by Paul Cooper
On the third attempt, Tammy whirled the rope faster and threw the hook harder. It flew up, and over the edge. There was a distinct CLICK!, then the hook fell back down into the water again.
‘I think it hit some kind of button!’ cried Tammy.
‘But what does the button do?’
Moments later they found out. There was a low electric hum as a panel halfway up the tank wall slid open. Gallons of water began to gush into the tank.
‘Oops!’
Curly looked in terror at the water frothing around his legs. ‘It’s going to fill up!’
His worst nightmare was coming true. (Well, second worst – this wasn’t as bad as the nightmare where he went shopping wearing only a pair of polka-dot socks.)
The water level was rising fast. It had started just above his knees. Soon it was halfway up his thighs, and climbing second by second.
‘What are we going to DOOOOOO?’ Curly delivered this final word in a high-pitched yowl as the chilly water reached his private bits.
Tammy was still keeping a level head. ‘Don’t panic!’ she cried. ‘As the level rises, we’ll just float to the top and get out that way!’
‘I don’t think I CAN float!’ wailed Curly. The water was at his belly button now.
‘A piece of wood can float!’ said Tammy.
But then, with another whirring noise, a second mechanism kicked into action and a clear plastic lid began to slide slowly across the top of the tank.
‘Can we panic now?’ asked Curly. The water was up to his armpits.
Tammy looped the rope and hook one last time, twirling it over her head like a lasso. She threw with all her strength.
Curly was on tippy-trotters now to keep his snout above water.
‘It worked!’ cried Tammy. ‘It caught on something!’ There was another clicking noise as the hook struck a second button. Tammy pulled the rope taut and got ready to climb up the wall. But as soon as she put her weight on it, the rope came tumbling back towards them once again … this time without the hook!
The lid was more than halfway across now. Curly didn’t think things could get worse, but then it became clear what the second button was for, as dramatic music began to play from a hidden speaker. It was the theme music from a classic horror movie about killer sharks from the Bad Old Days – Choppers II: Just When You Thought It Was Safe to Go Back in the Paddling Pool.
Tammy was treading water now, with one arm round Curly’s neck to keep his head above water.
‘What now?’ cried Curly.
Tammy thought it over. Soon the cover would be completely shut and not long after that the tank would fill with water. Even the world’s most hopeful pig would struggle to describe this as a ‘glass-half-full’ situation. It was more one of those ‘death-trap-almost-completely-full’ situations.
‘Now might be the time to start panicking,’ she admitted.
So they did.
CHAPTER 6:
A Bumpy Ride
As soon as Pete was back in the dinghy, he radioed HQ. There was a crackling noise, then Lola’s voice said, ‘PiPs HQ here. What’s going on, Pete? We haven’t heard a word from Tammy and Curly.’
‘Not sure,’ answered Pete as he swapped his goggles for his mirror shades. ‘But can you check something?’ He explained about the poster he’d found underwater. To make sure Lola got the name right, Pete used the International Spelling Alphabet: ‘CHUM … That’s Crisps, Hollyhocks, Underpants, Marzipan.’
‘Got it,’ said Lola.
‘There’s more –’ Pete began. He was going to explain about the secret entrance and the great whites. He wanted to ask Lola to check the latest satellite photos of Shark Island for the mysterious lagoon and waterway they had spotted from above.
However, he didn’t get the chance. Suddenly, the dinghy rocked wildly, and the radio slipped from Pete’s trotter. It landed in the sea with a sad little PLOP!
Pete looked at the calm water around them.
‘I don’t think that was a wave,’ said Brian. ‘Something just passed under the boat!’
Pete peered over the side, expecting to see a shark. Instead he saw something much smaller swimming away – the pilot fish who’d let the Great Sharks into the island!
‘Follow that fish!’ cried Pete.
They started paddling furiously. The pilot fish was fast, but the pigs kept it in their sights.
‘It’s heading towards the island!’ shouted Brian.
