wouldn’t work. But he did have this huge, dopey grin on his face. I still wasn’t touching it though, no way.
So I’ve reminded Mum a dozen times now . . .
“When you go shopping, can you please grab some globes for my torch?”
But apparently . . .
“There are far more important things than globes,” and “I’ll get them when I’m good and ready.”
I could just imagine Jared telling everyone at school what a scaredy cat I was. Just because he’d followed the whole maze of tunnels and reckons he didn’t use a torch.
But he’s done it more than once and I’ve seen some pretty decent cuts and scratches that bleed on him after he’s visited the tunnels at his place.
And one time something scared him so much that . . . well, let’s just say, I didn’t believe him when he told me the smell was their toilet backed up again!
I don’t think so.
So I’m not chickening out, I’ve just decided that it might be wiser and better for my health if I wait until daylight. At least then I’ll be able to see a fair way into the first tunnel.
And I might just borrow a globe from Princess Poopy Mel’s night light.
Hopefully, Mum will just think she’s sucked out another one.
Today’s the day.
Go time!
Mum’s taken Yelly Melly and the Fluff Ball for a walk to the park. They wanted me to go, of course . . .
“Higher, higher,” that’s all I’d hear from Jelly Belly Melly.
And Mum would be all like . . .
“Play with your sister,” . . .
“Be a good big brother,” . . .
“Here’s a plastic bag, clean up after the dog,” while she sat on the nearest bench and yakked to other mums about how tough it is looking after us kids and the dog. And very shortly after that, I’d be looking after a couple of complete strangers’ kids too.
There was no way I was getting sucked into that trap again.
Last time I ended up having to push four kids on the swings, take three to the toilets, (of course each one didn’t need to go until I’d come back), play hide’n’seek and give piggyback rides to the whole lot of them.
Their mums were sooo grateful, they thought I was . . .
“Just wonderful.”
“You must be so proud,” they said to Mum, who of course replied with the usual . . .
“He can be such a good boy at times,” obviously meaning that I’m normally an absolutely horrid child. Gee, thanks a lot Mum.
As soon as Mum, Melly and Fluff Butt walked out that door, I got organised.
First; and most importantly, food supplies. Jared reckons I should take enough to last a fair while, in case I get caught up in the tunnels. I’m also taking some food along for whatever’s in the tunnels. I figure that if I’ve got something really tasty for them, then whatever’s in there might not look at me like I’m a hamburger with the lot.
I pulled out the bottom drawer of my clothes cupboard and sat it on the floor. No one knew about my totally secret hiding spot, not even Jared.
Hey, I’ve got to have some secrets to myself, don’t I?
I reached into the space and pulled out my incredibly wicked and awesome utility belt. No, it isn’t a lame-o copy of Batman’s belt. This was totally my design with all the best gear that you’d ever need in an emergency. I’ve been working on it for about a month. I used my best leather belt; Mum keeps saying . . .
“It has to be somewhere, look again, ” every time I have to wear my good trousers.
It has a spot for everything, my torch . . . thanks for the globe sis, . . . my double-barrel, HEAVY-DUTY world champion slingshot, the ‘knife’ and what I like to call, ‘the javelin’. I’ve also got a totally wicked ‘ACID’ squirter and a fully retractable invisible rope.
Jared’s making his own utility belt too. Then we can really do some serious exploring. I know it won’t be anywhere near as good as mine. His slingshot is only a single barrel, I got mine off the clothes line. Mum thinks there’s some deranged lunatic bra thief running around.
And Prissy Pants doesn’t need to suck on all those bottles any more, so I thought I could recycle one. Then I mixed up this serious concoction from under the laundry and kitchen sinks. I was going to try out my ‘ACID’ mix on the Fluff Butt when Yelly Melly turned up . . . as usual . . . and started sooking to Mum at the top of her lungs;
“Mum, he’s trying to kill my Fluffy!”
“Mum, he’s chasing my Fluffy around!”
“Mum, Fluffy just threw up on the carpet!”
It’s not my fault the stupid dog barfs every time it runs around for five seconds like it’s got bees up its butt.
But the best of all in my utility belt stuff, is my phantasmagorical, fully retractable, invisible rope. I found it out in Dad’s old office.
Before Dad disappeared, we used to go fishing a fair bit. We had all the best gear, including this really cool rod that you can pull out and extend like a telescope. You just have to push a button on the reel for the practically invisible line to wind itself in. And the line is really, really strong. Jared and me once caught this humongous whale that tipped us out of the boat. But we had to let it go because I didn’t want it to break Dad’s brand new net and it wouldn’t fit in the boat. We were going to take a photo but we didn’t want the flash to scare it either. When it swam away, I was wondering how peeved off with us it was for catching it. For a while there, I thought it might just turn around and slap the crap out of us with its tail.
