Wild Moose Chase

by Siobhan Rowden

  Attila frowned and looked at the twins. “Is he crazy?” he asked.

  “Completely,” said Bert. “But he is the Royal Cheesemaker. Mr Zola, this is Attila. He’s taking us with him to the border of Kazakhstan.”

  “Really?” said Mr Zola, turning to Attila. “I’m supposed to be going to Kazakhstan myself but I crashed my hot air balloon and now find myself rather stuck. I don’t suppose I could tag along? Urgent business for the Queen of England and all that.”

  Attila nodded slowly. “You and your hamster can travel at the rear of the convoy,” he said.

  “It’s not a hamster, it’s a—”

  But Attila had already marched off.

  That afternoon the twins watched as Attila and his people packed their tents, food, furniture and children on to the assembled yaks and ponies. There were even some goats and a couple of camels. Mr Zola stood beside them fiddling with his Cheesemaker-Locator.

  “So I’m changing your registration back to ‘CT’ for Curd Twins,” he said, irritably. “Not that I need the Cheesemaker-Locator to find you two. I can’t seem to get away from you.”

  “We’re doing you a favour!” Bert pointed out. “We managed to get a ride to Kazakhstan. Find your own way if you don’t want to come with us.”

  Mr Zola took no notice and wandered off into the jumble of goats and yaks.

  The festival seemed to be coming to an end and they were not the only ones getting ready to leave.

  “How long does it take to get to the Kazakhstan border?” asked Bert, as Attila marched up and lifted him on to Genghis’s broad back.

  “We travel overnight to miss the midday sun,” he said. “The adults lead the animals, the children sleep on their backs.”

  Mr Zola popped up from behind a large yak. “I hope you don’t mean that I have to walk all through the night,” he said.

  “You are an adult, no?” asked Attila.

  “Of course I am.”

  “Then you walk,” said Attila. “You can put your hamster on a yak.”

  Cam and Bert couldn’t help giggling as Attila walked away and began lifting the waiting children up on to the small ponies.

  “Will someone please tell that infernal man that I do not have a hamster!” yelled Mr Zola. “Monty is beginning to feel quite upset.”

  Slowly they began to stream out of the festival. Attila was at the front of the convoy. Members of his tribe waved farewell to those left behind. The twins saw Saran waving from her yak-hair tent.

  “Goodbye, dear lady,” called Mr Zola. “Thank you for restoring Monty to his former glory.”

  Soon the Yak Festival was left far behind and thesun began to sink towards a huge mountain in the distance.

  “That is the great mountain, Tavan Bogd,” explained Attila. “It is where Mongolia meets China to the south and Russia to the north. We will trek across the steppe to Kazakhstan.”

  “I can’t see any steps,” said Bert.

  “The steppe is the grassland of Mongolia,” said Attila. “For three thousand years my people have travelled the width and breadth of the steppe. We search for the best campsites and pasture lands for our animals. Our yaks, camels and ponies are very special to us. Every member of this tribe can ride as well as they can walk or run. That is why I am so impressed with your yak skills. But now it is time for you to rest. You have a long journey ahead of you.”

  “Not as long as me,” huffed Mr Zola. “Monty may have had a makeover but he still gets very irritable when he’s had no sleep.”

  The twins bent over their yaks and rested their heads in the deep, long hair.

  “How are we supposed to go to sleep while riding a yak?” asked Bert, yawning loudly. “It’s impossible.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cam, “but I do feel exhausted. It’s not every day you win a Mongolian yak race. Well done, Zogs. Well done, Genghis.”

  She thought that the huge yak mooed back at her, but when she glanced across, she realized that it was just Bert snoring loudly. She smiled and looked round at the flat plains of grassland enclosed by white-tipped mountains. It was very different from home.

  Home, thought Cam. She leant forward and snuggled into Zogs, closing her eyes. Even if they did get the salt, Kazakhstan was an awfully long way from Cheddar Gorge.