They renewed their efforts, but suddenly the pilot fish shot down into deeper water. Soon after that the pigs saw the first fin break the surface. It knifed its way towards them. No longer paddling, both pigs felt a shiver of anxiety. Even in Animal Paradise, a shark’s fin coming towards you was one of nature’s scariest sights – right up there with finding that a gang of warthogs has gatecrashed your tea party.
A tiger shark’s head reared out of the water.
‘Have you seen a pilot fish pass this way?’ asked Brian urgently. ‘We’ve reason to believe it’s involved in illegal activity that may have something to do with what happened to Neil Headstrong.’
The tiger shark just stared blankly. Its teeth looked sharp, and there were altogether too many of them.
‘It might be heading to a secret underwater entrance into the island,’ continued Pete. ‘Can you help?’
The shark showed even more teeth.
‘I’m not sure he understands,’ said Brian. (Sharks weren’t famous for their brainpower.)
Pete was sure. ‘You saw that pilot fish, right?’ he asked the shark.
Its black eyes glittered as it gave a little nod.
‘But you’re not going to help because whatever’s going on, you’re IN ON IT. Right?’ the captain challenged.
The tiger shark’s mouth widened into an odd, toothy grin. ‘Right,’ it snarled. Behind it, several other fins were heading over.
In the middle of them, the pilot fish popped its head out. ‘Got it in one, pig!’ he called. He swam closer to the boat. ‘I take it you saw the great white sharks then?’
Pete snorted. ‘Let’s not go over the top. I wouldn’t say great – they were OK.’
The shark fins had begun circling the boat menacingly.
‘What’s going on inside the island?’ Brian demanded. ‘Our team-mates are there and we’re worried about them.’
The pilot fish pulled a mock sad face. ‘Boo hoo! Don’t think you’ll be seeing your little chums again!’
‘Why, what’s going to happen to them?’ demanded Pete.
‘You should be worrying more about what’s going to happen to you,’ snapped the pilot fish. ‘We can’t let you share our secret with the world. Right, lads?’
Brian realized what the odd expression on the tiger shark’s face was – peckish.
The pilot fish dived underwater and reappeared at the back of the dinghy.
‘Dinnertime!’ he cried. And then he sank his teeth into the back of the inflatable boat with a POP! He probably expected the dinghy to sink immediately, but his mouth wasn’t wide enough. Instead air began to zoom out of the little hole, and this pushed the boat forward … towards the jaws of the waiting tiger shark.
‘Lean right!’ cried Pete.
The two pigs hurled themselves to the side, causing the dinghy to swerve. Like an air-powered motorboat, the dinghy picked up speed as more air rushed out.
‘We’re on course for the plane!’ cried Pete through the sea spray. He tried to ignore the fins slicing through the water behind them.
But then another shark loomed ahead.
‘Left!’ cried Pete.
Again they leaned just in time to avoid the shark. They were so close to the SkyHogs, but now they’d turned away from them. Apart from a tiny desert island jutting out of the water, nothing lay ahead but open sea.
Another fin loomed in front of them.
‘Lean!’ shouted Pete.
‘Which way?’
‘Left!’
‘Sorry, was
that left?’
‘Right!’
‘Is that right as in correct or right as in the opposite of left?’
Pete had no time to answer – they struck the shark head on. For a couple of seconds Pete felt himself flying through the air. Then he splashed down into the cold water. He began to piggy-paddle as fast as he could, knowing that sharks were close behind.
Suddenly he felt sand beneath his trotters. He scrambled up it on all fours. Brian was right beside him.
They were on the little desert island!
There was nothing here but one rock and a single palm tree, then sandy beach sloping down to the sea on all sides. Annoyingly, SkyHog 1 was no more than twenty-five metres away – the problem was that this was twenty-five metres of shark-infested water.
‘What now?’ moaned Brian. The medic was pulling the pieces of his smashed radio out of his pocket.
Pete looked towards the main island. ‘We hope Tammy and Curly are getting on better than us.’
Things could hardly be worse for Tammy and Curly.
