The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 5)

by Perrin Briar

  “Leaving us without cattle, without crops, with nothing but a dead island,” Fritz said. “I’m not sure if I’d put much stock in that idea.”

  “Me neither, to be honest,” Ernest said.

  He looked down between his feet at the ground below.

  “I miss home,” Ernest said.

  “This is home,” Fritz said.

  “I mean our real home,” Ernest said. “Do you think our friends and family are still there?”

  “Probably,” Fritz said. “Though I hope they’re of a livelier disposition than our current company on this island.”

  “I remember in History, studying the French invasion of Switzerland in 1798,” Ernest said. “Chucerne was the only town capable of resisting them. We didn’t have a huge population or well-trained troops. We survived because of the terrain. There is only one way in and out of Churcerne. The land itself protected us, like Russia with her frigid winters. Do you think they could defend themselves like that again?”

  “There’s no reason why it couldn’t happen again, I suppose,” Fritz said. “But it’s better to expect nothing. For everyone to be gone, and then when we go there, if there are people left, we can be happy and not depressed. It can only be better than we expected.”

  “Until then you live in fear,” Ernest said.

  “No, I live in hope,” Fritz said. “I just won’t be as disappointed as you will be.”

  Ernest looked out at the moon hanging low and bright in the sky, the craters massive like pock marks on its shiny surface.

  “It’s not so bad here though, is it?” he said.

  “Not so bad,” Fritz said. “Except there’s no future here.”

  “It’s the same everywhere these days,” Ernest said.

  Something slapped a bunch of leaves, like an open palm smacking bare skin. A flash of white whipped past a gap in the shrubbery. Fritz and Ernest stiffened, gripping the struts of the balcony with white-knuckled fists.

  There was a grunt below them in the animal pen. Valiant shorted and dug his front hoof in the soil, looking toward the jungle, in the direction of the noise.

  Flap, flap, flap…

  The sound disappeared deep into the jungle. Fritz and Ernest relaxed.

  “They’re getting closer,” Fritz said.

  “Come morning, we can’t just sit here,” Ernest said. “We have to do something.”

  “What would you have us do?” Fritz said. “We’ll do anything that sounds half reasonable right now.”

  Francis mumbled in his sleep. He rolled over, away from his noisy brothers.

  “The problem is their speed,” Ernest said. “If there was some way we could travel as fast as them…”

  Ernest’s eyes widened. He clicked his fingers.

  “Yes! That’s it!” he said. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? It’s so obvious!”

  “Wait,” Fritz said. “What’s obvious?”

  “I know what to do!” Ernest said. “I have a plan!”

  Francis shot up into a sitting position.

  “Wha?” he said, eyes heavy and groggy with sleep. His eyes fluttered closed and he fell back to bed.

  “What?” Fritz said. “What’s the idea?”

  Ernest bent down and shook Jack and Francis by the shoulders. They grumbled but didn’t wake up.

  “Get up!” Ernest said. “We’ve got work to do!”

  Ernest ran into Bill and Liz’s bedroom.

  “I’ve got it!” he shouted.

  Liz shot up, instantly awake. Bill was still fast asleep, snoring, his blistered feet hanging over the end of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Liz said. “Your father’s exhausted.”

  “I’ve got an idea!” Ernest said. “How to beat them!”

  “Can’t it wait till morning?” Liz said.

  “It’ll be daylight soon,” Ernest said.

  Liz sighed and then leaned over Bill, nudging him awake.

  “Bill,” she said. “Wake up, honey.”

  Bill turned, his face thick with sleep. Drool hung out the corner of his mouth.

  “The Spinners!” Ernest said. “We can’t catch them or force them over the cliff because they’re too fast!”

  “Yes, so?” Liz said. “We know this already.”

  “So we need a way to keep up with them!” Ernest said. “Not only keep up with them, but to go faster than them!”

  “Is this going anywhere?” Bill said, face stretching into a wide yawn.

  “The animals!” Ernest said. “We’ll use the animals! We’ll ride them and force the Spinners over the cliff like a giant game of bumper cars!”