We didn’t see it again but I’m sure the water around us turned a tinge of yellowy-green.
The guys at school reckon it’s all a load of bull crap. So, we’re going to take the boat out again real soon and then we’ll catch and tow the whale in. That’ll show them.
Anyway, we figure the line is definitely strong enough to hold the two of
us. We’re going to experiment extending the rod and then casting onto a building . . . then, when the line is caught on the roof, we just have to hang on, push the button and we’ll get lifted to the roof at SUPER SPEED.
I’ve got other stuff in my belt too; like a magnifying glass, super strength sticky tape, spare clean undies, and heaps of other stuff that I might need. I don’t know why I’ve got spare undies in there, but every day of my life as I’ve headed out the door, Mum always shouts out . . .
“Have you got clean undies on Sam?”, so I figure that if I get hit by a bus and I don’t have clean undies on, then the ambulance guys will just leave me there.
I’d better check the batteries in my walkie-talkie too. Jared got them last Christmas and he gave one to me. Our mums don’t have any idea, but that’s how we know where and when to meet up with each other.
The only problem is, the batteries run down pretty quickly and I can’t exactly keep asking Mum for more or she’ll find out; so I nick the good ones from the television remote and replace them with the old run-down ones.
Mum’s really annoyed at how quickly the remote chews up batteries!
I watched out the window to make sure Mum and Yelly Melly didn’t ‘forget’ anything, and once they turned that corner, I’d be outta here.
Mum has no idea what lies beneath the old shed out the back.
It was Dad’s sanctuary, now it’s mine, and that’s just the way I want to keep it. Before Dad disappeared, we’d been in and out of that shed so many times. We weren’t absolutely sure, but we were pretty certain that there was at least one tunnel that went under our place. Maybe even a whole system like at Jared’s.
But one thing we were sure of, it started under the shed. We’d been planning to start digging around together that weekend, but two days later. . .
Dad was gone.
Now, it was up to me.
One more check out the window, going, going . . . they’re gone.
Time to move fast;
Food . . . check,
utility belt . . . check,
. . . and no Prissy Missy Melly Moo, YAHOO!
Only Jared knows where I’m going, just in case I disappear too.
I clipped on my utility belt, and my backpack with food in it and headed out the back door.
I ran across the lawn; well, it’s more like a jungle really. Stuff like mowing and gardening just didn’t happen since Dad’s vanishing act. I ducked and weaved under and around the fruit trees that were now heavy with rotting and WoRM-iNFEsTEd fruit. Every time I trod on the plums or apricots, they squished and squirted their juicy flesh up between my toes and under my feet.
It reminded me of what I was about to face.
It reminded me of hopping out of the bath, naked, clean, and fresh and . . .
. . . and why does Mum have to leave Smelly Melly’s fully loaded nappies right where I step out of the bath every night!
All of a sudden, I was considering turning around and heading for the safety of home. But it was now or never; there would never be a better time. Mum and Melly Moo would be at least a couple of hours. Hopefully, that’s all I’d need.
The stack of firewood by the shed door had all collapsed and was now blocking the way in. I was kind of glad in one way. It meant that whatever was in there, had been kept in there; I hope.
It took longer than I thought to toss it all out of the way, but finally the entrance was clear.
I’d never seen sooooo many cockroaches; thousands of them now all out of a place to live, and disappearing straight under the door and into the shed. Great, now there was something else in there to enjoy. I hadn’t been in there since Dad’s disappearance and now I was starting to get a bit nervous.
The door was completely smothered in cobwebs and the door hinges were badly corroded from rust. There was no way this door was going to just swing open.
I turned the handle. ‘SNAP!’ It came straight off in my hand. “Great start!” I thought.
Then I tried kicking the door in but it just seemed to stand there stubbornly, mocking me. I gave it one last kick just for the hell of it . . . ?*@*??? . . . I looked down to where I had kicked, and there, sticking out of the door like it was giving me ‘THE BIRD’, was a nice rusty nail, now coated with my fresh red blood.
I sat down and lifted my foot to reveal a neat puncture wound, the blood was pouring out . . .
“Oooh golly gosh, that pain is excruciating,” I thought to myself.
As I struggled back on to my feet I decided, well, the top half of me is pretty strong, so I reckon I’ll have a go at doing a shoulder charge. I went back about twenty metres or so and then ran full pelt at the door. I SLAMMED my shoulder and body into that door like a starving rhinoceros heading for a free buffet.
