The Warrior Sheep Down Under

by Christopher Russell

  The kangaroo leaned back. “Nothing. You look lost, that’s all.” His voice had become slightly cooler.

  “Lost? Not me, mate,” growled Oxo.

  Sal edged in front of him before he could start a fight. “But we are a long way from home,” she said, and held up a front hoof. “From Eppingham, in fact.”

  The kangaroo looked surprised, but leaned down and touched her hoof with his small front paw.

  “Eppingham? That would be near…Sydney?” he guessed.

  It was Sal’s turn to look surprised. “Er…” she turned to Wills. “Is it, dear?”

  Wills was still bouncing with excitement at meeting kangaroos. “No,” he laughed. “It’s in England.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” said Sal.

  One of the young females tossed her head. “You’re fibberooing,” she said. “We get busloads of tourists from England and none of them look like you.”

  The joey piped up, “Are they the ones that go bright red in the sun?”

  “Lots of them do, yes, dear,” said his mother.

  “I’m not fibberooing,” said Wills, slightly hurt. “And we’re not tourists. We’re on a mission.” He glanced sideways at Oxo, not wanting to upset him. “And, er, we would appreciate some directions.”

  Sal took over again. “That’s quite right,” she said solemnly. “We have been called by the ancient Songs of the Fleece.”

  The joey giggled and his mother tapped his head. “Shhh…”

  “To save poor, sweet Tuftella,” continued Sal. “The fairest ewe of all. We believe she’s held captive in Maiden Tower. Have you by chance heard of such a place?”

  The kangaroos looked at each other.

  “Yeah,” said another of the females. “We know where you’re talking about.”

  “We do?” said the big male.

  “Well, you should, Boomer, y’big banana,” said the female. “It’s where they took you when your mum died.”

  “Oh, right…” said Boomer. “Y’mean Barton’s Billabong?”

  “Right,” said the female. “The sticky-up bit in the water’s called Maiden Tower.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Boomer. “I spent all my time there in a pillowcase.”

  “Is it far from here?” inquired Sal excitedly.

  “And does it have snapping monsters?” asked Oxo.

  “Yeah, gotta have snappin’ monsters, man,” said Links.

  “Maybe,” said Boomer. “I only met koalas and possums. But is it far? Yeah, the Billabong’s a heck of a stretch from here.”

  “We could take ’em as far as Lonely Flats,” suggested the female. “Point ’em in the right direction from there.”

  Boomer nodded. “We could do that, Jaz. Yeah…”

  “Well, what’re you waiting for then, y’big banana?” asked Jaz. “Lead the way.”

  “Right,” said Boomer. “Right.” And he turned and thrust off with his powerful hind legs. Just one bound took him half the length of a soccer field. He turned and looked back. “You coming or what?” he called.

  The warriors gulped and galloped after him, with Jaz and the rest of the kangaroos for company.

  “This is so wonderfully kind of you,” gasped Sal. “We’ve lost our fairy godtingy, you see.”

  “Crazy Brits,” squeaked the joey.

  His mother tapped his head again, a bit more sharply this time.

  24

  The Bunyip

  Back in Brisbane, Alice had been released with several warnings.

  “Crazy Brits,” muttered the Head of Security as he set her loose on the world again.

  Deidre and Shelly were waiting. So were Norm and Normette. Alice pretended not to notice their resemblance to rusty baked-bean cans. She’d lost a whole night and was in a hurry.

  “The last challenge?” she cried, when Deidre showed her the instructions on the laptop. “Well done, poppet.” Then she frowned suspiciously. “So what exactly is Lonely Flats?”

  “Start of the Jumpup Trail,” replied Shelly as Norman coughed into life.

  “Trail…?” Alice’s frown deepened. “Does that imply walking?”

  “Not half,” said Shelly. “Miles of the stuff.”

  • • •

  Lonely Flats turned out to be just that. Lonely. And flat.

  As Norman trundled to a halt and Alice climbed stiffly out, a tall, thin man strolled toward her from a long, low building at the side of the dirt road. The only building. Nothingness stretched beyond it. It was almost sunset.

  “You’re a bit late,” said the man, stretching out his hand. He was wearing jeans and a loose long-sleeved shirt. A baseball cap shaded his dark-skinned face.