  Ernest chuckled like a mad scientist and ran out of the room. Fritz looked at his parents. Liz wore a deep frown. Bill’s eyes were ringed with grey, incapable of anything except staring into space. Fritz moved to the window that looked down on the animal pen outside. Ernest jumped the fence and ran amongst the animals. They shied away from him. They hardly looked like Spinner killer material to Fritz.

  “He’s gone mad,” Fritz said.

  Chapter Eight

  The family were up soon after Ernest’s idea had been shared with them, before even the sun had fully risen. Bill and Fritz headed into the jungle and cut down several mature bamboo trees. They lashed them to Lightfoot and Lightning and dragged them into the clearing.

  They took careful measurements and set to shaping and cutting out the pieces of bamboo, identifying the thickest, strongest sections. Liz, Ernest and Jack drilled holes and passed woven vines through them. Francis kept watch along with Fritz’s bird Beast high in the treehouse. He stood up, peering deep into the jungle. Beast screeched.

  “They’re coming!” Francis said.

  The foliage rustled, the undergrowth snapping. The Robinsons reached for their weapons. Mutilated bodies, grazed, cut and dirtied, flashed in the foliage. They made the same hideous wet flapping noise that rose into a cacophony.

  The cattle in their pen went wild, running and dashing in different directions, unsure where to go, but knowing their current location was not safe. Then the snapping twigs and rush of foliage dissipated. Only once the animals stopped baying, snorting and mehing did the Robinsons lower their weapons.

  “They’re getting closer,” Bill said.

  “We have to hurry,” Liz said.

  They bent down over their worktops and got back to sawing, chopping and screwing the armour into shape. It was nearing midday when Bill led the best behaved goat out from the pen and tied her to a hitching post. He picked up a small breastplate made from bamboo. Bill had screwed reinforced strips of metal into it to strengthen it. He wrapped the straps around the goat’s front legs and chest, and then led the goat around on her lead.

  “She seems comfortable, don’t you think?” Bill said to Liz, picking up the pace and making the goat run.

  “Yes,” Liz said. “Does the armour come in pink?”

  Next, Bill affixed armour over the goat’s back and haunches, as well as specially-designed blinkers. The goat would run a mile if she saw what she was facing.

  “She looks badass,” Jack said. “We should paint some skulls on the front.”

  “Yeah,” Fritz said, rolling his eyes. “That’ll demoralise the Spinners.”

  They put the armour on the other animals they would be riding – Lightning, Lightfoot, Herdy, and Valiant. Sometimes the armour rubbed the soft skin around the animals’ legs. The family shaved off any rough edges to make the armour as comfortable as possible. Then the family members put their own armour on. They flinched when they put their boots on – the blisters on their feet hadn’t healed yet.

  Liz climbed onto Lightning’s back and strapped a short shield to her forearm. The zebra swished her tail and snorted with excitement, no doubt expecting another race. Fritz climbed onto Lightfoot’s back. The donkey showed no such excitement. Bill took to his chariot, the four goats in front ducking their heads down and chewing on the grass at their hooves. Ernest made to climb o
nto Valiant’s back, but the great bull turned and trotted away. Ernest chased after him. He put his foot into a stirrup and began to pull himself up, but Valiant trotted away again. Ernest hopped on his free leg before losing his footing.

  “He doesn’t want me to ride him,” Ernest said.

  “Then you’ll have to ride something else,” Bill said.

  “Like what?” Ernest said.

  Gwek!

  “No!” Ernest said. “I won’t ride her. Not again.”

  “She’s the fastest creature we have,” Bill said. “She could do a lot of good.”

  “We haven’t got any armour for her,” Ernest said. “We’d be dead within thirty seconds.”

  Bill picked up a set of armour plates.

  “I made some for her,” he said.

  “That was fortunate,” Ernest said drily.

  “I thought it prudent,” Bill said. “You know how cantankerous Valiant can be.”

  “Shall I ride Valiant?” Francis said, climbing down the treehouse ladder wearing his armour. “He’ll listen to me.”

  “Francis, we need you to stay here and guard the fort,” Liz said.

  “But it’s not a fort!” Francis said. “It’s a treehouse! I want to come with you.”

