Caveman Bash

by Charlie Carter

‘HoverVest energising now,’ said Skin. ‘ShieldField in place. Boot Boosters being activated in:

  5

  4

  3

  ‘Ready to fly!’ shouted Monty.

  2

  1

  How did I get such a Cro-Magnon for a brother? Napoleon wondered as he braced himself.

  ‘This is amazing,’ said Monty as they climbed skyward. ‘It’s like looking down on a board game with the pieces moving for you.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Skin. ‘It is the perfect position for conflict observation and data collection.’

  Below was a long thin valley that snaked its way into the mountains. The valley became thinner as it climbed, and its sides grew steeper until they were sharp cliffs.

  The two Stone Age armies were charging towards each other along this narrow pass.

  ‘There are twice as many Cro-Magnons,’ cried Napoleon.

  ‘Affirmative,’ said Skin. ‘And they are much more organised. Notice how they are moving in several tight groups. They are a real army. Very advanced indeed.’

  ‘Look at those losers, the Neanderthals,’ said Monty. ‘They’re all over the place.’

  A pack of young warriors ran closely together at the front of the charge, but the rest of the men were strung out behind, while the women and children had fallen a long way behind.

  ‘Observe also that the Neanderthals are making a tactical error by running up the valley,’ Skin added.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Monty. ‘They’ll be exhausted before the fight even starts. Not a good battle plan.’

  Napoleon glared at Monty who was surveying the scene like a general.

  But he had to admit Monty was right.

  Already the Neanderthals seemed to be wearing out. The women and children had stopped. Some of the older men had as well, and even the young warriors at the front were slowing down.

  ‘On no,’ Napoleon groaned. ‘This is going to be a disaster.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Skin, but after a long pause added, ‘then again, perhaps not.’

  ‘But the Cro-Magnons are running full steam down the valley,’ said Napoleon. ‘Nothing can stop them.’

  ‘Do not be so sure,’ Skin continued. ‘Observe the Neanderthals.’

  As Napoleon watched, he noticed that the young Neanderthals at the front of the charge had stopped and were catching their breath while they waited for the Cro-Magnons. Back down the valley, the older men were spreading something out.

  ‘It’s a thick vine,’ said Napoleon. ‘And they’re stretching it from one side of the valley to the other.’

  ‘It is a trip rope,’ Monty said excitedly. ‘And that’s a net!’

  On one side of the valley, the Neanderthals were setting up a wide net made from woven vines.

  As soon as the trip rope and net were in place, the older men sank down and hid behind big boulders.

  ‘It’s a trap,’ Monty cried.

  ‘A most elaborate trap,’ said Skin. ‘And one that involves the whole tribe. Look closer.’

  The women and children were climbing the cliffs on either side of the valley. Napoleon could even see Asha; she was leading one group. When they reached the top, they positioned themselves behind large piles of stones, rocks and even boulders.

  ‘Most interesting,’ Skin said. ‘Here we have a fine example of military planning and team work. It would seem that we have seriously misjudged these Neanderthals.’

  ‘So have the Cro-Magnons,’ shouted Napoleon, pointing. ‘Here they come!’

  The Cro-Magnons were running fast. But the moment they saw the Neanderthals, they came to a sudden halt.

  The two armies faced each other, less than a hundred metres apart.

  ‘Correction to earlier estimate,’ said Skin, scanning the scene and making quick calculations. ‘There are many more Cro-Magnons than we thought. They outnumber the Neanderthals three to one.’

  ‘And they know it,’ said Monty. ‘Listen to them.’

  The Cro-Magnons were hooting and hawing. They were pointing at the Neanderthals and slapping their sides, howling with laughter at the much smaller army of much smaller men.

  The Neanderthals booed, hissed and howled in response. Some blew raspberries while others poked out their tongues.

  ‘That’s what I call a real challenge!’ Napoleon cried.

  The Cro-Magnons were furious. They roared with anger, their call echoing around the valley like thunder.

