by Paul Cooper
The Shark Bites Back
Pigs CAN fly!
Kweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
When the Alarm Squeal sounds it must be a job for Captain Peter Porker and the PIGS IN PLANES!
Paul Cooper is from Manchester.
He now lives in Cambridge with
his wife and two daughters.
Read these high-flying adventures
about the Pigs in Planes:
PIGS IN PLANES: THE CHICKEN EGG-SPLOSION
PIGS IN PLANES: THE SHARK BITES BACK
The Shark Bites Back
PAUL COOPER
Illustrated by Trevor Dunton
PUFFIN
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
puffinbooks.com
First published 2010
Text copyright © Paul Cooper, 2010
Illustrations copyright © Trevor Dunton, 2010
All rights reserved
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
ISBN: 978-0-14-193102-9
Contents
MEET THE CREW
CHAPTER 1: Fear Itself
CHAPTER 2: A Mission to Sink Your Teeth Into
CHAPTER 3: Hammer Time!
CHAPTER 4: Something Fishy
CHAPTER 5: Be a Chum
CHAPTER 6: A Bumpy Ride
CHAPTER 7: Talking Food
CHAPTER 8: Pig Hunt
CHAPTER 9: Swimming with Sharks
CHAPTER 10: REALLY Extreme Watersports
CHAPTER 11: Never Give a Sucker an Even Break!
Crossword
Word Scramble
Wordsearch
Answers
For Bionic Beth
MEET THE CREW
CHAPTER 1:
Fear Itself
‘Have you seen Curly?’ asked Captain Peter Porker from the door of the Pigs in Planes HQ common room. Curly was the newest member of the PiPs team, and he was still a trainee.
‘Nope.’ Tammy, the team’s mechanic, didn’t lift her eyes from the TV, even though only adverts were on.
‘But –’ began Pete.
Tammy shushed him. ‘This is my favourite!’ she said. The advert on TV was for a bright red fizzy drink called SLURPO-POP. Pete noticed that Tammy was holding a can of this drink while she watched.
In the advert, a pig with long, silky hair was saying, in the kind of voice that only people in ads ever use, ‘Everything’s better with refreshingly delicious Slurpo-Pop!’ She took a dainty sip, smacked her lips and went, ‘Aah!’
Watching this, Tammy took a big swig, smacked her lips and went, ‘BLUUUUURP!’ She grinned proudly. ‘It’s true – everything is better with Slurpo-Pop. That’s the best burp I’ve done in months!’
Pete was about to go when he spotted something – a trail of wet footprints. They led across the room to a cupboard.
Pete followed the trail and stuck his ear to the cupboard door. ‘Curly? Are you in there?’
There was a few seconds’ silence, then a voice said quietly, ‘Yes.’
Pete turned to Tammy. ‘I thought you said you hadn’t seen him.’
Tammy shrugged. ‘He gave me a can of Cherry Slurpo-Pop to keep quiet, didn’t he?’
Pete addressed the cupboard again. ‘It’s time for your advanced swimming training, Curly. There’s a lot more to being in the PiPs than just flying jets.’ He dropped his voice. ‘What are you doing in there anyway?’
‘Just … looking for something. Ah, here it is! I wondered where I’d put this mop.’
The door opened a crack and Curly’s usually eager young face peered out, looking much less eager than usual.
‘Are you ready then?’ asked Pete.
‘I … suppose so.’ Curly’s eyes were wide. ‘Oh, hold on! I forgot. I can’t go swimming because I’ve got a verruca. I’ve got a note from my mum.’
He dug in his pocket and handed over a scrap of paper.
Pete looked at it for a moment. ‘This is in your handwriting, Curly. And you’ve signed it From my mum. Come on – let’s go.’
‘OK,’ said Curly, emerging from the cupboard, but then he added brightly: ‘Wait! I haven’t got my trunks today!’
‘No probs. You can borrow a pair of mine.’
Curly’s eyes grew even wider. Peter Porker’s tiny bright red Speedio trunks were alarming, but that’s not why Curly was panicking.
The trainee sighed. At last he said, ‘The thing is … I’m afraid.’
‘Of swimming?’ asked Pete.
Curly shook his head. ‘More of drowning … or just getting water up my snout … or even getting my face a bit wet, actually. I’m just afraid of water!’
‘What’s this? Who’s afraid?’ boomed a new voice from the doorway. It was Peregrine Oinks-Gruntington, the PiPs’ commanding officer. ‘There’s no place for fear in an organization like ours!’
Curly knew this was true. The PiPs had to be ready to deal with any emergency, anywhere in Animal Paradise. They had to be the bravest of the brave.
Peregrine came over and put a comforting trotter on Curly’s shoulder. ‘I’ll tell you a little secret, lad. There’s only one thing to fear in life … and that is fear itself.’
Pete thought these words of wisdom over, then said, ‘What about giant robot-scorpions with lasers on their heads?’
‘Or evil clowns,’ Tammy chipped in. ‘They’d be pretty scary.’
‘Would these clowns have lasers on their heads?’ asked Pete with interest.
