“It is, isn’t it?” said Compass, sounding pleased. “And I can tell you a story with a moral, if you’d like.”
“Oh, yes, please,” said the Christmas Pig breathlessly.
“There were once three compasses,” said Compass, “a big one, a medium-sized one, and a tiny one. The big one led the way up a mountain, and the medium-sized one steered a boat across the sea, but the tiny one got dropped in a vegetable patch. And the moral of that is, ‘never make friends with a radish.’”
Jack and the Christmas Pig both made interested and impressed noises, which seemed to please Compass, and on they ran over snowy rock and loose stones, and the stitch in Jack’s side hurt more than ever.
They struggled on through the chilly darkness for what felt like hours. Every so often, Jack or the Christmas Pig would stumble and the other would help him up again. Their sleep inside Lunch Box seemed a very long time ago, but Jack was too frightened to be tired. Every now and then, he’d see shapes looming up in the darkness and worry that they were the Loser, or some of the strange Things Compass had warned them about, but when they got closer, it was always clumps of thistles.
“Where’s your blanket?” said the Christmas Pig, noticing Jack shivering in his pajamas.
“I left it in the bin by mistake,” panted Jack. “I’m fine.”
If only they could get safely across the Wastes without being eaten by the Loser, they’d find DP. The thought of hugging Dur Pig’s familiar squishy body and breathing in his friendly smell kept Jack running, in spite of the cold and his sore feet.
Then a horrible moan came echoing across the Wastes.
“Was that the Loser?” gasped Jack in panic. “Is he coming? Should we hide?”
“No,” said Compass, still bowling along. “That’s a Pain.”
“A what?” said Jack.
“A Pain,” repeated Compass. “An ’uman Pain. Of course, their owners are delighted to get rid of Pains, so they end up ’ere on the Wastes, roaming around in packs and ’owling. I feel quite sorry for them, really. It can’t be much fun being a—”
Compass rolled to a sudden halt again. Two dark shapes had appeared ahead of them, blocking their path.
Chapter 32
The Broken Angel
The outlines of the shapes looked like a mother and a child to Jack, but he didn’t trust his senses anymore and he drew close to the Christmas Pig.
“’Oo goes there?” shouted Compass.
“Who’re you?” called a frightened lady’s voice.
Out of the darkness walked a Christmas angel. One of her wings was badly bent, her plum-and-gold dress was torn, and she was hiding her face behind her left hand. The little blue bunny they’d watched being forced down the chute in Mislaid was leading her along. He was as filthy as ever, his fur clogged with earth.
“Why are you ’iding your face?” Compass asked the angel suspiciously.
“Because you’ll run away if I show you,” said the angel. “Every Thing I’ve shown has fled, except for Blue Bunny.”
“This is no time for concealment,” said Compass sternly. “’Ow do I know you’re not one of the Loser’s spies?”
The angel lowered her hand. Her head was cracked, her face broken. One of her eyes was missing. There was a great puncture hole in her cheek. When she heard Jack gasp, a tear leaked from her remaining eye. She covered her face again and began to cry.
“I know I’m ugly!” she sobbed. “A dog got me!”
But Jack hadn’t gasped because he didn’t like her face. He’d gasped because he’d just recognized her. That purple-and-gold dress, those chipped curls, those glittery, plastic wings—this was their Christmas Angel, the one Gran had chosen, and which Toby-the-dog had eaten. What Jack couldn’t understand was why she was down here, in the Land of the Lost, if Toby-the-dog had destroyed her . . .
“Being broken’s not reason enough to get sent to the Wastes,” said Compass, sounding even more suspicious. “There’s plenty of chipped and cracked Things ’oo’re so precious their owners won’t let ’em out of their sight!”
“I was never precious to the family at all!” said Broken Angel, trying to stem her tears. “I was bought to replace an angel they loved! Bought in a hurry because the shops were crowded—the family didn’t like me even when they bought me, I could tell!”
Jack felt horribly guilty. At least the angel had her hand back over her remaining eye, so she couldn’t recognize him.