With the plastic lid completely covering the holding tank, there was no way out. They had tried pounding on the cover, but all they got was bruised knuckles. Only about a foot of airspace was left at the top of the tank, and still the water poured in.
Suddenly, they realized they were being watched. Out in the lagoon, a suckerfish was looking through the glass wall into the tank. It started opening and closing its mouth.
‘What’s it saying?’ cried Curly. ‘Can you read lips?’
‘Not fish lips!’ said Tammy.
The suckerfish began to do a mime with his tail and fins.
‘It’s acting out a message!’ cried Tammy.
The pigs had to tilt their heads back and poke their snouts up to gasp in the remaining bit of air. In his panic, Curly’s brain tossed up the idea that the suckerfish was playing a bizarre game of Charades.
‘Is it a film?’ he cried in desperation. ‘How many words?’
The suckerfish continued waggling its fins.
‘Is it The Lizard of Oz?’
‘What are you going on about?’ asked Tammy, still keeping a lifesaver hold on the frantic young pig.
On the other side of the glass wall, the suckerfish was ducking his head down and swimming round in tight circles.
The water inside the tank was almost at the very top. The pigs’ heads were pressing against the see-through plastic lid. Unless they grew themselves gills in the next few seconds, they were goners.
Suddenly Tammy grinned. ‘I get it! He’s saying – SWIM DOWN … AND PULL OUT … THE PLUG!’
‘I don’t know that movie,’ wailed Curly. ‘Who’s in it?’
‘Nobody! There is no movie. There’s a plug! A plug at the bottom of this tank!’
There was no time for further discussion, only enough to take one final, huge gulp of air, before the water bubbled over their heads.
Tammy let go of Curly and began to frog-kick to the bottom. The trainee began flailing about in the water. The only way she could help him now was to find that plug. Her lungs felt as if they’d burst by the time she reached the base of the tank, but there it was … a great, big rubber plug attached to the floor by a chain.
Tammy grabbed it and yanked.
CHAPTER 7:
Talking Food
When it came to digging up info online, Lola was an expert. Her trotters flew over the keyboard in the search for information on the job ad Pete had mentioned. The name ‘CHUM Luxury Breaks’ made it sound as if the company offered holidays of some kind. However, Lola could find no site for the company, and no mention of it on other sites.
‘What are you doing now?’ asked Peregrine, who didn’t trust any technology developed after the bicycle.
‘I’m checking the Animal Paradise central government files,’ said Lola. ‘All new businesses have to register with them.’ She scrolled down a long list of names, until: ‘Here it is!’
There was no information listed for CHUM Luxury Breaks except the name of the company’s owner.
‘Mr A. Roe,’ Lola read out. ‘Funny name for a shark.’
When she did a search on this name, she came up with nothing.
‘It’s almost like he doesn’t exist,’ she said. Her eyes fell on the copy of Pig Puzzle Weekly! ‘Hold on a moment …’
‘Now’s no time for silly puzzles!’ grumbled Peregrine.
Lola ignored him. She swept up a pencil and wrote:
MR A. ROE
‘If you unscramble the letters,’ she said, ‘you can make a new word. Look.’
She began to rewrite the same letters in a different order:
REMORA
She looked up. ‘Remora? That’s another name for suckerfish, isn’t it?’
Peregrine looked shaken. An old memory was bubbling up to the surface of his mind.
‘It must mean something,’ Lola was saying. ‘There was a suckerfish on Headstrong’s support team, wasn’t there? Perhaps we should call and see if he can help?’
Her trotters flew over the keyboard again as she searched for details of Headstrong’s crew. She dialled, then handed the phone to Peregrine. ‘Here – it’ll sound better from you.’
In a daze, Peregrine took the phone. He said nothing but he listened intently. The phone fell from his trotter with a clatter.
Lola grabbed it and caught the end of the answerphone message. A polite voice was saying, ‘If you wish to leave a message for Anthony Watson, please do so at the sound of the gurgle. That would be splendid!’
Lola put the phone down. ‘Why didn’t you leave a message?’
