by Philip Reeve
“Oh,” said Mrs. Mimms, getting flustered and tying her tentacles in knots. “Oh dear, no—what is the little lad’s name, your lordshipness, sir?”
“He is Krull-va, son of Krull. But he prefers to be called Colin.”
“Colin?”
“It’s a phase he’s going through.”
Mrs. Mimms fumbled around under the counter and came up with a big microphone connected to the fair’s loudspeaker system. While she was trying to turn it on, Emily pushed past Lord Krull and ran outside. Jinks and O’Hare needed to hear about this. As she dashed toward the fairway, she heard Mrs. Mimms’s voice crackling out of the loudspeakers, saying, “Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing…Oh—this is a Lost Child Alert. Will Colin please make his way to the Lost Property Office? Will Colin, son of Krull, please come to the Lost Property Office?”
A big sign hung on the ticket booth outside Peeploid’s Seven-Story Merry-Go-Round and Fudge Shoppe, but it wasn’t really needed. You could tell the ride was out of order by the way it had turned into a big heap of wreckage with purple smoke pouring out of it. The Peeploids were standing glumly beside it, covered in fudge. There was no sign of the funfair repairmen, though.
“Where are Jinks and O’Hare?” panted Emily, running to where Amy Peeploid stood.
“They had to go,” said Amy. “Something’s gone wrong with the cotton-candy stall.”
“What can go wrong with cotton candy?” asked Emily.
Across the fairground echoed an angry bellow, like a bad-tempered gorilla with its head stuck in a trash can. She looked around. Beyond the Terror Mountain roller coaster, something huge and pink and cotton candy–ish was lumbering about.
A train was just passing, so Emily jumped aboard. At the entrance to Terror Mountain, she found Jinks and O’Hare. They were carrying their toolboxes and climbing into one of the roller coaster cars.
“Mr. Jinks!” she shouted, squirming through the turnstile and hurrying over to them.
“Emily!” said Jinks. “I’m sorry, we don’t have time to talk. There’s five hundred tons of angry cotton candy on the rampage on the far side of this roller coaster, and we have to stop it before that funfair inspector notices.”
“He won’t!” said Emily. “He got bludgeoned by some fudge. I suppose you could say he got fudgeoned. It was vanilla flavor. He’s at the Lost Property Office. It’s complete chaos there….”
“It’s just one thing after another today,” Jinks complained. “You’d best hurry back to the Lost Property Office and help Mrs. Mimms.”
“But I think I know what the problem is!” said Emily.
Jinks and O’Hare looked doubtful. Their roller coaster car was already starting to edge forward, and Jinks sighed heavily. “Jump in!” he told Emily. “You can explain on the way….”
Yessss! thought Emily as O’Hare reached out a long, hairy arm to help her scramble aboard, and she sat down between them feeling very important while Jinks helped her fasten the chunky safety belt around herself.
Terror Mountain was an actual mountain, one of the highest on Funfair Moon. The people who had built the roller coaster had sculpted the landscape, making the peaks pointier, leveling pathways for the roller coaster rails to run up, poking holes through crags and cliff faces. The roller coaster looped through it and around it like a mad marble run, swooping through caverns, rushing under waterfalls, climbing rickety-looking bridges up to the sharp peaks and plummeting down the other side. Usually, one of the noisiest noises on Funfair Moon was the screams of the Terror Mountain passengers, but today Jinks and O’Hare and Emily were the only ones riding it.
“All the cotton candy in the cotton-candy vats has come alive somehow,” said Jinks as their car climbed slowly up the first steep section of the ride. “It’s angry, too. It smashed the cotton-candy stall to pieces and went stomping off to look for other things to smash. As far as we can tell, it’s heading for Terror Mountain. I’ve never known a day like this on Funfair Moon. So if you really know what’s causing all these accidents…”
“I don’t think they are accidents,” said Emily.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that—” said Emily, and then went “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkk!” for a few seconds as the roller coaster plunged down a vertical section into a deep cave.