“They put me on the top of the tree, but none of the other decorations were friendly,” she sobbed. “They were all mourning the loss of the old angel, who was their friend and their leader! And then—then—”
“The dog pulled over the tree,” said Jack, without thinking.
“Yes!” gasped Broken Angel in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I guessed,” said Jack quickly.
“The tree fell, and so did I. I got tangled in the branches. The dog tried to drag me out but I was stuck, so he chewed as much of me as he could reach. When the family found the tree knocked down, and saw bits of my dress and my face on the floor, they thought the dog had eaten me, like the old angel. They didn’t notice me hanging upside down at the back. They stood the tree up again and there I am, lost among the branches, out of sight.
“Nobody misses me, nobody cares,” said the angel, starting to weep again. “When they come to throw out the tree, they’ll throw me out, too!”
The Christmas Pig stepped forward and put a trotter on the angel’s shoulder, while the little bunny sadly stroked her remaining hand.
“I’m a Replacement, too,” the Christmas Pig told her. “It might yet be all right. They might find you and fix you!”
“We need to get moving,” said Compass, before the weeping angel could respond. “Tag along if you like,” she added, to the angel and the blue bunny. “There’s safety in numbers, but you’ll need to keep up.”
Chapter 33
The Story of the Blue Bunny
And so they ran on. After a while, Jack noticed that the little blue bunny hopping along beside him was gazing up at him in admiration.
“I’m very sorry to stare,” said Blue Bunny timidly, “but you’re so new and detailed! You must have been expensive! I haven’t seen any Thing as fine as you on the Wastes.”
The blue bunny was a badly made little toy, with lopsided eyes and arms sewn on at odd angles.
“What are you, if it’s not a rude question?” asked the toy now.
“An action figure,” said Jack. “Pajama Boy, with the power of sleep and dreams. I’ve got my own cartoon,” he added, because the Christmas Pig was now talking to Broken Angel, so couldn’t hear.
“How wonderful,” sighed Blue Bunny, his dark eyes shining. “But why are you on the Wastes? Surely your owner’s looking for you everywhere?”
“He’s very spoiled,” said Jack, repeating what the Christmas Pig had told Specs. “He’s got lots of toys. He hardly noticed he’d lost us.”
“That’s awful,” said the little bunny sadly. “I never thought a toy like you would be so badly treated. The likes of me don’t expect much, but you’re different. Your own cartoon! You’re famous!”
“Didn’t your owner like you?” asked Jack, because he didn’t want more questions about his cartoon. He couldn’t really think of any adventures that involved sleeping.
“No,” sighed Blue Bunny. “He won me in a raffle at the fair. Every ticket won a prize. My owner wanted the football, but he got me instead. He groaned when they handed me to him, then stuffed me in his pocket and took me home. He never played with me. I lay on a shelf until one day, one of his friends visited. The friend threw me out of the open window into a flower bed, as a joke.”
The bunny’s voice broke.
“Nobody looked for me. Nobody cared. I lay in the flower bed for weeks. It rained. I was so cold
, so wet, but I had no choice but to lie in the mud and wait.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jack.
“I was stuck between two worlds, you see,” said Blue Bunny. “It happens sometimes, if it isn’t clear whether you’ve been thrown away or lost. I was stuck, belonging nowhere, frozen and dirty and waiting for my owner to remember me. If he believed me thrown away, I’d cease to exist. If he thought me lost, I would descend to the Land of the Lost. On Christmas Eve,” Blue Bunny went on, “the boy was packing a cuddly toy to take to his grandparents’ house and suddenly he remembered that I was lost, but he didn’t care or think of looking for me. At that moment, my fate was sealed. I fell straight down here and the Loss Adjusters seized me. They shoved me down the chute that comes out in the middle of the Wastes. I was alone and very frightened, but after a while, I met Broken Angel. We’ve been wandering the Wastes together ever since. It’s been nice to have somebody who understands how I feel. That might sound silly to a Thing like you—”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Jack. “I had a friend who always understood me, but then I lost him and it ruined everything . . .”