  Alice managed a smile and shook his hand. “Yes,” she said tersely. “The engine of our so-called vehicle overheated, wouldn’t you know. And we had to wait for it to cool down.” She shot an angry glance at Shelly, who was now standing beside the troublesome Norm. “And you are…?”

  “The name’s Jon,” said the man. “Motte and Bailey were old mates of mine. I promised them I’d get you started safely on the trail.” He pointed into the sunset. “The beginning’s marked. You turn off this dirt road about twenty minutes down. From there, it should take you about twelve hours to get to Jumpup Crossing.” He held up a smallish rucksack. “You’re supposed to make do with bush tucker. But I’d be happier if you took an emergency food ration. We needn’t tell Mr. Creeply.”

  “Bush tucker?” Alice was already jolted by the prospect of a twelve-hour walk.

  Jon smiled. “Berries, nuts. There’s a chart showing which ones are poisonous. If you’re lucky, you might catch a lizard or two. And if you’re very lucky, you might even manage to dig up a few witchetty grubs.”

  Alice went paler still. Shelly’s grin was as big as a slice of melon.

  Jon put down the rucksack and picked up a roll of khaki canvas from beside it. “I think you should take a swag too. Keeps the mossies off, if nothing else.” He flicked his wrist and the canvas unrolled.

  Alice stared in horror at the stiff sleeping bag now spread out on the dirt.

  “No tent?” she asked faintly.

  Shelly was quivering with silent laughter. “No tent,” she chortled. “Just the swag. In the open. Under the stars.”

  “The most important thing to remember about using a swag,” said Jon, “is to check before you get into it.” He squatted down and unzipped the side of the canvas bag, then, pulling his shirtsleeve down over his hand, so no skin was left uncovered, he put his arm into the swag and felt around. “Any number of things could have snuck in: spiders—some of them are poisonous. Snakes…”

  Alice was rigid.

  Jon straightened up and smiled at her again. “It’s OK now but if you decide to use it, check again before you get in.”

  He helped Alice put on the rucksack, while Shelly re-rolled the swag.

  “My advice, though, would be to walk through the night. It’s cooler.”

  Alice gulped and stared at him.

  “You’ll be fine.” Jon smiled encouragingly. “That way.” He pointed again.

  Alice started walking.

  “Watch out for the Bunyip,” Shelly called.

  “The what…?” Alice turned.

  “The Bunyip. It hangs out in the bush. Especially around creeks and billabongs. A real nasty beast.”

  Jon frowned at Shelly.

  “Ignore her,” he called. “The Bunyip’s just one of our Aboriginal legends. A myth. Like your Loch Ness Monster? And this young lady is very naughty for mentioning it.”

  Alice didn’t thank Jon for his kind words. She glared at Shelly, then stumbled off under the slight but unfamiliar weight of the rucksack on her back.

  “Sorry,” said Shelly. “I shouldn’t have said that.” She stood looking guilty for a moment, then grinned. “Any chance of a ginger beer?”

  • • •

  The humans were still indoors drinking ginger beer when Boomer and Jaz and their mob of kangaroo
s bounced into Lonely Flats, accompanied by a small flock of panting sheep.

  “There y’go,” said Boomer. “The trail shoots through to Jumpup Crossing, and Barton’s Billabong is just a coupla bounces away from there.”

  “Respect,” said Links. And he led a high hooves and paws with the kangaroos.

  “Hey, just watch out for salties,” Boomer called as the kangaroos bounced away. “There’s still a few around after the floods.”

  “Watch out for what?” asked Oxo, when the kangaroos had disappeared into the bush.

  “Er, salties,” said Wills. “I’ve no idea what they are.”

  Sal wasn’t listening. She was peering into the distance along the Jumpup Trail. “Is it just my eyes,” she asked in a hushed voice. “Or can I see our fairy godtingy…?”

  The warriors stared. It was getting dark, but they could all see a short, plump human plodding away along the track in front of them. The human disappeared round a bend.

  “After her!” shouted Oxo.

  They’d almost caught up when Links slowed down.