“I mean that I think someone’s doing all this deliberately,” she went on as the car went weaving speedily between the stalactites and stalagmites. “When I was on the Space Twizzler, I saw a black spiny creature rustling about up there. The ghosts in the Ghost Train have been scared away by more of them. And Lord Krull said when his son went missing, there were black spiny creatures running the Learny-Go-Round, but it was meant to be closed today. These spiny blighters must have snuck in and set it working just so they could kidnap Lord Krull’s Colin.”
“Lord Krull is here?” asked Jinks. “His son is missing?”
“Yes, and he’s really mad about it. If Colin doesn’t show up, he says he’s going to unleash his Space Commandos and tear our puny fair to pieces.”
“Oh, that’s all we need,” grumbled Jinks, blinking as the car shot out into daylight again and started spiraling up toward an impossibly pointy peak. Below them, a huge, fluffy pink shape was clambering through the lower levels of the roller coaster, growling and bellowing. Who would have thought cotton candy would be so bad tempered? thought Emily.
“What is it so angry about?” she asked.
“You know how too much sugar can make you hyper and bad tempered?” asked Jinks. “Well, the cotton-candy creature is made of sugar. It’s on a gigantic sugar rush. It needs to get some greens in its diet.”
The cotton-candy monster seemed to understand this in its primitive way. It was snatching up handfuls of the trees that grew on the lower slopes of Terror Mountain and cramming them into its pink cave of a mouth. But it was also eating rocks and the big neon sign that said TERROR MOUNTAIN, and Emily didn’t think those were going to do it much good. She said, “I bet one of those spiky creatures has been meddling with the cotton-candy vats as well….”
O’Hare shrugged a shrug that meant But why?
“Who are they?” asked Jinks. “Why would they want to sabotage our funfair?”
“I don’t know,” said Emily. “But See-Through George—he’s this ghost I made friends with—he said they came up through the floor of the ghost train.”
“Maybe they’re using the old tunnels under the fair to move around,” mused Jinks. Then they all went “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!” as the roller coaster reached the top of the mountain and dropped several thousand feet, straight down.
The cotton-candy monster heard them. It looked up, and its sticky pink face creased into an angry frown. It started scrambling through the loops and twirls of track, aiming to cut the car off when it reached the bottom of the drop.
In the car, Emily and O’Hare felt their hair dragged backward by the force of the wind as they sped down toward the waiting monster. Jinks didn’t have any hair, but his eyestalks were blown backward. Emily couldn’t understand how the repairmen managed to keep their hats on, but they did. Jinks reached into his toolbox and pulled out a gun.
“You’re going to shoot it?” asked Emily, feeling a bit sorry for the cotton-candy monster.
“Just tranquilizer darts,” said Jinks. “We haven’t had to use them since the Rigellian Megawhale in the Sea Life Park evolved legs and started eating all the swingboats. That was before your time, young Emily….”
The cotton-candy monster had reached the section of track they were whizzing down. It glooped itself around the track, reaching out with huge pink hands as the car came rushing toward it.
Jinks threw the tranquilizer gun to O’Hare and said, “Remember, short, controlled bursts…”
O’Hare closed one eye and took careful aim, though Emily didn’t really see why he needed to, since they were so close now, and the monster was so big, that he couldn’t really miss
.
Phut phut phut phut! went the gun.
The monster lunged at them. A huge pink hand closed around the car and ripped it off the tracks. They were raised high into the air, above the angry creature’s roaring mouth. Then the roar turned into a yawn, the huge, sticky fingers lost their grip, and the car dropped like a stone.
“Eeeeek!” screamed Emily.
Everything went pink.
When she managed to scrape the cotton candy out of her eyes, she found that the car was lying on its side on the monster’s chest. The monster was lying next to the roller coaster track, snoring gently.
Jinks undid Emily’s safety belt and helped her out. They climbed down the monster’s sleeping side to the ground.
“Everyone okay?” asked Jinks. “Right, we need to get back to the ghost train and see if we can find out who these spiny critters are and what they want.”