The Christmas Pig glanced back at Jack, an odd expression on his face. Afraid the Christmas Pig was about to tell him off for talking about DP, he changed the subject.
“Perhaps you’ll be found by somebody else,” Jack told the blue bunny. Through the swirling snow, he could see patches of darkness where no stars shone, which he was sure were openings onto the Land of the Living.
“No, I won’t,” sighed Blue Bunny. “My body’s still in the garden, covered in mud, barely visible. The family’s gone away for Christmas. There’s nobody to find me now. I belong to the Loser, but Broken Angel and I have agreed to face the end together, and that’s some comfort.”
Jack felt very sorry and wished he could take the little blue bunny home to his own bedroom, but he was starting to learn the laws of the Land of the Lost and was sure this wouldn’t be allowed.
Then, before anyone could say another word, noises exploded out of the darkness around them.
“Danger!” yelled Compass, rolling back to them. “Stick together and brace yourselves! It’s the Bad ’Abit gang!”
Chapter 34
The Bad Habits
Compass, Jack, the Christmas Pig, Broken Angel, and Blue Bunny drew close together, back to back, as a swarm of dark shadows and fiery red dots began to circle them. Voices cackled and there was suddenly a nasty smell of smoke in the air.
“What are they?” asked Jack, very frightened. There seemed to be quite a number of the Things: the fiery red dots looked like eyes, and he could hear cackling and growling.
“I told you: Bad ’Abits!” said Compass. “Watch out, because they often throw—”
Splat! An enormous slimy something hit her.
“What’s that?” squealed Blue Bunny.
“It’s a booger!” said Compass furiously, scraping it off herself as she rolled on the spot. “I know that was you, Picker!”
The Things surrounding them howled with laughter and several more giant boogers came flying through the air, while Jack and the others tried to dodge them. Splat, splat, splat came the boogers. Then something hard and sharp hit Jack in the face and he yelped in pain.
“What happened?” asked the Christmas Pig.
“They threw something pointy at me,” said Jack, looking down at the sharp yellow object shaped like a boomerang. “What is that?”
“A bit of Chewfinger’s nail!” said Compass. “Will you stop it!” she shouted at the jeering gang surrounding them. “Or the Loser will ’ear us and we’ll all be eaten!”
“That you, Compass?” said a raucous voice. “Who’re you smuggling this time?”
The Things around them now drew closer. Jack half wished they’d remained hidden. They were even odder than Pretense and a lot scarier.
They all seemed to be bits of humans. Some were mouths: one was loudly chewing gum and others smoking stinking cigarettes, which made the glowing red dots and the nasty smell. There were noses, ears, a single finger, its nail chewed to a bloody stub, several oozing zits that were so disgusting Jack could barely look at them, and a couple of fists, which were pounding the ground in a menacing fashion as though they couldn’t wait to start hitting someone.
“Still ’ere, Sugarguzzler?” Compass said to the biggest of the mouths. “You swore you’d be home for Christmas! Your owner didn’t want you back, then?”
“Give him time, give him time,” said the mouth, revealing blackened stumps of teeth. “There’ll be chocolate and sweeties all around him now. He’s bound to crack and start scarfing again.”
“Hang on a minute,” said a strangely familiar voice just behind Jack. “Don’t I know you two?”
Jack’s heart leapt. Even though he was furious at her, even though she’d thrown DP out of the car window, he’d never been so glad to hear that voice in his life. She belonged to home and the Land of the Living, and in that moment, all Jack could remember was how kind she’d once been, when he felt very small and lost.
“Holly!” he cried, spinning round.
But Holly was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found himself facing a fist as big as he was.
“This is strange,” said the fist, in Holly’s voice.
“What is, Bullyboss?” asked a giant ear, in a sly voice. It slid closer. “I love hearing strange things.”
“I’m down here because I chucked a toy pig like him out of a car window,” said Bullyboss, in Holly’s voice. “And you look a bit familiar, too . . .”