  “Not so noisy,” he warned. “We don’t think we’s scary, but ’member how she jumped out of the mud bath ting when she see’d us?”

  “How very wise,” said Sal. “It’s easy to forget how imposing we rare breeds must look to others. We must not overwhelm her this time…”

  They hurried forward again, on tip-hooves, making hardly any sound on the soft, red dirt of the track. Soon, there was only a short gap between themselves and the fairy godtingy.

  Alice glanced up. Evening had quickly turned to night. She had never seen so many stars. But she didn’t stop to wonder at their beauty. She found the sharp, white starlight even more scary than total darkness, and she jumped every time she saw the smallest shadow on the trail. She walked more quickly.

  Then she heard it. A sound like breathing, close behind her. Could it be…? She hesitated, then walked faster still. The sound of breathing stayed right behind her. She told herself to stop panicking. The Bunyip didn’t exist. It was a myth. She stopped. The breathing was still close. Very, very close. She turned slowly.

  And saw ten yellow eyes staring at her!

  “Aaaarggghhh!” Alice screamed loudly, turned, and ran.

  “She did it again,” groaned Links. “Even though we’s softly softly…”

  “Yeah. How are we s’posed to stick to her side if she keeps running away?” asked Oxo.

  “Not only that,” said Jaycey, before Sal could speak. “If she’s supposed to be leading us to tacky Tuftella, how come we haven’t heard any sobbing and sighing in ages?” She turned and glared at Wills. “Maybe you got it all wrong about the fairy godtingy!”

  Wills hung his head. She had a point. As far as he could remember, the fairy godmothers in Tod’s books never screamed and ran away. He looked up sadly. “Maybe I did,” he said quietly.

  “Ohmygrass!” Jaycey tossed her head. “So now you’re saying I’ve been soaked, bounced, boiled, and baked for nothing?”

  Sal suddenly stamped a hoof. “Oh, for Aries’s sake, Jaycey! Wills was not wrong. And our fairy godtingy is leading us. There is nothing in the Songs of the Fleece that says she has to stop for a chat!”

  There was an uncomfortable silence, as there always was when Sal got annoyed.

  “Are we going to give up now?” she demanded. “Having traveled so far? Farther than any of our kind have traveled in the history of sheepdom?”

  The silence became more uncomfortable still.

  “No,” said Sal. “We are not. Onward, rare breeds!”

  So onward they went.

  • • •

  After her first scream, Alice had run until she’d tripped over. And when she’d turned for another fearful look over her shoulder, the Bunyip’s yellow eyes were still staring at her. All ten of them. She dived off the trail, stumbled a few paces, then threw her swag in among the knee-high spiky grass. There was nowhere else to hide. She unzipped the swag with trembling fingers, wriggled in feet first, then yanked the zip right up again so that only the very top of her head was showing. She forgot everything Jon had said about checking inside.

  • • •

  A short while later, the Warrior Sheep trotted by. They didn’t notice the long, browny-green tube lying in the grass. If Oxo had seen it, he might have tried it for taste, but he didn’t and the warriors hurried on. And on.

  “Ohmyhooves…!” Jaycey sat down abruptly. “I’m soooo tired. Can’t we stop, Sal? Please?”

  Sal squinted ahead into the darkness. She was surprised, and secretly a little worried that they hadn’t caught up with the fairy godtingy again. But Jaycey did look tired. They all were. What with one thing and another, they’d had hardly any sleep since arriving in Australia.

  “Forty winks then,” she said kindly.

  They found a patch of not-too-scratchy grass and, by trampling it as they turned round and round a few times, made a fairly nice place to lie.

  “Only forty winks, remember,” said Sal, sagging on to her large, comfy rump.

  The others were already snoring.

  They didn’t hear the soft footfall in the bush nearby.

  25

  The Jumpup Trail

  Tod and Ida had spent the day waiting at the airport. They’d forgotten there was only one plane a day from Brisbane to Barton’s Billabong and it was dark by the time they arrived back.

  Tod glanced up at the tower, remembering the light he thought he’d seen there a few nights earlier. But then a really bright beam of light suddenly shone in their eyes, blinding them for a moment.

  “Who’s there?” demanded a voice. Nat lowered his torch. “Oh, it’s only you guys.”