  The Salt Mines of Kazakhstan

  (Two days to go…)

  The next day was dark and overcast. Cam looked up at the clouds, which were rapidly covering every speck of blue. She glanced over towards Bert. He was lying on his back looking up into the morning sky with his legs dangling over Genghis’s two huge horns.

  “When we get home,” he said. “I’m swapping my bed for a yak. They’re far more comfy.”

  He sat up and stretched deeply as Attila came striding towards them.

  “We have arrived at the Kazakhstan border,” he said, gravely. “The deserted mines that you seek are in the distance.”

  “That’s great!” cried Bert. “Thanks, Attila. We got here so quickly, we’re bound to catch Primula Mold up.”

  “Where are the mines?” said Cam, jumping off Zog’s back.

  But the smiles on the twins’ faces soon fell away as they looked at the desolation that lay ahead. There wasn’t a blade of grass or a single leaf to brighten up the grey grit that covered the terrain in front of them. The occasional boulder rose menacingly from the dry earth. But the worst thing was the huge tangle of bricks and steel in the distance. A collapsed building sank into the rocky landscape like a drowning concrete monster.

  Attila tutted and shook his head. “You do not have to go,” he said. “You can stay with us, learn the nomadic way of life – herd our goats, milk our yaks. We will teach you how to make aaruul – delicious cheese balls.”

  Bert could feel the hairs on the back of his neck prick to attention as he looked at the abandoned salt mine. He glanced over at Cam. Her eyes were wide but her chin was sticking out determinedly.

  “Thanks,” she said, “but we have to get back to our grandpa. And we’re not going to go home empty-handed, are we, Bert?”

  “Nope,” he said, simply.

  Attila nodded slowly. “Then take this,” he said, handing them a torch. “You will need it. And some cheese balls for your journey.”

  “Thank you, Attila,” said Cam, throwing her arms around him. “We’ll come back and visit you all, I promise.”

  “Of course we will,” said Bert, hugging Genghis’s broad neck. “I’m going to miss you, my hairy friend.”

  “But I’m coming too,” called Mr Zola, rushing up from the back of the convoy.

  “I meant Genghis,” sighed Bert.

  Genghis and Zogs mooed sorrowfully as Cam, Bert and Mr Zola waved goodbye to Attila and his people and set off across the border into Kazakhstan. Bert offered round the cheese balls. Mr Zola turned his nose up but accepted a few, then checked his Cheesemaker-Locator.

  “It seems you’ve moved up into second place,” he said. “There’s only Primula Mold ahead of you now. It’s looking increasingly likely that she’s going to win this competition and I need to find her immediately. I’m supposed to return home with the first person who gets all the ingredients.”

  “How are you going to get home now you don’t have the Crown Balloon?” asked Cam, wondering how she and Bert were going to do it.

  “I was hoping to hitch a ride on Primula Mold’s balloon,” said Mr Zola.

  “You’ll be lucky,” muttered Bert. “We know Primula Mold and she’s really mean. She hates people. There’s no way she’s going to give you a lift home.”

  Cam stopped walking as an idea popped into her head. “And she won’t let you help her make the moose cheese,” she added. “She’ll want all the glory herself.”

  “She’ll have no choice,” said Mr Zola. “It’s by royal command.”

  “It w
ill be a battle, though,” continued Cam. “But if you helped us to get the salt, then we would be the leaders. And if you could arrange for us all to go home together, then you could make the moose cheese with us. We’d be happy, you’d be happy, but most importantly, the Queen would be happy. It’s a win-win situation.”

  Mr Zola stroked his moustache and frowned, deep in thought. “I couldn’t help you get the salt,” he said. “That would be against the rules. But if you got it first, then I suppose I could arrange for transportation home. We certainly don’t want to stay around here for longer than is necessary.”

  They all glanced up at the decaying buildings, which were looming nearer. The twins dropped back behind Mr Zola.

  “Good one, Cam,” whispered Bert. “I was wondering how we were going to get home.”

  “Well,” said Cam, “we need to get the salt first and I have no idea how we’re going to manage that.”