  “You can’t come,” Bill said. “Not today.”

  “Not today, not yesterday, not every day!” Francis said, screwing up his face. “Why can’t I come?”

  “One day you will come with us and you’ll wish you didn’t have to,” Bill said.

  “Jack was my age when he first went out hunting with you,” Francis said.

  “Jack was a year older than you,” Liz said.

  “I’ll trade places with him,” Ernest said.

  “You’re not helping, Ernest,” Liz said.

  “But no one else can ride Valiant – he won’t let you!” Francis said. “I can ride him and I can help – all of you. I would have won the race if it wasn’t for the jaguar!”

  “You are helping us,” Bill said softly, “by staying here and protecting our home. Be our guard. The animals and plants need you.”

  Francis turned away.

  “I’m not a child anymore,” he said. “I’ve seen what’s out there, what keeps trying to get us. I want to fight them.”

  “You will fight them,” Bill said. “But not today. It’s not because you’re not big and strong and brave – you are. It’s just that we need to be able to hold our shields up against the Spinners.”

  “I can do that!” Francis said.

  Bill pressed his lips together.

  “Lift and carry that shield,” Bill said, pointing to a solid block of wood as tall as Francis and twice as wide.

  “Bill-” Liz said.

  Bill waved Liz away.

  “Try,” Bill said.

  “All right,” Francis said.

  He pouted and grabbed the shield. He bent his knees and lifted it with both arms. They shook with the effort. It came out of the soil by an inch. Francis put it back down.

  “I did it!” he said. “See?”

  “Now bring it over here,” Bill said, pointing to the ground at his feet.

  Francis eyed the distance. It was short, no more than four or five feet. He licked his lips and gripped the shield handle with both hands. His face turned red with the strain. He managed to lift the shield, his whole body shaking. He took a step forward. He gasped, and dropped it. Francis looked at his feet in shame. Bill snapped his reins and approached Francis. He laid his hands on his son’s small shoulders.

  “You will come with us one day,” he said. “I promise. But it will be when you’re ready. You’re too important to us all to lose. Okay?”

  Francis nodded, wiping his snotty nose.

  “Hey, chin up,” Bill said. “You’ve got a very important job to do.”

  Francis nodded, his smile broken.

  “Let’s move out,” Bill said.

  Francis watched his family leave with tears in his eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  The animals were slow and skittish at first. They were not used to having their eyes covered, and jumped like they’d been stung with each unexpected rustle from the underbrush. Worse was the fact the animals could not avoid obvious obstacles automatically. The riders had to lead with great care, as if the animal was a part of them, aware of every obstacle and recess they came to. But after an hour of trudging through the jungle, negotiating their way through the tree limbs that bore down on them, thick and oppressive and sinister, rider and steed alike learned to trust the other.

  Flap, flap, flap, flap.

  Lightning and Lightfoot skittered slightly, alarmed by the sound. The goats and Clementine, normally the most skittish animals, appeared to be calm and relaxed. Every member of the family gripped their reins tight.

  “Everyone take your position,” Bill said.

  The family formed into a line, standing shoulder to shoulder. They waited as the snap of foliage grew louder, and semi-decomposed flesh flashed at them from between gaps in the trees.

  “Let’s get one on his own,” Bill said. “We can practice if we team up on him.”

  Dirt was kicked up from an unseen limb to their right, like a child’s wellington in a puddle. Another Spinner struck a low-hanging tree branch, snapping it in half, and all the time there was the whirlwind sound:

  Flap, flap. Flap, flap.

  Then a Spinner, tall and lank, burst through the foliage.

  “Ya!” Bill said, snapping his reins.

  The other riders followed his lead, darting forward. Bill sped up quickly, the chariot he rode taking the uneven surface with ease. The cartwheels rolled into a recess in the soil. Bill bent his knees to absorb the worst of the shock. At the last moment the Spinner began to turn in another direction, but Bill was already running at full speed. The goats lowered their heads naturally when they ran, and smacked hard into the Spinner, knocking it back. Bill snapped his reins and moved aside.