  And then they charged.

  ‘The Neanders had better get moving,’ cried Monty. ‘Those Cros are fast!’

  The young Neanderthal warriors took off at once. They scampered over the rocks, still shouting insults back at their enemy.

  But the Cro-Magnons were much faster, and began to gain on them.

  ‘They’re going to catch them before they reach the trap,’ Napoleon shouted.

  ‘Negative,’ Skin replied. ‘That is, if my calculations are correct. Notice how the valley becomes much narrower at the point where the trap has been laid.’

  The valley did become narrower, Napoleon realised, like a funnel. The Neanderthals were able to speed through because there weren’t so many of them. But the big crowd of Cro-Magnons soon became bunched up, which slowed them down.

  They were still running very fast, though, the ones behind pressing hard against those ahead. This was just what the Neanderthals wanted. The Cro-Magnons couldn’t stop, or turn back. They were caught in a downhill charge to disaster.

  The older Neanderthal men suddenly leaped up and tugged furiously on the vines that crossed the valley floor, pulling them tight.

  The first row of Cro-Magnons tripped on the vines and ploughed head first into the ground. So did the next row, and the next.

  With the mass of warriors pushing from behind, the Cro-Magnons were soon heaped on top of each other in a huge writhing, wriggling mound.

  The Neanderthals flew into action with the net, hauling it over the mangled mass of Cro-Magnons, pulling it down and tying it tight.

  They had won the battle without throwing a single spear.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Napoleon couldn’t believe his eyes. The Neanderthals had the whole Cro-Magnon army at their mercy.

  ‘The Neanderthals can do whatever they want with their prisoners,’ said Skin. ‘They are the victors.’

  ‘I reckon it’s thumbs down for those Cros,’ Monty said. ‘You were right about the Neanders, Napoleon. They weren’t the strongest army but they had the best strategy.’

  They watched as the Neanderthals crept closer to the helpless Cro-Magnons, chanting a terrifying war cry, their spears poised ready to hurl. All they needed was a sign from their chief, and it would be the end for their enemy.

  The chief held up one hand and silenced everyone. He spoke firmly but gently. His people listened intently.

  ‘This is highly unusual,’ said Skin. ‘Analysis indicates he is telling them to let the Cro-Magnons live.’

  When the chief finished talking, most of the men lowered their spears. Some of the younger ones didn’t want to, but in the end they did. Next, the women and children came down from the cliff top.

  Napoleon could see Asha among them. She looked up to the sky with a huge smile.

  Napoleon reckoned she knew he was up there, watching.

  Once the whole tribe was together, they collected the Cro-Magnon spears and broke them into pieces. They took their stone axes and threw them into the river. Then the chief directed his people to cut the ropes that tied down the net.

  The Cro-Magnons slowly extracted themselves from the trap. They hobbled about, nursing their bruised bodies.

  The Neanderthals surrounded them in a wide circle. One by one they laid down their weapons. And then the chief held out his hand in friendship to the Cro-Magnon leader. The defeated warrior stepped forward and accepted the chief’s hand.

  ‘Hey!’ shouted Monty. ‘He’s got my sneakers on. I want them back.’

  ‘Looks like your sneakers
have just become history, Monty,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘That sucks,’ said Monty.

  ‘Let’s get out of here, Skin,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Affirmative, BB005.’

  ‘That was something else,’ Monty shouted as they rocketed home in the Exit Beam. ‘Caesar is going to be totally blown away when I tell him. When’s our next mission, um, Battle Boy?’

  There probably won’t be a next mission, thought Napoleon. He knew exactly what would happen when they got back. Professor Perdu would frown and glower at him, then crack her knuckles and tell him it was all over. No more missions. No more Battle Boy.

  If only things could be the way they had been.

  If only Monty hadn’t followed him.

  When they landed in the Tome Tower, they were met by two men in black suits.