Well, the door stayed shut, and I stayed on the ground until everything stopped spinning. I’d bounced off that door like a ping-pong ball, and now my right arm was as limp as a six-month-old celery stick.
This was great; half an hour gone already and I’m not even in the door yet.
Ah ha! That’s it, the firewood. I picked up the only log I could with my good arm and began swinging it at the door. BANG, BANG, BANG . . . OUCH, splinters! I dropped the log, SMACK straight down onto my toes, aaahhh!
Now I was getting annoyed; one arm was in so much blinding excruciating pain that I could barely lift it. The other arm looked like driftwood, with splinters the size of rulers from my fingers to my elbow, and I thought I’d broken three toes. I could barely walk and to top it off, now I was going to have to have a bloody great needle because of a rusty nail.
I sat down in the dirt, just about ready to give up even before I’d begun. But there, under the door, I could see something shiny just inside. I tried to slip my fingers under the door to get it. But, because of the splinters, they were starting to SWELL up and . . .
They were stuck, oh no!
I tried again to pull them back out when . . . the door opened . . . smoothly and easily.
Oooohhhh . . . I forgot, it was a pull door . . . not a push door!
What a dope!
OK, Mum and Smelly Melly gone, run through jungle and yucky fruit, pick up wood, cobwebs and rust on door, yep, here we are . . .
I pulled the door open and a ball of dust and dirt spiralled out into the afternoon air. It smelt of paint and oil, but mainly it smelt like the possum me and Jared had found the other day that had been run over by heaps of cars, and a few of those road rollers. Phew, it stank!
As the dust settled, I very cautiously limped inside. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Obviously not all the cockroaches had found a hiding place yet.
I leant straight down to grab whatever that shiny thing was that I’d seen. I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was Dad’s ring. I’d know it anywhere; it had our family emblem on it. Sort of like that extinct dodo bird with a broken wing and leg I think. I wonder what it could possibly mean?
I pulled the door closed in case anyone turned up. The last thing I needed was for some nosy-body to find out what I was up to.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the dull interior of the shed; it doesn’t have any windows at all. But as they adjusted, one thing became extremely obvious. That just as I’d hoped, no one had been in there since Dad.
But if that was true, then how did his nice clean shiny ring end up just inside on top of all that dust?
Flicking on my torch, I scanned the room for signs of life; other than the thousands of cockroaches trying to set up home.
The bench top was littered with old tools, nails, a couple of old toasters and all sorts of SHARP, electrical, dangerous stuff that I could have lots of fun with. Rakes, shovels, fence posts, and heaps of steel and timber and other junk, took up most of the room.
Just as I went to push aside some stuff on the bench to make room for my backpack, I noticed something, something that made me remember what Dad had once said:
“Whenever I’m in my shed, I hear loud scratching and noises, like a herd of t
eenagers chewing gum with their mouths open, and I keep finding my tools on the floor.”
For a long time, Dad was sure I was playing tricks on him, trying to sPOOk him. But I wasn’t, and within a few days of finally believing me, he’d vanished.
There, in the torch’s beam of light shining onto the work bench, were three HUGE gouges. One was about fifteen centimetres long and the other two were about half that size. They went deep into the bench top, almost all the way through.
But I didn’t have time to think. I had to get moving, Mum wouldn’t be out forever.
I carefully sat the backpack on the bench and grabbed some candles that I’d taken from the kitchen cupboard. We always had plenty on hand. There were often blackouts here. I cut the candles in half, hoping that Mum wouldn’t notice only a few gone.
Lighting them was the tricky part. Mum never had matches or lighters lying around the house. She worried that Mis Melly I Touchy Everything, might get hold of them.
But Jared came through once again. Three of his brothers smoke, even though one is his little bro’ and the twins are only a year older than him.
Don’t say anything though, their mum would kill them if she knew.
Anyway, Jared slipped me an old matchbox with three matches in it. So I’ve got one to light a candle, and two spare, no problem.
I held the torch in my mouth and shone it onto the box of matches. It’s not that I was scared, I was just shaking because it was so cold in there.
Very carefully, I took out a match and struck it on the side of the box . . . nothing . . .
I turned it slightly and struck it again . . .
nothing . . . not even a sign of smoke.
Twice more I struck the match and nothing, not a spark.
I held the match up close to the torch light, twisting and studying it. Oh great, thanks Jared, can’t you tell the difference between a new match and a used match? Obviously not!