  It was a long walk to the collapsed salt mine. It looked even scarier close up. Rusty railway girders poked out from the crumpled ground. Mounds of rubble and glass were swallowed up by great holes that littered the ruin. The twins peered down a decaying lift shaft. Bert dropped a rock in it. There was a few seconds’ silence before they heard it crash into the bottom.

  “I reckon that’s about a thirty-metre drop,” he said.

  Mr Zola looked down the shaft just as “God Save the Queen” struck up in his top pocket, reverberating down the mine.

  “Your Majesty,” he gushed. “Nearly there now, ma’am, just one ingredient to go… I do realize that time is running out… I understand we must leave enough time to make and mature the cheese before Monsieur Grand-Fromage arrives… I will hurry the contestants along… At once, ma’am … as soon as possible… You can rely on me, ma’am.”

  He replaced the red phone. “The Queen is getting jittery,” he said. “She’s worried nobody will be back in time to make the cheese. It needs to be matured overnight before serving. Monsieur Grand-Fromage is arriving the day after tomorrow and—”

  CLANK CLANK CLANK

  He stopped mid-sentence as a banging sound floated up from the old mine shaft. It was getting louder and coming closer.

  CLANK CLANK CLANK

  It was followed by a low howl.

  “What is that?” cried Mr Zola, hiding behind Cam.

  The twins slowly backed off as the hammering and howling came nearer.

  “It’s the evil spirits,” whispered Bert. “They’re coming for us. They’re annoyed that I threw a rock down the mine.”

  “I can smell them!” gasped Mr Zola.

  A vile vapour wafted up from the hole in the ground. The hammering stopped. Cam held her breath and instinctively pulled Bert back as a spindly figure slowly emerged from the shaft. The hunched creature hauled itself out of the hole and turned towards them. Two bulging black eyes stared out from beneath a bright light glowing from a wrinkled white forehead.

  “IT IS AN EVIL SPIRIT!” screamed Mr Zola, running away. “IT WASN’T ME THAT THREW THE ROCK. IT WAS THE BOY! TAKE THE BOY!”

  Mr Zola disappeared into the distance. The twins looked back at the old woman in front of them, her lucky Stilton swinging from her neck and a whining basset hound in a basket on her back. Bert felt the familiar wave of uneasiness trickle through his body whenever Primula Mold was near. But he stepped forward and focused, as he always did, on her dog instead.

  “Hello,” he said, vaguely. “Hey, Fungus. What’s the matter? Did you not like it down there?”

  Fungus jumped out of the basket and ran towards Bert, his tail wagging happily. Primula Mold put down her climbing hammer, turned off her head torch and removed the spiked shoes that had helped her to scale the old lift shaft.

  “He’s howling because he was nearly hit by a rock,” she snapped. “Who threw it?”

  Bert turned scarlet. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t know anyone was down there.”

  “Hmph! Thoughtless behaviour! But I would expect nothing more from you. Anyway, I see you finally decided to take part in the Great Moose Cheese Chase. So where is he, then? Where’s your grandfather?”

  It was Cam’s turn to go red. “We came on our own,” she murmured.

  Miss Mold looked shocked. “I’m surprised he allowed that,” she croaked. “You two are up to no good again. I can see it in your eyes. But if you think you’re going to win, then you’re mistaken.”

  She held up a gleaming rock-salt crystal. “I’ve got all the ingredients now and I’m heading home. Come along, Fungus.”

  The dog gave Bert a lick and trotted over to his mistress.

  “I will expect a curtsey from you next time we meet. And you may address me as ‘Lady Mold’.”

  She stalked towards a collapsed building. The twins spotted her yellow balloon anchored beside it.

  “And after I win I’m going to look into buying your land with the prize money,” she said.

  Bert stomped after her, all nerves forgotten. “You can’t do that!” he cried. “Gramps will never sell it to you.”

  “We shall see,” called Miss Mold, climbing into the basket and heaving Fungus in beside her. “The Queen is bound to grant me some favours when I produce my special moose cheese.”