“He’s an action figure!” said the Christmas Pig quickly. “Pajama Boy, with the power of sleep and dreams!”
“He’s got his own cartoon!” piped up Blue Bunny.
The Bad Habits jeered.
“I bet it’s rubbish,” said Sugarguzzler.
“No wonder they don’t care he’s lost,” sneered Picked Zit.
“Fine talk from you!” said the Christmas Pig. “Your owners were glad to get rid of you!”
“My owner will be back for me any moment,” growled Bullyboss. “I’m her mate, I am. She needs me.”
“Why does she need you?” asked Jack.
“Because, stupid,” said Bullyboss, “I make her feel better. Her mum wants her to get to the Olympics. Trouble is, Holly doesn’t like gymnastics anymore. She wants to do music instead. She thinks her dad might understand, but he’s been stolen by her new stepbrother. Well, I make that stepbrother pay, see? He’s got everything, he has: a nice mum, and Holly’s dad, and nobody making him win medals and telling him off if he doesn’t . . . He deserves punishing . . . that’s why I threw his stupid toy pig out of the car window . . .”
Jack was amazed. He’d never imagined Holly thought he was lucky . . .
“Only Holly feels really guilty now . . . She got rid of me and swore she’d never bully the boy again . . . but she will . . .”
“’Course she will, ’course she will,” said the ear, in its nasty sly voice. “My owner’s just the same. She was caught reading her sister’s diary, and vowed she’d never sneak around and eavesdrop ever again—but how else is she going to find out secrets? Secrets are fun. Secrets are my favorite thing. Who wants to hear a good secret I heard today, when I was sneaking around on the outskirts of Bother-It’s-Gone?”
All the Bad Habits clamored to hear the secret.
“I was sitting in a bush on the edge of the Wastes,” said the ear. “It’s a good place to hear things, because the Loss Adjusters patrol there to make sure no Surplus tries to sneak off the Wastes and up the mountain.”
“Get on with it!” snarled Bullyboss.
“Well, they were talking about a couple of Things that are on the run,” said Sneaky. “Things that shouldn’t be down here in the Land of the Lost at all. And you know what those Things are?”
“
What?” asked several of the mouths.
“A cuddly pig and an action figure!” said the ear. “Exactly like—”
But at that moment a gigantic BOOM echoed across the Wastes. The ground shuddered and all the Bad Habits screamed.
“The hunt’s afoot!” shouted Compass gleefully. “It’s the Loser! You four, stay with me! Now, RUN!”
Chapter 35
The Loser
Compass rolled off very fast and the Bad Habits scattered, shrieking, into the darkness, as did Broken Angel and Blue Bunny, but for a few moments, Jack was so terrified he couldn’t move at all.
Two gigantic white searchlights were moving through the sky above the Wastes. Their twin beams swept the ground, illuminating the many scurrying Things that were running pell-mell away from the Loser. The searchlights were his eyes, and they swung over the snowy wastes as the Loser turned his giant head this way and that. He was so tall that Jack could actually hear the top of his head scraping on the high wooden sky as his blinding eyes scanned the ground for Things to eat.
It was hard to tell whether he was a giant man or a robot. He didn’t walk on feet, but on steel points like a two-legged spider. His body, his arms, and his legs were all covered in millions and millions of broken Things, so that he glistened all over with cogs, springs, handles, aerials, buttons, lids, and other bits of the bodies he’d torn to pieces before eating.
The Loser let out a terrible cry that shook the ground and made the boulders tremble. It was a howl of fury but also of anguish, as though he’d lost something he loved and would never, ever get back.
And then he swooped.
An enormous hand with fingers like steel girders swished across the Wastes, scooping up fleeing Things. Jack heard their screams as the Loser pulled them up into the air and examined them by the light of his pitiless eyes.
“Jack, MOVE!” shouted the Christmas Pig, seizing Jack’s hand and tugging as the Loser stooped again. The giant steel fingers flew past once more, coming so close to where Jack was standing that he saw the jagged fingertips, encrusted with glass and steel.
The Christmas Pig Page 10