Peregrine couldn’t stop trembling. ‘I remember …’ he whispered. ‘I remember what happened twenty years ago!’
‘What now?’ asked Pete.
He and Brian could walk around the whole of their little desert island in twenty paces. The sharks continued to circle, each one seeming to occupy his own ‘swimming lane’ around the little island. Every so often, a sinister grey head broke the surface and smirked scarily.
Pete plonked himself down on the rock. Any plan to get off this island was more likely to spring from Brian’s brain.
‘I’ll just sit here and work on my tan,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I said, I’ll just sit here and work on a PLAN,’ Pete replied, tilting his head back so the sun caught underneath his chins.
Meanwhile Brian was rifling through his medical kit. ‘Got it!’ He held up an old tube. ‘I packed this,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’
Pete squinted at the tube in Brian’s trotter. It looked very old. The lettering on the side said Fletcher’s Finest Anti-Shark Gel.
‘I found it in the supply cupboard,’ explained Brian. ‘It’s from the Bad Old Days. I think it was Peregrine’s.’ He started reading the instructions on the tube. ‘You have to rub it all over.’
Pete was curious. ‘And does it stop sharks from eating you?’
Brian studied the small print. ‘It says, “The makers cannot guarantee that no shark will consume you if you use Fletcher’s Finest Anti-Shark Gel. However, we can guarantee that nine out of ten sharks will not enjoy eating you so much. Your money back if not completely satisfied with this product!” ’
‘Great!’ Pete snorted. ‘I’ll get a refund if I end up as a pork dinner? No thanks! Any other ideas?’
Brian started to pace the island as he applied his massive intelligence to the problem. He came to a sudden halt. ‘I know! We could use your mirror shades to flash a signal to passing planes!’
Pete just pointed up at the empty skies. (Secretly, he was relieved. He didn’t like the idea of taking his shades off. What was the point of being rescued if you didn’t look cool?)
Brian went back to pacing, Pete went back to sunbathing, and the sharks just went on circling.
As the last of the water in the tank gurgled down the plughole, Tammy was feeling hopeful. Not only had help arrived in the form of the little suckerfish, but also,
after that dip in the water, she would be able to skip her monthly bath for once.
Out in the lagoon the suckerfish swam to the side of the glass wall and clicked a button. Its voice came over an intercom: ‘Hello, friends. My name is Watson. I wonder if I might be of assistance?’
‘You could tell us what’s going on,’ said Curly. ‘Have you seen the prisoners in the other holding tank?’
The suckerfish nodded. ‘It seems that a secret group has had this lagoon constructed by a team of crab construction workers.’
‘But why?’
‘My only guess is that the sharks live on a diet of kelp,’ said the suckerfish, ‘but they aren’t all happy about this. Some of them long for the old days …’
‘Back when they used to eat other animals?’ said Tammy.
‘That’s barbaric!’ exclaimed Curly. ‘Eating animals is wrong,’ he added, remembering his history lessons from school. ‘As my old teacher said, “It isn’t polite to try to eat something you could discuss the weather with.” ’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Watson. ‘I believe these other sea creatures have been lied to. They have been brought here so that a secret group of sharks can hunt them in these private grounds.’
‘We have to get out,’ said Tammy. ‘We have to free the other prisoners and tell people what’s going on.’
The suckerfish nodded. ‘Splendid. There’s a button on this control panel. I think it opens an airlock into the lagoon. You can swim up to the rubber raft out here.’
‘Then what?’ asked Tammy nervously.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the suckerfish, its sucker-pad quivering. ‘I’ll think of something.’
Peregrine was back on the choccy bickies to ease his nerves. For the first time in twenty years, he could remember what happened that awful day when his ship sank.
‘At first those sharks weren’t going to do anything,’ he told Lola. ‘But there was a creepy little suckerfish with them. It kept whispering to the lead shark, things like, “You can’t beat a bit of pig for supper,” and “Pork is the other white meat.” He wouldn’t stop talking, and finally the sharks started listening to him.