  Tod forgot the light in the tower.

  “We’ve been trying to phone my brother,” said Ida. “Is he all right?”

  “I dunno,” said Nat. “I’ve been looking for him all day. He’s not in his house. I was just going to call you.”

  “Have you asked Mr. Creeply?” said Tod.

  Nat nodded. “Yeah. But he never comes out of his office so he’s hardly likely to know.” He suddenly patted Ida’s arm. “Don’t look so worried. I’ll bet a fistful of dollars he’s had a phone call about an injured joey and gone off to pick it up.”

  “Without telling anyone?” asked Ida, disbelievingly.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” replied Nat. “He’s not used to having people around, remember.” He gave Ida a brief smile. “If he doesn’t turn up in the morning, we’ll get the police to go look for him.”

  • • •

  At daybreak on the Jumpup Trail, Alice was wondering if she dared get out of her swag. She’d lain awake most of the night, too scared to move, but as the darkness gave way to dawn, she knew she had to. There was a long way to go to Jumpup Crossing and her time was running out. She peeped fearfully from her swag. No yellow eyes. No Bunyip.

  Alice wriggled out and looked around. Nothing! Just endless nothing. But at least it wasn’t dark anymore. She ate her meager emergency rations in one go and tossed the empty rucksack away. Then she looked down at the grubby swag she’d sweated in all night, felt a surge of anger, and kicked it hard. A black, hairy leg, about as long as her longest finger, emerged from inside. Then another leg. Then six more as a humongous spider crawled out. It was black and orange and the size of a dinner plate. It paused for a moment as if blinking in the light, then scuttled straight toward Alice’s feet.

  Her scream would have terrified a busload of Bunyips.

  • • •

  The warriors had exceeded their forty winks by several thousand. But they all sprang awake as the human scream shattered the Outback silence.

  “Whassat?” Oxo was first to his feet, head raised in readiness.

  Then he blinked. The sheep were not alone.

  Oxo was staring at the bony knees of a creature that was silently towering over them. Looking up, he saw, on top of the long thin legs, a roundish body covered in shaggy gray feathe
rs. And above that was a long gray neck, topped by a small head from which amber-colored eyes bulged.

  The creature made no sound. Then, suddenly, it reached out its neck and jabbed a sharp, yellow beak into Oxo’s chest.

  “Oi—watch it!” Oxo was so surprised, he took a step backward; something he rarely did.

  “Ohmygrass…” whimpered Jaycey, cowering next to Sal. “What kind of bird is that?” She was guessing it was a bird. She couldn’t think of anything else that had two legs and a beak. Even Wills didn’t know.

  “The big, ugly kind,” grunted Oxo, recovering from his surprise.

  “Ugly? You ever looked in a pool of water, mate?” The creature cocked its head to one side and regarded Oxo with its bright, amber eye. “What are you, anyway? Some kind of woolly kangaroo?” Then, without waiting for an answer, it darted forward and prodded Oxo’s chest again with its yellow beak. This was fun. The best since it had dared to prod a wombat.

  “Oi! I warned you!” Oxo spluttered.

  The bird drew its neck back and bobbed its head. “Just curious,” it said. “We get some weird lookin’ creatures around here but I never saw one like you before.”

  “Yeah, well, curiosity killed the cat,” growled Oxo.

  “It never killed an emu, though.” The bird fluffed its feathers and ducked its head cheekily, pretending to jab Oxo again.

  Oxo glared at it. “Hit me one more time and you’ll be the first!”

  Links thrust out his curly chest. It was time to give Oxo some support. “You’d better listen to what he says, man. Show some respect. We is warriors.”

  The long, gray, feathery neck suddenly shot out and Links felt the iron-hard beak jab into his own shoulder.

  “Oops,” tittered the emu. “Sorry.”

  “Hey…” Links staggered back a few steps.

  “OK, stick legs,” roared Oxo. “If it’s a fight you want!” He reversed rapidly for a run-up, lowered his great head, and charged.

  The emu skipped out of the way. “Call that a charge?” he inquired, as Oxo skidded past. “I’ve seen dead dingoes move quicker.”

  “I said show some respect, man!” shouted Links, and he too lowered his head.