Alfie the Werewolf 4: Wolf Wood

by Paul van Loon

  ‘This is terrible,’ Alfie said. ‘They’re heading straight for the werewolf graveyard. What do we do now?’

  Dad sighed. ‘If only your mother was here. She’s so brave. She’d send those machines packing just like that, but now we have to think of something without her.’

  Leo patted himself on the chest. ‘Leo leads those machinerations away at risk of his own sweet life and limb. Alfie and Dadsie take off quicks-a-daisies.’

  ‘Are you sure, Leo?’ Alfie asked.

  Leo beat his chest with both paws. ‘No problemio. For Leo, that be as easy as crawling off a log. Leo be heaps faster than clumsy chip-chop machines. He knows the low ways and high ways inside and outside.’

  Dad nodded. ‘Hmm, good idea, Leo. That’s probably our only chance. You lure them away and Alfie and I will hurry back to the werewolf graveyard to make sure everything’s all right. And then we have to find the protest group.’

  Alfie stared drowsily into space as if he was dreaming. He could hear Dad’s voice, but he could also hear that other voice. ‘Dig under the stone, little werewolf. Its now or never …’ Alfie shook his head and tried to stay awake.

  Stone … he thought, headstone! He looked at Dad and Leo.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We have to hurry back to the graveyard. There’s something important there.’

  Leo jumped up. ‘OK, Leo goes firster. Watch this.’ He ran down the forest road towards the approaching machines. Their axes and saws and blades flashed in the moonlight, but Leo ignored them. He ran into the light of their headlights and started jumping up and down. He shook his paws and screamed at the drivers. ‘Hey, you, choppy chippy chappies. Here be Leo. Catch him if youse can.’

  22

  A Cry of Fright

  Leo picked up sticks and stones and hurled them at the machines. Behind the bush, Alfie and Dad watched breathlessly.

  ‘It’s working,’ Dad whispered. ‘They’ve stopped. Look, now they’re chasing Leo.’

  ‘Wrow, Leo is really brave.’

  The tall werewolf threw more things at the machine. They heard the clatter of shattering glass.

  ‘Wrow, Leo’s smashed a window in the chopping machine. Now they’re really mad.’

  Leo disappeared into the wood, pursued by the machines, which mowed down any trees that got in their way.

  ‘Now it’s our turn,’ Dad said, pulling his mobile phone out of his pocket.

  ‘Wrow, who are you calling, Dad? The police?’

  Dad shook his head. ‘No, M3.’

  Alfie sighed. ‘I don’t think those monstrous machines are going to be scared of a bunch of men singing songs.’

  Dad smiled, typed in a number and passed on a quick message. ‘There, that should do it,’ he said. ‘M3 isn’t a singing group, Alfie. And it’s not men either.’

  ‘Wrow?’

  ‘Come on, run.’

  Alfie shot off and Dad tried to keep up with him. It was easy enough to find the way back. Every werewolf is a track tracer with the ability to sniff out every little smell in the air or on the ground. With his snout close to the ground, Alfie followed the path he had run with Leo. The smell of Leo’s unwashed feet was particularly strong. Dad tried it too, getting down low to snuffle the ground, but all he smelt was earth and rotting leaves and sometimes poo.

  ‘Oh,’ he sighed. ‘If only I was a werewolf too.’

  Alfie thought about the protest group. And he thought about Noura. Where was she now? Behind them they could still hear the growl of the machines.

  Brave Leo, thought Alfie.

  When they reached the werewolf graveyard, the machines were out of earshot. Just then they heard a cry of fright.

  ‘Tim,’ growled Alfie.

  23

  We’ll Rescue Our Wood!

  Mr French and his class had arrived at Wolf Wood. Stars were twinkling high over the trees and their Chinese lanterns glowed dramatically in the dark. Ahmed and Larissa were holding a big banner with WROW written on it in thick letters. Three parents had come along to help supervise.

  Mr French cleared his throat. He looked up at the full moon and then at the dark wood. Now and then suspicious noises sounded in the distance.