‘I think you’re missing the point,’ harrumphed Peregrine crossly. ‘And I’m missing the news!’ He swept up the remote control and clicked the channel over, before plonking himself firmly in the comfiest armchair in the room.
The lead story was about the camels of Camel Island complaining about the recent dry weather.
‘Those camels always have the hump about something,’ tutted Pete.
Then the newsreader said, ‘And now over to Herbert Turbot, reporting live from Shark Island, where history is being made.’
The TV picture cut to an underwater cave where several sharks and other smaller fish were busy swimming around various bits of equipment. In the middle of them was a large hammerhead shark.
Herbert, the flatfish reporter, spoke direct to camera: ‘For years, the sharks here have swum around and around their island home, never once venturi
ng on to land, for obvious reasons. Until today … Behind me floats a hammerhead with a dream – a dream of setting fin on dry land. Neil Headstrong is that shark, and he is preparing today to become the world’s first ever land shark. With the aid of new above-water breathing apparatus, he will explore the island.’
Watching all this on the screen, Pete said, ‘Cool!’ He turned to the Wing Commander. ‘Right, Peregrine?’
But the Wing Commander gave no reply. He was frozen stiff. The only thing moving was his huge moustache, which trembled like a jelly in an earthquake. He tried to speak, but the words refused to leave his snout.
‘Sh … sh … sh …’ He lifted a shaking trotter at the screen.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Curly.
‘Oh, I remember now!’ Tammy slapped her forehead. ‘He’s got a thing about sharks. He’s absolutely terrified of them.’
She set down her drink and helped the Wing Commander to his feet, speaking as if to a tiny piglet. ‘Come on. Let’s get you back to your office. No sharks in there.’
‘Sh … sh … sh …’ Peregrine allowed himself to be steered towards the door.
‘We’ll just watch a minute more,’ said Pete. He liked to think of himself as a hero who laughed in the face of danger, and this Neil Headstrong sounded the same.
On the TV screen, Turbot was thrusting a mike towards the hammerhead. ‘Neil, have you got any last … er, got any words for the viewers on this historic occasion?’
Headstrong nodded and grinned. ‘You bet. I say … it’s HAMMER TIME!’
From nearby came the sound of someone clearing his throat. Headstrong’s grin vanished and two little lines of concentration appeared on his tool-shaped head. ‘Oh, no, er … One small shark steps on a kind giant … and leaps.’
‘Er … sorry, could you repeat that?’ said the reporter.
‘That’s wrong!’ said Headstrong, obviously trying to remember something. ‘Step one: a small giant kinda leaps on a shark.’
‘Erm,’ said Turbot, backing away carefully.
Suddenly, a smaller fish appeared from underneath the hammerhead. ‘Ahem.’
‘Where did he come from?’ asked Curly, leaning closer to the TV. ‘And why’s he wearing that funny little hat?’
‘That fish is a remora,’ said Pete, ‘also known as a suckerfish. And that isn’t a hat on his head – it’s a sucker-pad. They use them to stick themselves to the underneath of a shark and then they eat bits of leftover food.’
The suckerfish on screen smiled helpfully now at the reporter. ‘If I may be of assistance … I think what Mr Headstrong is getting at so poetically is this – It is one small step for a shark, one giant leap for shark-kind.’
Headstrong nodded and grunted, ‘Yeah, what he said!’
Then, with a flick of the tail, the shark put his weirdly shaped head into a big, weirdly shaped helmet full of water. A long tube connected this to a water pump. Headstrong gave a fins-up sign and swam on to a wheeled trolley. Then, using his side fins, he began to haul himself up the sloping rock of the seabed towards dry land above.
Curly settled down. He didn’t care that much about the news, but as long as it kept him away from the lake, that was OK with him.
CHAPTER 2:
A Mission to Sink
Your Teeth Into
The PiPs radio operator, Lola Penn, was hard at work. Ignoring the towers of paperwork on her desk, she gave her full attention to the latest copy of Pig Puzzle Weekly! magazine.
She read out a clue. ‘Five down. “This word could be used to describe a trick.” It’s six letters.’
Brian Trotter, the PiPs medical officer and walking encyclopedia, was in the office writing up a report of the last PiPs mission. ‘That’s TRICKY,’ he said.
‘I know it’s tricky,’ said Lola. ‘That’s why I’m asking you.’
Brian smiled patiently. ‘You don’t understand. The answer is TRICKY.’
Lola was getting cross now. ‘I DO understand, thank you very much. If the answer wasn’t tricky, I wouldn’t be asking you. Now can you help or can’t you?’
Brian was saved from having a pencil sharpener bounce off his head by the arrival of Tammy and the Wing Commander.
Lola watched Peregrine shuffle to the desk in his office. He slumped in his chair, still staring forward blankly and going, ‘Sh … sh … sh …’
‘What’s up with him?’ Lola asked.
When Tammy explained about the shark on the TV, Lola reached for the emergency pack of chocolate biscuits in her desk.
Ten minutes later, Peregrine was nibbling bicky number forty-seven. He was still staring blankly, but at least he’d stopped mumbling.