  Mr Zola appeared from behind a large rock just as Primula Mold released the ropes and sailed off into the grey sky.

  “Did someone mention moose cheese?” he called.

  “That was Primula Mold,” said Bert, pointing towards the balloon. “You missed her. You’re too late.”

  “Let’s just hope we’re not,” whispered Cam.

  Cataclysm

  Mr Zola came running over.

  “I should have known that was Primula Mold,” he said, checking his Cheesemaker-Locator. “Why didn’t you tell me she looked like an evil mine monster?”

  He began to sprint after the yellow hot air balloon. “Miss Mold,” he shouted. “Miss Mold, take me with you. I’m the Royal Cheesemaker. I’m commanded by the Queen to oversee this competition. I must accompany the winner home and help them make the moose cheese to Her Majesty’s exact taste.”

  “I don’t need any help to make cheese from a young whippersnapper like you,” called Miss Mold as she floated away. “I’m going to delight Her Majesty with a surprise ingredient.”

  Mr Zola watched as Primula Mold’s balloon became a tiny speck in the sky.

  “Her Majesty doesn’t like surprises,” he muttered, sinking to the ground, “and I’m supposed to keep up with the leader. She’s going to be furious.”

  “We could still be the leaders,” urged Cam. “If you could just think of a faster way to get us home, Mr Zola, then Bert and I will somehow get the salt.”

  Mr Zola sat for a moment in deep thought. Then he jumped to his feet.

  “You’re right,” he cried, reaching for his phone. “I need to call in an old favour.”

  “Are you calling the Queen?”

  “No, she’s still fuming about the Crown Balloon. I need to find a different way to get us back without concerning the Queen. You two look for a way into the mine. Quick as you can; we must hurry.”

  The twins left Mr Zola talking into his phone. Bert picked up Miss Mold’s discarded hammer and they started to explore the crumpled buildings. There were several gaping holes which dropped into the darkness, but the surrounding rock was too crumbly to climb down without the right equipment.

  “I wish Miss Mold had left her spiked climbing shoes behind as well,” said Bert. “We have to find a safe way in as quickly as possible.”

  They ran along the old railway track. The rail was bent and buckled in places but smoothed out and sloped down steeply into a pile of rubble stacked against a rock face.

  “The miners must have used this track to transport the salt,” said Cam. “I bet it leads underground. Help me move this rubble, Be
rt. I think there might be a tunnel behind it.”

  It was hard work moving the large stones off the track and away from the rock face, but Cam was right. Behind them was a small tunnel sloping down into the ground beyond. Sitting on the track inside the hidden tunnel was a cart. It looked like there was a small see-saw on top.

  “Why would they have a see-saw on top of a railway cart?” asked Bert, climbing on board. “C’mon, Cam, get on the other side.”

  The moment Cam sat on the opposite end of the see-saw the little cart began to move along the track.

  “It’s not a see-saw,” she gasped. “It’s a pumping cart. The more we go up and down, the faster it gets.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” said Bert. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait, where’s the torch that Attila gave us?”

  But Bert wasn’t listening and began jumping up and down on his half of the see-saw. The cart started picking up speed, then plummeted down a sharp dip, plunging them into total darkness and shooting along the track.

  “BERT!” screamed Cam. “What have you done?”

  The twins flew down the railway, no longer in control of the cart. The see-saw on top was throwing them up and down. Their stomachs were left far behind as sharp bends followed steep dips, flinging them from side to side. Suddenly, the cart struck something on the track and came to an abrupt halt, throwing them clear off the truck and on to the hard ground.

  Cam lay there for a moment before staggering to her feet. A large bump was slowly growing on the back of her head. She reached up and touched it carefully with one hand, steadying herself against the wall with the other. It was pitch black and she couldn’t see a thing. She felt the cold, hard rock beneath her fingers. Something brushed against the back of her hand and she pulled it away sharply.

  “B-Bert?”