At the Terror Mountain exit, O’Hare passed his tranquilizer gun to the worried staff. “The cotton-candy creature will sleep for a few hours,” said Jinks. “Hopefully it’ll be in a better mood when it wakes up. If not, just tranquilize it again.”
A train clattered past, filled with happy Cub Scouts on their way to the boating lake. Jinks flagged it down. “Can you drop us off at the ghost train?”
“Not in that state,” said the driver. “You’re a mass of cotton candy. You’ll get your sticky fingers all over my nice clean seats.”
“But this is an emergency!” shouted Jinks. He shook his fist at the train as it breezed off. “Idiot!”
O’Hare tugged at his sleeve and pointed. Not far off was a bumper-car arena. Dozens of the little cars, which looked like colored metal baby shoes, were zooming about and slamming into one another. In most funfairs, the bumper cars were powered by electric cables in the roof, but on Funfair Moon, they had their own engines; they could go anywhere.
O’Hare led the way, and Jinks and Emily followed him. There were some empty bumper cars parked up at the edge of the arena, and they each climbed into one. Jinks’s car was immediately crashed into by a car full of cheering students from Alpha Centauri. “Stop it!” he shouted. “I’m on official business, I am! Stop it, I say! Ooof!”
The students were having too much fun ramming Jinks’s car to take any notice of what he was shouting. O’Hare shrugged at Emily. Then he put his foot down and rammed the students’ car so hard that it went skittering right across the arena, where it was set upon by some other bumper cars.
“Thank you, O’Hare,” said Jinks, straightening his bowler. Then he turned his car around and crashed out through the low wall that ran around the arena, bouncing down onto the grass outside. O’Hare and Emily drove out after him. “We’re on official business, we are!” shouted Emily over her shoulder when the bumper-car man came running after them to ask what the big idea was.
They quickly left him behind. The bumper cars were speedy and easy to steer. The little convoy whisked through the crowds, Jinks in the lead, sounding his horn in a loud, official way. They were just passing the teacups ride when a bulky figure in black battle armor barged out in front of them.
“Out of the way!” shouted Jinks, but the figure didn’t move. It didn’t even move when Jinks’s bumper car bashed into it. Jinks stopped the car, and O’Hare’s and Emily’s cars piled into the back of him, doof, thunk.
“Stop, in the name of Krull!” said the soldier. Looking at all the skull-and-crossbones badges on his battle-scarred armor and all the guns and power-swords he was carrying, Emily guessed that he must be one of Lord Krull’s Space Commandos. More of them appeared, surrounding the bumper cars.
“Have you found Colin, son of Krull?” they demanded.
“Not yet,” said Jinks. “We’re still looking, though….”
“Lord Krull grows impatient,” said another soldier. “He thinks it might help you to concentrate if we blew up a few of your pathetic funfair rides.”
“You mustn’t do that!” said Emily.
The first soldier was looking at Jinks’s car as if he had only just noticed it. “What are these strange vehicles?” he asked.
“These are bumper cars,” said Emily. “You drive about in them and bump each other. It’s fun.”
“Emily,” said Jinks, “these are ruthless, highly trained Space Commandos. I don’t think they’re going to be distracted by bumper cars.”
But the Space Commandos were looking at each other uncertainly.
“Fun?” they asked.
“Try it!” said Emily, climbing out of her car. Jinks and O’Hare got out of theirs, too, and the soldiers climbed warily into the little cars, gripping the steering wheels in their huge gloved hands. One of them must have found the foot pedal because his car shot forward and slammed into the bumper of the car in front.
“Ooh, that is kind of fun!” he said.
“Don’t think you can distract us from our mission with your pathetic pastimes,” snapped the first soldier, but just then one of the others drove full tilt into his car. “Ooof! I’ll get you for that, Corporal Scarfist!”
“Can’t catch me!” the corporal jeered, spinning his car around and zooming off through the crowds with the others close behind him.
As the sounds of colliding bumpers faded, the remaining Space Commandos looked hopefully at Emily.