  ‘Looks like we’ve got a fan club already,’ said Monty, grinning at the guards. ‘Happy to sign autographs, men,’ he said.

  Professor Perdu joined the men. She wasn’t frowning, though; she was smiling, which worried Napoleon even more. A grinning Professor Perdu was dangerous.

  ‘Congratulations on a successful mission, boys,’ she said. ‘I trust you enjoyed it, Montgomery.’

  ‘Sure did,’ he said. ‘Can’t wait to tell Mum and Dad and Caesar and all my mates.’

  ‘I bet you can’t.’ The professor’s smile grew even wider. ‘But first I must ask you to come with me.’ She took Monty’s arm, and the men fell in at his side.

  ‘Just our usual debriefing session,’ she explained. ‘It won’t take long.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Monty. ‘Debriefing session. Yeah! They had one of those in Mission Impossible.’

  ‘Exactly.’ The professor glanced at Napoleon. ‘You can change out of your SimulSkin, BB005.’

  The smile had completely vanished now, replaced by that familiar frown. ‘After which we need to have a little chat, I think.’

  Here it comes, thought Napoleon as he stood in the change cubicle.

  ‘Do I register feelings of anxiety, BB005?’ said Skin.

  ‘I’ve got an awful feeling that this might be our last mission together.’

  ‘And this feeling is based on which scientific data?’

  ‘It’s the prof. She’s angry. I’ve let her down.’

  ‘Yes, I concur. The professor did exude a high level of negative vibes, BB.’

  ‘If that was my last mission, Skin,’ said Napoleon, ‘I just want to say that you’re the best, Skin. I used to think you were only a bundle of nano-computers and microchips. But you’re much more than that. You’re a friend.’

  ‘Friend,’ repeated Skin. ‘One who is on good terms with another.’ He paused. ‘I am on good terms with you also, Battle Boy.’

  Napoleon slipped off the skin-coloured outft. It glowed for a moment and then faded to a lifeless grey.

  Professor Perdu was waiting for Napoleon when he stepped from the change cubicle. She was cracking her knuckles, and frowning.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I should’ve been more careful.’

  ‘Yes, BB. You should have been much more careful.’

  ‘So I guess it’s all over then, my time as Battle Boy?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Monty. He’s going to blow the whole thing to everyone.’

  ‘I doubt it. I have salvaged the situation for you this time.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The MemRay. We gave your brother a solid dose. He’s on his way home now with absolutely no idea where today went. He’ll be a little confused for a while.’

  ‘What about his precious sneakers? He’ll wonder where they got to.’

  ‘No, he won’t. We’ve replaced those as well.’

  ‘Thank you, Prof. I thought it was the end for me.’

  ‘It almost was, BB,’ said the professor with a grim smile. ‘You came very close to the brink.’

  Napoleon headed straight home. He was relieved. And happy. The mission hadn’t been a total success but they’d still collected a lot of valuable data about the Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons.

  And Asha, he thought.

  When he arrived, his mother had just finished icing a chocolate cake.

  ‘Like a slice?’ she said

  ‘I’ll have two thanks, Mum. I’m as hungry as a caveman.’

  ‘Funny you should say that,’ she said as Napoleon wolfed down the cake. She made herself a cup of tea. ‘It’s been a very strange day.’

  ‘Why, Mum?’

  ‘Well, Monty turned up just before you and went straight to bed. He was exhausted. Most unlike him. He’s usually a bundle of energy.’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ said Napoleon. ‘What else happened?’

  ‘Well, I called Monty on his mobile at about lunchtime. The reception was dreadful and there was a lot of shouting. Sounded like a bunch of cavemen. But I’m certain I heard Monty. And I think there was a girl’s voice as well. But then the phone cut out.’

  Mrs Smythe sipped her tea. ‘It was most peculiar.’

  ‘Some days are just like that, Mum,’ said Napoleon. ‘What’s for dinner?’

  ‘Beef stew,’ said his mother. ‘Your favourite.’