  ‘Someone’s up to no good in Wolf Wood, class. Maybe those underhand woodcutters are already at it. Let’s do our chant once again and even louder this time. We’ll make sure they know that WROW is here. Maybe that will make them stop cutting down trees.’ He held up one hand.

  ‘W. R. O. W… . WE’LL RESCUE OUR WOOD!’ roared the class for the eleventh time. Even the parents joined in.

  Then it was quiet. They’d done it so often, some of the children had strained their voices. Ahmed’s and Larissa’s arms were tired and they let the banner droop.

  ‘When is the mayor going to show up?’ asked Rose.

  Vincent gave a mocking laugh. He was a still a little sweaty from his football match. ‘Do you really believe that the mayor is going to come? We’re just making fools of ourselves with an old sheet and paper lanterns. Nobody can hear us, nobody can see us. This whole stupid demonstration is completely pointless.’

  ‘Vincent, cut the moaning,’ Mr French said. ‘I bet you anything a magnificent limousine will drive up any moment now. The mayor has his own private chauffeur.’

  ‘And the press?’ asked Vincent.

  ‘The local TV station was going to send a reporter,’ the teacher answered.

  ‘I don’t see any reporters anywhere.’

  ‘They’ll be here, Vincent. Maybe there’s a blazing fire somewhere. Or a fatal accident. They’ll have to cover that first, of course. We’re all doing our best, so don’t go ruining things.’

  Vincent sniffed loudly. ‘All of us? Where are the ones who came up with this wonderful plan? I don’t see Noura anywhere. Or Alfie either for that matter.’

  ‘Blast it, Vincent. Could you just put a cork in it— What? Is Noura gone too?’ Suddenly Mr French fell silent. ‘How strange. Where has she got to? I’m sure she came with us. Has anyone seen her anywhere?’

  The children looked at each other and shook their heads. None of the parents had seen Noura leave either.

  ‘If you ask me, she was already gone before we got here,’ Rose said. ‘Maybe she went back home.’

  Mr French nodded. ‘Maybe, Rose, but that doesn’t sound like Noura. Especially not when the demonstration was her idea. And I haven’t seen Alfie all evening. Strange. I was sure he’d come along. It was his project.’ He shook his head. ‘To be honest, I’d expected more from Noura and Alfie.’

  ‘Ha,’ said Vincent. ‘Not me. We get to do the dirty work and they’re at home watching TV.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Vincent. There must be some other explanation.’ Mr French shrugged. ‘But, we can’t do anything about it now.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m afraid the mayor has forgotten us. Shall we go into the wood anyway? We’ll hang the banner up between two big trees, then tomorrow I’ll get the press to come and take photos of it.’

  Vincent sniggered. ‘Yeah, they’ll be sure to come and have a look. Just like today.’

  Mr French didn’t even react. He flicked on a torch. ‘Come on, guys.’

  One of the parents checked her watch too. ‘Yes, we’d better hang that banner up. It’s getting late.’

  The other two parents nodded. ‘Yes, and then we’ll all go home. A demonstration is fun, but we don’t want it lasting all night.’

  ‘Sir, wait,’ Larissa called suddenly. ‘There’s a bike coming.’

  A small wobbling light was coming down the road that led to the wood. All heads turned to watch the light as it approached. They could make out a dark figure bent over the handlebars.

  Mr French flashed a smile at Vincent. ‘I told you the press would come. That must be the reporter from the local TV station.’

  Finally the cyclist reached the group and got off his bike, panting heavily.

  Mr French strode up to him. ‘Great that you could make it after all. We
badly need a reporter here.’

  ‘Yes,’ blurted Larissa, ‘I guess there was a blazing accident somewhere. Or a fatal fire that needed covering up.’

  ‘Reporter?’ the cyclist panted. ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I only got your message this evening, Mr French. I’m sorry I’m a little late. Unfortunately my chauffeur couldn’t make it. It’s his day off, you see.’ He clicked out the bicycle stand with one foot. ‘I don’t have a driving licence myself, so I came by bike.’

  Mr French aimed the broad beam of his torch at the cyclist. He was wearing a tracksuit and a baseball cap and beads of sweat were running down his face. A heavy silver chain around his neck glittered in the bright light.