  “Form up behind me!” Liz said, and Ernest, Fritz and Jack made a line behind their mother.

  Liz charged at the Spinner just as it was beginning to get back onto its broken limbs. She knocked it back another five feet. Lightning grunted at the collision, rose up onto her back legs, and kicked at the fallen Spinner, her hooves cracking its skull and snapping the last of the skin that kept its head attached. The face rolled across the ground, eyes blinking and winking, nostrils flaring, like a man with severe ticks. Liz led Lightning away, and now it was Fritz’s turn. He pummelled the Spinner, causing it to skid along the ground. It flung out an arm, catching Lightfoot’s back leg, but he escaped, unscathed.

  One after another they hit the Spinner, driving him back, back, back, through the foliage, up the inclines, and down the crevasses. Those not immediately next in line circled around to join the back of the queue, working their necks hard, keeping an eye out for any other Spinners that might burst out at any moment.

  Clementine gweked and hurled her weight at the Spinner, knocking it into a tree. Leaves rained down, settling on the family’s shoulders. The creature’s limbs were broken and smashed, useless if it had been human, but the Spinner continued to twitch and vibrate, getting back up again.

  “Wait for it to move away from the tree,” Bill said.

  The Spinner got up, limped, and the moment it was away from the tree, Fritz shuttled into it, hitting it hard in the chest. If it hadn’t been such a despicable, unnatural creature Bill might have felt sorry for the beast. But it was mindless, incapable of even the most basic human emotions. It was nothing but a dangerous animal, and dangerous animals needed to be put down. Bill rose up in his stirrups, catching the smell of brine on the air.

  “We’re getting close to the sea,” he said. “Keep going. We’re almost there.”

  Jack ran Herdy forward. She threw her great hefty head up as she did so, lifting the Spinner off its limbs and over a thick bush. The Spinner stood on the cliff edge and rolled back and forth on its heels like a cornered animal.<
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  “Careful when you deliver the final blow,” Bill said. “The last thing we want is to go over the edge ourselves. A light tap is enough.”

  It was Ernest’s turn. He stepped forward with Clementine.

  “Remember Clementine can’t see,” Bill said. “She won’t stop automatically if you don’t pull on the reins.”

  Ernest took a deep breath and clucked out the corner of his mouth. He pushed Clementine forward at a gentle trot, and then increased speed at the last moment, connecting with the Spinner, knocking it over the side, its limbs flailing out to grab something, anything. It spun end over end, down into the frothy sea below.

  Ernest pulled the reins hard, bringing Clementine to a skidding stop, inches from the edge. Ernest could see the crashing waves below, and the twirling figure of the Spinner as it hit the rocks and exploded in a burst of red. The waves brushed the lumps against the rocks, the pieces wriggling and writhing like a fish out of water. Most sank beneath the surface.

  “Good work,” Bill said, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. “Fritz, Ernest, Jack, you form one team. Liz and I will form another. We’ll do as we did just now. Strike, and then come back around. Strike again, and come back around. It’ll be a lot tougher when there’s more than one of them. Try to break them apart and concentrate on one at a time, if you can. And keep your eyes open for other Spinners that might creep up on you from behind. These things are stupid, but they’re fast. Don’t underestimate them. Any questions?”

  There were none. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

  “Good luck,” Bill said.

  They split into two teams, in sight of each other as they scouted the same area of jungle.

  “Are you scared?” Jack said to his older brothers.

  “Nope,” Fritz said.

  “Ernest?” Jack said.

  “No,” Ernest said, his eyes moving like a pair of tossed marbles.

  “Me neither,” Jack said. His voice had a shiver in it.

  Flap. Flap, flap.

  Knuckles grew white around reins. Hoof steps became softer, taking smaller, more careful strides. Fritz waved his arm, catching Bill and Liz’s attention. He pointed in the direction of the flap sound. It came from beyond a rise six feet above them. A torrent of snapping branches and crushed leaves underfoot assaulted them, like a stampede was heading right for them. Jack’s mouth grew dry. Herdy shuffled from one foot to another. Dust and fragments of foliage drifted up over the rise and rained down on the family. Whatever was coming, it was big.