“Do we get a go?” they asked. “Are there any more little cars?”
“There’s a whole arena full of them back up the path a way,” she said. “And there’s loads of other things you can do, too. Why not have a go on the teacups?” She pointed to the nearby ride, where giant teacups went twirling around and around a track. Jinks waved to the lady who was operating them, and she brought the cups to a standstill and invited the Space Commandos aboard. They sat down gingerly on the seats, as if they were expecting the ride to be a trap, but once the cups started to move, they soon relaxed. “Wheeee!” they shouted as they went whirling around.
Jinks beckoned to O’Hare and Emily. “I owe you an apology, Emily,” he said as they tiptoed away. “It turns out highly trained Space Commandos can be distracted by bumper cars. Well done!”
Emily beamed. She was so proud that she felt as if she were floating, like one of the silvery balloons the balloon sellers sold.
They took a shortcut between the swingboats and soon reached the ghost train. It seemed to be working normally again; cars full of passengers were trundling in at one end and out at the other, and nobody was asking for their money back.
“Are the ghosts back at work?” Emily asked Stan.
“No,” said Stan, helping them aboard a pod. “But apparently there are some spiny, rustly black things in there. They’re not as scary as your actual ghosts, but everyone says they’re quite spooky. She’s very good, this assistant of yours, Mr. Jinks.”
“Assistant?” huffed Jinks as the pod rolled on its way toward the ghost train entrance. “Emily isn’t our assistant! Wherever did he get that idea?”
Emily looked the other way and pretended she hadn’t heard. Pinned to the wall beside the track where the pod ran were lots of photos of other pods and their passengers. They were pictures taken by automatic cameras of the terrified visitors emerging at the other end of the ride: if you wanted, you could buy a framed one of yourself as a souvenir, or have it printed on a T-shirt under the slogan I’ve Been Haunted at Funfair Moon. Busy ignoring Jinks’s question, Emily watched the scared faces go by, until she noticed one that wasn’t scared. In fact, it was kind of familiar. A small, plump man had been photographed sitting in the back of one of the pods, looking grumpy and unimpressed. He hadn’t been wearing his funfair inspector’s uniform or his massive funfair inspector’s hat, and he had been wearing a very unconvincing fake mustache, but she was pretty sure that he was Mr. Moonbottom.
She remembered what Stan had said about the grumpy passenger who had ridden the train last week. Could it have been Mr. Moonbottom? Maybe it had been his day off. But the funfair inspector didn’t like funfairs, so why would he
visit one in his free time? And why wear a fake mustache? Emily would have thought he’d prefer to stay at home with his Peladorian Puffball pets.
It was all Most Mysterious. As the pod carried them through the curtain of cobwebs into the haunted mansion, Emily decided she would have to have another look at the photo when she came out, and make absolutely sure that it was Mr. Moonbottom before she mentioned it to Jinks and O’Hare.
Just inside the mansion, the pod stopped. Jinks, O’Hare, and Emily jumped out, and Jinks led the way to another of those doors marked STAFF ONLY. Behind it was a staircase, nothing like the dark, dusty, cobwebby staircases in the rest of the mansion. This one was quite clean and well lit, with pictures on the walls. They climbed it and knocked on a door at the top.
“Wh-who’s there?” asked a scared-sounding voice.
“Jinks and O’Hare,” said Jinks.
“And Emily,” said Emily.
The door opened, and they walked through into the ghosts’ living room. There were a TV, some comfy-looking chairs, and pictures on the walls. But mostly there were ghosts: big ones and small ones, some looking like king-sized duvet versions of See-Through George, others like walking skeletons or transparent people in old-fashioned clothes. See-Through George himself came shooting out of the little crowd to wrap Emily in a ghostly hug.
“This is Emily!” he said. “This is the girl who saved me from the Rustlers!”
“And these are Jinks and O’Hare,” said Emily. “They’ve come to get to the bottom of this mystery.”
“We’re not scared of Rustlers,” said Jinks while O’Hare and Emily struck Brave and Resourceful poses.