  Mr French swallowed. He recognized that face from photos in the newspaper.

  ‘Your Highness,’ he stammered. ‘Um, I mean, your Lordship, um, dear sir, um … F-fantastic that you could make it.’ He turned around to face his class. ‘Members of the WROW protest group, look who’s here.’

  24

  Who’s Here?

  ‘So?’ said Mr French. ‘Do you see who we have here?’

  The children stared at the sweaty man.

  ‘A cyclist?’ said Vincent. ‘What good is a sweaty cyclist? We’re waiting for the local TV. Or the mayor, but he won’t come, of course.’

  Mr French stamped his foot. ‘Vincent, are you really that dim or are you just pretending? Don’t you recognize him?’

  ‘Is he a famous racing cyclist?’ Vincent studied the man carefully. ‘Is he a champion or something? I suppose he won that silver necklace?’

  Mr French grabbed his head with both hands. ‘No, Vincent, that necklace is a chain of office. This is the mayor.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ cheered Rose as the other children started clapping. Vincent turned bright red. The mayor smiled and gave a small bow.

  ‘In your letter you said that it was about a serious matter, Mr French. Apparently something important is going on. In that case, I need to find out all about it. Especially now the elections for mayor are coming up. I’m sure you understand that.’ The mayor wiped the sweat from his cheeks. ‘So please tell me exactly what’s going on.’

  Mr French nodded. ‘Will you walk into the wood with us a little bit? I’ll tell you all about it on the way.’

  The mayor nodded.

  The WROW protest group followed Mr French into the wood with their lanterns looking like moving fairy lights. The mayor was pushing his bike and walking next to Mr French. The parents brought up the rear.

  They soon started to pass felled trees here and there and followed the trail of destruction to a clearing where lots and lots of trees had been cut down.

  ‘Look, they’ve already done a lot of damage here, Mr Mayor. It’s a tragedy. Wolf Wood is in danger. It’s a matter of preserving nature. That means a lot to us. Certain characters want to secretly clear Wolf Wood. They want to build flats here.’

  The mayor raised his eyebrows. ‘Hmmm, flats? Interesting. Is that so? I don’t know a thing about it. Do these people have a permit?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Mr French exclaimed. ‘That’s why they’re doing it at night. And that’s why we have to stop them.’

  In the distance there was a loud roar that made the mayor jump.

  ‘What’s that? Are there bears here?’

  ‘No, Vincent farted,’ shouted Ahmed.

  Everyone except Vincent laughed.

  They listened again, but couldn’t hear anything. Mr French raised one hand.

  ‘OK, kids, let the mayor hear who we are.’

  The children took up position around the mayor, raised their lanterns and launched into their war cry.

  ‘W.R.O.W. We’ll rescue our wood.’

  Ahmed and Larissa held up the banner.

  ‘We’re the WROW protest group,’ said Mr French. ‘We want to—’

  Before he could say anything else they heard another loud roar. Bright lights appeared on the wide path between the trees.

  A car came racing towards them at top speed. A long black car with dark windows. Its headlights swept over the bushes. Everyone stared disbelievingly at the car. The mayor pointed.

  ‘Hey, that car is driving in the wood. That’s against the law.’

  The car didn’t care and came racing straight at the action group.

  The children screamed and scattered, dropping the banner on the mayor, who disappeared underneath it, waving his arms helplessly while his bike clattered to the ground.

  Mr French was able to pull the mayor out of the way just in time.

  The car skidded to a halt where the mayor had been standing. The door swung open and a skinny man in a raincoat got out.

  ‘Sorry, mayor, I was a bit late hitting the brakes. I didn’t recognize you at first. But it’s a good thing you’re here. We need to speak to you urgently.’

  25

  Get Off!

  Branches and leaves swished against Alfie’s face as he ran into the werewolf graveyard.

  ‘Tim.’

  There was no answer.

  ‘Wrow. That was Tim’s cry I heard. I’m sure of it.’

  Dad gazed at the headstones in astonishment. They looked ghostly in the moonlight and cast long, angular shadows on the paths. For a moment he thought he could hear whispering voices. He rapped on his helmet and shook his head.