Brian and Tammy had gone, leaving Lola to work her way through the prize crossword alone. A beep from the radio interrupted her.
‘Pigs in Planes,’ she said into her headphone mike. ‘State your island, species and the nature of the problem.’
As she listened, her expression grew more and more grave. She reached out and pressed a red button:
KWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEP!
The Code Pink emergency squeal rang out from loudspeakers all over Snout Island. Somewhere in Animal Paradise someone was in need of help. Someone needed the Pigs in Planes!
Wherever they were, the PiPs started making for the exits. Pete and Curly legged it from the TV room; Brian ran from the library; Tammy trotted from the kitchen where she’d been eating ice cream out of the tub without a spoon.
Once outside, they all started running towards the jets. Lola’s voice came over the loudspeakers: ‘PiPs, you’d better double up and just take SkyHogs 1 and 3.’
‘Why’s that?’ Curly asked Pete as they ran.
‘Tammy’s been refitting the jets with special skis for when there’s no land to touchdown on. She’s only finished those two planes so far.’
Curly slowed down. ‘You mean …?’
Pete grinned. ‘Wherever we’re going, we’re landing on water!’
Back in the office, Lola waited for the sound of the jet engines. ‘Here are your co-ordinates, PiPs.’ She read out a map reference, and then glanced quickly towards the Wing Commander’s office. She dropped her voice to a whisper: ‘You’re going to Shark Island.’
Pete’s voice came back over the radio. ‘What was that, Lola? I didn’t catch it. There must be some interference.’
‘I said, you’re going to Shark Island,’ repeated the radio operator in a normal voice. She looked nervously again at Peregrine’s office. The Wing Commander was still staring into space. Lola didn’t think he had heard her.
But Pete’s voice came over the radio again. ‘Nope, still didn’t quite get it. One more time, please, Lola. Where are we going?’
‘TO SHARK ISLAND!’ Lola bellowed.
She saw Peregrine leap out of his chair as if he’d been electrocuted.
‘Sh … sh … sh …’ he began to mumble again, his mind filled with dark thoughts of triangular fins and jagged teeth.
As the two jets reached cruising speed, Brian, piloting SkyHog 3, heard a noise from the cockpit behind him.
‘You didn’t just open a can of Slurpo-Pop, did you?’ he asked over his shoulder.
‘Sure did!’ said Tammy. ‘It’s refreshingly delicious!’
Brian pointed to a sign in the cockpit:
THANK YOU FOR NOT EATING OR DRINKING.
‘That doesn’t mean me, does it?’ asked Tammy.
Brian pointed to the bottom of the sign, which said:
THAT MEANS YOU, TAMMY.
‘Oh.’ The mechanic shrugged. ‘May as well drink it now it’s open.’
Brian tutted. ‘Anyway, Slurpo-Pop contains no real fruit juice at all, just additives and chemicals.’
‘I know!’ agreed Tammy eagerly. ‘It’s additive E45625x that gives it a real kick!’
In SkyHog 1, Pete was speaking to HQ over the radio. ‘What’s the situation, Lola? Has it got anything to do with the world’s first ever land sh
ark? Over.’
‘How did you know?’ replied Lola, back at PiPs base.
‘Just a lucky guess,’ grinned Pete. ‘Also, we saw it on telly.’
Lola filled them in: ‘Headstrong was on land for fifteen minutes when they lost radio contact. There must have been some sort of accident with the line because no seawater was getting through to him! No shark can go on land to help him, so they called us. We have to rescue Headstrong and get him back into the water.’
Brian’s voice came over the radio. ‘According to my calculations,’ he said, ‘Mr Headstrong could survive for sixteen minutes and forty-two seconds on the amount of water left in his helmet.’ He paused. ‘Give or take a half-second.’
Pete glanced at his watch. ‘That leaves about five minutes to save him! Curly and Tammy, get ready to parachute in.’
After all the fuss about the swimming session, Curly didn’t want Pete to think he was a scaredy-pig.
‘You bet!’ he called out. He double-checked all the straps and cords on his parachute pack. Tammy did the same in SkyHog 3.
‘Now remember,’ Pete told the trainee slowly and carefully. ‘You have to pull the blue cord, not the red one. Got it? Blue, not red. Now, which cord are you going to pull?’
‘The blue one,’ said Curly.
‘OK, we’re almost at the island,’ said Pete. ‘Get ready!’ He pressed a button and a hatch slid open above Curly. A second button activated the spring under Curly’s seat. It boinged up and – WHOOSH! – Curly shot into the big, blue sky.
Looking down, he could see Tammy’s open chute and the ground rushing towards him. It was rocky, but that didn’t bother him. What bothered him was the big lagoon of water right in the middle of the island.
WATER! That couldn’t be right – he’d been looking at a map of Shark Island on the plane and it hadn’t shown water inland! But there it was, twinkling in the sunshine – and he was hurtling straight towards it. Curly was so shocked he suddenly couldn’t remember which cord to pull. Red? Blue? Red? Blue?