  How weird! I seem to be picking up sounds as if there’s a radio in my helmet. Or have I suddenly turned into a human antenna? Cool. He listened again, but couldn’t hear any more. Oh, too bad, he thought, hurrying on after Alfie. It was just my imagination.

  ‘Are these all werewolf graves, Alfie? Are you sure?’

  Alfie nodded. ‘And Grandpa Werewolf’s here too, but fortunately he’s still alive. We have to find Tim fast.’ Alfie looked around. ‘Wrow, I don’t remember which headstone it was. They all look alike and I can smell tracks from hundreds of years ago. There’s too many for me to find the right one. I wish Leo was here.’

  Suddenly there was another cry. Frightened birds fluttered up out of the trees.

  ‘That way, son.’ Dad pointed.

  Alfie tore off with Dad running along behind him. They raced between the headstones and suddenly saw movement in the distance.

  ‘Wrow, over there.’

  It looked like two dark figures wrestling next to a headstone.

  ‘Wrow, I think something serious is going on.’

  They ran up quickly. Alfie’s heart was pounding under his werewolf coat. What was happening? He heard Tim’s voice.

  ‘Go away. Get off. Help, Alfie.’

  Alfie ran around the headstone. Grandpa Werewolf was still leaning against it, motionless. Tim was lying on the ground under a hairy creature with a big tail. He wriggled and rolled back and forth, trying to push the creature off, but it wouldn’t budge. It grunted and swung its long tail through the air like a whip.

  ‘Wrow, Tim.’

  ‘Alfie, help,’ Tim called. ‘It’s trying to eat me up.’

  He sounded terrified. Alfie and Dad were frozen to the spot. First they looked at Tim, then they looked at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

  26

  A Proposal

  The angry mayor pulled the banner off his head and threw it to the ground. Ahmed and Larissa picked it up quickly and held it up. The mayor glared at the man who had got out of the car.

  ‘Are you mad? You almost ran me down. You could have killed me.’

  The man smiled and held out his hand. ‘Rattlebones is the name. Sorry about the mistake. We didn’t mean to run you over.’ He glanced at Mr French and the protest group. ‘My boss and I have a proposal for you. Something we’d like to arrange on the spot.’

  ‘There’s nothing to arrange.’ The mayor looked furious. ‘That was almost a murder attempt. You’re lucky I don’t have you arrested. Or maybe I will. I want you to leave this place immediately.’

  Mr French clenched his fist and winked at his action group. ‘Yes! This is going better
than expected,’ he whispered to Rose. ‘We’ve almost won already.’

  ‘What’s more, you’re not even allowed to drive a car here,’ the mayor continued. ‘You’ve started building a motorway right through the forest without permission. You’re chopping down trees at random. That’s against the law.’

  Rattlebones smiled faintly. ‘Now now, mayor. We’re not cutting down trees at random. You haven’t even listened to our proposal. I’m sure you will find it interesting. Very interesting, in fact.’

  The mayor seemed to calm down a little and scratched his chin thoughtfully. He screwed up one eye and peered at Rattlebones. ‘Interesting? What exactly do you mean?’

  Rattlebones’s smile turned into a grin. It was the grin of a fisherman who knows that he has hooked a fish. ‘Well, you see, it’s like this. We want to cut down this drab little forest. Just imagine: all these ugly, crooked trees gone, and in their place beautiful blocks of flats with spacious car parks. And maybe a couple of beautiful green football pitches. What do you say?’

  ‘Yeah, cool,’ someone shouted.

  ‘Vincent, be quiet!’ Mr French snapped, moving over to confront Rattlebones. ‘Listen here, Mr Bag-of-bones. You’re trying to win us over with that smooth talk of yours, but it’s not going to work. We don’t want you to destroy our beautiful Wolf Wood. We love nature.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Rose shouted. ‘And flowers love people.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mr French.

  Rattlebones glared at him with ice-cold eyes. ‘I haven’t had my say yet, friend. The mayor still hasn’t heard my interesting proposal.’